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 COL. GEORGE WASHINGTON FLOWERS 
 MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 
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 JOSEPH 
 
 
 
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 ANJ} nm COURT. 
 
 
 BY L. MUHLIIACH. 
 
 BY ADELAIDE DeV. CHAUDRON. 
 
 VOLUME 1. 
 
 MOBILE: 
 S. H. GOETZEL, PUBLISHER 
 
 1864 
 
 Farrowt Dennett, Printers, MoWlo. (^ 
 
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JOSEPH II. 
 
 AND HIS COUET. 
 
 %,n ^istorixal Uobtl, 
 
 BY L. MUHLBACn, 
 
 iFront tljt CSermarf, 
 
 BY ADELAIDE DeV. CHAUDRON. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 MOBILE: 
 
 a H. GOETZEL, PUBLISHER. 
 1864 
 
 I 
 
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 / 1 ^ 7 y 
 
 JOSEPH IL AND HIS COURT. 
 
 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 In the council-chamber of the Empress Maria Theresa, the six lord?, 
 who composed her cabinet-council, awaited the entrance of their imperial 
 mistress to open the sitting. 
 
 At this sitting, a great political question was to be discussed ; and its 
 gravity seemed to be reflected in the faces of the lords, as in low tones, 
 they whispered together in the dim spacious apartment, whose antiquated 
 furniture of dark velvet tapestry corresponded well with the anxious 
 looks of its occupants. 
 
 In the centre of the room stood the Baron Von Bartenstein and the 
 Count Von Uhlefeld, the two powerful statesmen, who for thirteen years 
 had been honored by the confidence of the Empress. Together they 
 stood, their consequence acknowledged by all, while with proud and 
 lofty mien they whispered of state secrets. 
 
 Upon th,e fair, smooth face of Bartenstein appeared an expression of 
 haughty triumph, which he was at no pains to conceal ; and over the 
 delicate mouth of Von Uhlefeld fluttered a smile of ineffable compla- 
 cency. ' 
 
 " I feel perfectly secure," whispered Von Bartenstein. *' The Empress 
 will certainly renew the treaties, and continue the policy, which we both 
 have hitherto pursued, with such brilliant results to Austria." 
 
 " The Empress is wise," returned Uhlefeld. " She can reckon upon 
 our staunch support, and so long as she pursues this policy, we will sus- 
 tain her." 
 
 While he spoke, there shot from his eyes such a glance of conscious 
 power, that the two lords who from the recess of a neighboring window, 
 were watching the imperial favorites, w.ere completely dazzled. 
 
 "See Countj" murmured one to the othefj "see how Count Uhlefeld 
 
 182065 
 
4 josKrn TEESEco::^©. 
 
 pn>ilc<? to day. Doubtless he knows ul ready what the decision of the 
 tnipress is to be; and that it is in accordauce willi his wishes, no one' 
 c:in doubt, who looks upon him now." 
 
 "It will be well for us," replied. Count Colloredo, "to subscribe un- 
 condiiionully .to the opinions of the Lord-Chancellor. I, for my part, 
 will do so ail the more roadily, that I confess to you my utter ignorance 
 of the qtieslion that is to come before us today. I was really so pre- 
 occupied at our last sitiinj; that I — I failed exactly to comprehend its 
 nature. 1 think, therefore, that it will be well for us to vote with Count 
 Von Uhlefeld — that is, if the President of the Aulic Council, Count 
 Ilarrach, does not entertain other opinions." 
 
 Count Harrach bowed. "As for me,^' sighed he, "I must, as usual, 
 vote with Count Bartenstein. His, will be as it ever is, the decisive 
 voice of the day ; and its echo will be heard from the lips of the Em- 
 press. Let us echo them both, and so be the means of helping to crush 
 the presumption of yonder crafty and arrogant courtier." 
 
 As he spoke he glanced towarcTs the massive table of carved oak, 
 around which were arranged the leather arm-chairs of the members of the 
 Aulic Council. Count Colloredo followed the glance of his friend, which 
 wit ha supercilious expression, rested upon the person to whom he alluded. 
 This person was seated in one of the chairs, deeply absorbed in the pe- 
 rusal of the papers ihat lay before him upon the table. He was a man 
 of slight and elegant proportions, whose youthful face contrasted singu- 
 larly with the dark, manly, and weather-beaten countenances of the other 
 members of the council. Not a fault marred the beauty of this fiir face : 
 not the shadow of a wrinkle ruflled the polish of the brow; even the 
 lovely mouth itself was free from those lines by which thought and care 
 are wont to mark the passage of man through life. One thing, however, 
 was wanting to this beautiful conntenance. It was devoid of expression. 
 Those delicate features were immobile and stony. Not a trace of emo- 
 tion stirred the compressed lips; no shadow of thought flickered over 
 the high," marble brow ; and the glance of those clear, light, blue eyes 
 was as calm, cold, and unfeeling as those of a statue. This young man, 
 with Medusa-liko brauty, was Anthony Wenzel Von Kaunitz, whom 
 Maria Theresa had lately recalled from Paris to take his seat in her 
 cabinet-council. 
 
 The looks of Harrach and Colloredo were directed towards him, but he 
 appeared not to observe them, and went on quietly with his examination 
 ojf the state papers. 
 
 "You think then, Count," whispered Colloredo, thoughtfully, " that 
 young Kaunitz cherishes the absurd hope of an alliance with France?" 
 
 " 1 am sure of it — I know that a few days ago the French ambassador 
 delivered to him a most affectionate missive, from his friend the Mar- i 
 quise de Pompadour ; and I know too, that yesterday he replied to it in 
 similar strain. It is his fixed idea, and that of La Pompadour also, to 
 drive Austria into a new line of policy, by making her the ally of France." 
 
 Count Colloredo laughed. " The best cure that I know of for fixed 
 
MARL\ THERESA. . 5 
 
 ideas is the madhouse," replied he. "And thither we will send littla 
 Kuunilz if " 
 
 lie ceased suddenly, for Kaunitz bad slowly ^ni^ed his eyes froni the 
 table, and they now rested with such aii icy gaze upon the smiling uice 
 of Colloredo, that the frightened statesman shivered. 
 
 "If he siiuuld have heard me!" murmured he. " If he " but the 
 
 poor Cuunt had no further time for reflection ; for at that inoment the 
 folding-doors leading to the private apartments of the Empre.ss were 
 thrown open, and the Lord High Slewaid announced the approach of 
 her Majesty. 
 
 The councilors advanced to the table, and in respectful silence await- 
 ed the imperial entrance. 
 
 The rustling of silk was heard ; and then the quick step of the Coun- ' 
 tess Fuchs, whose duty it was to accompany the Empress to the thres- 
 hold of her council-chamber, and to close the door behind her. 
 
 And now appeared the majestic figure of the Empress. The lords laid 
 their hands upon their swords, and inclined their heads in reverence be- 
 fore the imperial lady, who with light, elastic step advanced to the table, 
 while the Countess Fuchs noiselessly closed the door, and retired. 
 
 The Einpress smilingly acknowledged the salfftalion, though her sniile 
 was lost to her respectful subjects, who in obedience to the strict Span- 
 ish etiquette which prevailed at the Austrian Court, remainrd with their 
 heads bent, until the sovereign had taken her seat upon the throne. 
 
 One of these subjects had bent his head with the rest, but he had ven- 
 tured to raise it again, and he at least met the glance of royally. This 
 bold subject was Kaunitz, the youngest of the councilors. 
 
 lie gazed at the advancing Empress,, and for the first time a smile 
 flitted over his stony features. And well might the sight of his sovereign 
 lady stir the marble heart of Kaunitz, for Maria Theresa was one of ihe 
 loveliest women of her "day. Though thirty six years of age, and the 
 mother of thirteen children, she was still beautiful, and the Austrinns were 
 proud to excess of her beauty. Her high, lh(nu:hlful forehead was shnded 
 by a profusion of blond hair, which lightly powdered and gathered up l>e- 
 hind in one rich mass, was there confined by a golden net. Iler large, 
 starry eyes were of that^peculiar grey which changes sviih every emotion 
 of the soul; at one time seeming to be heavenly blue; at another the 
 darkest and most flashing brown. Her bold profile betokened great pride; 
 but every look of haughtiness was softened away by the enchanting ex- 
 pression of a mouth, in whose exquisite beauty no trace of the so-called 
 "Austrian lip" could be seen. Her figure, loftier than is usual with wo- 
 men, was of faultless symmetry, while her graceful bust would have seem- 
 ed to the eyes of Praxiteles the waking to life of his own dre.ims of Juno. 
 
 Those who looked upon this beautiful Etnf)ress, could well realize the 
 emotions which thirteen years before had stirred the hearts of the Hun- 
 garian Nobles, as she stood before, them, and had wrought them uj) to 
 that height of enthui^iasm which culminated in the well kiiown bhuuL q£ 
 
 " MORIAMOB VRO REQI NOSTRA." 
 
(3 JOSEPH THE SKCOI^U 
 
 "Oar King !" cried tlio Hunrrnrians, and t1f»y were right. For Mari:i 
 Theresa, who with her husbaiul, was the tender wife, towards her child- 
 ren, the loving mother, was in all that related to her empire, her people, 
 and her sovereignty, a man both in the scope of her comprehension and 
 the strength of her will. She was capable of sketching bold lines of 
 policy, and of following them out without reference to personal predilec- 
 tions* or prejudices, both of which she was fully competent to stifle, 
 wherever they threatened interference with the good of her realm, or her 
 sense of duty as a sovereign. 
 
 The energy and determination of her character were written upon the 
 lofty brow of Maria Theresa, and now as she appro.iched her councilors, 
 these characteristics beamed forth from her countenance with such power 
 and such beauty, that Kauniiz himself wits overawed, atid for one moment 
 a smile lit up his cold features. 
 
 No one saw this smile except the imperial lady that had waked the 
 Memnon into life, and in return for the compliment, she slightly bent 
 her Juno head, as she took her seat upon the throne. 
 
 Now with her clear and sonorous voice, she invited her councilors also 
 to be seated ; and at once reached out her hand for the memoranda which 
 Count Bartenstein had prepared for her examination. 
 
 She glanced quickly over the papers, and laid them aside. " My 
 Lords of the Aulic Council," said she, in tones of deep earnestness, "wo 
 have to-day a question of gravest import to discuss. I crave thereunto 
 your attention and advice. We are at this sitting to deliberate upon the 
 future policy of Austria, and deeply significant will be the result of this 
 day's deliberations to Austria's welfare. Some of our old treaties are 
 about to expire. Time, which has somewhat moderated the bitterness . 
 of our enemies, seems also to have weakened the amity of our friends. 
 Both arc dying tiway ; and the question now bcfore.us is, whether we 
 shall extinguish enmity, or rekindle friendship. For seventy years past, 
 England, Holland, and Sardinia have been our allies. For three hundred 
 years, France has been our hereditary enemy. Shall we renew our 
 alliance with the former powers, or seek new relations with the latter? 
 Let mc hiivo your views rny Lords." 
 
 With these concluding words, Maria Theresa waved her hand, and 
 pointed to Count Uhlefold. The Lord Chancellor arose, and with a dig- 
 nified inclination of the head, responded to the appeal. 
 
 " Since your Majesty permits mo to speak, I vote without hesitation 
 for the renewal of our treaty with the Maritime Powers. For seventy 
 years our relations with these powers have been amicable and honorable, 
 in our days of greatest extremity — when Louis XIV took Alsatia and 
 the City of Strasburg, and his ally, the Turkish Sultan, beseiged Vienna 
 — when two powerful enemies threatened Austria with destruction, it 
 was this alliance with the Maritime Powers and with Sardinia, which 
 next to the succor of the generous King of Poland, saved-»the Austrian 
 Empire from ruin. The brave Sobieski saved our capital, and Savoy 
 held Lombardy in check, while England and Holland guarded the Neth- 
 
MARIA THER£?A. 7 
 
 erlands, which since the Jays of Phih'p II Iteve ever been the nest of r«» 
 bellion and revolt. Wo owe it therefore to this alliance that your 
 Majesty still reigns over these seditions provinces. To Savoy we arc 
 indebted for Lombardy ; while France ! perfidious France has not only 
 robbed us of our territory, but to this day, asserts her right to its posses- 
 sion. No, your Majesty ! So long as France retains that which be- 
 longs to Austria, Austria will neither forgive her enmity nor forget it. 
 See, on the contrary, how the Maritime Powers have befriended us. It 
 was their gold that enabled us first to withstand France, and afterwards 
 Prussia — their gold that filled your Majesty's coffers — their gold that 
 sustained and confirmed the prosperity of your Majesty's dominii.,ns. 
 This is the alliance that I advocate,, and with all my heart I vote for its 
 renewal. It is but just that the Princes and Rulers of Earth should 
 give example to the world of good faith in their dealings, for the integrity 
 of the sovereign is a pledge to all nations of the integrity of his people." 
 
 Count Uhlefeld resumed his seat, and after him rose the powerful 
 fiivorite of the Empress, Count Bartenstein, who in a long and animated 
 address, came vehemently to the support of Uhlefeld. 
 
 Then came Counts Colloredo and Harrach, and the Lord High Stew- 
 ard, Count Khevenhiiller — all unanimous for a renewal of the old treaty. 
 Not one of these rich and proud nobles would have dared to breathe a 
 sentiment in. opposition to the two powerful statespnen that had spoken 
 \)efore them. Bartenstein and Uhlefeld had passed the word. The al- 
 liance must continue with those maritime powers, from whose subsidies 
 
 such unexampled wealth had flowed into the coflfers.of Austria, and 
 
 those of the Lords of the Exchequer. For up to the times of which we 
 ■write, it was a fundamental doctrine of court faith, that the task of in- 
 quiry into the accounts of the imperial treasury, was one far beneath the 
 dignity of the sovereign. The Lords of the Exchequer, therefore, were 
 responsible to nobody for their administration of the funds arising from 
 the Dutch and English subsidies. 
 
 It was natural then, that the majority of the Aulic Council should vote 
 for the old alliance. While they argued and voted, Kaunitz, the least 
 important personage of them all, sat perfectly unconcerned, paying not 
 the slightest attention to the wise deductions of his colleagues. He 
 seemed much occupied in straitening loose papers, mending his pen, and 
 removing with his finger-tips, the tiny specks that flecked the lustre of 
 his velvet coat. Once, while IBartenstein was delivering his long address, 
 Kaunit2; carried his indiflerence so far as to draw out his repeater, (on 
 which was painted a portrait of La Pompadour set in diamonds,) and to 
 strike the hour! The musical ring of the little bell sounded a fairy ac- 
 companiment to the deep and earnest tones of Bartenstein's voice ; while 
 Kaunitz, seeming to hear nothing else, held the watch up to Ifis ear and 
 counted its strokes.* The Empress, who was accustomed to visit the 
 the least manifestation of such inattention on the part of her councilors 
 with open censure, the Empress, so observant of for m, and so cxactinir 
 
 *V^d• Kctrniiwn-, Austrian TlutRrrh, 1? rol., V^V^ VX. 
 
S JOI^&f J1 THE StCO.N*. 
 
 of its observance ia others, seemed singularly indulgent to-day ; for 
 while Kaunitz was listenir.g to the music of his svatch, his imperial mis- 
 tieps li'ukt'J on wiih half a smile. At last when the fifth orator had 
 spoken, and it became thf turn of Kaunitz to vote, Maria Theresa turned' 
 her flashing eyes upon him, with a glance of anxious and appealing ex- 
 pi.ctatii'n. 
 
 As her look met his, how had all coldness and unconcern vanished 
 from his flice ! How glowed his eyes with the lustre of great and world- 
 swayini'^ thoughts, as rising from his chair, he returned the gaze of his 
 huvereign with one that seemed almost to crave forbearance. 
 
 But Kaunitz had almost preternatural control over his emotions, and 
 he ri-covered himself at once. 
 
 " I Ccinnot vote for a renewal of our worn-out alliance with the Mari- 
 time Powers," said he, in a clear and determined voice. As he uttered 
 these words, looks of astonishment and disapprobation were visible upon 
 the faces of his colleagues. The Lord Chancellor contented himself with 
 a contemptous shrug, and a supercilious smile. Kaunitz perceived it, and 
 met boih shrug and smile with undisturbed composure, while calmly 
 and slowly he repealed his offending words. For a monient he paused, 
 as if to give time to his hearers to test the flavor of his new and start- 
 ling language. Then tirm and collected he went on : 
 
 '■ Our alliance wiih England and Holland has long been a yoke and a 
 humiliation to Austria. If in its earlier days, this "alliance ever afforded 
 us protection, dearly have we paid for that protection, and we have been 
 forced to buy it with fearful sacrifices to our national pride. Not for one 
 moment have these two powers allowed us to forget that we have been 
 dependent upon their bounty for money and defence. Jealous of the 
 growing power and affluence of Austria, before whose youthful and vigor- 
 ttus career, lies the glory of future greatness — jealous of our increasing 
 wealth, jealous of the splendor of Maria Theresa's reign ; these powers, 
 whose faded laurels are buried in^the^rave of the past, have compassed 
 sea and land to stop the flow of our prosperity, and sting the pride of 
 our nationality. With their tyrannical commercial edicts, they have 
 dealt injury to friends as well as foes. The closing of the Scheldt and 
 Rhine, the Barrier treaty, and all the other restrictions upon trade de- 
 vised by those crafty English to damage the traflfic of other nations, all 
 ihesc compacts have been made as binding upon Austria as upon every 
 other European power. Unmindful of their alliance with us, the mari- 
 time powers have closed their ports against our ships; and while affect- 
 ing to watch the Netherlands in our behalf, they have been nothing bet- 
 ter than spies, seeking to discover whether our flag transcended in the 
 least the limits of our own blockaded, frontiers ; and whether to any but 
 to themselves, accrued the profits of trade with the Baltic and North 
 Seas. Vraimenl, such friendship lies heavily upon us, and its weight 
 feels almost like that of enmity. Not long ago, at Aix-laChapelle, I had 
 to remind the English ambassador that his unknightly and arrogant 
 bearing towards Austria was unseemly both to the sex and majesty of 
 
MARIA TftfeRJiSA. y 
 
 Austria's Bmpress, And our aug'jst sovereign herself, not long slv.ci^, 
 saw fit to reprove the insolence of this same British envoy, who ii 
 her very presence spoko of the Netherlands as thougli they had bec.i ;i, 
 boon to Austria from England's clemency. Incenscdrt the tone of llii,. 
 representative of our friends, the Empress exclaimed, 'Am I not ruler 
 iu the Netherlands as well as in Vienna? Do I hold my ritrht of em- 
 pire from Engldnd and Holland.' "* 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Maria Theresa impetuously, "yes, I spoke thus. 
 The arrogance of these royal traders has provoked mo beyond all bear- 
 ing. 1 will no longer permit them to insinuateofmyownimpcfi.il 
 rights, that 1 hold them as favors from the hand of any earthly power. 
 It chufes the pride of an Empres^s-Queen to be called a friend and treated 
 fts a vassal ; and I intend that these proud allies shall feel that I resent 
 their affronts." 
 
 It was wonderful to sec the effect of these impassioned words upon 
 the auditors of the Empress. They quaked, as they thought how tliey 
 had voted, and their awe-stricken faces were pallid with fright. Uhle- 
 feld and Bartenstein exchanged glances of amazement and dismay; while 
 the other nobles, like adroit courtiers, fixed their looks, with awukeuin.a- 
 admiration, upon Kaunitz, in whom their experienced eyes were just dis^ 
 covering the rising luminary of a new political firmament. 
 
 He, meanwhile, haii inclined his head and smiled, when the Empress 
 had interrupted him. She ceased, and after a short pause, Kaunitz re- 
 sumed, with unaltered equanimity : " Your Majesty has been graciously 
 pleased to testify, in your own sovereign person, to the tyranny of our 
 two Northern Allies. It remains, therefore, to speak of Sardinia alone; 
 Sardinia who held Lomhardy in check. No sooner had Victor Amadeus 
 put his royal signature to the treaty made by him with Austria, than lia 
 turned, to his confidantes and said — loud enough for us to hear him in 
 Vienna: 'Lombardy is mine. I will take it, but I shall eat it up, leaf 
 by leaf, like an artichoke.' And methinks his majesty of Sardinia has 
 proved himself to be a good trencherman. He has already swallowed 
 several leaves of his artichokes, iu that he is master of several of the 
 fairest provinces of Lombardy. It is true that this royal gourmand has 
 laid aside his crown ; and that in his place reigns Victor Emanuel, of 
 whom Lord Chesterfield, in a burst of enthusiasm, has said, * That he 
 never did and never will commit an act of injustice.' Concede xXmt 
 Victor Emmanuel is the soul of honor, still," added Kaunitz with a shake 
 of the head, and an incredulous smile, "still — the Italian princes are 
 abozninable geographers, and they are inordinately fond of artichokes. f , 
 Now thefr fondness for this vegetable is as dangerous to Austria, as the 
 too-loving grasp of her Northern allies; who with their friendly hands 
 not only close their ports against us, but lay the weight of their favors so 
 heavily upon our head.s as to fohce us down upon our knees before them. 
 What have we from England and Holland but their subsidies? And 
 
 * Coxe : Ulstory of the house of Austria, vol. 6, p. CI. 
 
 + KttunltE' 9iirn ^ords. Konnayr, Aii»triau Plutarcb, llfh yeJ. 
 
10 •' 0O*>EPH THE dKCOJtD. 
 
 Austria can now atford to relinquish them — Austria is rich, powerful, 
 prosperous enough to be" allowed to profler her friendship where it will 
 be honorably returned. Austria then must be freed from her oppressive 
 alliance with the Maratime Powers. She has youth nnvl vitality enough 
 to shako offthis bondage, and strike for the new path that shall lead her 
 to greatness and glory. There is a moral and intangible greatness of 
 whose existence these trading Englishmen have no conception, but which 
 the refined and elevated people of Franccf are fully competent to appre- 
 ciate. France extends to us her hand, and oflers us alliance on terms of 
 equality. Co-operating with France wo- shall defy the enmity of all 
 Europe. With our two-edged sword we shall turn the scales of future 
 European strife, and make peace or war for other nations. France too, 
 is our natural ally, for she is our neighbor. And she is more than this, 
 for she is our ally by the sacred unity of one Faith. The Holy Father 
 at Rome, who blesses the arms of Austria, will no longer look sorrow- 
 fully upon Austria's league with heresy. Wh£n apostolic France and 
 we are one, the blessings of the Church will descend upon our alliance. 
 Iveligion therefore, as well a« honest statesmanship, call for the treaty 
 ^vith France." 
 
 "And I," cried Maria Theresa, rising quickly from her seat, her ejes 
 glowing with enlhuasiastic lire, "I vote joyfully with Count Kaunitz.. I 
 tx)0, vote for alliance with France. The Count has spoken as it stirs my 
 heart to hear an Austrian speak. He loves his Fatherland, and in his 
 devotion, he casts far from him all thought of worldly profit or advance- 
 ment. I tender him my warmest thanks, and I will take his words to 
 heart." 
 
 Overcome with the excitement of the moment, the Empress reached 
 her hand to Kaunitz, who eagerly seized, and pressed it to his lips. 
 
 Count Uhlefeld watched this extraordinary scene wFth astonishments 
 and consternation. Ba'rtenstein, so long the favorite minister of Maria 
 Theresa, was deadly pale, and his ^ips were compressed as though he 
 were trying to suppress a burst of rage. Harrach, Colloredo, and 
 Khevenhiiller hung their heads, while they turned over in their little 
 minds how best to curry fivor with the new minister. 
 
 The Empress saw notliing of the dismayeji faces around her. Her 
 soul was fdled with high emotions, and her countenance beamed glorious- 
 ly with the fervor of her boundless patriotism. i:' 
 
 "Everything for Austria. My heart, my soul, my life, all arc for 
 my Fatherland," said Llaria Theresa, with her beautiful eyes raised to 
 Heaven. "And now my lords," added she, after a pause, " I must retire 
 to beg light and counsel from t'lc Almighty. 1 have learned your dif- 
 ferent views on the great question of this day ; and when Heaven shall 
 have taught me what to do, 1 \y\\\ decide." 
 
 She waved her hand in parting salutation, and with her loftiest impe- 
 rial bearing, left the room. 
 
 Until the doors were closed, the Lords of the Council remained stand; 
 )ng with inclined heads. Then they looked from one to another wilH 
 
MARI^ THERESA. H 
 
 faces of wonder and inquiry, Kaiinitz alone looked unembarrassed ; and 
 gathering up liis papers with as much unconcern as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, he slightly bent his head and left the room. 
 
 Never before had any member of the Aulic Council dared to leave 
 that room until the Lord Chancellor had given the signal of departure ! 
 It was a case of unparalled violation of Court etiquette. Count Uhlefeld 
 was aghast, and Bartenstein seemed crushed. Without exchanging a 
 word, the two friends rose also, and with eves cast down, and faces pale 
 with the anguish of that hour, together they left the council-chamber, 
 towards which not long before they had repaired with hearts and bear- 
 ing so triumphant. 
 
 Colloredo and Ilarrach followed silently to the anto-room, and bowed 
 deferentially us their late masters passed through. 
 
 But no sooner had the door closed, than J,ho two courtiers exchanged 
 malicious smiles. 
 
 "Fallen favorites," laughed Harrach. "Quenched lights, that yester- 
 day shone like suns, and to-day are burnt to ashes. There is to bo a 
 soiree tonight at Bartenstein's. For the first time in eleven years I 
 shall stay away from Bartenstein's soirees.'' * A'^ ' 
 
 "And I," replied Colloredo, laughing, "had invited Uhlefeld for to- 
 morrow. But as the entertainment was all in his honor, I shall be taken 
 with a sudden indisposition, and countermand my supper." 
 
 "That will be a most summary proceeding," said Harrach. "I see 
 then that you believe the sun of Uhlefeld and Bartenstein has set forever." 
 
 "I am convinced of it. They have their death-blow." 
 
 "And the rising sun'? You think it will be called Kaunitzl" 
 
 " Will be? It IS called Kaunitz, so take my advice. Kaunitz, I know, 
 is not a man to be bribed, but he has two weaknesses — women and horses. 
 You are for the present, the favorite of La Fortina ; and yesterday you 
 won from Count Esterhazy, an Arabian, which Kaunitz says, is the finest 
 horse in Vienna. If I were you, I would present to him both my mis- 
 tress and my horse. Who knows but what these courtesies may induce 
 him to adopt you as a protege?" 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 THK LETTER. 
 
 From her cabinet council, the Empress passed at once to her private 
 apartments. When business was over for the day, she loved to cast all 
 oaros of sovercigBty behind, and become Qk woman— ^chatting gayly 
 
12 J<WEPH THE SKCO:<D. 
 
 •with her ladic^ of honor over the on ditit of the court and city. Darin:; 
 the hours devoted to her toilet, Maria Thoresa gave herself unreservedly 
 up to irresponsible enjoymorit. But she was so impetuous, that her la- 
 dies of honor were never quite secure that' some little annoyaiice would 
 not ruffle the serenity of her temper. The young girl whose duty it was 
 to read aloud to the Empress and dress her hair, used to declare that she 
 would sooner wade througn three hours worth of Latin despatches from 
 Hungary, than spend one half hour as imperial hair-dresser. 
 
 But to-diiy, as she entered her dressing-room, the eyes of the Empress 
 beamed with pleasure, and her mouth was wreathed with sunny smiles. 
 The little hair-dresser was delighted, and with responsive smile took her 
 place, and prepared for her important duties. Maria Theresa glided in- 
 to the chair, and with her own hands began to unfosten the golden net 
 that confined her hair. She then leaned forvr-ard, and with a pleased ex- 
 pression, contemplated the beautiful face that looked out fi'oni the silver- 
 framed Venetian glass before which she sat. 
 
 "Make me very charming to-day, Charlotte,"* said she. 
 
 "Your majesty needs no help from me to look charming," said the 
 gen^ voice of the little tire-woman. " No hair-dresser had lent you 
 her aid on that day when your Magyar Nobles swore to die for you, and 
 yet the world says that never were eyes of loyal subjects dazzled by 
 such beauty and such grace." 
 
 "A-h yea, child, but that was thirteen years ago. Thirteen years ! 
 How many cares have lain upon my heart since that day. If my face is 
 "Wrinkled, and my hair grown gray, I may thank that hateful King of 
 J*russia, for he is the cause of it all." 
 
 " If he has no greater sins to repent of than those two," replied Char- 
 lotte, with an admiring smile, "he may sleep soundly. Your majesty's 
 forehead is unruffled by a wrinkle, and your hair is as glossy and as 
 brown as ever it was." 
 
 Brighter still was the smile of the Empress as she turned quickly 
 around and exclaimed, "Then you think that I have still beauty enough 
 to please the Emperor? If you do, make good use of it to-day, for I 
 have something of importance to ask of him, and I long to find favor in 
 his eyes. To work then — Charlotte, and be quick, for " 
 
 At that moment, the silken hangings before the door of the dressing- 
 room were drawn hastily aside, and the Countess Fuchs stepped forward. 
 
 "Ah Countess," continued the Empress, "you are just in time for a 
 cabinet toilet council." 
 
 But the lady of honor showed no disposition to respond to the gay 
 greeting of her sovereign. With stiffest Spanish ceremonial, she curtsied 
 deeply. " Pardon me, your majesty, if I interrupt you," said she solemn- 
 ly, " but I have something to communicate to yourself alone." 
 
 Oh, Countess!" exclaimed Maria Theresa, anxiously, "you look as if 
 you bore me evil tidings. But speak out — Charlotte knows as many 
 State secrets as you do ; you need not be reserved before her." 
 
 fOharlott* V»n HieronymuB was the mother of CwoUnc Pichler. 
 
MARIA THERESA. J ."{ 
 
 " Pardon me," again said the ceremonious lady, with another deep 
 curtsey, "I bring no news of State, I must speak with yonr majesty alone."* 
 
 The eyes of the Empress dilated with fear. " No State secret," n)ur- 
 mured she, "oh what can it be then! Go Charlotte — go child, and re- 
 main until I recall you." 
 
 The door closed behind the tir€-woman, and the Empress cried out, 
 " Now we are alone — be quick and speak out what you have to say. 
 You have come to give me pain — 1 feel it — I feel it!" 
 
 " Your majesty ordered me sometime since," began the Countess in 
 her low unsympathising tones, " to watch the imperial household ; so 
 that nothing might transpire within it that came not to the knowledge 
 of your majesty. 1 have lately watched the movements of the Emperor's 
 valet." 
 
 *'Ah," cried the Empress, clasping her hands convulsively together, 
 '*you watched him, and- " * 
 
 " Yes, your majesty, I watched him, and I was informed this morning 
 that he had left the Emperor's apartments with a sealed note in his hands, 
 and had gone into the city." 
 
 •' No more — just yet," said the Empress with trembling lip. " Give 
 me air ; I cannot breathe." With wild emotion she tore open her vel- 
 vet boddice, and heaving a deep sigh, she signed to the Countess to go on. 
 
 " My spy awaited Gaspardi's return, and stopped him. He was for- 
 bidden, in the name of your majesty, to go further." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Ho was brought to me, your majesty, and now awaits your orders." 
 
 "So tha.t if there is an answer to the note, he has it," said Maria 
 Theresa, sharply. The Countess bowed. 
 
 " Where is he V 
 
 " In the anti-chamber, your majesty." 
 
 The Empress bounded from her seat, and walked across the room. 
 Her face was flushed with anger, and she trembled in every limb. She 
 seemed undecided what to do ; but at last she stopped suddenly and 
 ■blushing deeply, without looking at the Countess she said in a low voice, 
 "Bring him hither." 
 
 The Countess disappeared and returned, followed by Gaspardi. 
 
 Maria Theresa strode impetuously forward, and bent her threatening 
 eyes upon the valet. But the shrewd Italian knew better than to meet 
 the lightening glances of an angry Empress. With downcast looks, and 
 reverential obeisance, he awaited her commands. 
 
 " Look at me, Gaspardi," said she, in tones that sounded in the valet's 
 ears like distant thundef. "Answer my questions, sir." 
 
 Gaspardi raided his eyes. • 
 
 " To whom was the note addressed that was given you by the Em- 
 peror this morning ?" 
 
 " Your majesty, I did not presume t6 look at it," replied Gaspardi, 
 quietly. " His imperial majesty was pleased to tell me where to tako 
 it, and that sufficed mc." 
 
J 4 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 "And whither did you take it?" 
 
 •' Imperial majesty, I have forgotten the house." 
 
 " What street then ?" ^ • 
 
 " Pardon me, imperial majesty ; these dreadful German names are 
 too hard for my Italian tongue. As soon as I had obeyed his majesty's 
 commands, I forgot the name of the street." 
 
 " So that you are resolved not to tell me where you went with the 
 Emperor's note ?" 
 
 " Indeed, imperial majesty, I have totally forgotten." 
 
 The Empress looked as if she longed to annihilate this menial, who 
 defied her so successfully. 
 
 " I see," exclaimed she, " that you are crafty and deceitful, but you 
 shall not escape me. I command you, as your sovereign, to give up the 
 note you bear about you for the Emperor. I, myself, will deliver it to 
 his majesty." 
 
 Gaspardi gave a start, and unconsciously his hand sought the place 
 where the note was concealed. He turned very pale and stammered : 
 " Imperial majesty, I have no letter for the Emperor." 
 
 " You have it there !" thundered the infuriated Empress, as with threat- 
 ening hand she pointed to the valet's breast. " Deliver it at once, or I 
 will call my lackeys to search you." 
 
 'i Your majesty forces me then to betray my Lord and Emperor ?" 
 asked Gaspardi, trembling. 
 
 " You serve him more faithfully by relinquishing the letter than by 
 retaining it," returned Maria Theresa, hastily. " Once more I command 
 you to give it up." 
 
 Gaspardi heaved a sigh of anguish, and looked imploringly at the 
 Empress. But in the trembling lips, the flashing eyes, the flushed cheeks 
 that met his entreating glance, he saw no symptoms of relenting, and he 
 dared the strife no longer. His hand shook as he drew forth the letter 
 and held it towards the Empress. 
 
 She uttered a cry, and with the fury of a lioness she snatched the pa- 
 per and crushed it in her hand. 
 
 " Your majesty," whispered the Countess, " dismiss the valet before 
 he learns too much. He might " 
 
 " Woe to him if he breathes a word to one human being," cried the 
 Empress, with menacing gesture. " Woe to him if he dares to breathe 
 one word to his master !" 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should betray the secrets of my sovereign !" 
 cried the aff"righted Gaspardi. " But, imperial majesty, what am I to 
 say to my lord, the Emperor ?" 
 
 " You will tell your lord that you brought no answer, and it will not 
 be the first lie with which you befool his imperial ears," replied Maria 
 Theresa, contemptously, while she waved her hand as a signal of dis- 
 missal. The unhappy Mercury retired, and as he disappeared, the pent 
 up anguish of the Empress burst forth. 
 
 '^Ah Margftrctto T' oricd she, in accents of wildest prie^ "whal au un- 
 
MARIA THERESA, 15 
 
 fortunate woman I am. In all my life I have loved but one man! My 
 heart, iny soul, my every thought arc his, and he robs me, the mother 
 of his children, ot his love, and bestows it upon another !" 
 
 " Perhaps the inconstancy is but momentary," replied the Countess, 
 %vho burned to know the contents of the letter. "Perhaps there is no 
 inconstancy at all. This may be nothing but an effort on the part of 
 some frivolous coquette to draw our handsome Emperor within the net 
 of her guilty attractions. The note would show— — " 
 
 The Empress scarcely heeded the ■words of her confidant. She had 
 opened her hand, and with dark stormy hjoks, she gazed upon the crump- 
 led paper that held her husband's secret. 
 
 *' Oh !" murmured she, plaintively. " Oh, it seems to me that a thou- 
 sand daggers have sprung from this little paper, to make my heart's 
 blood flow. Who is the fool-hardy woman that would entice m"y hus- 
 band from his loyalty to me"? Woe! woe to her when I shall have 
 learned her name! And I will learn it!" cried the unhappy wife. " I 
 myself will take this letter to the Emperor, and he shall 6pen it in my 
 presence. Oh I Avill have justice ! Adultery is a ftarful crime, and fear- 
 ful shall be its punishment in ray realms. The name ! . The name ! 
 Oh that I knew the name of the execrable woman that has dared to lift 
 her treasonable eyes towards my husband !" 
 
 " Nothing is easier than to learn it, your majesty," whispered the 
 Countess, squat like a toad, close to the ear of Eve ! " The letter will 
 reveal it." 
 
 The Empress frowned. Oh for Ithurial then ! 
 
 " Dost mean that I shall open a letter which was nerer intended to be 
 read by me ?" 
 
 The Countess pointed to the paper. " Your majesty has already broken 
 the seal. You crushed it iinintentionally. There remains but to unfold 
 the paper, and everything is explained. I will wager that it comes from 
 the beautiful dancer Riccardo, whom the Emperor admired so much 
 last night in the ballet, and w;hom he declared to be the most bewitching 
 creature he had ever seen." 
 
 The eyes of the Empress dropped burning tears, and covering her face 
 with her hands, she sobbed aloud. Then she seemed ashamed of her 
 emotion, and dashing away her tears, she raised her beautiful head again. 
 
 " It is contemptible so to mourn for one who is faithless," said she. 
 "It is for me to judge and to punish, and that will I ! It is my 4uty aa 
 ruler of Austria to bring all -crime to light. I will soon learn who it is 
 that dares to exchange letters with the husband of the reigning Empress. 
 And after all, the speediest, the simplest way to do this, lies before me. 
 I must open the letter for justice sake ; but I swear that I will not read 
 one word contained within its pages. I wilt see the name of the writer 
 alone ; and then I can be sure that curiosity and personal interest have 
 not prompted me." 
 
 And so Maria Theresa silenced her scruples, and persuaded herself 
 that she was compelled to do aa the tempter had suggested. She tore 
 
16 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 open the note ; but true to her self-imposed vow, she paused on the 
 threshold of dishonor, and read nothing but the writer's name. 
 
 " Riccardo!'' cried she wildly. "You were right, Margaretta, an in- 
 trigue with the Riccardo. The Emperor has written to her, the Emperor, 
 my husband !" 
 
 She folded the fatal letter, and oh ! how her white hands trembled as 
 she laid it upon the table ; and how deadly pale were the cheeks that 
 had flushed with anger when Gaspardi had been by ! 
 
 Tiie Countess was not deceived by this phasis of the Empress' grief. 
 She knew that the storm would burst, and she thought it better to divide 
 its wrath. She stepped lightly out to call the confessor of her victim, 
 
 Maria Theresa was unconscious of being alone. She stood before the 
 table staring at the letter.- Gradually her paleness vanished, and the 
 hue of anger once more deepened on her cheeks. Her eyes that had jifst 
 been drooping with tears, flamed again with indignation ; and her ex- 
 panded nostrils, her, bewitching mouth, and her heaving chest, betrayed 
 the fury of the storm that was beginning once more to rage within. 
 
 " Oh I will trample her under foot," muttered she between her teeth, 
 while she raised her hand as if she would fain have dealt to her rival a 
 death-stroke. "I will prove to the Court, to the Empire — to the world, 
 how Maria Theresa hates vice, and how she punishes crime, without 
 respect of persons. Both criminals shall feel the lash of justice. If my 
 woman's heart break, the Empress shall do her duty. It shall not be 
 said that lust holds its revels in Vienna, as at the obscene Courts of Ver- 
 sailles and St. Petersburg. No! Nor shall the libertines of Vienna 
 point to the Austrian Emperor as their model, nor shall their weeping 
 wives be taunted with reports of the indulgence of the Austrian Empress. 
 Morality and. decorum shall prevail in Vienna. The fire of my royal 
 vengeance shall consume that bold harlot, and then then for the Em- 
 peror '." 
 
 " Your majesty will never consent to bring disgrace upon the father 
 of your imperial children," said a gentle voice close by, and turning at 
 the sound, the Empress beheld her confessor. 
 
 She advanced hastily towards father Porhammer. " How !" exclaimed 
 she angrily, "how, you venture to plead for the Emperor? You come 
 hither to stay the hand of justice?" 
 
 " I do indeed," replied the tather, " for her hand, to-day at least, if up- 
 lifted against the Emperor, must recoil upon the Empress. The honor 
 of my august sovereigns cannot be divided. Your majesty must throw 
 the shield of your love over the fault of your imperial husband." 
 
 " Oh I cannot ! I cannot suffer this mortal blow in silence," sobbed 
 the Empress. 
 
 " Nay," said the father smiling, " the wife may be severe, though the 
 Empress be clement." 
 
 " But she, father — must she also be pardoned? She who has enticed 
 my husband from his conjugal faith?" 
 
 "As for the Riccardo," replied father Porhammer, " I have heard that 
 
MARIA THERESA. IJ 
 
 she is a sinAil woman, whose beauty has le(^ many men astray; If yDuv 
 majesty deem her dange|ous, she can be made to leave Vienna ; but kt 
 retribution go no further." 
 
 " Well, be it so," sighed the Empress, whose heart was alre»<5y sotr!'- 
 ening. "You are right, reverend father, bu& La Kiccardo ebaliJeavo 
 Vienna forever." 
 
 So saying she hastened to her escriioire, and wrote and signed the onicj? 
 for the banishment of the danseune. 
 
 "There," cried she, handing the order to the priest, " I pray \tJ&> 
 dear father, to remit this to Count Barten.stein, and let him see that she. 
 goes hence this very day. And v/hen I have laid this evil spirit, per- 
 chance I shall find peace once more. But no ! no !" continued she^ 
 her eyes filling with tears, " when she has gone, some other enchant- 
 tress will come in her place to charm my husbf^nd's love away. <^ 
 father ! if chastity is not in the heart, sin will always find entranoo 
 there!" 
 
 " Yes, your majesty ; and therefore should the portals of the heart be 
 ever guarded against the enemy. As watchmen are appointed to guard 
 the property, so are the servants of God sent on earth to extend the pro- 
 tection of Heaven to the hearts of your people." 
 
 "And why may I not aid them in their holy labors 1" exclaimed thA 
 Empress, glowing suddenly with a new interest. "Why jnay not I ajN 
 point a committee of good and wise men to watch over the moralj? cf 
 my subjects, and {p warn them from temptation, ere it has tinie to be- 
 come sin? Come father, you must aid me in this good work. Help 
 me to be the eartlily, as the Blessed Virgin is the heavenly mother of 
 the Austrian people. Sketch me some plan whereby I may organise my 
 scheme. I feel sure that your suggestions will bo dictated by that 
 Heaven to which you have devoted your whole li/e." 
 
 ".May the spirit of counsel and the spirit of wisdom cnlightea 
 myiunderstanding," said the father, with solemn fervor, " that I may 
 worthily accomplish the mission with which my Empress has eotiust*;! 
 me!" 
 
 " But, your majesty," whispered the Countess Fuchs, " in your mag- 
 nanimous projects for your people, you are losing sight of yoursoif. 
 The Riccardo has not yet been banished ; and the Emperor seeing that 
 no answer is coming to his note, may seek an interview. Who can gu^ss 
 the consequences of a meeting ?" 
 
 The Empress shivered as the Countess probed the wounds herself Itad 
 made in that poor, jealous heart. 
 
 "True — true," returned she in an unsteady voice. " Go father, and 
 begin my work of reform, by casting out that wicked woman from amoug 
 the unhappy wives of Vienna. I myself will announce her departurw 
 to the Emperor*. And now, dear friends, leave me: You, father, to 
 Count Bartenstein. Countess, will you recall Charlotte, and send me 
 my tire-woman. Let the princes- and princesses be regally attired to- 
 day. I will meet tho Emperor in their midst." 
 
18 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 The confessor bowed and rctrred, and the Countess opening the door 
 of the inner dressing-room, beckoned to Charlotte, who in the recess of 
 a deep bay window, sat wearily awaiting the summons to return. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TOILET OF THE EMPRESS. 
 
 So dark' and gloomy was the face of the Empress, that poor Charlotte's 
 heart misgave her, as with a suppressed sigh she resumed her place, and 
 once more took down the rich masses of her sovereign lady's hair. 
 Maria Theresa looked sternly at the reflection of her little maid of honor's 
 face itt the glass. She saw how Charlotte's hands trembled, arid this in- 
 creased her ill-humor. Again she raised her eyes to her own image, and 
 she saw plainly that anger was unbecoming to her. The flush on her 
 face was not rosy, but purple ; and the scowl upon her brow was fast 
 deepening into a wrinkle. Her bosom heaved with a. heavy, heavy 
 sigh. > 
 
 "Ah !" thought she, " if I am ever again to find favor in his eyes, I 
 must always smile; for smiles are the last glowing tints of beauty's 
 sunset. A"nd yet — how can I smile when ray heart is breaking ! He 
 said that the Riccardo was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Alas ! 
 I remember the day when he knelt at my feet, and spoke thus of me. 
 Qh my Franz ! Am I indeed old and no longer loveable !" 
 
 In her anxiety to scrutinize her own features, the Empress bent sud- 
 denly forward, and the heavy mass of puffs and braids that formed the 
 coiffiire she had selected for the day, gave way. She felt the sharp 
 points of the hair pins in her head, and miserable and nervous as she 
 ■was, they seemed to wound her cruelly. Starting from her chair, she 
 poured forth a torrent of reproaches upon Charlotte's head, who pale and 
 trembling more than ever, repaired the damage, and placed among the 
 braids, a bouquet of white roses. These white roses deepened the un- 
 becoming redness of the Empress' face. She perceived this at once, and 
 losing ail self-control, she tore the flowers from her hair, and dashed 
 them on the floor. 
 
 " YoQ are all leagued against me," cried she indignantly. " You are 
 trying your best to disfigure me, and to make me look old, before my 
 time. Who ever saw such a ridiculous structure as this head-dress, that 
 makes me look like a perambulating castle on a chess board ! Come ! 
 another coiffure, and let it not be such a ridiculous one as this !" 
 
 Charlotte of course did not remind her mistress that thfe coiffure and 
 
MARIA THERESA. 10 
 
 roses had been her own selection. She had nothing to do but td obey 
 in silence, and begin her work again. 
 
 At last the painful task was at an end. The Empress looked keen- 
 ly at herself in the glass, and seeming convinced that she rfeally looked 
 well, she called imperatively for her tire-woman. In came the proces- 
 sion, bearing hooped-skirt, rich-embroidered train, golden-flowered petti- 
 coat, and boddice, flashing with diamonds. But the Empress, usually 
 so afTable at her toilet, surveyed both maids and apparel with gloomy 
 indilTerencc. In moody silence she reached out her feet, while her slip- 
 pers were exchanged for high-henled shoes. Not a look had she to be- 
 stow upon the magnificent dress which enhanced a thousand fold her 
 mature beauty. Without a word she dismissed the maids of honor, all 
 except Charlotte, whose crowning labor it was to give the last touch to 
 the imperial head, when the rest of the toilet had been declared to be 
 complete. 
 
 Again Maria Theresa stood before that high Venetian glass, and cer- 
 tainly it did give back the image of a regal beauty. For a while she 
 examined her costume from head to foot ; and at last— at last ! her 
 beautiful blue eyes beamed bright with satisfaction, and a smile rippled 
 lightly the corners of her mouth. 
 
 "No," said she aloud. "No, it is not so. I am neither old nor ugly. 
 The light of youth has not yet fled from my brow. My beauty's sun 
 has not yet set forever. My Franz will love me still ; and however 
 charming younger women may be, he will remember the beloved of his 
 boyhood, and we will yet be happy in reciprocal affection, come what 
 may to us as Emperor -and Empress. I do not believe that he said ho 
 had never seen so lovely a Woman as Riccardo. Poor, dear Franz ! He 
 has a tedious life as husband of the ftigning sovereign. From sheer 
 ennui, he sometimes wanders from his wife's heart, but oh! he must, he 
 must return to me, for if I were to lose him, earthly splendor would be 
 valueless to me forever!" 
 
 Charlotte, who stood behind her mistress with the comb in her hand, 
 was dismayed at all that she had heard ; and the plaintive tones of this 
 magnificent Empress, at whose feet lay a world of might, touched her 
 heart's coi-e. But she sickened as vshe thought that her presence had been 
 ualiecded, and that the Empress had fancied herself alone, while the se- 
 crets of her heart were thus struggling into words. The ample train 
 completely screened little Charlotte from view, and a deadly paleness 
 overspread her countenance as she awaited discovery. 
 
 Suddci;i]y the Empress turned, and putting her hand tenderly on Char- 
 lotte's head, she said, in a voice of indiscribable melancholy, " Be warned, 
 Charlotte, and if you marry, never marry a man who has nothing to do. 
 Men will grow inconstant from sheer ennui."* 
 
 "I never expect to marry, beloved mistress," said the young girl, deep- 
 ly touched by this confidence. " I wish to live and die in your majesty's 
 service." 
 
 *>raria Thcrcea's words. See Caroliin.' Ticjilcr: Memoirs of my Hfc. 
 
20 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 "Do yoy'? And can yoii bear for a life-time with my impatience, 
 dear child 1" asked the Empress, kissing the little devotee on the fore- 
 head. " You know now, my little Charlotte, why I have been so unkind 
 to-day ; you know that my heart was bleeding with such anguish, that 
 had 1 not broken out in anger, I would have stifled with agony. You 
 have seen into the depths of my heart, and why should I not confide in 
 you, who knows every secret of my State-council ? No one suspects 
 what misery lies under the regal mantle. And I care not to exhibit my- 
 self to the world's pity. When Maria Theresa weeps, let her God and 
 those who love her be the witnesses of her sorrow. Go now, good little 
 Charlotte, and forget everything except your sovereign's love for you. 
 Tell the governess of the arch-Duke Ferdinand, to bring him hither. 
 Let the other imperial children await me in my reception-room ; and tell 
 the page in the ante-room to announce to his majesty that I request the 
 honor of a visit from him." 
 
 Charlotte, once more happy, left the room, her heai^t filled with joy for 
 herself, and gentle sorrow for her sovereign. 
 
 ileanwhilo the Empress thought over the coming ipl^erview. " I will 
 try to recall him to me by love," murmured she, softly. "I will not 
 reproach him, and although as his Empress I have a double claim upon 
 his loyalty, I will not appeal to anything but his own dear heart; and 
 when he hears how he has made his poor Theresa suffer, I know " 
 
 Plere her voice failed her, and tears filled her eyes. But she dashed 
 them quickly away, for steps approached, and the governess entered, 
 with the infant prince in her arms. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WISE. 
 
 A half an hour later, the princes and princesses of Austria were all 
 assembled in their mother's private parlor. They were a beautiful 
 group. The Empress in their midst, held little Ferdinand in her arms. 
 Close peeping through the folds of their mother's rich dress, were three 
 other little ones; and a few steps further were the arch-duchesses Chris- 
 tine and Amelia. Near the open harpsichord stood the graceful form of 
 the Empress' eldest child, the princess Elizabeth, who now and then ran 
 her fiilgers lightly over the instrument, while she awaited the arrival of 
 her fiither. 
 
 In the pride of her maternity and beauty stood the Empress-Queen ; 
 Irat her heart throbbed painfally, though she smiled upon her children. 
 
MARIA THERESA, 21 
 
 The page announced the coming ot ^:^he Eraperor, and then left the 
 room. The Empress made a sign to her eldest daughter, who seated 
 herself before the harpsichord. The door opened, and on the threshold 
 appeared the tall, elegant form of the Emperor Francis. 
 
 Elizabeth begaja a brilliant " Welcome," and all the young voices 
 joined in one loud chorus. " Long live our Emperor, our sovereign, and 
 our. father !" sang the children ; but clear above them all, were heard the 
 sonorous tones of the mother, exclaiming in the fullness of her love 
 "Long live my Emperor and my husband!" As if every tender chord 
 of Maria Theresa's heart had been struck, she broke forth into one of 
 those passionate songs of Metastasio ; while Elizabeth, catching the in- 
 spiration, accompanied her mother with sweetest melody. The Empress 
 her little babe in her arms, was wrapped up in the ecstacy of the mo- 
 ment — Never had she looked more enchanting than she did as she ceased 
 and gave one look of love to her admiring husband. 
 
 The Emperor for one moment contemplated the lovely group before 
 him, and then full of emotion, he came forward, and bending over his 
 wife, he kissed the round white arm that held the baby, and whispered 
 to the mother a few words of rapture at her surpassing beauty, 
 
 "But tell mo, gracious Empress," said he aloud, "to what I am in- 
 debted for this charming surprise." 
 
 The eyes of the Empress shot fire, but in lieu of a reply, she bent 
 down to the little arch-duchess Josepha, who was just old enough to lisp 
 her father's name, and said : 
 
 " Josepha, tell the Emperor what festival we celebrate to-day." Tiia 
 Jittle one turning to her father, said, "To-day is imperial mama's wed- 
 ding-day." 
 
 " Our wedding-day !" murmured the Emperor, "and I could forget it !" 
 
 " Oh no ! my dear husband," said the Empress. " I am sure that you 
 cannot have forgotten this joyous anniversary. Its remembrance only' 
 slumbered in your heart, and the presence of your children here, I trust 
 has awakened that remembrance, and carried you back with me to tho 
 happy, happy days of our early love." 
 
 The voice cf the wife was almost tearful, as she spoke these tender 
 words, and the Emperor, touched and humbled at the thought of his own 
 oversight, sought to change the subject. " But why," asked he, looking 
 around, "why, if all our other children are here to greet their father is 
 Joseph absent from this happy family gathering?" 
 
 "He has been disobedient and obstinate again," said the Empress, 
 "with a shrug of her shoulders, "and his preceptor to punish hin^^kept 
 him away." • 
 
 The Emperor walked to the door. " Surely," exclaimed he, "on such 
 a day as this, when all my dear children are around me, my son and the 
 future Emperor should be the first to bid me welcome." 
 
 " Stay, my husband," cried the Empress, who had no intention of 
 allowing the Emperor to escape so easily from his embarrassment. 
 "You must bo content to remain with us, without the fttiure Efoperor 
 
'22 ' JOSI^I'H THE SECOND. 
 
 of Austria, whose reign, I hope I may be allowed to pray, Is yet for some 
 years postponed. Or is this^ti happy device of the future Emperor's 
 tiither to remind me, on hiy wedding-day, that I am growing old enough 
 lo begin to think of the day of my decease!" 
 
 Thf Emperor was perfectly amazed. Although he was accustomed 
 to such outbursts on the part of his wife, ho searclied vainly in his heart 
 for the cause of such intenge bitterness to-day. He looked his astonish- 
 ment; and tiie Empress, mindful of her resolve not to reproach him, 
 tried her best to smjle. 
 
 The Emperor shook his head thoughtfully as he watched her face, and 
 said half-aloud. "All is not right with thee, Theresa ; thou smilest like 
 a lioness, not like a woman." . 
 
 "Very well, then," said, she sharply, "the lioness has called you to 
 look upon her whelps. One day they will be lions and lionesses too, 
 and in that day they will avenge the injuries of their mother." 
 
 Tlie Empress, as she spoke, felt that her smothered jealousy was burst- 
 ing forth. She hastily dismissed her children and going herself to the 
 door, she called for the governess of the baby, and almost threw him in 
 her arms. 
 
 " I forsee the coming of a storm," thought the Emperor, as the door 
 being closed, Maria Theresa came quickly back, and stood before him. 
 
 "And is it indeed true," said she bitterly, " that you had forgotten 
 vour wedding-day] Not a throb of your heart to remind you of the 
 past!" > 
 
 " My memory does not cling to dates, Theresa," replied the Emperor. 
 *' What if to-day be accidentally the anniversary of our marriage 1 With 
 every beating of my heart, /celebrate the hour itself, when I won the 
 proud and beautiful heiress of Austria ; and when I remember that she 
 deigned to love me, the poor arch-duke of Lorraine, my happiness over- 
 whelmed me. Come then my beautiful, my beloved Theresa; come to 
 my heart that I may thank you for all the blessings that I owe to your 
 love. See, dearest, we are alone ; let us forget royalty for to-day, and 
 be happy together in all the fullness of mutual confidence and affection." 
 
 So saying, he would have pressed her to his heart, but the Empress 
 drew coldly back, and turned deadly pale. This unembarrassed and con- 
 fident tenderness irritated her beyond expression. That her f^iithlesa 
 spouse should without the slightest remorse, act the part of the devoted 
 lover, outraged her very sense of decency. 
 
 " Really, my husband, it becomes you well to prate of confidence and 
 affection, who have ceased to think of your own wife, and have eyesalono 
 for tl\| wife of another !" 
 
 "Again jealous," sighed the Emperor, wearily. " Will you never cease 
 to cloud our domestic sky by the^e absurd and groundless suspicions'?" 
 
 " Groundless !" cried the Empress, tearing the letter violently from 
 her bosom, " With this proof of your guilt confronting you, you will 
 not dare to say that I am jealous without cause !" 
 
 "Allo\f n^o to inquire of your majesty, what this letter is to prove'?" 
 
MARIA TilEKESA. 23 
 
 " It proves that to-day you hav6 written a letter to a woman, of whom 
 yesterday you said that she was the most beautiful woman in the world." 
 
 " I have no recollection of saying such a thing of any woman ; and I 
 am surprised that your majesty should encourage your attendants to re- 
 peat such contemptible tales,'* replied the Emperor, with some bitter- 
 ness, "Were I lilce you, the reigning sovereign of a great empire, I 
 should really find no time to indulge in gossip and scandal." 
 
 "Your majesty will oblige me by refraining from any comment upon 
 ofTairs which do not concern you. I alone am reigning l^inpross here, 
 and it is for my people to judge whether I do my duty to them ; cer- 
 tainly not for you, who, while 1 am with my ministers of state, employ 
 your leisure hours in writing love-letters to my subjects." 
 
 " I ? 1 write a love letter ?" said the Emperor. 
 
 " How dare you deny it ?" cried the outraged Empress. " Have you 
 also forgotten that this morning you sent Gaspardi out of the palace on 
 an errand '?" . ^ ^ 
 
 " No I have not forgotten it," replied the Emperor, with growing 
 astonishment. . But Maria Theresa remarked that he looked confused, 
 and avoided her eye. 
 
 " You confess then that you sent the letter, and requested an answer ?" 
 
 " Yes, but 1 have received no answer," said the Emperor, with em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " There is your answer," thundered the enraged wife. " I took it from 
 Gaspardi myself" 
 
 "And is it possible, Theresa, that you have read a letter addressed to 
 me 1" asked the Emperor, in a severe voice. 
 
 The Empress blushed, and her eyes sought the ground. 
 
 " No," said she, "I have not read it, Franz." 
 
 " But it is open," persisted he, taking it from his wife's hand. " Who 
 then has dared to break the seal of a letter addressed to me?" 
 
 And the Emperor, usually so mild and yielding towards his wife, stood 
 erect, with stormy brow and eyes flashing with anger. 
 
 Maria Theresa in her turn was surprised. She looked earnestly at 
 him, and confessed inwardly that never had she seen him look so hand- 
 some; and she felt an inexplicable and secret pleasure that her Exanz, 
 for once in his life, was really angry with her. 
 
 " I broke the seal of the letter, but I swear to you that I did not road 
 one word of it," replied she. "I wished to see the signature only, and 
 that signature was enough to convince me, that I had a faithless husband, 
 who outrages an Empress by giving her a dancer as her rival !" 
 
 "The signature convinced you of this?" asked the Emperor. 
 
 "It did!" 
 
 "And you read nothing else ?" 
 
 " Nothing, I tell you !" 
 
 " Then, madam," returned he, seriously, handing the letter back to her, 
 " do me the favor to read the whole of It. After breaking the seal, you 
 need not hesitate. I exact it of you." 
 
2^ JOSEPH THE SECOjI^I). 
 
 Hlie Empress looked overwhelmed. " You exact of me to read a love- 
 ktter addressed to you !" 
 
 " I certainly do — You took it from my valet, you broke it open, and 
 now I beg you will be so good as to read it aloud, for I have not yet 
 raa.d it myself." 
 
 **I will read it then," cried the Empress^ scornfully. "And I promise 
 ywi that I shall not suppress a word of its contents." 
 
 " Read on," said the Emperor, quietly. 
 
 Tho Empress with loud and angry tone began: 
 
 To his gracious majesty, the Emperor — 
 
 Your majesty has honored me by asking my advice upon a subject of 
 bigliest importance. But your majesty is much nearer the goal than I. 
 it is true that my gracious master, the Count, led me to the vestibule of 
 the temple of science, but further I have not penetrated, W hat I know 
 5 will joyfully impart to your majesty; and joyfully will 1 aid you in 
 your search, after that which the whole world is seeking. I will come at 
 ^ appointed hour. . 
 
 . Your majesty's loyal servant, 
 
 RiCCARDO. 
 
 ^I do not understand a word," said the mystified Empress. 
 
 ^ But I do," returned the Emperor, with a meaning smile. " Since 
 
 vou? raajesty has~ thrust yourself into the portals of my confidence, 
 
 I juust e'en take you with me into the penetralia ; and confess at once 
 that 1 have a passion, which has cost me many a sleepless night, and has 
 prtvoocupied my thoughts, even when I was by your majesty's side." 
 
 "But I see nothing of love or passion in this letter," replied Maria 
 Theresa, glancing once more at its singular contents. 
 
 '* And yet it speaks of nothing else. Tmay just as well confess, too, 
 ti)at la pursuit of the object of my love, I have spent three hundred 
 thousand guilders, and thrown away at least one hundred thousand guil- 
 tliH^j worth of diamonds." 
 
 **• Your mistress must be either very coy, or very grasping," said 
 M»ria Theresa, almost convulsed with jealousy. 
 
 **She is very coy," said -the Emperor. "All my gold and diamonds 
 b&va won m© not'd smile — She will not yield up her secret. But I be- 
 iieve th«tt she has responded to the love of one happy mortal, Count 
 Saint-Gernpain." 
 
 " Count Saint-Germain !" exclaimed the Empress, amazed. 
 
 "Himself, your majesty. He is one of the fortunate few, to whom. 
 the coy beautv has succumbed ; and to take his place I would give mil- 
 Jionfj, Now 1 heard yesterday that the confidant of the Count was in 
 Vienna; and hoping to learn something from him, I invited him hither. 
 Bignor fiiccardo " 
 
 '•'- Signor Riccardo ! Was this letter written by a man i" 
 
 •Bjf the husband of the dancer," 
 
MARIA TtlERESA, 25 
 
 "And your letter was addressed to him 1" 
 
 " Even so, madam." y ' 
 
 " Then this passion of which you speak, is your old passion — Alchemy." 
 
 "Yes it is, I had promised you to give it up, but it proved stronger 
 than I. Not to annoy you, I have ever since worked secretly in my 
 laboratory — I have just conceived a new idea ! I am about to try the 
 experiment of consolidating small diamonds into one large one, by means 
 of a burning-glass." 
 
 The Empress answered this with a hearty, happy laugh, and went up 
 to her husband with outstretched hands. 
 
 " Franz," said she, " I am a simpleton ; and all that has been ferment- 
 ing in my heart, is sneer nonsense. My cro\vn does not prevent me 
 from being a silly woman. But my heart's love, forgive my folly for 
 the sake of my love." 
 
 Instead of responding to this appeal, the Emperor stood perfectly still, 
 and gazed earnestly and ■seriously at his wife. 
 
 " Your jealousy," said he, after a moment's silence, " I freely forgive, 
 for it is a source of more misery to you than to me. But this jealousy 
 has attacked my honor as a man, and that I cannot forgive. As reign- 
 ing Empress, I render you homage ; and am content to occupy the second 
 place in Austria's realms. I will not deny that such a role is irksome 
 to- me, for I, like you, have lofty dreams of ambition ; and I could have 
 wished that in giving me the title, yon had allowed me sometimes the 
 privileges of a co-regent. But I have seen that my co-regency irritated 
 and annoyed you, I have therefore renounced all thought of governing 
 empires. 1 have done this not only because I love you, Theresa, but 
 because you are worthy by your intellect to govern your people without 
 my help. Jn the world, therefore, I am known as the husband of the 
 reigning Empress. But at home, I am lord of my own household ; and 
 here I reign supreme. The Emperor may be subordinate to his sover- 
 eign, but the man will acknowledge no superior ; and the dignity of his 
 manhood shall be respected, even by yourself." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should ever seek to wound it," exclaimed 
 Maria Theresa, while she gazed with rapture upon her husband's noble 
 countenance, and thought that never had he looked so handsome as at this 
 moment, when for the first time he asserted his authority against herself. 
 
 " You have wounded it, your majesty," replied the Emperor, with em- 
 phasis. " You have dogged my steps with spies ; you have suffered my 
 character to be discussed by your attendants. You have gone so far as 
 to compromise me with my own servants; forcing them to disobey me 
 by virtue of your rights as sovereign, Exercised in opposition to mine 
 as your husband. I gave Ga.spardi orders to deliver Riccardo's note to 
 mc alone. I forbade him to tell any one whither he went. You took 
 my note from him by force, and committed the grav-e wrong of compell- 
 ing a servant hitherto faithful, to disobey and betray his master." 
 
 " I did indeed wrong you, dear Franz," said the Empress, already 
 penitent. "In Gaspardi'a presence, I will ask your pardon for my in- 
 
26 ■ JOSEPH TUjE^^COND. 
 
 delicate intrusion, find beforehim t'will bear witness to his fidelity. I 
 alone was to blaine, — I promise you, too, to sin no more against you, 
 ray beloved ; for your love is the brightest jewel in my crown. With- 
 out it, no happiness would grandeur give to me. Forgive me then, my 
 own Franz, forgive your unhappy Theresa !" 
 
 As she spolie, she inclined her head towards her husbftid, and looked 
 up to him with such eyes of love, that he could but gaze enraptured up- 
 on her bewitching beauty. 
 
 " Come, Franz, come !" said she tenderly. "Surely, that wicked jest 
 of yours has amply revenged you — Be satisfied with having given me a 
 heart-ache for jealousy of the coy-mistress upon whom you have wasted 
 your diamonds, and be magnanimous." 
 
 " And you, Theresa ? Will you be magnanimous also 1 Will you 
 leave my servants and my letters alone, and set no more spies to dog 
 my steps?" . " 
 
 " Indeed, Franz, I will never behave as I have done to-day, while we 
 both live. Now, if you will sign my pardon, I will tell you a piece of 
 news, with v/hich I intend shortly to surprise all Austria." 
 
 " Out with it, then, and if it is good news, I sign the pardon," said the 
 Emperor with a smile. 
 
 " It is excellent news," cried the Empress; " for it will give new life 
 to Austria. It will bring down revenge upon our enemies, and revenge 
 upon that wicked infidel who took my beautiful Silesia from me, and 
 who boasting of his impiety, calls it enlightenment!" 
 
 " Have you not yet forgiven Frederic for that little bit of Silesia that 
 he stole from you 1" asked the Emperor laughing. 
 
 " No, I have not yet forgiven him, nor do I ever expect to do so. I 
 owe it to him, that, j'^ears ago, I came like a beggar before the Magyars 
 to whimper for help and defence. I have never yet forgotten the hu- 
 miliation of that day, Franz," 
 
 " And yet, Theresa, we must confess that Frederic is a great man, 
 and it were well for Austria if we were allies ; for such an alliance would 
 secure the blessings of a stable peace to Europe." 
 
 " It cannot be," cried the Empress. There is no sympathy between 
 Austria and Prussia, and peace will never come to Europe until one 
 succumbs to the other. No dependence is to be placed upon alliances 
 between incongruous nations. In spite of our allies, the English, the 
 Dutch and the Russians, the King of Prussia has robbed me of my pro- 
 viqce; and all the help I have ever gotten from them was empty con- 
 dolence. For this reason I have sought for alliance with another power; 
 a power which will cordially unite with me in crushing that hateful infi- 
 del, to whom nothing in life is sacred. This is the news that I promised 
 you. Our treaty with England and Holland is about to expire, and the 
 new ally I have found for Austria, is France." 
 
 " An alliance with France is not a natural one for Austria, and can 
 never be enduring," exclaimed the Emperor.* 
 
 * The Emperor's own woi'de. Coxe : History of the house of Austria, vol, 5, p, CT. 
 
MARIA THERESA. 27 
 
 " It^will be enduring," cried Maria Theres/i proudly, *' for it is equally 
 desired by both nations. Not only Louis XV., but the Marquise de 
 Pompadour is impatient to have the treaty signed." 
 
 "That moans that Kauuitz has been flatteriiijr the Marquise, and the 
 Marquise, Kaunifz. H«t words are not treaties, and tlic Marquise's 
 . promises arc of no consequence whatever.'' 
 
 *' But, Franz, I tell you that wo have gone further than words. Of this, 
 however, no one knows, except the King of France, myself, Kaunitz and 
 the Marquise." 
 
 " 11 ow in the world did you manage to buy the good-will of the Mar- 
 quise ? How many millions did you pay for the precious boon ?" 
 
 " Not a cent, my dear husband, only a letter." 
 
 " Letter ? Letter from whom ?" 
 
 " A letter from me to the Marquise." 
 
 " What !" cried the Emperor laughing, you .write to La Pompadour, 
 yoit, Theresa ?" 
 
 " With ray own hand, I have written to her, and more than once," re^ 
 turned Maria Theresa, joining in the laugh. " And what do you sup- 
 pose I did, to save my honor in the matter ? I pretended to think that 
 she was the wife of the King, and addressed her as ' Madcwie, ma sveur 
 et cousine P " 
 
 Here the Emperor laughed immoderately. " Well ! well '." exclaimed 
 he. "So the Empress-Queen of Austria and Hungary writes with her 
 own hand to her beloved cousin La Pompadour !" 
 
 "And do you know what she calls me ?"' laughed the Empress in re- 
 turn. "Yesterday I had a letter from her in which she calls me, sport- 
 ively, ' Ma chcre reine.^ " 
 
 The Emperor broke out into such a volley of laughter, that he threw 
 himself back upon a chair, which broke under him, and the Empress had 
 to come to his assistance, for he was too convulsed to get up alone.* 
 
 " Oh dear ! oh dear !" groaned the Emperor, still continuing to laugh. 
 "I shall die of this intelligence. Maria Theresa in correspondence with 
 Madame d'EtioIes !" 
 
 " Well, what of it,' Franz ?" asked Maria Theresa. " Did I not write 
 to the Prima donna Farinelli when we were seeking alliance with Spain? 
 And is the Marquise not as good as a soprano singer ?"f 
 
 The Emperor looked at her with suoh a droll expression that she gave 
 up all idea of defending herself from ridicule, and laughed as heartily as 
 her husband. 
 
 At this moment a page knocked, and announced the arch-duke Joseph 
 and his preceptor. 
 
 " Poor lad," said the Emperor. " I suppose he comes as usual, accom- 
 panied by an accuser. 
 
 * Historical. 
 
 tThe Empress' own words. Coxc, vol. 5, page C9. 
 
JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 Jo 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ARCH-DUKE JOSEPH. 
 
 The Emperor was right, father Francis came in with complaints of 
 his highness. While the lather with great pathos set fortli the reasons 
 of the arch-duke's absence from the family circle, the culprit stood by, 
 apparently indifferent to all that was being said. But to any one observ- 
 ing him closely, his tremulous mouth, and the short convulsive sighs, 
 which he vainly strove to repress, showed the real anxiety of his fast 
 beating heart. He thrust back his rising tears, for the little prince was 
 too proud to crave sympathy ; and he had already learned how to hide 
 emotion by a cold and haughty bearing. From his childhood he had 
 borne a secret sorrow in his heart ; the sorrow of seeing his young bro- 
 ther Carl preferred to himself. Not only was Carl the darling of his 
 parents, but he was the pet and plaything of the whole palace. True, 
 the poor little arch-duke was not gifted with the grace and charming 
 naivete of his brother. He was awkward, serious, and his countenance 
 wore an expression of discontent, which was thought to betray an evil 
 disposition, but which, in reality, was but the reflection of the heavy sor- 
 row which clouded his young heart. No one seemed to understand — no 
 one seemed to love him. Alone in the midst of that gay and splendid 
 court, he was never noticed except to be chided.* The buds of his poor 
 young heart were blighted by the mildew of neglect, so that outwardly 
 he was cold, sarcastic and sullen, while inwardly he glowed with a thou- 
 sand emotions, which he dared reveal to no one, for no one seemed to 
 dream that he was capable of feeling them. 
 
 To-day, as usual, he was brought before his parents as a culprit ; and 
 without daring to utter a word in his own defence, he stood by, 'while 
 father Francis told how many times he had yawned over the lives of the 
 Martyrs ; and how he had refused to read longer than one hour, a most 
 edifying commentary on the fathers of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 The Empress heard with displwisure of her son's lack of piety ; and 
 she looked severely at him while he gazed sullenly at a portrait that 
 hung oj)p6site. 
 
 "And can it be my son," exclaimed she, " that you close ydur heart 
 against the word of God, and refuse to read religious books ?" 
 
 The boy gave her a glance of defiance. " I do not know," said he, 
 carelessly, "whether the books are religious or not ; but I know that they 
 are tiresome, and teach me nothing." 
 
 ""Gracious heavens," cried the Empress with horror, "hear the impious 
 
 child!" 
 
 » 
 
 * Hubner, Life of Josoph Sd, page 1&. 
 
MARIA THERESA. . 29 
 
 "Rather, your majesty," said father Francis, "let us pray heaven to, 
 soften hiy heart." The Emperor alone said nothing; but he looked at 
 the boy with a friendly and sympathising glance. The child saw the 
 look, and for one moment a flush of pleasure passed over his face. lie 
 raised his eyes with an appealing expression towards his father, who 
 could no longer resist the temptation of coming to his relief. 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested he, " the books may be dull to a child of Jo- 
 seph's years." 
 
 " No book," returned the Empress, "should be dull that treats of God 
 and of his Holy Church." 
 
 "And the work, your majesty, which we were reading, was a most 
 learned and celebrated treatise," said father Francis ; "one highly calcu- 
 lated to edify and instruct youth." 
 
 Joseph turned away from the father, and spoke to the Emperor. 
 
 " We have already gone through five volumes of it, your majesty, and 
 I am tired to death of it. Moreover Idon't believe half that I read in 
 his stupid books." 
 
 The Empress as she heard this, uttered a cry of pain. She felt an icy 
 coldness benumb her heart, as she remembered that t^ unbelieving boy 
 was one day to succeed her on the throne of Austria. The Emperor, too, 
 was pained. By the deadly paleness of her face, he guessed the pang 
 that was rending his wife's heart, and he dared say no more in defence 
 of his son. 
 
 " Your majesty sees," continued father Francis, "how far is. the heart 
 of his highness from God and the church. His instructors are grieved 
 at his precocious unbelief, and they are this day to confer together upon 
 the painful subject. The hour of the conference is at hand, and 1 crave 
 your majesty's leave to repair thither." 
 
 " No," said the Empress, with a deprecating gesture. " No. Remain, 
 good father. Let this conference be held in the presence of the Emperor 
 and myself. It is fitting that we bothknow the worst in regard to our child." 
 
 The Emperor bowed acquiescence, and crossing the room, topk a seat 
 by the side of the Empress. 
 
 He rang a little golden bell ; and the page who came at the summons, 
 ■was ordered to request the attendance of the preceptors of his highness 
 the crown-prince of Austria. 
 
 Maria Theresa leaned her head upon her hand, and with a sad and 
 perplexed countenance watched the open door. The Emperor, with his 
 arm thrown over the richly gilded back of the divan, looked earnestly 
 at the young culprit, who pale, and with a beating heart, was trying his 
 best to suppress his increasing emotion. 
 
 "I will not cry," thought he, scarcely able to restrain his tears, "for 
 that would be a triumph for my detestable teachers. 1 am not going to 
 give them the pleasure of knowing that I am miserable." 
 
 And by dint of great exertion, he mastered his agitation. Ho was so 
 successful that he did not move a muscle, nor turn his head when the 
 solemn procession of his accusers entered the room. 
 
30 JOSEPH THE SECOKD. 
 
 . First, a,t the head, came father Porhammer, who gave him lessons in 
 logic and physics. After him wallied, the engineer Brigucn, professor of 
 mathematics. Then Herr Von Lepormi, who instructed him in general 
 history. Herr Von Bartenstein, who expounded the political hi.-uory'of 
 the house of Austria. Baron Von Beck', who was his instructor in judi- 
 cature ; and finally his governor, Count Bathiany, the only one towards 
 whoni the young prince felt a grain of good-will. 
 
 The Empress greeted them with grave courtesy, and exhorted them 
 to say without reserve before his parents, what they thought of the pro- 
 gress and disposition of the arch-duke. 
 
 Count Bathiany, with an encouraging smile directed towards his pupil, 
 assured their majesties that the arch-duke was anxious to do right. Not 
 because he was told so to do by others, but because he followed the dic- 
 tates of his own co-nscience. True, his highness would not see througli 
 the eyes of any other person ; but this, thoughjt might be a defect in a 
 child, would be the reverse in a man, above all, in a sovereign. " In 
 proof of the arch-duke's sincere desire to do right," continued Count 
 Bathiany, "allow Mne to repeat to your majesties something which he 
 said to me yesteroay. We "were reading together Bellegarde on know-" 
 ledge of self and of human nature. The l?eautiful thoughts of the author 
 so touched the heart of his highness, that stopping suddenly, he exclaim- 
 ed to me, " We must read this again ; for when I come to the throne I 
 shall need to know, not only myself, but other men also." 
 
 " Well said, my son !" exclaimed the Emperor. ' • 
 
 "I cannot agree with your majesty," said the Empress, coldly, "/do 
 not think it praiseworthy for a child of his age to look forward with com- 
 placency to the day when his mother's death will confer upon him a 
 throne. To me it would seem more uatural if Joseph thought more of 
 his present duties, and less of his future honors." 
 
 A breathless silence followed these bitter words. The Emperor, in 
 confusion, withdrew behind the harpsichord. The arch-duke looked per- 
 fectly indifferent. While Count Bathiany was repeating his words, his 
 face had slightly flushed ; but when he heard the sharp reproof of his 
 mother, he raised his head, and gave her back another defiant look. With 
 the same sullen haughtiness, he stared first at one accuser, and then at an- 
 other, while each one in his turn, gave judgment against him. First, and 
 most vehement in his denunciations, was Count Bartenstein. He denoun- 
 ced the arch-duke as idle and inattentive. He never would have any po- 
 litical sagacity whatever. Why, even thegreatworkinfifteen folios, which 
 he (Count Bartenstein) had compiled from the imperial archives for the 
 especial instruction of the prince, even that failed to interest him !* 
 
 Then followed the rest of their professorships. One complained of 
 disrespect ; another of carelessness ; a third of disobedience ; a fourth 
 of irreligion. All concurred in declaring the arch-duke to be obstinate, 
 unfeeling and intractable. 
 
 •Hormayer says that this book was heavy aud Illled with tiresome details. 
 No TVOBdcr. In lifteeq folios. Trana. 
 
MARIA THERESA. 31 
 
 His face meanwhile grew paler and harder, until ifc seemed almost 
 ready to sfilTen into marble. Although every censorious word went like 
 a dajrger to his sensitive heart, he still kept on murmuring to himself, 
 "I will not cry, I will not cry." 
 
 His mother divined nothing of the agony that, like a wild tornado, was 
 desolating the fair face of ho-r child's whole being. She saw nothing be- 
 yond the portals of that cold and sullen aspect, and the sight tilled her 
 with sorrow and aifger. 
 
 "Alas," cried she, bitterly, " you are right. He is a refractory and 
 unfeeling boy." 
 
 At this moment, like the voice of a conciliatory angel, were heard the 
 soft tones of the melody with which the Empress had greeted her hus- 
 band that morning. It was the Emperor, whose hands seemed uncon- 
 sciously to wander over the keys of the harpsichord, while every head 
 bent entranced to listen. 
 
 When the first tones of the heavenly melody fell upon his ear, the 
 young prince began to tremble. His features softened ; his lips so scorn- 
 fully compressed, now parted,, as if to drink in every sound ; his eyes 
 filled with tears, and every angry feeling of his heart was hushed by the 
 magic of music. With voice of love it seemed to call him, and unable 
 to resist its power and its pathos, he burst into a flood of tears, and with 
 one bound reached his father's arms sobbing. 
 
 " Father, dear father, pity me !" 
 
 The Emperor drew the poor boy close to his heart. He kissed his 
 blond curls, and whispering, said, " Dear child, I knew that you were not 
 heartless. I was sure that you would cotae when your father called." 
 
 The Empress had started from her seat, and she now stood in the cen- 
 tre of the room, earnestly gazing upon her husband and her child. Her 
 mother's heart beat wildly, and tears of tenderness suffused her eyes. 
 She longed to speak some word of pardon to her son ; but before all 
 things, Maria Theresa hon,ored. court ceremony. She would not, for the 
 •world, that her subjects had seen her otherwise than self possessed and 
 regal in her bearing. 
 
 With one great effort she mastered her emotions ; and before the 
 strength of her will, the mighty flood rolled back upon her heart. Not 
 a tc^ar that glistened in her eye-lids. fell 5 not a tone of her clear, silvery 
 voice was heard to falter. 
 
 " Count Bathiany," said she, "I perceive that in the education of the 
 arch-duke, the humanising influences of music have been overlooked. 
 Music to-day has been more powerful with him than filial love or moral 
 obligation. Select for him then a skilful teacher, who will make use of 
 his art to lead my son back to duty and religion."* 
 ♦Maria Theresa's own words. Coxe, House of Austria, vol, 5. 
 
32 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 CHAPTER Vi. 
 
 KAUNITZ. 
 
 Three weeks had e]apsed since the memorable sitting at which Miaria 
 Theresa had declared in favor of a new line of policy. Three long weeks 
 had gone by, and still no message came for Kaunitz ; and still Barten- 
 stein and Uhlefeld held the reigns of power. 
 
 With hasty steps, Kaunitz paced the floor of his study. Gone was all 
 coldness and impassibility from his face. His eyes glowed with restless 
 fire, and his features twitched nervously. 
 
 His secretary, who sat before the writing-table, had been gazing 
 anxiously at the Count, for some time. He shook his head gloomily, as 
 he contemplated the strange sight of Kaunitz, agitated and disturbed. 
 
 Kaunitz caught the eye of his confidant,, and coming hastily towards 
 the table, he stood for a few moments v/ithout speaking a word. Sud- 
 denly be burst into a loud, ha<-sh laugh ; a laugh so bitter, so sardonic, 
 that Baron Binder turned pale as he heard the sound. 
 
 "Why are you so pale. Binder 1" asked Kaunitz, still laughing, "why- 
 do you start as if you had received an electric shock?" 
 
 " Your laugh is like an electric shook to my heart," replied the Baron. 
 " Its sound was enough to make a. man pale. Why, for ten years I have 
 lived under your roof, and never have I heard you laugh before." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right. Binder, for in sooth my laugh echoes gloomily 
 within the walls of my own heart. But I could not help it. You had 
 such a droll censorious expression on your face.". 
 
 " No wonder," returned Baron Binder. " It vexes me to see a states- 
 man so irresolute and unmanned." 
 
 "Statesman!" exclaimed Kaunitz, bitterly, "who knows whether my 
 role of statesman is not played out already !" 
 
 He resumed his walk in moody silence, while Binder followed him 
 with his eyes. Suddenly Kaunitz stopped again before the table. " Bar- 
 on," said he, " you have known me intimately for ten years. In all my 
 embassies you have been with me as attache. Since we have lived to- 
 gether, have you ever known rae to Tje faint-hearted ?" 
 . " Never !" cried the Baron, "never ! I have seen you brave the anger 
 of monarchs, the hatred of enemies, the treachery of friends and mis- 
 tressses. I have stood by your side in more than one duel, and never 
 before have I seen you otherwise than calm and resolute." 
 
 Judge then, how sickening to me is this suspense, since for the first 
 
 time in my life, I falter. Oh ! I tremble lest " 
 
 ^ " Lest what?" asked the Baron, with interest. 
 " Binder, I fear that Maria Theresa may prove less an empress than 
 
. MAHIA THERESA. 33 
 
 a woman. I fear that the persuasions of the handsome Francis of Lor- 
 raine may outweigh her own convicti..ins of right. What if her husband's 
 caresses, her confessor's counsel, or her own feminine caprice, should 
 blind her to the welfare of her subjects, and the interest of her empire? 
 Oh what a giant structure will fall to the earth, if, at this crisis, the Era- 
 press should fail me ! Think what a triumph it would be, to dash aside 
 my rivals and seize the helm of state ! To gather, upon the deck of on© 
 ___ stout ship, all thepaltry principalities that call themselves ' Austria i,' 
 to band them into one consolidated nation ; and then to steer this noble 
 ship into a haven of greatness and glorious peaOe! Binder, to this end 
 alone, I live. 1 have outlived all human illusions, I have no faith in 
 love— it is bought and sold. No faith in the tears of men ; none in their 
 smiles. Society, to me, is one vast madhouse. If in its frenzied walls 
 I show that I am sane, the delirious throng will shout out, 'Seize the 
 •lunatic' Therefore must I seem as mad as they, and therefore it is tkat 
 outside of this study, I commit a chousand follies. — In such a world I 
 have no faith ; but. Binder, I believe in divine Ambition. It is the only 
 passion that has ever stirred my heart ; the only passion worthy fo fill 
 the soul of a man ! My only love, then, is Ambition. My only dream 
 is of power. Oh that I might eclipse and outlive the names of my ri- 
 vals. But alas! alas! I fear that the greatne^'s uf Kaunitz will bo 
 wrecked upon the shoals of Maria Theresa's shallowness!" 
 
 "No, no," said the Baron vehemently. "Fear nothing, Kaunitz ; 
 you are the man who is destined to make Austria great, and to disperse 
 the clouds of ignorance that darken the minds of her people." 
 
 " You may ho sure that if ever i attain power, Binder, nor churchy nor 
 churchman shall \tkve a voice in Austria. Kaunitz alone shall reign. 
 But will Maria Theresa consent?- Will she ever have strength of mind 
 to burst the shackles with which silly love and silly devotion have bound 
 
 her ! I fear not. Religion " 
 
 Here, the door opened, and the Count's valet handed a card to the 
 Secretary. 
 
 *' A visit from Count Bartenstein !" exclaimed the Baron triumphant- 
 ly. "Ah! I knew " 
 
 " Will you receive him here, in the study?" 
 
 " I will receive him nowhere," replied Kaunitz coldly. , '« Say to tho 
 Count," added he to the valet, " that I am engaged, and beg to ba ex- 
 cused." ^ . . 
 
 "What? You deny yourself to the Prime Minister," cried Binder 
 terrified. 
 
 Kaunitz motioned to the servant to withdraw. " Binder, said he ex- 
 ultingly," do you not see from this visit that my day is about to dawn, 
 and that Bartenstein is the first lark to greet the rising sun ! Ilis visit 
 proves that he feels a presentment of his fall, and my rebulf shall verify 
 it. The whole world will understand that when Bartenstein was turned 
 away from my door, I gave old Austria, as well as himself, a parting 
 kick. Away with anxiety and fear ! The deluge is over, and old Bar- 
 
 H 
 
34 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 tenstein has brought me the olive branch that announces •dry land and 
 safety!" 
 
 " My dear Count !" - , 
 
 " Yes, Binder, dry land and safety. Now we will be merry, and lift 
 our head high up into clouds of Olympic revel ! Away with your deeds 
 and your parchments ! We are no longer book-worms, but butterflies. 
 Let us sport among the roses !" ^ 
 
 While Kaunitz spoke he seized a, hand-bell from the table, and rang 
 vehemently. ' • 
 
 " Make ready for me in my dressing-room," said he to the valet. Let 
 the cook prepare a costly dinner for twenty persons. Let the steward 
 select the rarest wines in the cellar. Tell him to see that the Cham- 
 pj'.ffne is not too warm, nor the Johannesberg too cold ; the Sillery too 
 dry, nor the Lachryma Christi to acid. Order two carriages, and send 
 onefor Signora Ferlina, and the other for Signora Sacco. Send two 
 footmen to Counts* Harrach and Colloredo, with my compliments. Stay 
 
 here is a list of the other guests. Send a messenger to the apartments 
 
 of my sister, the Countess. Tell her, with my respects, to oblige me by 
 dining to-day in her own private rooms. I will not need her to preside 
 over my dinner-table, to-day." 
 
 " But, my lord," stammered the valet, " the Countess " 
 
 'c Well— what of her r ^ 
 
 " The Countess has been de gone for a week.'' 
 
 " Gone, without taking leave 1 Where ?" 
 
 " There, my lord," replied the valet, in a low voice, pointing upwards 
 towards heaven. 
 
 " What does he mean, Binder ?" asked Kaunitz with a shrug. 
 
 Binder shrugged responsive. 
 
 "The good Countess," said he, "had- been ill for some time; but did 
 not wish to disturb you. You must have been partially prepared for 
 the melancholy event, for the Countess has not appeared at table, for 
 three weeks." 
 
 " Me "? Not at all. Do you suppose that during these last three 
 weeks, . I have had time to think of her! *I never remarked her absence. 
 When did the — the ceremony take place'?" 
 
 " Day before yesterday. I attended to every thing." 
 
 " My dear friend, how I thank you for sparing me the sight of these 
 hideous rites. Your arrangements must have been^ exquisite ; for I nev- 
 er so much as suspected the thing. Fortvmately, it is all over, and we 
 can enjoy ourselves as usual. Here, Philip. Let the house look festive. 
 Flowers on the stair-cases and in the entrance-hall. Oranges and roses 
 m the dining-room. Vanillasticks in the coffee-cups instead of tea spoons. 
 Away with you !" 
 
 The valet bowed, and when he was out of hearing, Kaunitz- renewed 
 his thanks to the Baron. 
 
 " Once more, thank you for speeding my sister on her journey, and 
 for saving me a.11 knowledge of thts unpleasant affair. How glad tho 
 
MARIA THERESA. 35 
 
 Si<nioras will be to hear that the Countess has positively gone, never to 
 return. Whom .shail I get to replnco her? Wt.ll, never mind now — 
 some otlier time we'll settle that little matter. Now to my tpilet." 
 
 He bent his head to the Baron, and with light, clastic step, passed in- 
 to his 'dressing-rooin. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 tHE TOILET. 
 
 When Kaunitz entered bis dressing-room, his features had resumed 
 their usual immobility. He walked in, without seeming to be aware of 
 the presence of his attendants, who ranged ou either side of the apart- 
 ment, awaited his commands. 
 
 Ho weilt up to his large Venitian fnirror, and there surveyed himself 
 at full length. W'ith anxious glance, his keen eyes sought out every 
 faint line that told of the four and thirty years of his life. The picture 
 seemed deeply interesting, for he stood a long time before the glass. At 
 last the scrutiny was ended, and he turned slightly towards the hair-dresser, 
 
 " Is the perruque ready '?" 
 
 The hair-dresser fluttered off to a band-box, that lay on the toilet-ta- 
 ble, and lifted out a fantastic-looking blond perruque, constructed after 
 "his Excellency's own design." Kaunitz was not aware of it, but this 
 wig of his, wiih its droll mixture of flowing locks and the prim purse be- 
 hind, was an exact counterpart of the life and character of its inventor. 
 He had hajj no intention of being symbolic in his contrivance; it had 
 been sol^' designed to conceal the little tell-tale lines that were just 
 about to indent the smooth surface of his white forehead. He bent his 
 proud head, while the hair-dresser placed the wonderful wig, and then 
 fell to studying its effect. Here, he drew a curl forward, there he gently 
 removed another ; placing each, one in its position over his eye-brows, 
 so that no treacherous side-light should reveal anything he chose to hide. 
 ^Finally the work was done. " Hippolyte," said he to the hair dresser, 
 who stood breathlessly by, " this is the way in "Cvhich my wig is to be 
 dressed from this d»y forward.'"^' 
 
 Hippolyte bowed low, and stepped back to give place to the valets, 
 who came in with the Count's costume. One bore a rich habit embroid- 
 ered with gold, and the other a pair of velvet-shorts, red stockings, and 
 diamond buckled-shoes. 
 
 * From this time Kfiunitz wore his wig In this eccentric fashion. It w?s adopted hy the Cxquititcg 
 <ir Vienna, jnd called "the Kannitsrenuqvie." 
 
36 ' JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " A simpler habit — Spanish, without embroidery, and white stockings." 
 
 White stockings ! The valets were astounded at such high-treason 
 against the Court-regulations of Vienna. But Kaunitz, with a slight and 
 contemptuous shrug, ordered them a second time to bring him white 
 stucidngs, and never to presume to bring any other. 
 
 Now, go and await me in the. puderkammcr.^]* . 
 
 Tlie valets backed out as if in the presence of royalty, and the eccen- 
 tric statesman was loft with his chief valek The toilet was complcted| 
 in solemn silence. Then, the Count walked to the mirror to take an-' 
 other look at his adored person. Pie gave a complacent stroko to his 
 ruff of richest AlenQon, smoothed the folds of his habit, carefully arrang- 
 ed the lace frills that fell over his white hands, and then turning to his 
 valet, he said, " Powder-mantle." 
 
 Tlie valet unfolded a little package, and with pretor-careful hands, 
 dropped a ]png white mantle over the shoulders of the ministerial cox- 
 comb. Its light folds closed around him, and with an olympian nod, he 
 turned towards the door, while the valet flew to open* it. As soon as 
 the Count appeared, the other valets, who, with the hair-dresser, stood 
 on either side of the room, raised each one, a long brush dipped in hair- 
 powder, and waved it to and fro. Clouds of white dust filled the room ; 
 while through the mist, with grave and delU)erale gait, walked Kaunitz, 
 .every now and then halting, when the brushes all stopped ; then giving 
 the word of command, when they all fell vigorously to work again. , 
 l^'our times he went through the farce, and then, grave as a ghost, he 
 walked back to his dressing-room, followed by the hair-dresser. 
 
 At the door, the chief valet carefully removed the powdcr-mantlei'and 
 for the third time- Kaunitz turned to the mirror. There he carefully 
 wiped the powder from his eyes, and with a smile of extreme satisfac- 
 tion he turned to the hair-dresser. 
 
 " Confess, Hippolyte, that nothing is more beautifying than powder. 
 See how exquisitely it lies on the front ringlets, and how airily it is dis- 
 tributed over the entire perruque. Vraiment, I am proud of my in- 
 vention.*' 
 
 Hippolyte protested that it was worthy of the god-like intellect of his 
 Excellency,and was destined to make an era in the annals of hair-dressing." 
 
 "The annals of hair-dressing," replied his Excellency, "are not to bife 
 enriched wiih any account of my method of using powder. If ever I 
 hear a word of this discovery breathed outside of these rooms, I dismiss 
 the whole'pack of you> Do you hear!" 
 
 Down went the obsequious heads, while Kaunitz continued, with his 
 fine cambric handkerchief, to remove the last specka of powder from his 
 eye-lids. When he had sufficiently caressed and admired himself, he 
 went to the door. It opened, and two valets, who stood outside, pre- 
 sented him, one with a jewelled snuff-box, the other with an embroidered 
 Handkerchief. A large brown dog that lay couchantin the halj, rose and 
 followed him, and the last act of the daily farce was over. 
 
 * lAtvraHy, " Tiyraer-rBoiB," 
 
r/l^' ' 1^^' ^ MARIA THEliE*<A. 37 
 
 The Count passed into his study, and going at once to ihc taWo, ho 
 turned over the papers. " No message yet from the Empress," said ho 
 chagrined, " What if Bartenstein's visit was not a politic, but a triumph- 
 
 ant one. What a " 
 
 Here the door opened, and Baron Binder entered. " Your Excellen- 
 cy," said he smiling, "I have talien upon myself to bear you a message 
 which y6ur servants declined to bring. It is to announce a visitor. 
 The hour for reception has gone by, but he was so urgent that I really 
 could not refuse his entreaties that you might be told of his preseuoo. 
 Pardon my officiousness, but you know how soft-hearted I am. 1 could 
 never resist importunity." 
 
 " Who is your suppliant friend*?" 
 
 "Count Bartenstein, my lord." 
 
 " Bartenstein. Bartenstein back already !" exclaimed Kaunitz, exnlt- 
 ingly. "And he begged — he begged for an. interview, you say ?" 
 
 " Begged! the word is faint to express his supplications." 
 
 "Then I am not mistaken !" cried Kaunitz, with loud triumphant voice, 
 " If Bartenstein begs, it is all over with him. Twice in ray ante-roora 
 in one day ! That is equivalent to a message from the Empress." 
 And Kaunitz, not caring to dissimulate with Binder, gave vent to his 
 exceeding joy. ' 
 
 "And you will be magnanimous — you will see him, will you not?" 
 asked Binder, imploringly. 
 
 " What for V asked the heartless statesman. " If he means business, 
 
 the council-chamber is the place for that ^ if he comes to visit me 'I 
 
 beg to be excused.' " 
 
 " But when I beg you, for vnj sake. Count," persisted the goodnatiiied 
 Baron ; " the sight ot fallen greatness is such a painful one. How can 
 any one add to it a feather's weight of anguish !" 
 
 Kaunitz laid his hand upon the broad shoulders of hfs friend ; and in 
 his eye tliere kindled something like a ray of affection. 
 
 " Grown-up child, your heart is as soft as if it had nerer been breathed 
 upon by the airs of this wicked world — say no more about Bartenstein, 
 and I will reward your interest in his misfortune, by making you his 
 successor. You shall be State-Referendarius yourself. Come along, 
 you chicken-hearted statesman, and let us play a game of billiards." 
 
 "First," said Binder, sadly, "I must deliver my painful message to 
 Count Bartenstein." 
 
 "Bah ! the page can be sent to dismiss him." 
 
 "But there is no reason why we should keep the poor man waiting.'* 
 
 " Him, the poor man, say you ? I remember the day when I waited 
 in his ante-room, and as 1 am an honest man, I shall pay him with 1h- 
 tcrest. Come along mv dear future State- Roferendarius." 
 
■^S '■ JOHEPii THE .iECONlJ. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE RED STOCKINGS, 
 
 At Kaunltz's dinner-table on that day, revelry reigned triiimpliant. 
 No jest was too. bold for the lips of the men , and if perchance upon the 
 cheelcs of their beautiful companians, there rose ilie slightest flush of 
 womanly shame, the knights of the revel shouted applause, and pealed 
 forth their praises in wildest dithyrambies. V/ith .glowing faces and 
 eyes of flame, they ate. their highly-spiced viands and drank their fiery 
 wines, until all restraint was flung aside, and madness ruled the hour. 
 
 The lovely Ferlina, whom Kaunitz had placed next to himself, was 
 beautiful as Grecian Phryne ; and Sacco, who was between her adorers, 
 Harrach and Colloredo, was bold and bewitching as Lais. 
 
 The odor of flowers — the sound of distant music, everything that could 
 intoxicate the senses, was there. .It was. one of those orgies which 
 Kaunitz alone knew how to devis6, and to which all the lesser libertines 
 of Vienna longed to be initiated, for once admitted there, they were 
 graduates in the school of vice. 
 
 The guests were excited beyond control, but not so the Jiost. He wha_ 
 had invoked the demon that possessed the rest, sat perfectly collected. 
 With the coolness of a helmsman he steered, the flower-laden bark of 
 voluptuousness towards j;he breakers, while he befooled its passengers' 
 with visions of fatal beauty. 
 
 The feast was at an end, and as Kaunitz reviewed the faces of the com- 
 pany, and saw that for the day, their passions were weary from indul- 
 gence, he said to himself, with diabolical calmness, " Now that they have 
 exhausted every other pleasure, we will sharpen the blunted edge of de- 
 sire with gambling ! When the life of the heart is burnt to ashes, it 
 will still revive at the chink of gold." 
 
 "To the gaming-table friends, to the gaming-table !'^ cried he. And 
 the dull eyes grew bright, while the guests followed him to the green- 
 covered table that stood at the further end of the dining-room. 
 
 Kaunitz took from a casket a heap of gold,- while La Ferlina gazed 
 npon it with longing sighs. Harrach and Colloredo poured bhowers 
 from their purses, and Sacco looked from one to the other with her most 
 irtetTiible smiles. , Kaunitz saw it all, and as he threw the dice into the 
 .golden dice-box he muttered, " Miserable worms, ye thinic yours&lves 
 gods, and are the slaves of a little fiend, whose name is clold !" 
 
 As he raised the dice-box, the door opened, and his first valet appeared 
 on the threshold. 
 
 "Pardon me, your Excellency, that* I presume to enter^ the room. 
 But there is a messenger from the Empress, and she begs your Exccl- 
 lep.cy's immediate attendance," 
 
MAKiA TJiijtKbA. ;^y 
 
 With an air of consummate indifierence, Kannitz replacfd the dice on 
 the table. " My can iagoi," was his reply to the valet ; and to his jiuests, 
 Nviih a graceful iiwiiiuition, he 8uid, ," Do not let this interrupt you. 
 Count Harrach will be my banker. In this casket are ttn thou^nd ilu- 
 rins — I. go halves with the charming Ferlina." 
 
 Sigrtora Ferlina could not contain herself for joy, and in the exuber- 
 ance of her gratitude, she disturbed some of the folds of Kaunitz's lace 
 ruff! Kaunitz was furious ; but, without changing a muscle, he went on. 
 •'Farewell, my lords — farewell, ladies ! 1 must away to the post of 
 duty." X 
 
 Another bend of the head, and he disappeared. The vnlots and hair- 
 dresser were already buzzing around his dressing-room, with court-dress 
 and red-stocking, but Kaunitz waved them all away, and called Ilippo- 
 lyte to arrange a curl of his hair that v'as displaced. 
 
 The chief valet who had been petrified with astonishment, now came 
 to life, and advanced, holding in his hand the rich court-dress. 
 
 " Pardon, your Hxcellency, but my lord, the Count, is about to have 
 an audience with her imperial Majesty 1" 
 
 "I am," was the curt reply. 
 
 "Then, your Excellency must comply with the etiquette of the Em- 
 press's^ court, which requires the full Spanish dress, dagger and red 
 stockings." 
 
 *' Must," said Kaunitz contemptuously. " Fool ! From this day, no 
 one shall say to Count Kaunitz, ' Must.' Bear that in mind. Hand me 
 my muft'." 
 
 " Mutr, my lord ?" echoed the valet. 
 
 "Yes, fool, my hands are-cold," 
 
 The valet looked out of the window, where flamed the radiance of a 
 June sun, and with a deep sigh for the waywardness of his master, han- 
 ded the muff. 
 
 Kaunitz thrust in his hands, and slowly left the room, followed by the 
 dog, the valets and the hair-dresser. Every time his Excellency went 
 out, this procession came after as far as the carriage-door, to see that no- 
 thing remaine(J*imperfect in his toilet. With the mulfhcld close to his 
 mouth, for foar a breath of air should enter it, Kaunitz passed through 
 the lofty corVidors of his house to his state-carriage. The dog wished to 
 get in, but he waved her gently back, saying 
 
 " No, Phoedra, not to-day. I dare not take you there." 
 
 The carriage rolled ofl'and the servants looked after in dumb conster- 
 natiou. At last the first valet, with a malicious smile, said to the others, 
 
 " I stick to my opinion— 'he is crazy. Who but a madman would 
 hope to be admitted to her imperial Majesty's presence without red 
 stockings and a dagger !" 
 
 E[ippolyte shook his head. " No, no, he is no madman ; he is only a 
 singular genius, who knows the world, and snaps his fmgers at it." 
 
 The valet was not far from right. The simple dress white stockinga, 
 and the absence of the dagger, raised a coi^imotion in the palace. 
 
.4^) JOSEi'tl THE SECOND. 
 
 The pnge in the entrance-hall v?as afiaid to announce the Count, and 
 he rushed into ihe ante-room to consult the marshal of the iu:)perial 
 koisehold. The latter, with his sweetest smile, hastened to meet the 
 indignant Count. 
 
 " Have the goodness, my lord," said Kaunitz imperiously, "not to' 
 detain me any longer. The Empress has called me to her presence ; say 
 tkat I am here." 
 
 " But, Count," cried the horror-stricken Marshal, "you cannot serious- 
 ly mean to present yourself iu such a garb. Doubtless, you have for- 
 gotten, from absence of mind, to array yourself as court-etiquette exacts 
 of her Majesty's servants. If you will do me the tavor to accompany 
 me to my ovp'n apartments, I will with great pleasure supply the red 
 stockings and dagger." 
 
 Count Kaunitz shrugged Ip's- shoulders disdainfully. " Her Majesty 
 sent for me, not for my red stockings ; therefore, please to announce me." 
 
 The Marshal retreated in his surprise, several steps. " Never," cried 
 he indignantly, "never would I presume to do so unheard of a thing ! 
 Such a transgression of her Majesty's orders is inadmissible." 
 
 " Very well," replied Kaunitz coolly, "I shall then have the pleasure 
 of announcing myself." 
 
 He passed by the Marshal and dismayed page, and was advancing to 
 the door that led to the imperial apartments. 
 
 " Hold ! hold !" groaned the Marshal, whose consternation was how 
 at its height. " That were too pi^suming ! Since her Majesty has com- 
 manded your attendance, I will do my duty. I leave it to yourself, my 
 lord, to excuse your owr^ boldness, if you can carry it so far as to attempt 
 a justification of your conduct. 
 
 He bowed, and passed into the next room ; thence into the cabinet of 
 the Empress, whence he returned with word for Count Kaunitz to enter. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEW AUSTRIA. 
 
 The Empress received the Count with a most gracious sraile. "You 
 are late," she said, reaching out her hand for him to kiss. 
 
 " I came very near not reaching your Majesty's presence at all, for 
 those two wiseacres in the ante-room refused me entrance, because I had 
 neither red stockings nor a dagger." 
 
 The Empress then perceived the omission, and she frowned. "Why 
 did you present yourself here, witliout them'?" asked she. 
 
MARIA THEHESA. 4 1 
 
 " Because, yoiii^Injesty, I detest red stockings ; and I re.illy cannot 
 see why I should be compelled to wear anything that is so distasteful to 
 me." 
 
 Maria Theresa was so surprised, that she scarcely know what reply to 
 make to the argument ; so Kaunitz continued : 
 
 "And as for the dagger, that is no emblem of my craft. I am not aP 
 soldier, but a statesman ; my implement is the crow-quill^*' 
 
 "And the tongue,"' replied the Empress, " for you certainly know how 
 to use it. Let us dismiss the dagger and red stockings then, and speak 
 of your pen and your tongue, for I need thenil'both. I have well-weigh- 
 ed the matters under consideration, and have taken counsel of Heaven 
 und of my own conscience. I hope that my decision will be for the best." 
 
 Count Kaunitz, courtier though he was, could not repress a slight 
 shiver, nor could he master the paleness that overspread his anxious face. 
 
 The Empress went on: "I- have irrevocably decided. I abide b}"- 
 what 1 said in council. A new day shall dawn upon Austria-r-God grant 
 that it prove a happy one! Away then with the old alliance; we offer 
 our hand to France, and you shall conduct the negotiations. I appoint 
 you Lord-High-Chancellor in the place of Count Ijhlfeld. And you owe 
 me some thanks, for I assure you that to carry out my opposition to my 
 Ministers, I have striven with countless, difficulties." 
 
 "I thank your Majesty for resolving upon an alliance with France," 
 said Kaunitz earnestly, "for I do believe that it will conduce to Aus- 
 tria's welfare." 
 
 "And do you not thank me for making you Prime Minister? Or is 
 the appointment unwelcome ?" 
 
 " I shall be the happiest of mortals if I can accept ; but that question 
 is for your Majesty to decide." 
 
 The Empress colored, and looked displeased, while Kaunitz " hihiself 
 again " stood composed and collected before her. * 
 
 " Ah," said she quickly, " you wish me to beg you to accept the high- 
 est office in Austria ! Do you think it a favor you do me to become 
 my Prime Minister, Kaunitz "?" 
 
 " Your Majesty," replied Kaunitz in his soft, calm tones, " I think not 
 of myself, but of Austria that I love, and of you, my honored Empress, 
 whom I would die to serve. But I must know whether it will be allow- 
 ed mo to serve my Empress and my fatherland as I can and will serve 
 them both." 
 
 " What do you mean ? Explain yourself." 
 
 " If I am to labor in your behalf, my Empress, I must hfive free hands, 
 without colleagues by my side, to discuss my plans, and plot against 
 them." ' 
 
 — "Ah !" said the Empress smiling, " I understand. You mean Bar- 
 tenstein, and Counts Harrach and CoUoredo. True — they are your ri- 
 vals." 1 
 
 — " Oh, your Majesty, not my rivals I hope." 
 
 " Well, then, your enemies, if you like that better,'" said the Empress, 
 
42 JOSEPUTIIE SECOND 
 
 " I shall not ehain'you together then. 1 Aviiriind ofher places where- 
 with to compensate them for their past fcervioes, and you- may find other 
 colleagues." ■ ■ ' ' , 
 
 '•I desire no colleagues, your Majesty,"" replied Kaunitz, "I wif^h to be 
 prime afid only Minister. Then together we will wield Austria''s many 
 tlependencies into one great empire, and unite its governments under 
 one head." ' , • 
 
 " Yours, Count ?" asked Maria Theresa ironically. 
 
 — " Yours, my Sovereign ! Whatever you may think, up to this mo- 
 ment you have not reigned supreme in Austria, By your side, have 
 Bartenstein and Uhlfeid reigned like lesser Emperors. Is not Lombardy 
 governed by its own princes, and does not the Viceroy of Hungary make 
 ■ laws and edicts, which every day are brought to you for signature"?'' 
 
 — " Yes, i am truly hemmed in on every side. But I see no remedy 
 for the evil — I cannot govern every where. Hungary and Lombardy 
 have their own constitutions and must have their own separate govern- 
 ments." 
 
 "So long as that state of things lasts, neither Hungary nor Lombar- 
 dy v{\\\ be portions of the Austrian empire," said Kaunitz.* 
 
 " There is no remedy, Kaunitz," returned Maria Theresa ; " I have 
 thought these difficulties over and over. My arm is too short to reach 
 \to the furthest ends of my realms, and I must be content to delegate 
 some of my power. One hand cannot navigate the ship of state." 
 
 — " But one head can steer it, your Majesty, and one head can direct 
 the hands that work it." 
 
 — " And will the Coant be one of my hands'?" 
 
 — " Yes indeed, your Majesty. But the fingers must be subject to 
 this hand, and the hand will then carry out, in all security, the plans of 
 Hs august head, the Empress." 
 
 " You mean to say that you wish to be alone as my Minister." 
 
 j " {f I am truly to serve your Majesty, it must be so. Let not the 
 
 sovereignty of Austria be frittered away in multitudinous rivulets ; 
 
 gather it all in one full, fertilizing stream. One head ami one hand over 
 
 Austria's destiny, and then will she grow independent, and all-powerful." 
 
 " But, man," cried the Empress, " you cannot sustain the burthen you 
 covec!" 
 
 " 1 will have ample help, your Majesty. I will seek ready hands and . 
 willing hearts tnat believe in nie, and will do my behests. These must 
 not be my coadjutors but my subalterns, who think through 7ne,an4 
 'v/os'k for me. If your Majesty will grant me this privilege,, then I can 
 serve Austria. I know that I am asking for high prerogatives ; but for x\ns- 
 tria's sake, Maria Theresa will dare everything; and together we will 
 'accomplish the consolidation ofher ^disjecta membra' into one great 
 empire. The policy which conducts our financial affairs must emanate 
 from yourself, and our foreign policy must be bold and frank, that friends 
 ivnd foes may both know. what we mean. We must coffin and bury old. 
 Austria vflth the dead that.slfeep on the battle grounds of lost Silesia; 
 
MAlilA IHKKESA. 43 
 
 and fioTii her ashes wo must build a new empire of which Hungary and 
 Lombardy shall be integral parts. Hand in hand with France, we will 
 be the law-givers of all Europe; and when, thanks to 4ur thrift and iho 
 rich tribute of cur provinces, we pay our national debt, tlieu we may 
 hiugh ac English subsidies and Dutch commerce. And lastly, we will 
 cast our eyes once more upon Silesia, and inethinks if France and Aus- 
 tria together should demand restitution of King Frederic, he will scarce- 
 ly be so rash as to snj- — nay. The ministers of Louis XV. who were 
 adverse to our alliance are about to retire, and the Duke of Choiseul, 
 our firm friend and the favorite of Mme. de Pompadour, will replace 
 Kichelieui Choiseul seeks our fiientlship and the flav of <>ur triumph is 
 dawning. Such, your Majesty, are my dreams for Austria; it rests 
 with you to make them realities !" 
 
 The Empress had listened with incraasing interest to every word that 
 Kaunitz had spoken. She had risen from her seat, and was pacing the 
 room in a state of high excitement. As he ceased, she stopped in front 
 of him, and her large, sparkling orbs of blue, glowed with an expression 
 of happiness and hope. 
 
 "1 believe that you are the man for Austria," said she. "I believe 
 that together we can carry out our plans and projects. God grant that 
 they be righteous and just in His sight! You have read my heart, and 
 you know that I can never reconcile myself to the loss of Silesia. You 
 know that between me and Frederic no harmony con ever exist ; no 
 treaty can ever be signed to which he is a party.* I will take the hand 
 of France, not so much for love of herself as for her enmity to Prussia. 
 Will you work with me to make war on Frederic if I appoint yon grde 
 ^Minister, Kaunitz ! For I tell you that I burn to renew roy Sirife with 
 the King of Prussia, and I would rather give him 'battlfc to-day than to- 
 morrow.f 
 
 " I comprehend your Majesty's feelings, and fully share them. As soon 
 as France and ourselves uuderstanQ one another, we will make a league 
 against Frederic, and may easily make him strike the (irst blow, fur 
 «ven now, he is longing to appropriate another Silesia." ^ 
 
 '' Aijid I am longing to cross swords with him for the Cne he lias stdren 
 from me. I cannot bear to think of going to my fathers, with a dimin- 
 ished inherit;ance ; I cannot brook the thorght that my woinan's hands 
 have not been strong enough to preserve my rights, for 1 feel that if 1 
 have the heart of a woman, I have the head of a man. To see Austrta 
 great and powerful, to see her men noble and her women virtuous, that 
 is my dream, my hope, my aim in life! You are the one to perfect 
 what I have conceived, Kaunitz ; will you give me your hand to this 
 great work?" V 
 
 — " 1 will, your Majesty, so help me God." 
 
 — " Will you hav^ Austria's good alone in view, ii>all that you coun- 
 sel as my Minister'?" / 
 
 . f — ■ . « ' ; • ■ 
 
 • Maria ThercFa's own word?. 
 
 t Maria Theresa's words. Coxe. * 
 
44 ■ .H)?^Bi»H THE SECOND. , 
 
 — " 1 will, so help me God !" 
 
 " Will you take counsel with me hvAV we rary justly and righteously 
 govern Austria, without prejudice, without self-love, without thought of 
 worldly fame, not from love or fear of man, but for the sake of God 
 from whose hands we hojd oiir empire,*?" 
 
 T— " 1 will, so help me God." 
 
 " Then," said Maria Therej:a after a pause, " you are my sole Minis- 
 ter, 'and I empower you to preside over the affiiifs of state, in the man- 
 ner you may judge fittest for the welfare ofthe Austrian people." 
 
 Kaunitz was as self possessed a worldling, as ever sought to hide his - 
 emotions ; but he could not suppress an exclamation of rapture, nor an 
 expression of triumph that lit up his face, as nothing had ever illumined 
 it before.-' 
 
 "Your Majesty," said he, whep he found words, "I accept the trust, 
 and as there is a God above to judge me, I will hold it faithfully. My 
 days and nights, my youth and age, with their thoughts, their will, their 
 every fiicuUy, shall be laid upon the shrine of Austria's greatness, and 
 if fur one moment I ever sacrifice your Majesty to any interest of mine, 
 may I die a death of torture and disgrace!" 
 
 ■ — " I believe you ; your countenance reflects your heart, and Almighty 
 God has heard your words. One thing remember — that Marja Theresa 
 suffers no Minister to dictate to her. She is the reigning Sovereign of 
 her people, and will not suffer a finger to be laid upon her imperial 
 rights. Were he a thousand times Prime Minister, the man that pre- 
 sumed too far with me, I would hurl from his eminence to the lowest 
 depths of (disgrace. And how that we understand one another, we will 
 clasp hands like men, who are pledged before God to do their duty." 
 
 She extended her hand to Kaunitz, who grasped it in his own. " I 
 swear," said he solemnly, " to do my duty, and never can I forget this 
 hour! I swear to my Sovereig 71, Maria Theresa, loyalty unto death; 
 and before my Empress, I bow my knfee, and so do homage to the great- 
 est woman of her age." 
 
 "The Empress smiled, while Kaunitz knelt, and kissed her fair and 
 jeN^lled hand." "^ay-God grant that you speak truth, Kaunitz, and 
 may my posterity not have' to blush for me. 'Everything for Austria,' 
 shall be your motto and mine ; and this flaming device shall light us on ' 
 our way through life. Now go. Lord High Chancellor, and see that the 
 world finds a phcenix in the ashes of the old regime which to-day we have 
 consigned to the dust !"* 
 
 * From this time, Kaunitz wasiiole Minister of the Empress; and he kiept hii promise to Binder, 
 who became State-Referendarius iu the place of the once powerful Bartenstein, 
 
15ABELL.V. 45 
 
 ISABELLA. 
 
 ■ » . 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE YOUXO SOLDIER. 
 
 Kaunitz's prophcpy ha*! been fulfilled. No sooner was it known that 
 Austria and France were allies, than Frederic of Prussia, with all haste, 
 made treaties with England. These opposite alliances were the signal 
 for war. For seven years, this war held its blood-stained lash over Aus- 
 tria, and every nation in Europe, suffered more or less from its effects, 
 ^laria Theresa began it wilh sharp words, to which Frederic had ret^on- 
 ded wilh his sharper sword. 
 
 The King, through his Ambassador, asked the meaning of her extensive 
 military preparations throughout Aiistria, to which the PZmpress, nettled 
 by the arrogance of the demand, had replied that she believed she had a 
 right to mass troops for the protectic>n of herself and her allies, without 
 rendering account of her acts to foreign kings. Upon the receipt of this 
 reply, Frederic marcl ed his trOops into Saxony, and so began the 
 "seven years' war;" a war that was prosecuted on both sides with bitter 
 vindictiveness. 
 
 Throughout Austria the wildest enthusiasm prevailed. Rich and poor, 
 young and old, all rushed to the fight.. The warlike spirit that pervaded 
 iier people made its way to the heart of the Empress's eldest son. The 
 Archduke Joseph had for some time been entreating his mother to ab 
 low him to join the army; and at last, thougli much against her will, she 
 had yielded to his urgent desire. On the day when the ngws of a vic- 
 tory, near Kunersdorf, over Frederic, reached the palace, the Empress . 
 had given her consent, and her son was to be allowed to go in search of 
 laurel wreaths wherewith to deck his imperial brow. 
 
 This permission to enter the army was the first great joy of Joseph's 
 life. His heart, at last freed from its weight of conventional duties, and 
 forced submission to the. requirements of Court etiquette, soared high 
 into regions of exultant happiness. His countenance once so cold and 
 impassible, was now full of joyous changes; his eyes, once so dull and 
 weary, glowed with the fir© of awakened enthusiasm, and they looked so 
 brilliant a blue, that it seemed as if some little ray from Ileaven had 
 found its way into their clear, bright depths. The poor boy was an al- 
 tered creature. He was frolicksome with his friends; and as for those 
 whom he considered his enemies, he cared nothing for their likes or dis- 
 likes He had nothing to lose or gain from them ; ho was to leave the 
 
46 * JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Court, leave Vienna, leave every troublesome remenibrance behind, and 
 go far from all tormentors to the Array ! 
 
 The preparations were at an end; the Archduke had taken f^vmal 
 leave of his mother's Court; this evening he was to spend in the impe- 
 rial family circle ; and early on the iic^it morning his journey would, be- 
 gin He had just written a last note of farewell to a friend. Alone in 
 his room, he stood before a mirror, contemplating with a smile his own 
 image. He was not looking at his own handsome face, though happi-* 
 ness was lending it exqui.site beauty; the object of his rapturous admi- 
 ration was the white uniform which, for the first time, he'wore in place 
 ofhis Courc dress. He was no longer the descendant of Charles the 
 Pifth, no longer the son of the Empress, he was a Soldierl A freej self- 
 sustaining man, whose destiny lay in his own hands, and whose future 
 deeds would prove him worthy to be the son ofhis great ancestor. 
 
 As, almost intoxicated with excess' of joy, he stood before the glass, the 
 dCTor opened gently, fjnd a youth of about his own age, entered'the room. 
 
 "PartJon me, your Highness, said the youth, bowing, if I enter with- ' 
 out-permission. Doubtless your Highness did not hear me knock, and 
 I found no one i]i your ante-room to announce me." 
 
 The Prince turned around and reached out his hand, saying, with a 
 laugh, No ! no ! you fo'und nobody. | have discharged old dame Eti- 
 quette from my service, and you see before you, not nis imperial high- 
 ness, the Archduke Joseph, crown-prince of Austria, but a young soldier 
 brimful of happiness, master of nothing but his own s\^ord, with which 
 he means ta carve out his fortunes on the battle-field. Oh ! Dominick ! 
 1 have dropped the rosar}', and taken up the sabre, and I mean to twist 
 such a forest pf laurels about my head,, that it will be impossible for me 
 ever to wear a night-cap again, were it even sent me as a present from 
 the Pope himself." 
 
 "Do not talk so loud, your Plighness, you will frighten the Proprie- 
 ties out of their wits." 
 
 Joseph laughed. "Dominick Kaunitz," said he, "you are the son of 
 your respected lather, no doubt of it ; for you behave prettily before the 
 bare walls themselves, for fear they might tell of your indiscretions*. 
 But fear not, son of the mighty Prime Minister, my walls are dumb, 
 and nobody is near to tell tales. We are alone, for I have dismissed all 
 my attendants; and here I may give loud vent to my hallelujahs, which 
 I now proceed to do by singing you a song which I learned not long ago, 
 from an invalided soldier in the street." 
 
 And the Prince b^gan in a sonorous ba^s voice to sing : 
 
 O the young oannon is my bride; 
 Her orange wreath is twined with bay, 
 And on the blood-red battle field 
 "We'll celebrate our wedding-day. 
 
 Traral Trar;;" ' 
 
 No pi'iest is there 
 
 To bless the rites, 
 No ^ 
 
ISABELLA. 47 
 
 Here young Kaunitz, all eliquette despising, pnt his hands before the 
 month of the Prince, and while tht5»],itter strove, in spite of him, \o go 
 oil with his song, he said in low, but anxious tones, 
 
 " For iieaven's sake, your Highness, listen to me. You plunge your- 
 self wantonly into danger. Do you suppose that your powerful, voice 
 does not resound through the corridors of (he palace V 
 
 "Well, if it is heard, Doininick, what of it? I bid farewell to my 
 enemies, and this is my ' Ilosanna.' You ought to be ashamed of yOup- 
 selfto stop me. My tormentors you think have heard the beginnin^r of 
 my song; well — the devil take it, but they shall have the end-!" 
 
 Once more the Archduke begun to sfng ; but Dominick caught his 
 arm. "Do- you wish" said he, "to have the Empress revoke hot per- 
 mission?" 
 
 The Archduke laughed. " Why, Dominick, you are crazed with grief 
 for my loss, I do believe; the Empress revoke her imperial word, now, 
 when all my preparations are made, and I go to-morrow !" ' ■ 
 
 "Empresses do revoke their words, and preparations are often made, 
 to be followed by — nothing," replied Dominick. 
 
 The Prmce looked in consternation at his young friend. ^^ ^re you 
 in earnest, dear Dominick ?" asked he. " Do you indeed thirtJc it pos- 
 sible that 1 could bo hindered from going to the army, on the very eve 
 of my departure 1" 
 
 — " I do, your Highness." 
 
 The Archduke grew pale, and in a tremulous voice said, " upon what 
 do you found your supposition, my friend V 
 
 " O, my dear Lord) replied Dominick, " it is no supposition, I fear it 
 is a fact; and 1 fear, too, that it is your own fault, if this disappoint- 
 ment awaits you." 
 
 '• Good Heavens !" exclaimed the Prince in tones of anguish, "whati 
 can I have done to deserve such fearful chastisement?" 
 
 "Yon have displeased the Empress by neglect of your relfgious -du- 
 ties. For more thantwo weeks, you h.nve not entered a place of wor- 
 ship; and yesterday when the Countess Fuchs remonstrated with your 
 Highness, you replied with an unseemly jest. You said, ' dearest Count- 
 ess, 1 hope to prove to yon that although I neglect my Mass, I can be 
 pious on the battle-field. There on the altar of my country I mo/m to 
 sacrifice countless enemies, and that will be. an offering quite as pleasing 
 in the sight of God.' Were those not your words, Prince ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, they were — but I meant no impiety. My heart was so 
 full of joy that it effervesced in wild words, but surely my mother can- 
 not niean, for such a harmless jest, to dash iv>y every hope to the cnrth!"^ 
 
 — " Oh, your Highness, this is only one offence out of many of which 
 you are a^ccused. I have no time to repeat them now, for my errand 
 here is important and pressing." 
 
 " Where learned you all thisl" asked the poor Archduke, 
 
 — " Bend down your ear, and I will tell yoir. My father told me 
 every word of it," 
 
4S JOSM^H THE SECOND. 
 
 —" The Lord High ChanceHor ! Impossible !" 
 
 — " Yes, it would seem impossible that he should repeat anything^ 
 and therefore you may know how seriously the matter affects your 
 Highness when I tell you that he sent me to warn you." 
 
 A quick, loud knock at the door, interrupted him, and before the 
 Archduke could say, " come in," the Emperor Francis was in the room. 
 His face looked care-worn, and he cast a glance of tender compassion 
 upon his son. 
 
 " My child," said he, " I come to speak with you in private, a thing 
 I cannot compass in my own apartments." 
 
 Dominick bowed to take leave, but the Emperor withheld him. 
 " Stay," said he, "for you may serve us, i)ominick. I know you to be 
 Joseph's best friend, and you will not betray him. But I have no time 
 for words. Tell me quickly, Joseph, is there any secret outlet tothese 
 apartments'? Do you know of any hidden stair-way by which you could 
 escape from the palace?" 
 
 " I, father, I have secret doors in ray apartments ! Is this some new 
 device of my enemies to injure me in the eyes of jthe Empress?" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Joseph. How like he is in temperament to his moth- 
 er! Answer me at once; there is no question of enemies, but of your- 
 self." 
 
 " What would you have me do with secret doors and stairways'?" 
 asked Joseph. 
 
 The Emperor came close to his son, and in low, cautious tones, whis- 
 pered, "I would have you this very hour leave the palace privately, 
 mount your horse, and spee(i away from Vienna." ' 
 
 ■ " Fly, my dear father," cried Joseph. " Has it come to this, that tho 
 son must fly from the face of his own mother! Am I a crimirtal, who 
 must not be told of what crime I am accused ! No, your. Majesty ; if* 
 death or imprisonment for life were here to threaten me, I would 
 not fly." • 
 
 " Nor would I counsel flight, my son, were you accused ei-wrong. 
 But this is not a question of crime ; of prisoned beaker, or of castle-dun- 
 geon — it is simply this. Do you wish to join the army^ or are you 
 ready to give up your commission and stay at home ?" 
 
 " b|i, my father," cried Joseph, "you well know that I have but one 
 desire on earth — and that is, to go." 
 
 " Then, hear me. It has been represented to the Empress that your 
 lust for war' has made you so reckless, so blood-thirsty, and so impious, 
 that camp-life will prove your ruin. In her excess of maternal love, she 
 has taken the alarm, and has resolved to shield you from danger, by 
 withdrawing her consent to your departure." 
 
 The Archduke's eyes filled with tears. The Emperor laid his hand 
 sympathizingly upon his shoulder. 
 
 '■ Do not despair, dear child," said he tenderly, "perhaps all is not . 
 lost, and I may be able to assist you. I can comprehend the nature of • 
 your sorro\y^ for. I have suffered tho same bitter disappointment. If in- 
 
ISABELLA. 49 
 
 stead of leading a useless life, a mere appanage of the Empress, I had 
 been permitted to follow the dictates of my heart, and command 
 
 her armies, I might have but why speak of my waning^ career? You 
 
 are young, and I do not wish to see your life darkened by such early 
 disappointment. Therefore list«i to me. You know nothing of the 
 change in your prospects ; you have as yet received no orders to remain. 
 Write to your mother, that preferring to go without the grief of taking 
 leave, you have presumed to start to-night without her knowledge, ho- 
 ping soon to embrace her again, and lay your first-earned laurels at her 
 feet." 
 
 The Archduke hastened to obey his father, and Fat down to write. 
 The Emperor, meanwhile, signed to young Kaunitz, who had kept him- 
 self respectfully aloof. 
 
 " Have you a courser," asked he, " to sell to Joseph, and two good 
 servants that can accompany him until his own attendants can be sent 
 after him ?" • ' ^ 
 
 " I came hither, your Majesty, prepared to make the same proposi- 
 tion, with the fleetest horse in my father's stables, and two trusty ser- 
 vants, well-mounted, all of which await his Highness at the postern gate." 
 
 — " Your father's best horse ? Then he knows of this aflair ?" 
 
 — *| It was he, who sent me to the Archduke's assistance. He told 
 me, in case of necessity, to propose flight, and to be ready for itP 
 
 "The letter is ready," said the Archduke, coming forward. 
 
 " I myself will hand it to the Empress," said his fother, taking it, "and 
 I will tell her, that I counselled to you to go as you did." 
 
 — "But, dear father, the Empress will be angry." 
 
 " Well, my son," said the Emperor, with a peculiar smile, " I have 
 survived So many little passing storms, that I will doubtless survive this 
 one. The Empress has the best and noblest heart in the world, and its 
 sunshine is always brightest after a storm. Go then, my child, I will 
 answer for your sin and mine. The Empress had said nothing to me of 
 her change of purpose; she looks upon it as a state affair, and with her 
 state affairs I am never made acquainted. Since accident has betrayed 
 it to me, I have a right to use my knowledge in your behalf, and I un- 
 dertake to appease your mother. Here is a purse with two thousand 
 louis d'ors ; it is enough for a few days of Incognito. Throw your mili- 
 tilry cloak about you, and away !" 
 
 Young Kaunitz laid the cloak upon the shoulders of the Archduke 
 ^hose eyes beamed forth the gratitude that filled his heart. 
 
 " Oh my father and my sovereign," said he in a voice thSt trembled 
 with emotion. "My whole life will not be long enough to thank you 
 for what you are doing for me in this critical Hour. Till now I have 
 loved you indeed as my father, but henceforth I must look upon you as 
 my benefactor also, as my dearest and best friend. My heart and my 
 soul are yours, dear father ; may I be worthy of your love and'of the 
 sacrifice you are making for me to-day." 
 
 The Emperor folded his son to his heart, and kissed his fair forehead. 
 
50 , JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 "Farewell, dear boy," whispered he, "return to me a victor aad a hero. 
 May you earn for your father on the battle-field all the laurels which he. 
 has seen in dreams only ! God bless you !" 
 
 They then left the room, Cotint Kaunitz leading the way, to see If the 
 passage was clear. ^ 
 
 " ! will go -with you as far as the stair case," continued the Emperor, 
 *=and then " * 
 
 At tiiat moment Dominick, who had gone forward into the corridor, 
 rushed back intA the room pale and trembling, " It is too late !" ex- 
 claimed he m a stifled voice, " there comes a messenger from the Em- 
 press!" 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE EMPRESS AITD HEU SOK. 
 
 The young Count was not mistaken. It "wasundced a mc3s3jQ:.o from 
 the Empress. ' It was the Marshal of the Household, followed by fom- 
 pages, who came to command the presence of the Archduke, to whom 
 her Llajesty wished to impart something of importance. '' 
 
 A deadly paleness overspread the face of the young Prince, and his 
 whole frame shivered. The Emperor felt the .shudder, au'd di-ew his 
 son's arm closer to his heart. "Courage, ray son, courage!" whispered 
 he': then turning towards the imperial embassy, be said aloud, "An- 
 nounce to her, Majesty that I will accompany the Archdui<6 in a few mo- 
 ments." And as the Marshal stood irresolute and confused, the Empe- 
 ror smiling, said, " OK, I see that you have been ordered to accompany 
 the Prince yourselves. Come then, my son, we will e'en go along with 
 the messengers." 
 
 I'.faria Theresa was pacing the floor of her apartment in great excite- 
 ment. Her large, flashing eyes, now and then turned towards the door, 
 and whenever she fancied that footsteps approached, she stopped, and 
 seemed almost to gasp with anxiety. 
 
 Suddenly s^e turned towards Father Porhammer, who with the Count- 
 ess Fuchs, stood by the side of the sofa from which she had risen. 
 " Father," said she, in a tremulous voice, " I cannot tell why it is that 
 as I await my son's presence here, my heart is overwhelmed with an- 
 guish. I feel as if I wero about to do4iim an injustice, and for all the 
 kingdoms of the world I would not do him wrong." 
 
 " Nay," replied the Father, " your Majesty is about to rescue that be- 
 loved son from destruction ; but as your Mfycety is a loving mother, it 
 
I-ABELLA. r , 
 
 GodV,„ke, „i,, soon be hTaX mUl^'^.^y'TJ^' ''" ''""' "" 
 
 1-Je was so happy to become a soldier '" miirmnrori Ih v 
 had- resumed her agitated walk- "h . Iv.. wl T k • t^ Empress, who 
 ing was so full of joy and nr de ' Mvl ^ ^? ^'J§^*' ^"^ ^'^ ^'^'■ 
 del- father, that ni/^^ ^^^ '^'li:::;:^'^^^^ .^tif,,^''^ 
 
 to my heirt once moroY D i d^r ho^ " !! Ttl^ "^^ T^^^ ^'''' 
 , rudely from your first dream of km b [ion '-Ct H " ""'u ^'"" ''' 
 ' evil, in the lawless life of the Camn rjn l' fJ ^ u- ,° '""^"^^ *^°^^^ ^^ 
 for the f.ght as Don John of W^' fJ^'T'^ ^"^' ^"^.^^ ^' '' ^^^ 
 would scfk death in his firs bat 1 . Oh roould'not"' ''" ''''" ' '' 
 heart would break if I should have to nL Z 'l^' J^^-^'y^ 't; "W 
 my children lie in the vauUsof srsLTeL ^F "'^ '7'"^"'" . ^^^"^ ^^^ 
 se^h ! Countess," she said tu nt 3 7!'^ ^^>3^ Jo- 
 
 it not true that Joseph told you he thnnX ^W ^'^^ ""l ^'°''^'"' '^ 
 
 fleld and the sacrifice of his e^mies was?!!!!'' ' '^' '^"^^ "^ '^^ ^'''^^- 
 
 .»r,d knowing thM ,ou oouTd havr„o S wiS 1^' ^^""'i?.^'''"'. 
 
 pr:;^LtSLfr^f,™fsCi"r 
 
 surveying Ihe uniform .hich, nevertheless she So^ledled Tn^h^. 
 hem was beyond e,;pre3sio„ becoming to him "•='"'°"'<=<'S'<1 "i '>«'■ 
 
 form rndln wa'Zo'^etv^ """'" ''" '""' '''' "-"^ ^™'' - '"^ '""" 
 fora'ehangeinm^^rt^.^""'^""""""^ " °'"="' "■"« '''"'^ "» "»- 
 
 «;S{fiSo'^»i„^^^^^^^^^^^^ Our 
 
 the lf,7e;;d%'"h?r h'u'slan^f"' •"' °';'"'°"' ''^^^^''•' ^™^ ^« --'■ 
 
52 JOSEPH THE SECUiS'D. 
 
 "You held it th6n as a fact» my son, that you were a soldier," said 
 she, catching her breath with anxiety. 
 
 Joseph raised his fine eyes, with an imploring expression, to the face 
 of his mother. "Your Majesty had promised me that I should be a sol- 
 dier^" replied he firmly, "and I have never yet known my mother to 
 break her imperial word to the least of her subjects." 
 
 "Plearhim!" cried the Empress, with a laugh of derision, "he al- 
 mosts threatens me! This young sir will try to make it a point of ho- 
 nor with me to keep my word." 
 
 "Pardon me, your Majesty," replied Joseph caln:ily, "I have never 
 allowed myself to doubt your imperial word for one moment of my life." 
 " Well then, your Highness has my imperial permission to doubt it 
 now," cried the Empress, severely humiliated by the implied rebuke, 
 " I allow you to doubt whether I will ever hold my promises, when they 
 have been rashly and injudiciously made." 
 
 "Why, your Majesty," cried the Emperor, "surely you will not re- 
 tract your word in the face of the whole world, that knows of Joseph's 
 appointment !" 
 
 " What to me is the opinion of the world ?" returned the haughty 
 Empress. " To God and my conscience alone I am responsible for my 
 acts, and to thera I will answer it, that I take back my promise, and de-. 
 clare that Joseph shall not go into the Army !" 
 
 Joseph uttered a cry of anguish. " Mother ! mother !" sobbed the 
 unhappy boy, " it cannot be !" 
 
 " Why can it not be?" said the Empress, haughtily. 
 " Because it would be a cruel and heartless deed," cried the Arch- 
 duke, losing all control over himself, "so to make sport of my holiest 
 and purest hopes in life ; and because I never, never can believe that my 
 own mother would seek to break my heart." 
 
 The Empress was about to return a scathing reply, when the Emperor 
 laid his gentle hand upon her shoulder, and the words died upon her lips. 
 " I beseech of you, my wife," said he " to remember that we are not 
 alone. Joseph is no child ; and it ill becomes any but his parents to 
 witness his humiliation. Have the goodness then to dismiss your atten- 
 dants, and let us deal with our son, alone." 
 
 " Why shall I dismiss them "?" cried the Empress, " they are my trusty 
 confidants ; and they have a right to hear, all that the future. Emperor of 
 Austria presumes to say to his mother!" 
 
 "Pardon me," replied the Emperor, "I differ with you, and desire 
 that they should not hear our family discussions. In these things, I too 
 have my right ; and if your Majesty does not command them to leave 
 the roomn I do." 
 
 Maria Theresa looked aghast at the countenance of her husband, which 
 was firm and resolved in its expression. In her confusion, she could 
 find no retort. The Emperor waited awhile, and seeing that she did not 
 speak, he turned towards the two followers, who stood, without moving, 
 at their posts. 
 
" I request the Cogntess Fuchs and Father Porhamnier to leave the 
 room," said he, with dignity. "Family concerns are discussed in pri- 
 vate." 
 
 The pair did not go. Fatlier Porhammer interrogated the face of the 
 Empress, and the Countess, indignant that her curiosity -was to be frus- 
 trated, looked defiant. 
 
 This bold disregard of her husband's command was irritating to the 
 feelings of the Empress. She thought that his orders should have out- 
 weiglied her mere remonstrance, and she now felt it her duty to signify 
 as much. . • 
 
 " Countess Fuchs " said she, " doubtless the Emperot has not spoken 
 loud enough fur you to hear the command he has just given you. You 
 have not understood his words and I will take the trouble to repeat 
 them". The Emperor said, 'I request the Countess Fuchs and Father 
 Porhammer to leave the room. Our family concerns, we will discuss 
 in private.' " 
 
 The lady of honor colored, and with deep inclinations, Father Por- 
 hammer and herself left the room. 
 
 Maria Tiieresa looked after them until the door was shut, then she 
 smilingly reached her hand to the Emperor, who thanked her with a 
 pressure, and a look of deepest affection. The Archduke had retired to 
 the embrasure of a window, perhaps to seek composure, perhaps to hide 
 his tears. 
 
 " Now," said Maria Theresa sternly, while her fiery eyes sought the 
 figure of her son, "now, we are alone, and Joseph is at liberty to speak. 
 I beg him to remember that in the person of his mother, he also sees 
 his Sovereign, and that the Empress will resent every word of disloyalty 
 spoken to the parent. And I hold it to be highly disloyal for my son to 
 accuse me of making sport of his hopes. 1 have not come to my latest 
 determination from cruelty or caprice ; I have made it in the strength 
 of my maternal love to shield my child from sin, and in the rectitude of 
 my imperial responsibility to my people, who have a right to claim 
 from me that I bestow upon them a monarch who is worthy to reign 
 over Austria. Therefore, my son, as Empress and mother, I say that 
 you shall remain. That is now my unalterable will. If this decision 
 grieves you, be humble and Submissive ; and remember that it is your du- 
 ty, as son and subject, to obey without demurring. Then shall we be 
 good friends and greet one another heartily, as though you had at this 
 moment returned from the victorious battle-field. There is my hand. 
 Be welcome, my dear, and much beloved child !" 
 
 The heart of the Empress had gradually softened, and as she smiled 
 and extended her hand, her beautiful eyes were filled to overflowing, 
 with tears. But Joseph, deathly-pale, crossed his arms, and returned her 
 glances of love with a haughty, defiant look, that almost'approachcd to 
 dislike. 
 
 " My son," said the Emperor, " do you not see your dear mother's 
 hand extended to meet yours ?" 
 
54 JOSEPil THE SECOND. 
 
 "I see it, J see it," cried Joseph passionately ; *' bftt I cflnnot fake ifc 
 — I cannot play my. part in this mocliery of a return. No mother, no, 
 I canuofc kiss ihe hand that has so cruelly dashed my hopes to earth ! 
 And you wish to carry ^your tyranny so far as to exact that I receive it 
 \vith a smile? — Oh, mother ! my heart is breaking, Have pity on me, 
 ' and take back those cruel words ; let me go, let me go. Do not mate 
 me a by-word for the world, that hereafter will refuse me its respect. 
 Let me go, if but for a few wrecks, and on the day when you command 
 ray returp, I will come homo ! Oh, my heart was too small to hold the 
 love I boH^ you for your consent to juy departure ! It seemed to mei 
 that I had just b(»gun to live ;. the world was full of beauty, and I forgot 
 all the trials of my childhood ! For one week, I have been young, dear 
 mother ; hurl me not back again into that dark dungeon of solitude 
 v/here so much of my short life has been spent ! Do not condemn me 
 to live as I haye hitherto lived ; give me freedom, give me my man- 
 hood's rights !" 
 
 ". No ! no ! a thousand times no !" crifed the exasperated Empress ; ** I 
 HQG now that I am right to keep such an unfeeling and ungrateful son at 
 home. He talks of his sufferings forsooth ! AVhat has he ever^suiFKrcd 
 at my hands 1" 
 
 " What I hav&'suffered !" exclaimed Joseph, whose teeth chattered as 
 if he were having a chill, and who was no longer in a state to suppress 
 the terrible eruption of his heart's agony. • " What have I suffered, ask 
 you 1 I will tell you what, Empress-mother, I have suffered since first 
 i could love, or think, or endure. As a child I have felt that my moth- 
 ei* loved another son more than she loved me ! When my longing eyes 
 sought hers, they were rivetted upon another face. When my brother 
 and I have sinned together, he has been forgiven, when 1 have been pun- 
 ished. Sorrow and jealousy were in my heart, and no one cared enough 
 for me to ask v/hy I wept. 1 was left to sulier without one word of 
 kindness ; and you wondered that I was taciturn, and mocked at my 
 slighted longings for love, and called them by hard names. And then 
 you pointed to my caressed and indulged brother, and bade me be gay 
 like him !. 
 
 " My son, my son !" cried the Etnpevor, " control yourself, you know 
 not what you say." 
 
 " Let him go on, Eraneis," said the pale mother ; " it is well that I 
 should know his heart at last." 
 
 " Yes," continued the maddened Archduke, " let me go on, for in my 
 heart is nothing but misery and slighted affection. — Ob, mother, moth- 
 er,", exclaimed he, suddenly changing from defiance to the most pathetic 
 entreaty, " on my knees, 1 implore you to let me go ; have mercy, have 
 mercy upon your wretched son !" 
 
 And the young Prince, with outstretched hands, threw himself Upon 
 his knees before his mother. The long-suppressed tears gushed forth, 
 the wild.tempest of his ungovernable fury \\?as spent, and now he sobbed 
 ^ if indeed his young heart wafi- breaking. 
 
iSAi^hLLA. ;").!> 
 
 The Emperor could softrryly rrsfrnin the impuJee kd So\i to \r«ep witk 
 his son ; but be came and laid liis hand upon thy poor boy's head, inid 
 looked with passionate entreaty at the Empress. 
 
 " Dear There9a,^aid ?ie, " be compassionate and forgiving. Pardon 
 him, beloved, the Mrd and unjust words which in the bitterness of a tirst 
 sorrow, he has spoken to the best cf mothers. Raise hiui up froin the 
 depths of his despair, and grant the boon for which, I am sure, he will 
 love you beyond boundfl." 
 
 " I wish that I dared to grant it to yourself, Francis," replied the Em- 
 press sadly and tearfully, *' but you see that he has made it impossible. 
 I dure not do it; the mother has no right to plead with the Enlp^^ss for 
 her rebelliouH son. What he has said, 1 freely forgive — God grant that 
 I may forget It ! Well do I know, how stormy is youth, and I remem- 
 ber that Joseph is my son. It is the wild Spanish blood of my anccilry 
 that boils in his veins — and, therefore, I forgive him with all my heart. 
 But revoke my last sentence, that I cannot do ! — To do so, would be to 
 confirm him in wrong; — Rise, ray sou Joseph, I forgive all your cruel 
 words, but wliat I have said, I havo said. You remain at homo !'' 
 
 Joseph rose slovvly from his knees. The tears inhiseyeswcre dried ; 
 his lips were compressed, and once biore ho wore the old look of cold 
 and sullen indifTerenco, He made a profound inclination before hi» 
 mother. " I have heard the Empress's commands," said ho in a huaise 
 and unnatural voice, "it is my duty to obey. Allow me to go to my 
 prison, that 1 may doff this manly garb, which no longer, is suitable to 
 ray blasted career." 
 
 Without awaiting the answer, he turned away, and with hasty strides • 
 left the room. 
 
 The Empress watched him in speechless anxiety. As the door closed 
 upon him, her features assumed an expression of the deepest tendemc .s», 
 and she said, " Go, <}uickly, Franz, go after him. Try to comfort and 
 sustain him. I do not know wlyr, but 1 foel unsasy " 
 
 At that moment, a cry was heard in the ante-room, and the fall of a 
 heavy body to the floor. ,^ 
 
 " God help me, it is Joseph !" shrieked the Empress, and forgetting 
 all cevcmotiy, she darted from the room, and rashed by her dijimaycd. 
 attendants through the anic-roora, out into the corridor. Stretched on 
 the floor, insensible and lifeless, lay her son. 
 
 Without a word, the Empress waved off the crowd that vvas as- 
 sembled arour^d his body. The might of ber love gave hor supernatural 
 strength; and folding her arms around her child, she covered his pale 
 face with kisses, and from the very midst of the frightened attendants, 
 she bore him herself to hor room, vrhere she softly laid him upon her 
 own bed. 
 
 No one except the Emperor had ventured to follow ; he stood near, 
 and reached the salts, to which the Empress had silently pointed. Sho 
 rubbed her son's tcinn]cs, hold the salts to his nostrils, and at la^t -vvUen 
 he gavo si^ns of life, she turned to the Emperor and bur»t into t«:ir8. 
 
56 JO.SEPH niJi .-SJiCUNU 
 
 " Oh, Frnnz," said she, " I almost wish that he were sick, that day and 
 night I might watch by his bedside, and his poor heart might feel the full 
 extent of a mother's love for her first-born child." 
 
 Perhaps God granted her prayer, that these two noble hearts might 
 no longer be estranged, but that each might at las^j^ieet the other in the 
 fullest confidence of mutual love. 
 
 A violent attack of fever followed the swoon of the Archduke. The 
 Empress never left his side. He slept in her own room, and she watch- 
 ed over him with gentlest and most afi^ectionate care. 
 
 Whenever Joseph awaked from his fever-dreams, and unclosed his- 
 eyes, there, close to his bedside, he saw the Empress, who greeted him 
 with loving words, and softest caresses. Whenever, in his fever-thirst, 
 he called for drink, her hand held the cup to his parched lips ; and when- 
 ever that soft cool hand was laid upon his hot brow, he felt as if its 
 touch chased away all pain, and soothed all sorrow. 
 
 When he had recovered enough to sit up, still his mother would not 
 consent for him to leave her room for his own. As long as he was an 
 invalid, he should be hers alone. In her room, and through her loving 
 care, should he find returning health. His sisters and brothers assem- 
 bled there to cheer him with their childish mirth, and his young friend, 
 Dominick Kaunitz, came daily to entertain him with his lively gossip. 
 Altogether, the Archduke was happy. If he had lost Fame, he had 
 found Love. 
 
 One day, when cushioned in his great soft arm-chair, he was chatting 
 with his favorite tutor. Count Bathiany, the Empress entered the room, 
 her face lit up with a happy smile, whije in her hands she held an etui 
 of red morocco. 
 
 " What think you Ihave in this etui, dear V said she, coming forward 
 and bending over her son to bestow a kiss. 
 
 — " I do not know ; but I guess it is some new gift of love from my 
 mother's dear hand." 
 
 "Yes, rightly guessed. Tt is a genuine gift of love and with God's 
 grace, it may prove the brightest jewel in your future crown. Since I 
 would not let you leave my house, my son, I feel it my duty, at least, 
 to do my best to make your home a happy one. I also wish to show 
 you that in my sight, you are no longer a boy, but a man worthy to. 
 govern your own household. Look at the picture in this case, and if it 
 pleases you, my darling son, I give you not only the portrait, but the 
 original also." 
 
 She handed him the case, in which lay the minature of a young girl of 
 surpassing beauty, whose large, dark eyes seemed to gaze upon him with 
 a look of melancholy entreaty. 
 
 The Archduke contemplated the picture for some time, and gradually 
 over his pale face, then stole a flush of vague delight. 
 
 " Well !" asked the Empress, " does the maiden please you ?" 
 
 " Please me ! echoed the Archduke, without withdrawing his eyes from 
 the picture. " Tis the image of an angel J There is something in her 
 
1«ABEJJ.A. 57 
 
 look so beseeching, something in her smile so sad, that I feel as if I would 
 fall at her feet and weep, and yet mother " 
 
 " Hear him, Franz " cried Maria Theresa to the Emperor, who had 
 entered the room ftnobserved by his son. " Hear our own child ! Love 
 in his heart will be a sentiment as holy, as faithful, and as profound as 
 it has been with us for many happy years ! Will you have the angel 
 for your wife, Joseph ?" 
 
 The Archduke raised his expressive eyes to the face of his mother. 
 *' If I will have her!" murnuired he, sadly. " Dear mother, would she 
 deign to look upon me ! Will she not rather turn away fiom him, to 
 whom the whole world is indifferent !" 
 
 " My precious child, she will love and honor you, as the world will 
 do when it comes to know your noble heart." And once more the Em- 
 press bent over her son, and imprinted a kiss upon his pale brow. "It 
 is settled then, my son, that you shall offer your hand to this beautiful 
 girl. In one week you will have attained your nineteenth birth-day, and 
 you shall give a good example to your sisters. Do you like the prospect ?" 
 
 — " Yes, dear mother, I am perfectly satisfied." 
 
 — " And you do not ask her name or rank ?" 
 
 — " You have chosen her for me ; and 1 take her without name or 
 rank from your hand." 
 
 " Well, then," cried the delighted Empress, " Count Bathiany, you 
 have ever been the favorite preceptor of the Archduke. Upon you, then, 
 shall this honorable mission devolve. To-morrow, aa Ambassador Ex- 
 traordinary from our Court, you shall go in state to ask of Don Philip 
 of Parma, the hand of his daughter, Isabel, for his imperial Highness, 
 the crown-prince of Austria !" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN ITALIAN NIGHT. 
 
 The moon is up, but she is hidden behind he,avy masses of clouds — 
 "welcome clouds that shelter lovers' secrets. The fountains, whose sil- 
 very showers keep such sweet time to the murmurings of love, plash 
 gently on, hushing the sound of lovers' voices ; on the bosom of yonder 
 marble-cinctured lake, two snow-white swans are floating silently ; and 
 far amid groves of myrtle and olive, the nightingale warbles her notes 
 of love. Not a step echoes through the long avenues of the ducal park, 
 not a light glimmers from the windows of the ducal palace. 'Tis the 
 hour of midnight, and gentle sleep hath come to all. ' 
 
58 JOSKPH THE SECOND. 
 
 To fllJ, save two. Sttiy yet awhile behind the cloud, oh tell-tale 
 rrioon ! for there — there are the Ibvers. See where fair Juliet leans 
 from the raarble Lalcouy, while Romeo below whispers of plighted vows 
 that; naught shall cancel save — death. 
 
 " To-morrow, beloved, to-morrow, thou wilt be mine forever V 
 
 — " I will be thiue in the face of the whole world.*' 
 
 " And*wi[t thou never repent 1 Hast thou strength to brave the 
 world's scorn for my sake?" 
 
 " Do I need strength to stretch forth my. hand for that which is dear- 
 er to me than all the -^orld beside ! Oh, there is selfishness in my love, 
 Riccardo, for it loses sight of the dangers that threaten thee, on the day 
 when thou callest me wife !" 
 
 — " There is but one danger, dearest — that of loving thee ! I know 
 no other." 
 
 " Still, be cautious for my sake. .Remember, we live on Spanish soil, 
 though Italy's skies are over' head ; and Spanish vengeance is sharp and 
 swift. Betray not thy hopes by smile or glance— In a few days we will 
 be far away in the Paradise where our happiness shall be hidden from 
 all eyes, save those of angels. Be guarded, therefore, dear one, for see ! 
 Even now the moon is forth again in all her splendor ; and were my fa- 
 ther's spies to track thee ! — Gracious Heaven, go ! Think of Spanish 
 daggers, and let us part for a few short hours." 
 
 ■ " Well, I will go, strengthened U) turn my eyes from thy beauty, by 
 thoughts of to-morrow's bliss ! In the ehapal I await thee." 
 
 " 1 will be there. The priest will not butray us 1" 
 
 — *' He was the friend of my childhood — we may trust him, Isabel." 
 
 " Then, Heaven bless thee, good night. Hark ! — did I not hear some- 
 thing rustle in the thicket 1" 
 
 — " The wind sighing through the pine-trees, love." 
 
 — " TIku, adieu, till morning." 
 
 -^" Adieu, sweet one." 
 
 The moon burst forth in'full radiance, and revealed the manly form 
 that hurried through the avenue ; while clear as in noon-day could be 
 seen the slender white figure on the balcony that watched his retreathig 
 steps. 
 
 He is hidden now, but she still lingers, listening enraptured to tho 
 fountain's murmur and the nightingale's song ; looking upward at tho 
 moon as she wandered through Heaven's pathless way, and thinking that 
 never had earth or sky seemed so lovely before — ■ 
 
 But hark ! What sounds are those 1 A cry, a fearful cry rends tho 
 air; and it comes from the thicket where, a moment before, he disap- 
 peared from her sight. s 
 
 She started — then, breathless as a statue, she listened, in deadly sus- 
 pense. Again that cry, that dreadful cry pierces througb the stillness 
 of the night, freezing her young heart with horror ! 
 
 " His death-wail !" cried the vretched girl; and careless of danger, 
 Bcsxoe knowing what »ho did, h«©d»ng fiotbi.ng }»\t the smind of her Va-- 
 
cr's voice, slie sprang from the balcony, and «s thmjgh moon-b^ams hsfl 
 <]rawii hor thilhcr, siie swmig her?elf to tlie gr^uiii.i. l*'or one mcrin'nr, 
 her slight form wavered, rheii she dnrled forvvfird nud flow liirouph' tho 
 avenue to the thicket. Away she sped, though the moon shone so bright 
 that she could be distinctly'seeD, her own shadow following like a dusky 
 phuiit^m behind. ■ " 
 
 Bo friendly, now, fair moon, and light her to her lover, that she may 
 look into his eyes once more, before they close forever ! 
 
 She has reached the spot, and, with a low cry, she throws herself by the 
 side of the tall figure that lies fitretched at its length upon the green 
 sward. 
 
 , Yes — it is he! He whom she loves ; the soul of her soul, the life of 
 her life ! And he lies cold and motionless, his eyes staring blindly up- 
 on tho heavens, his purple lips unclosing to exhale his last sighs, while, 
 from two hideous wounds in his side, the blood streams over the white 
 dress of his betrothed. But he is not dead, his blood is still warm. 
 
 She bends over, and kisses his cold lips ; she tears her lace mantle 
 from her shoulders, and, pressing it to his wound?, tries to staunch the 
 life-blood welling from his side. Tho mantle grows scarlet with his gore, 
 but the lips are whiter and colder with each kiss. She knows, alas ! that 
 there is one nearer to' him now than sb© — Azrael is between hor and her 
 lover. Ho grows colder — stiffor, tod oh God — tho death-rattle ! 
 
 " Take me with thee ! Take mc, take me 1" screamed tho despairing 
 girl; and her arms clasped frantically around tho body, until they seem- 
 ed as if they were indeed stiffening into one eternal embrace. 
 
 "Have pity, Riccardo ! My life, my soul, le£\vQ mo not here without 
 thee ! One word — one loAk, beloved !" 
 
 She stared at him in wild despair, and seeing that he made no sign of 
 response to her passionafre appeal, she raised her hands to Heaven, and 
 kneeling by his side, she prayed. 
 
 " Oh, God, merciful God, take not his fleeting life until he has' given, 
 me one last word — until he has told me how long we shall be parted !" 
 
 Her arms sank heavily down, and she sought the face of the dying 
 man, whispering, oh, how tenderly ! " Hear me, my ov.'u ; tell me 
 when 1 shall follow thee to Heaven !" 
 
 She ceased — for suddenly she felt him tremble — his eyes moved until 
 they met hers, and once more a smile flitted across those blanched lips. 
 He raised his head, arid slowly his body moved, until, supported in her 
 arms, he sat erect. Enraptured, she laid her cheek to his, and waited ; 
 for love had called him back to life, and he would spaak. 
 
 " We shall meet again in three " 
 
 lie fell back, and with a last cry, expired. Love had struggled hard 
 with death; but death had won the victory. 
 
 Isabel shed no tears. She closed her lover's eyes ; gave him one long 
 last kiss ; and, as she bent Qver him, her hair was soaked in his blood. 
 Siie took the ^antle, wet with gore, and pressed it to her heart. " Pn"!- 
 cious mantle V ?flid she, '■ we noed not pftrt— in throe dajre, or — ^p^rchancA 
 
Hi) JUSEi'H THE SECOND. 
 
 he said three hours, we shall lie together in the coffin. Until then, Rie- 
 
 cardo, farewell !" ^ 
 
 Slowly she turned, and left the horrible place. Without faltering, she 
 came up the long moon-lit avenue, her head thrown back, and her large 
 lustrous eyes fixed upon Heaven, as though she sought to find her lover's 
 soul somewhere among die floating clouds. 
 
 The moon flung its radiance around her path; and ever, as she walked, 
 it grew brighter,, until the poor stricken child of ei^rth looked like a glo- 
 rified saint. " God grant that it be three hours," murmured she, <'three 
 days were an eternity !'' 
 
 She reached the palace, without having thought that there was no door ' 
 open by which she could enter, when suddenly a form emerged from the 
 shadowed wall, and a woman's voice whispered ; 
 
 " Quick, for Heaven's sake, the side-door is open, and all in the palace 
 sleep." 
 
 " I too, in three hours, shall sleep," cried Isabel triumphantly, and with 
 these words she fell to the ground in a swoon.* 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ISABELLA OF PARMA. 
 
 The Princess Isabella slept unusually late the next morning. Her 
 little bell, that summoned the ladies of honor, had not yet rung, and the 
 day was far advanced. The first Cameriera seemed troubled, and whis- 
 pered her apprehensions that the Princess was sick ; for she had obser- 
 ved, for some days, she said, that her Highness had looked pale. 
 
 "But we must go into her room, ladies," added she, "for it is almost 
 time for her Highness to visit the Duke, and he never forgives an omis- 
 sion of ceremonial. Follow me then, / will undertake to awaken the 
 Princess." 
 
 She opened the door softly, and entered the sleeping-room of iha 
 Princess, followed by the other maids of honor. 
 
 "She sleeps yet," said the Cameriera, but I must waken her," mur- 
 mured she to herself, "it is my duty." / 
 
 She advanced, and drew aside the heavy folds of* the pink silk curtains 
 that hung around the bed. 
 
 "Pardon me, your Highness," she whispered, *'but" — 
 
 She stopped, for to her great surprise, the Princess was awake. She 
 lay in her long white night-dress, with her hands crossed over her breast, 
 ♦ Caroline Pichler. Memoirg of ray Life, Pait ] , page 189. 
 
ISABELLA. 61 
 
 and her head cushioned on the rose-colored pillow thnt contrasted painfull v 
 with the pallor of her marble-white face. Her large eyes were disteii- 
 .ded, and fixed upon a picture of the blessed Virgin that hung at the foot 
 of the bed. Slowly her looks turned upon her attendants who, breath- 
 less and frightened, gazed upon the rosy pillow, and the pallid face that 
 lay in its midst,^azzling their eyes with its whitenesa. 
 
 " Pardon me," again whispered the Cameriera, " it is almost noon- 
 day." 
 
 "What hour?" murmured the Princess. 
 
 "It is ten o'clock, your Highness." 
 
 The Princess shivered, and exclaimed, " For three days then !" And 
 turning away she began to pray in a low voice, and none but God knew 
 the meaning of that whispered prayer. 
 
 , Her prayer over, she passed her little white hand over the dark locks 
 that fell around her face and made an effort to rise. 
 
 Her maids of honor saw that she was ill, and hastened to assist her. 
 The hour of the Princess's toilet was to her attendants the most delight- 
 ful hour of the day. From her bedchamber, all ceremonial was banish- 
 ed, and there, with her young companions, Isabella was accustomed' to 
 laugh, jest, sing, and be as merry and as free from care as the least of 
 ber father's subjects. 
 
 Philip of Parma was by birth a Spaniard, one of the sons of Philip 
 the Fifth. After the vicissitudes of war which wrested Naples and Par- 
 ma from the hands of Austria, Don Carlos of Spain became King of Na- 
 ples, and Don Philip duke of Parma. Isabella, then a child of seven 
 years, had been allowed the privilege of taking with her to Italy, her 
 young playmates who, for form's sake, as she grew older, became her 
 maids of honor. Dut they were her dear and chosen friends, and with 
 them she was accustomed to speak the Spanish language only. 
 
 Her mother, a daughter of Louis Fifteenth, had introduced French 
 I customs into the Court of Parma, and during her life the gayety and 
 grace of French manners had rendered that Court one of the'most at- 
 tractive in Europe. But the lovely Duchess of Parma died, and with 
 her died all that made Court life endurable. The French language was 
 forbidden^ and French customs were banished. Some said that the Duke 
 had loved his wife so deeply, that in his grief he had excluded from his 
 Court everything suggestive of his .past happiness. Others contended 
 that he had made her life so wretched by his jealous and tyrannical con- 
 duct, that remorse had driven him to banish, if possible, every reminder 
 of the woman whom he had almost murdered. 
 
 In the hearts of her children, the mother's memory was enshrined; 
 and the brother and sister were accustomed for her sake, in their private 
 intercourse, to speak her language altogether. 
 
 At court, they spoke the language of the country ; and Isabella, who 
 with her friends, sang Boleros and danced the Cac'huca ; with her broth- 
 er, read Racine afid Corneille; was equally happy while she hung en- 
 raptured upon the strains of Pcrgolese's music, or gazed entranced upon 
 
62 JOSEFS THE SECOI^D 
 
 the pictures of Corregio and Veronese. The Priticess herself was both » 
 painter and musician, and no one, more than she, loved Italy, and Ital- 
 ian art.^., I 
 
 Such, until this wretched morning, had been the life of young Isabella. 
 What was -she now? 'A cold, white image, in whose staring eyes the 
 light was quenched — from whoso blanched Ups the smile«had fled forever J 
 
 Her grieved attendants could scarcely suppress their tears, as .sa^ly 
 and silently they arrayed her in her rich robes ; while she, not seeming- 
 to know where she was, gazed at her own reflected imnge, with a look 
 of stupid horror. They dressed her beautiful hair, and bound it up in 
 massy braids. They smoothed it over her death-cold forehead, and 
 shuddered to see how like a corpse she looked. At last, the task was 
 at an end, a\id the Cameriera coming towards her, offered the cup of 
 chocolate, which she was accnstomed to drink at that hour. Tenderly 
 she besought the unhappy girl to partake of it, but Isabella waved away 
 the cup, saying, 
 
 " Dear friend, offer me no earthly food. I pine for the banq^iet of an- 
 gels. Let the chaplain be called to bring th\3 Viaticum. I wish to' re- 
 ceive the last Sacraments of the dying." 
 
 A cry of horror burst from the lips of the maids of honor. 
 
 " The chaplain ! The last sacraments ! For you, my beloved child ?"» 
 asked the sobbing Caraeriera. 
 
 " For me," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Heavenly father !" exclaimed the Aja. " Have you then presumed 
 to anticipate the will of God, and to go before his presence, uncalled?" 
 - — " No, no, death will come to me, I will not seek it. I will endure 
 life a.<5 long as God wills, but, in three days, he calls me hence." 
 
 The young girls crowded around her, weeping, and imploring her not 
 to leave them. 
 
 Isabella's white lips parted with a strange smile. '* You tell me not 
 to die, dear friends, do you not see that I am already dead ? My heart 
 is bleeding by " 
 
 The hand of the Cameriera was laid upon her arm, and she whispered, 
 '• My child, be siient. you know not what you say." 
 
 Isabella bowed her head, and then looking around tenderly at her kneels 
 ing companions, she said, " Rise and sit by me, dear girls, and listen to 
 what I am -about to say, for we speak together for the last time on earth." 
 
 The maidens arose, and obeyed, while Isabella leaned her head for a 
 few moments upon the bosom of her mother's friend, the Cameriera. 
 There was a pause, during which the poor girl seemed to hav(\ received' 
 some comfort in those friendly arms ; for she final|y sighed, and, raising 
 her head again, she spoke solemnly, liut not unnaturally. 
 
 "I had last night a singular vision," she said. The spirit of my 
 mother appeared to me, and said that in three days I was to die. I be- 
 lieve in this vision. Do not weep, dear sisters ; I go to eternal rest. 
 Life is hitter, death is sweet. Pray for me, tlmt my mother's prophetic 
 ^vorda be verified ; and you, beloTed fViend of that mother," added she, 
 
ISABELLA. 63 
 
 kissing the Canieriera's cheok, "you who know the depths of my heart, 
 and its secret, silent agony, pray for your child, aud prating, ask of her 
 Heavenly Father — death. 
 
 The Aja made no reply, sh© \Ta3 weeping with the others. 
 
 Isabella contemplated the group for a moment, while a ray of life lib 
 up her eyes, showing that, even now, it was sad to part from her friends 
 forever. But the e.\pression was momentary. Her face returned to its 
 deadly paleness, as gasping for breath, she stammered, " Now — now — r 
 for — my father ! Estrella, go to the apartments of the Duke, and say 
 that I desire an interview with his royal Ilifjhness. 
 
 The young girl returned in a few iftoments with an answer. His roy- 
 al Highness had that morning gone some distance in tho country on jv 
 hunting excursion, and would be absent for several days. 
 
 Isabella looked at tho Camericra, who still stood beside her, and her 
 pale lips quivered. *' Did 1 not know itt" whispered she ; "I told you 
 truly, iijs did it! God, forgive hira, I cannot. " 
 
 " And, now," continued she aloud, " now to my last earthly affairs." 
 So saying, she called for her caskets of jewels and divided th-^m between 
 the young maids of honor ; and cutting from her hair one rich massy 
 lock, she placed it in Estrella's hand, saying, " Share it among you all." 
 To the Camcriera, she gave a sealed packet, and then bade them loavo 
 her io herself; for the ringing, of tho chapel-bell annoimced the depar- 
 ture of the priest from thencn, with the blessed sacrament. 
 
 The sacred rites v/ei>e ended. On her knees, the Princess Isabella had 
 made her confession, and had revealed to tho shuddering priest, the hor- 
 rible secrets of the preceding night. She had received abiution, and'had 
 partaken of tho holy communion. 
 
 " Now, my child," said the priest, in a voice tremulous with sympa- 
 thy, "you have received the blessiag of God, and you are prepared for 
 his coming. May he bo merciful to you, and grant your prayer for re- 
 lease from this earth. I, too, will pray that, your martyrdom be short." 
 
 "Amen," softly murmured Isabella. 
 
 "But the ways of the Lord are inscrutable, and it may be that ho 
 willed it otherwise. If in His incomprehensible wisdom, He should de- 
 clare that your days shall be long on this earth, promise me to endure 
 Avith resignation your lot, nor seek to hasten what Ho has deemed it best 
 to delay." 
 
 " I promise, holy father," 
 
 "Make a vow then to the Lord, that by the memory of your mother 
 3'ou will fulfd every duty that presents itself to you in life, 'until God 
 has spoken the word that will call you to himself." 
 
 "I swear, by tlic memory of my mother, that I will live a life of re* 
 signation and of usefulness until God, in hie mercy, shall free me from my 
 prison." 
 
 " Right, dear unhappy child," said the Father, smoothing with bis 
 trembling hands the soft hair that lay on. either side of her forehead, 
 "may God reward thee and In kis infinite mercy shortcu thy sufferings." 
 
{)4 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 He stooped, and kissing her pale brow, made the sicfn of the cross 
 above her kneeling figure. Then, with eyes blinded by tears, he slowly- 
 retreated to his own room, where he threw himself upon his knees and 
 prayed tliat God would give strength to them both to bear the cross of 
 that dreadful secret. 
 
 Isabella, too, remained alone. In feverish longing for death, she sat 
 neither hearing the voices of her friends who begged for admission, nor 
 the pleadings of her brother, who besought her to see him and give him 
 one last embrace. Through the long night that followed, still kneeling, 
 she prayed. When the sun rose, she murmured "to-morrow!" and 
 through the day her fancy wandered to the verge of madness. Some- 
 times visions of beckoning angels swarmed around her; then they fled, 
 and in their place stood a hideous skeleton that, with a ghastly smile, 
 held out his fleshless hand, and strove to clasp hers. 
 
 Again the night set in, and the next morning, at break of day, Isabel- 
 la rose from her knees, and, hailing the rising sun, she cried exultingly, 
 " To-day !" 
 
 Exhausted from fasting and such long vigils, her head reeled, and she 
 staggered to her couch. A cold shudder crept over her limbs ; all was 
 dark as night about her ; she tried to clasp her hands in prayer, and' 
 could not, for they were numb and powerless. " This is welcome death !" 
 thought she, and her lips parted with a happy smile. Her head fell 
 backward on the pillow, and her senses fled. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE AMBASSADOR EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 The Princess Isabella opened her eyes, and in, their dark and lustrous 
 depths, shone returning reason; they glared no more with fever-mad- 
 uess, but were sadder and sweeter than ever. 
 
 She gazed at the forms that surrounded her bedside ; at the priest, 
 who, with folded hands, was praying at her head ; at the Cameriera, who 
 knelt beside him ; at the young girls, who gathered in a lovely group at 
 her feet, smiled and wept by turns as she looked upon them ; and lastly, 
 she felt a kiss upon her hand, and, looking there, she beheld her brother, 
 who wept with joy. ■ 
 
 " Where am 1?" asked she feebly. 
 
 " You are with those who love you best, darling," said Fernando joy- 
 fully, " with us, who have prayed so long, that the good God has heard, 
 and restored you to life." 
 
ISABELLA. 65 
 
 " 1 still live, then," said she sadly. " And how long have f lain her«, 
 friends ?" , 
 
 The priest .idvauced, and blessing her, took her by the hand. " For 
 four weeks, daughter, you have been unconscious of every thing that 
 passed around you. You see, therefore, that your Heavenly Father bids 
 you live." 
 
 " Four weeks," whispered the poor girl. *' Then in three months -we 
 shall meet again." 
 
 She closed her eyes, and lay silent for a while. At length, the priett 
 bending close to her car, whispered, " Think, daughter, of the vows you 
 have made to God by the memory of your mother!" 
 
 "I will remember them," murmured she, sadly. 
 
 And from this day she mended, until life and strength were restored to her, 
 even as before. Sh'e thought of her vow, and made no resistance to the 
 will of Heaven, but she hoped for death, and awaited her three months ! 
 
 Sustained by these hopes, she recover6(W But her heart was wounded 
 past all cure; gone were her smiles and her songs. Quietly, sadly, and 
 solemnly, glided away the new life to which she had been born through 
 death. 
 
 The first day on which she felt able to leave her room, she sent to 
 crave an audience of her father. She had been told that, during her de- 
 lirium, he had often visited her chamber; but, since her convalescence, 
 he had not sent so much as an enquiry after her health. 
 
 He did not, however, deny the interview she sought. He awaited his 
 daughter, said the messenger, in his own apartments. 
 
 The Princess shuddered, and a deadly faintness came over her. *'My 
 God! my God ! will I ever be able to go through this bitter hour! 
 Must I indeed look upon him who " 
 
 She closed her eyes to shut out the frightful remembrance. Then 
 gathering all her strength for the trial, she rose to seek her father, and 
 make one last request of him. 
 
 "With her head thrown proudly back, and her dark eyes flashing with 
 resolve, she entered his cabinet. 
 
 The Duke was entirely alone. He had dismissed his attendants, and 
 now he stood in the centre of the room awaiting his daughter in gloomy 
 silence. His cold, stern features, had grown more repulsive than ever 
 to the unhappy girl ; his piercing eyes more revengeful ; his thin, pale 
 lips, more cruel. He seemed to her a pitiless stranger, and she could 
 not advance to meet him. Powerless and faint, she stood at the door, 
 all her strength gone. 
 
 A few moments of anguish went by, and then the Duke, extending, 
 his-hand, said in a tone of command, " come hither, Isabella." 
 
 She stepped forward and almost touched his hand when', shuddering, 
 her arm dropped heavily down, and forgetting all caution, she murmur- 
 ed, in tones of deepest agony, " I cannot ! I cannot?" 
 
 The Duke's eyes shot fire, as he too dropped his extended hand, and 
 deep, angry folds wrinkled his forehead. 
 
66 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " Why have you desired this interview ?" asked he. 
 
 " I have a request to prefer, my father," replied Isabella. 
 
 He bent his head. "Speak," said he — 
 
 — " I come to entreat of my father permission to take the veil." 
 
 "And wherefore, I should like to know ?" said the Duke, carelessly. 
 
 — "That I may dedicate ray few remaining days to the service of the 
 Lord." 
 
 "Girlish folly," said he, with a contemptuous laugh, while he paced 
 up and down the room. 
 
 Isabella made no reply, but 'stood awaiting a more direct answer to 
 her petition. Suddenly, he came up to her and spoke. 
 
 " I fcanuot grant your request," said he. " I have other plans for you. 
 The grandchild of the King of Spain cannot be permitted to die a peni- 
 tent in a cloister ; if she has atonement to make for crime, let her make 
 it, not under the serge of the nun, but under the purple of the Empress." 
 
 " I have no ambition," sal8 Isabella, trembling. "Allow me, I en- 
 treat you, to enter a Convent." 
 
 — " I repeat that I have other plans for you. I too, have no ambition 
 for you^'' said the father, coldly, "but I am ambitious for my house, and . 
 through you I shall attain ray end. One of the greatest monarchs' of 
 Europe has sought your hand for the heir of her throne, and I have re- 
 solved that you shall become his wife." 
 
 — " Fate will refuse it to him ; fate, more merciful than my father. 
 I have but a few weeks to live; before a month has elapsed, I shall be 
 in my grave." 
 
 "Go there, if it please you,"^ cried the Duke, "but die with royal 
 robes ;ibout you ! You shall not die a nun.'' 
 
 " No one on earth, my father, has a right to detain me. 1 f your High- 
 ness refuse your consent, I will fly to a convent, without your permissiou. 
 And princely though you be, you shall not drag from the altar the bride 
 of the Lord." 
 
 " Ah, you rebel against my authority !" cried the Duke, with a look 
 that sent a deadly pang to the heart of his daughter. Know that I have 
 power to judge you for such treason, and lay your defiant head upon the 
 bloctl" 
 
 "I do not fear death," replied Isabella, "I await it with impatience." 
 
 — -" Ah ! You are possessed with a love-sick desire to die ! — But hear 
 ■what I have to say, and mark it well. 1 will relate to you an affair that 
 took place — whilst you were ill. The only son of one of the noblest 
 families in Parma, the pride of his race, and the idol of his parents, con- 
 ceived a plot against my house, whose treason was equal to parracide. 
 I learned his designs ; and with my own eyes, and my own ears, I veri- 
 fied his guilt. He|was an arch-traitor, he had deserved to die on the 
 scaffold ; but I had pity on his family, and spared them the disgrace of 
 a public execution. I look his life secretly, and his parents are spared 
 the shame of knowing how he died. Shall I tell you the name (k thisi 
 dead traitor 1" 
 
ISABELLA. (J7 
 
 — Isabella raised her hand, and parting her blanched lips, she said 
 hoarsely, "No — no — in mercy, no !" 
 
 " Very well, then I proceed. This traitor whom I judged, and to whQm 
 I dealt his death-stab, had an accomplice. Do you listen f 
 
 Isabella's head sank down, like a broken lily, upon her breast. 
 
 " Ah ! You listen. The accomplice is placed in a position which 
 makes it— inexpedient for me to punish her in her own person. But 
 should she thwart me, should she not fidly and cheerfully comply with 
 my demands upon her loyalty, I will see that she suffers more than death 
 Jn the family of her accomplice. I will publish the guilt of the dead 
 criminal to the whole world ; I will disgrace and dishonor his whole race 
 and his young sister with her parents, shall be driven penniless from my 
 realms, to beg or starve in a stranger land." 
 
 " Father, hold !" cried the wretched girl, while her every limb qui- 
 vered with the torture he inflicted. "1 am ready to do your will. I 
 will marry whom you choose, and so long as God condemns me to 
 earth, I will obey you in all things. But you shall promise me on your 
 
 princely honor to shield from all shame or harm, the family of-r-of 
 
 the deceased ; to befriend his sister, and if she should ever wish to mar- 
 ry, to hoflor and favor her choice. Promise me this, and as long as I 
 live I submit to your will." 
 
 — " 1 promise, on my honor, to do all this, and to forget, for their 
 sakes, the crime of their son." 
 
 " I promise also, on my safcred honor, to accept the husband you have 
 chosen for me. But I will not suffer long, for my life is almost spent." 
 
 The Duke shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Your Highness," continued his daughter, "will inform me on what 
 day I am to be affianced. I await your commands, and beg your High- 
 ,ness's permission to withdraw to my apafrtments." 
 
 " Have you nothing more to say to your father, Isabella ?" asked he 
 in a faltering voice. . . 
 
 " Nothin!5 more to say to your royal Highness." She curtsied deep- 
 ]y, and without a glance at her father, left tjje room. 
 
 The Duke looked after her with an expression of sorrow. "I have 
 lost her forever !" said he. " When I struck him, I pierced her heart 
 also. Well! so let it be! Better a dead child than a dishonored 
 house !" 
 
 He then rang a little golden bell, and (Ordered preparations to be 
 made for another grand hunt on the morrow. 
 
 Isabella accepted her destiny nobly. She resolved to fulfill her pro- 
 mises strictly ; but she hoped that God would be satisfied with the sa- 
 crifice, and release her before the day of her nuptials. 
 
 Finally came the day on which, for the third time, she had hoped to 
 die. She felt a solemn joy steal over her heart, and she desired her 
 maids of honor to deck her in bridal white. Her dark hair was wreath- 
 ed with orange-blossoms, and in her bosom she' wore an orange-bud. 
 She was lovely beyond expression, and her attendants whispered among 
 
68 JOSEPH THE SECOND , 
 
 rtiemselves, though Isabella neither saw nor heard them. She who 
 awaited death, took no heed of what was going on around her in the 
 palace. 
 
 And yet her stake in that palace was great. On the day before, the 
 Embassy had arrived which was to change her fate, and open to her a 
 new life at the Court of the Austrian Empress. 
 
 The Duke had received his guests with royal courtesy. But he had 
 besought the Count to postpone his interview with the ^Princess until 
 the morrow; for with cruel mockery of his child's sorrow, Philip of 
 Parma had contrived that the day on which she had hoped to meet her 
 dead lover, should be the day of her betrothal to the Archduke of Aus- 
 tria. 
 
 Isabella was the only person in the palace who had not heard of the 
 arrival. She had withdrawn into her private cabinet, and there she 
 counted every pulsation of her heart. She dared not hope to die a na- 
 tural death; she was looking forward to some accident -that was to re- 
 lease her from life ; something direct from the hand of God she thought 
 would, on that day, make good the prophecy of her lover. 
 'i She hoped, watched, prayed. She was startled from her solitude by 
 a knocking at the door, and her father's voice called for admission. 
 
 The Princess, obedient to her promise, rose and opened the door. 
 Her father surveyed her with a smile of derision. " You have done 
 well," said he, " to deck yourself as a bride ; not as the bride of Death, 
 "Kut as the affiance wife of the livincf lover who will one day make you 
 Empress of Austria. His Ambassador awaits us now in the great Hall 
 of State. Follow me into the next room, where your maids of honor 
 are assembled to attend you. Mark me, Isabella! When we arrive 
 in the hall, the Ambassador will advance, and in terms befitting the ho- 
 nor conferred, he will request your acceptance of the Archduke's hand. 
 I leave it to your tact and discretion to answer him as becomes the 
 Princess of a great and royal house." 
 
 "And will, your Highness perform your promise to meT' asked Isa- 
 bella calmly. " Shall his parents live secure in possession of their noble 
 name and estates ; and shall his sister be the special object of your High- 
 ness's protection and favor ?" 
 
 " I will do all this, provided you give me satisfaction as relates to 
 your marriage." 
 
 Isabella bowed. " Then I am ready to accompany your royal High- 
 ness to the hall of state, and to accept with courtesy the offer of the 
 Austrian Ambassador." 
 
 Forth went the beautiful martyr and her train through the gorgeous 
 apartments of the palace, until they reached the hall of the throne. 
 
 In the centre of the hall, the Duke left his daughter and her attend- 
 ants, while he mounted the throne and took his seat upon the ducal chair. 
 
 And now advanced Count Bathiany. Withrall the fervor which her 
 matchless beauty inspired, he begged of the Princess her fair hand for 
 his future Sovereign, the Archduke of Austria. As the Count ceased, 
 
ISABELLA, 69 
 
 every eyo, turned towards the Inf»nta. She had listened with calm <^ig- 
 iiiiy to the words of the Aml)asisador, and her large, melancholy ey^s 
 had been rivetted upon his flice, while he delivered his errand. There 
 was a pause — a few moments were needed by that broken heart to hush 
 its meanings, and bare itself for the sacrifice. The brow of the Duke 
 darkened, and he was about to interpose, when he saw his dau^htei* bow 
 her head. Then she spoke ; and every one bent forward to listen to 
 the silvery tones of her voice. 
 
 " I feel deeply honored," said she, " by the preference of her Imperial 
 Majesty of Austria ; an alliance with her eldest son is above my de- 
 serts ; but since it is their desire, I accept the great honor conferred up- 
 on me. I regret, however, that their Majesties should have directed 
 their choice towards me; for I am convinced that I shall not live long 
 enough to fulfill the destiny to which this marriage calls me."* 
 
 When at last the ceremonies of this day of agony were ended; when 
 the Infanta had dismissed her ladies of honor, and was once more alone 
 — alone with God and with the past, she threw herself upon her couch> 
 and, with her hands meekly folded across her breast, she lay, looking up, 
 far beyond the palace-dome to Heaven. 
 
 There she prayed until midnight, and when the clock had told the hour, 
 she arose to the new life that awaited her, with its new promises, new 
 expectations, new ties — but no new hopes. 
 
 " Heavenly Father," exclaimed she, "it has begun, and I will bear it 
 to the bitter end ! I am now the betrothed, and soon will be the wife 
 of another. If I have sinned in my consent to marry one whom I can 
 nover love, pardon me, oh Lord ! and hear me vow that I will faithfully 
 fulfill my duty towards him. I am the affianced of another ! Farewell, 
 my beloved, farewell, fou tureb long years! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DREAM OF LOVE. 
 
 ^ Thr wedding-festival was over, and Vienna was resting from the fa- 
 tigue of the brilliant entertainments by which the marriage of the Arch- 
 duke had been followed, both in court and city. And indeed the rejoic- 
 ings had been conducted with imperial magnificence. For eight dayg, 
 the people of Vienna, without respect of rank, had been admitted to the 
 palace, to witness the court festivities ; while in the city and at Schon- 
 
 * The Infanta'8 ovn words ; m rerltal.ly hustorical a« Is tlilg whol« relation af her d«ath-i)roi>he- 
 ey and It* unhappy folDllraent. See Wraxall, Mf raoir* of th* Courts, Ac, and Caroltae Pichler. 
 
70 JOSEPJJ THE SECON]). 
 
 brunn, nightly balls were given at the expense of the Empress, where 
 the happy Viennese danced and feasted to their heart's coiitent." 
 
 They had returned the bounty of their Sovereign by erecting triumph- 
 al arches, strewing the ground with flowers, and rending the air with 
 shouts, whenever the young Archduchess had appeared in the streets. 
 
 The great maestro Gluck had composed an Opera for the occasion ; 
 and when, on the night of its representation, the Empress made her ap- 
 pearance in the imperial fo^e, followed by the Archduke and his bride, 
 the enthusiasm of the people was so great that Gluck waited a quarter 
 of an hour, baton in hand, before he could begin his overture. 
 
 But now the jubilee was over, tlie shouts were hushed, the people had 
 returned to their accustomed routine of life, and the exchequer of the 
 Empress was minus — one million of florins ! 
 
 The Court had. withdrawn to the palace of Schonbrunn, there to enjoy 
 in privacy the last golden days of autumn, as well as to afford to the 
 newly-married pair a taste of that retirement so congenial to lovers. 
 
 Maria Theresa, always munificent, had devoted one wing of the palace 
 to the exclusive use of her young daughter-in-law; and her apartments 
 were fitted up with the last degree of splendor. Elegant mirrors, buhl 
 and gilded furniture, costly turkey carpets and exquisite paintings, 
 adorned this princely hoine; and as the Princess was known to be skill- 
 ed both as a painter and musician, one room was fitted up for her as a 
 studio, and another as a music-hall. 
 
 From the music-room, a glass door led to a balcony filled with rare 
 and beautiful flowers. This balcony overlooked the park, and beyond 
 was seen the city, made lovely by the soft grey veil of distance, which 
 lends such beauty to a landscape. 
 
 On this perfumed balcony sat the youthful pair. Isabella reclined in 
 an arm-chair; and at her feet on a low ottoman sat Joseph, looking up 
 into her face, his eyes beaming with happiness. It wa^ a lovely sight- 
 that of these two young creatures, who, in the sweet, still evening, sat 
 together, unveiling to one another, the secrets of two blameless hearts, 
 and forgetting rank, station and the world, were tasting the pure joys of 
 happily wedded love. 
 
 The evening breeze whispered Nature's soft low greeting to them both ; 
 and through the myrtle branches that, hanging over the balcony, clus- 
 tered around Isabella's head, the setting sun flung showers of gold that 
 lit up her face with the glory of an angel. Bfight as an angel seemed 
 she to her husband, who sitting at her feet gazed enraptured upon her. 
 How graceful he thought the contour of her oval face ; how rich the 
 scarlet of her lovely mouth; what noble thoughts were written on her 
 pale and lofty brow, and how glossy were the masses of her raven black 
 hair. And those wondrous eyes ! Dark and light, lustrous and dim, at 
 one moment they flashed with intellect, at another they glittered with 
 unshed tears. Her form, too, w^as slender and graceful, for nature had 
 denied her nothing ; and the charm of her appearance, (above all to an 
 eye weary of splendor,) was made complete by the vapory muslin dress 
 
ISABELLA. • 71 
 
 that fell around her perfect figure like a silver-white cloud. The only 
 ornament that flecked its snow, was a bunch of pink roses, which the 
 Archduke, with his own hand, had culled for his wife that morning. She 
 wore them in her bosom, and they were the crowning beauty of that sim- 
 ple, elegant dress. ^ 
 
 Isabella's head rested among the myrtle branches ; her eyes- were 
 fixed with a look of ineflable sadness upon the heaven?, and gradnally 
 the smile had died from her lips. Her countenance contrasted singular- 
 ly with that of the Archduke. Since his marriage he had grown hand- 
 somer than ever; and from his bright expressive face beamed the silent 
 eloquence of a young and joyful existence. 
 
 In his joy, he did not see the painful shadows that were darkening his 
 ^vife's pale beauty. For a while, a deep stillness was about them — 
 flooded by the gold of the setting sun, lay the park at their feet ; farther 
 off glimmered ihe domes of St. Stephens, at Vienna, and faint over the 
 evening air came the soothing tones of the ve?per-bell. 
 
 " How beautiful is the world," said Joseph at length ; and at the 
 sound of his voice, breaking suddenly the stillness that had been so con- 
 genial to her reveries, Isabella started. A slight shiver ran through her 
 frame, and her eyes unwillingly came back to earth. He did not bee it. 
 "Oh how lovely is life, my Isabella, now that the music of thy heart Re- 
 plies to mine. Never has earth seemed to me so full of beauty, as it 
 does now that I call thee wife." 
 
 Isabella laid her soft hand upon her husband's head, and looked at him 
 for a VIuIq. At length she stifled a sigh, and said, "are you then hap- 
 py?" 
 
 He drew down the little hand that was resting on his blond curls, and 
 kissed it fervently. "A boon, my beloved. When we are alone, let 
 us banish Spanish formality from our intercourse. Be the ftiture Em- 
 press before the world, but to me be ray wife, and call me 'thou.' " 
 
 "I will," replied she, blushing. "And I repeat my question, art thou 
 happy, my husband." 
 
 " I will tell thee, dearest. There seems within me such a flood of 
 melody seeking voice, that sometimes, for very ecstacy, I feel as if I 
 must shout aloud all the pent-up joy that other men have frittered away 
 from boyhood, and I have garnered up for this hour. Again I feel in- 
 toxicated with happiness and fear that I am dreaming. I tremble lest 
 some rude hand awake me, and I look aronnd for proof of my sober, 
 waking bliss. I find it, and then breaks forth my soul in hosannas to 
 God. And when mingling among nien, I see a face that looks sad or 
 pale, I feel such sympathy for him who is less happy than I, that I make 
 vows, when I am Emperor, to heal all sorrow, and wipe away all tears. 
 Then come great and noble aspirations, and I long to give back to my 
 people the blessings with which they greeted thee, my own Isabella. 
 This is-not one feeling, but the meeting of many. Is it happiness, dear- 
 est?" 
 
 " I cannot tell," replied she. " For happiness is a thing so heavenly 
 
72 * JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 in its nature, that one hardly dares to give it a name, lest it take fright, 
 and soar back to its home above the skies. Let us not press it too 
 closely, lest we seek it, and it be gone." 
 
 " We shall do as it pieases thee," said Joseph,, snatchinej her two 
 hands, and pressing them to his heart. "I know that when thou art by, 
 happiness is here, and she cannot go back to Heaven, unless she take 
 thee too." And again he looked at his wife, as if he would fain have 
 blended their dual being into one. 
 
 " I wish to make thee a confession, Isabel," resumed he. "It is a great 
 crime, dearest, but thou wilt give me absolution, !• know. As I look 
 back, I can scarce believe it myself, but — hear. When the Empress 
 gave me thy miniature, beautiful though it was, I gave my consent to 
 marry, but my heart was untouched. When Count Bathiauy departed 
 on his mission, I prayed that every ^bstacle might encumber his ad- 
 vance ; and oh ! my beloved one ! when I heard that thou wert coming, 
 I almost wished thee buried under Alpine avalanches. When I was told 
 of thine arrival, I longed to fly away from Vienna, from rank and royal- 
 ty, to some secluded spot, where no reasons of state policy would force 
 ine to give my hand to an unknown bride. Was 1 not a barbarian, 
 sweetest, was I not an arch-traitor 1 
 
 " No, thou wert only.a boy-prince, writhing under the heavy load of 
 thy royalty." 
 
 " No, I was a criminal ; but oh, how I have expiated my sin ! When 
 I saw thee, my heart leaped into life; and now it trembles lest thou lovo 
 not me ! But thou wilt love me, wilt thou not 1 Thou who hast made 
 me so happy that I wish I had a hundred hearts ; for one is not enough 
 to contain the love I feel for thee !"* 
 
 Isabella was gazing at him with a melancholy smile. " Dreamer !" 
 said she, in a low trembling tone, that sounded to Joseph like heaven, 
 ly music. " Dreamer ! the heart that througli God's goodness is filled 
 with love, is of itself supernaturally magnified ; for Love is a revejation 
 from Heaven." 
 
 " Sweet priestess of Love ! How truly thou art the intorpretor of our 
 passion ! For it is ottrs^ my Isabella, is it not 1 It is our love of which 
 we speak, not mine alone ! I have confessed to thee ; now do the same 
 by me. Tell me, my wife, did'st thou hate the man to whom thy pas- 
 sive hand was given, without one thought of thee or of thy heart's predi- 
 lections ! 
 
 How little he guessed what torture he inflicted ! He looked into her 
 eyes, with such trusting ftiith, with such calm security of happiness, that 
 her sweet face beamed with tender pity, while her cheeks deepened into 
 scarlet blushes, as she listened to his passionate declarations of love. 
 Poor Isabella ! 
 
 " No," said she, " no, I never hated thee, Joseph. I had^lready heard 
 enough to feel esteem for my future husband , and, therefore, I did not 
 
 hate, I pitie d him. _ 
 
 * Theie are hi$ own words. Csroccioli, Life of Joseph II. 
 
— " Pity him, my own, and wherefore ]" 
 
 " Because witliout consulting hif^ heart, he was affianced to an unknown 
 girl, unworthy to be the partner of his brilliant destiny. Poor Isabella 
 of Parma was never made to be an Emptees, Joseph," 
 
 — ■" She was, she was ! She is fit to be. Empress of the world, for all 
 poetry, all goodness, all intellect and beauty look out from the depths of 
 her lustrous eyes! O, look upon me, star of my life, and promise to 
 guide me ever vwth thy holy light ! 
 
 So saying, he took her in his arms, and pressed her to his tender, man- 
 ly heart. " Promise me, beloved," whispered ho, "promise never to 
 leave me." 
 
 •' I promise," said the pale wife, " never to forsake thee until God calls 
 me hence to " 
 
 *'0h! interrupted Joseph, " may that hour never strike till I 'be in 
 Heaven to receive thee; for love is selfish, Isaliclla; and my daily 
 prayer is now, that thy dear hand may close my eyes !" 
 
 " God will not hear that prayer, Joseph," replied Isabella; and as she 
 spoke, her head s^ank upon his shoulder and her long hair fell from its 
 fastening and like a heavy mourning veil shrouded them both. Her 
 husband held her close to his heart, and as he kissed her she felt his tears 
 drop upon her cheek. 
 
 " I do not know," said he, *' why it is, but I feel sometimes as if a 
 tempest were gathering above my head. And yet, the heavens are 
 cloudless, the sun has set, an(> see ! the moon rises, looking in her palo 
 beauty, even as thou dost, my love. She has borrowed loveliness from 
 thee to-night, for surely she was never so fair before. But all seems 
 lovely to me when thou art near, and I think that perchance — thoulovest 
 me. Tell me, Isabella, tell me, dearest, that thou dost love me." 
 
 She raised her head, and met his passionate gaze with a look so sad 
 that' his heart grew cold with apprehension. Then her eyes turned heav- 
 enwards, and her lips moved. He knew that she was praying. 
 
 But why, at such a moment? 
 
 " Tell me the truth," cried he vehemently, ** tell me the truth !" 
 
 "I cannot answer thee in ^7ords," murmured Isabella, "but thou shalfc 
 have music — love's own interpretef. Come, let us go into the music- 
 room." And light as a fairy, she tripped before, opening herself the 
 door, though he strove to prevent her. 
 
 — " No, this is my temple, and my hands unclose the doors," said she, 
 once more self-possessed. 
 
 Her husband followed her, enchanted. She looked around at the va- 
 rious instruments, and struck a few chords on the piano. 
 
 — " No— this is too earthly — my own favorite instrument shall speak 
 for me." 
 
 So saying, she opened a case that lay on the table, and took from it a 
 violin, "This," said she to her husband, " is the violin that ca^ip with 
 me from Italy." ^ 
 
74 JUSEPfl THK SECOND. 
 
 "How, Isabel," exclaimed he, "dost thou play on my favorite instru- 
 ment '?" *> 
 
 "The violin, to me, is dear above all instruments," replied she; "it 
 alone, has tones that respond to those of the human heart."* 
 
 With indescribable grace, 'she raised the violin to heT shoulder, and 
 began to play. At first, her chords were light and airy as the sounds 
 fronx an iEolian harp ; then tlie melody swelled until it broke into a 
 gush of harmony that vibrated through every chord of iihe Archduke's 
 iK-ating heart. As he stood breathless and entranced, she seemed to him 
 like that picture, by Fiesole, of the angel that comforts the dying. This 
 piciure had always been, above all others, the Archduke's favorite, and 
 now it stood embodied before him, a living, breathing divinity. 
 
 The music died away to his ear, though still s^e played ; but now, it 
 seemed to stream from her eyes, that shone me luminous stars, and 
 flow from her. softly moving lips, that whispered to the spiiits, which 
 now low, now loud, laughed, sighed or sobbed out their responses from 
 the magic violin. 
 
 Isabella was no longer a woman and his wife. She was a glorified 
 spirit ; and now he trembled lest his angel should vanish, and leave hirn 
 nothing but. the memory of a heavenly vision. His eyes filled with 
 tears ; a convulsive sigh broke from his breast, and, burying his face iu 
 his hands; he sank down upon the sofa. 
 
 A light shudder run through Isabella's f^ame ; her eyes, which had 
 wandered far, far beyond the portals that shut us out from Heaven, look- 
 ed wildly around. Her husband's sigh had awakened her from a bliss- 
 ful dream, and once more her weary heart sank desolate to the earth. 
 But with an expression of tenderest pity, she turned towards him and 
 smiled. Then her'music changed ; it pealed out in rich harmotvy, fit for 
 anortal ears. She saw her complete mastery over the Archduke's soul, 
 his eyes grew bright and joyful once more, and from his countenance 
 beamed the light of peffect contentment. w 
 
 "Our Epitiialamium !" exclaimed he, overjoyed, and no longer able, 
 to control his exultation, he darted from his seat, and clasped the dear 
 musician in his arms. 
 
 "I thank thee, my Isabella," said he, with a voice that trembled with 
 excess of happiness. "Yes, this is the voice of love ; thou hast answer- 
 ed me with our wedding-song. In this melody is drowned every bitter 
 remembrance of m.y life ; the discords of the past have melted into rich- 
 est harmony, — for thou return'st my love. A thousand times, I thank 
 thee; this hour is sacred to me forever!" ♦ ' 
 
 "Thou hast said that thou lovest me." continued the happy husband, 
 " and now I feel the power and strength of a god. I am ready for the 
 battle of life." 
 
 — " But I think that I saw the god weep. Poor mortal friend, gods 
 shed no tea rs; tears are the baptism of humanity." _ 
 
 * The Infanta, who played on several instruments, excelled on the violin. Wraxall, II. page C90. 
 
ISABELLA. 75 
 
 " Oh, gods must weep for joy, Isabella, else they could not feel its 
 perfection." 
 
 " May Heaven grant that thou weep no other tears," said the wife, 
 solcnnnly. " But hear," continued slie, raising her little hand, " the pal- 
 aco-clock strikes eight, and we promised her Majesty to spend this even- 
 in'^ with the imperial family-circle. We must be punctual, and I have 
 scarcely time to dress." 
 
 • It Why, wilt thou change that sweet simple dress 1 Art thou not al- 
 ways the pride of the Court? Come — thy muslin and roses will shame 
 all the silk and jewels of my sisters. Come !" 
 
 She laid her hand gently upon the arra that drew her forward, and 
 curtsied before him with mock ceremony. 
 
 *' My lord and husband*," said she, laughing, " although your imperial 
 Highness has banished Madam Etiquette trom our balcony, remember 
 that she stands grimly awaiting us by yonder door, and we must take 
 lier with us into the presence of our august Empress, ^fadam Etiquette 
 would never permit me to pass in this simple'drcss. She would order 
 me indignantly from her sight, and your Highness also. Go. therefore, 
 and don your richest Spanish habit. In fifteen minutes; I await your 
 Highness here." 
 
 She made another deep curtsey. The Archduke taking up the jest, 
 approached her, and kissing her hand replied — 
 
 " I obey your iYnpcrial Highness, as, your loyal husband and loving 
 subject. I shall deck myself with stars and orders ; and in princely 
 splendor I shall return, as becomes the spouse of the Archduchess of 
 Austria. Your Highness's obedient servant." 
 
 And in true -Spanish fashion, he bent his knee and kissed the hem of 
 her robe. Backing out of her presence, he bowed agavii as he reached 
 the door, but catching her laughing eyes, he suddenly dashed right over 
 Madam Etiquette, and catching his wife in his arms, he gave her a last 
 and a right burgher-like kiss. The Archduke was very happy, and the 
 Archduchess well ! One day God will reward her ! 
 
 As the door closed, the expression of her face changed. , The smile 
 died from her lips, and her eyes were dim with tears. 
 
 " Poor boy !" murmured she, he loves me, and I — I suffer him to be- 
 • lieve that I return his love, while . 
 
 " But I am right," said the devoted girl, and she clasped her hands 
 convulsively together. 
 
 " O my Savior !" cried she, *' in mercy give me grace, while I live, to 
 be true to the vows that before thine altar I have sworn to the Arch- 
 duke of Austria ! It were cruel in mc to wound his noble heart, cruel 
 to awake him from his dream of love! Let him ^t least, be happy, 
 whilellivej and Lord ! give me strength that I faint not under my 
 burthen !" 
 
JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ' GLUCK. 
 
 TIio sun had risen, flooding the earth with light, and the people of 
 Vienna had already begun their labors for the day. .But the curtains 
 had not yet been dra\yn from a riclily furnished room, wliose walls were 
 lined with books ; and in whose centre stood a table covered with pa- 
 pers, whereon the lights not yet extinguished were dropping their waxen 
 tears from two lofty silver candel-abra. At this table sat a man, look- 
 ing earnestly at a paper, covered with notes of music. He had sat there 
 the whole hight long, and his countenance gave no indication of the ex-. 
 liaustion that follows upon night-watching. His large dark, gray eyes 
 flashed, whenever he raised his head thoughtfully^ as he frequently did; 
 and when music was born of his thoughts, a smile illuminated his other- 
 wise plain face, and a wonderful light played about his magnificent fore- 
 head ; the glory of that genius which had made it her dwelling-place. 
 
 The form of this man was as striking as his face. Tall and command- 
 ing in stature, his wide shoulders seemed proudly to bear the weight of 
 the head that towered above them, and in his lofty bearing, there v/as a 
 dignity that betokened either rank or genius. 
 
 He had both ; for this man was Christopher Von Gluck, son of a 
 huntsman of Princo Eugene, who was born 1714 in the village of 
 "Weidenwang. 
 
 This son of the poor huntsman, was known throughout all Europe ; 
 and in Italy, the nobles in their palaces, and the people on the streets 
 sang the melodies of Phedia,*^ Antigone, Scmiramede, and Telemacco. hi 
 Germany he was less known ; and in Vienna alone, was he truly appre- 
 ciated. - , 
 
 There he sat, unconscious of th^ daylight. On a chair at his side, lay 
 a violin and flute ; near them, a violincello leaned against the wall ; and 
 within reach of his hand, stood one of those upright pianos just then 
 coming into fashion. 
 
 At one moment he wrote rapidly ; at another he hummed a melody ; 
 again halfdeclaiming, half singing, he read, off" a Recitative; and then 
 bent over and wrote with all his might. The lights began to smoke, 
 and the wax dropped over his music, but he saw none of it;, neither saw 
 he the day-light that had replaced his candles. He was so absorbed in 
 his work as not to hear a knock at his door. 
 
 But now the knock was repeated ; and this time so distinctly that it 
 waked him from his dream of harmony, and he frowned. He rose, and 
 striding to the door, withdrew the ftolt. 
 
ISABELLA. 77 
 
 Tho door opened, and a tall, elegant woman, in a tasteful morning- 
 dress, came* in. Her fine regular features were disturbed, and her eyes 
 were red with weeping or watching. When she saw Gluck looking so 
 fresh and vigorous, she smiled, and said, '* Heaven be praised, you arc 
 alive and well ; I have passed a night of anxious terror on your account." 
 
 " And why, Marianne V asked he, his brow unbent, and his face beam- 
 ing with tenderness; for Gluck idolised his beautiful wife. 
 
 She looked at his quiet, inquiring face, and broke into a merry laugh. 
 " Oh, the barbarian !" cried she, " not to know of what he has been guil- 
 ty. Why Christopher, lock at those burnt-out wax-lights, look at tho 
 day-light wondering at you tluough your curtains. Last night at ten' 
 o'clock, I lit these candles, and you promised to work for only two 
 hours more. Look at them now, and see what you have been doing?" 
 
 — " Indeed, I do believe that I have been here all night," said Gluck, 
 with naif astonishmeni. "But I assure you, Marianne, that I fully in- 
 tended to go to bed at the end of two hours. Is it my fault, if the night 
 has seemed so short? Twelve hours since we parted ! ^ Can it be !" 
 
 lie went to the window, and drew the curtain.-?. " Day !" cried he, 
 " and the sun so bright !" He looked out with a smile ; but suddenly 
 his brow grew thoughtful, and he said in a low voice, 
 
 "Oh, may the light of day sliine upon me also !" 
 
 His wife laid her hand upon his arm. "And upon whom falls the 
 light of day if not upon you ?" asked she, reproacnfully. "Look baek 
 upon your twenty operas, and see each one bearing its laurel-wreath 
 angl shouting to the world your fame ! And now look into the future, 
 and see their unborn sisters, whose lips one day will open to the harmo- 
 ny of your music, and will teach all nations to love your memory ! And 
 I, Christopher, I believe more in your future than in your past successes. 
 Ifl did not, think you that I would indulge you as I do in your artistic 
 eccentricities, and sit like a love-lorn maiden outside of this) door, my 
 ear strained to listen for your breathing : dreaded lest some sudden 
 stroke should have quenched tho light of that genius which you overtask ^ 
 yet daring not to ask entrance, lest my presence should affright your 
 other loves — the Muses ?" Yes, my dear husband, I have faith in the 
 power of your genius ; and for you has risen this glorious sun to-day. 
 Chase away those clouds from the heaven of jour brow. They are ill- 
 timed." 
 
 In the height of her enthusiasm she spoke, and now, her two arms 
 around his neck, she rested her head upon Gluck's bosom. 
 
 He bent down, and kissed her forehead. " Then, my wife has faith, 
 not in what I have done, but in what I can do. Is it so, love ?" 
 
 — "It is, Christopher. I believe in the power of your genius." 
 
 GIuqIv's face wore an expression of triumph as she said this, and ho 
 smiled. His smile was very beautiful, and ever, when she saw it, his 
 wife felt a thrill of happiness. Never had it seemed to her before so 
 full of heavenly inspiration. 
 
 " Since such is your faith in me, my Egeria, you will then have cour- 
 
78 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 age to hear what I have to tell. Tear away the laurel-wreaths from my 
 past works, Marianne — burn them to ashes. They are dust, and to dust 
 they will surely return. Their mirth and their melody, their pomp and 
 their pathos are all — lies. They are not the true children of inspiration, 
 they are impostors. They are the offspring of our affected and falsely-sen- 
 timental times, and deserve not immortality. Away with them ! A new 
 day shall begin for me, or I shall hide my head in bitter solitude, despi- 
 sing my race, who applaud the juggler, and turn away in coldness from 
 the veritable artist." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Marianne, " those far-fomed operas that delight 
 the world, arie they nothing more than clever deceptions ?" 
 
 " Nothing more," cried Gluck. " They did not gush from the holy 
 fount of inspiration, tliey were composed and arranged to suit the taste 
 of the pirblic and the dexterity of the singers, who, if they trill and jug- 
 gle with their voices, think that they have reached the summit of musi- 
 cal perfection. But this must no longer be. I have written for time, 
 1 will now work for immortality. Let me interpret what the angels 
 have whispered, and then you shall hear the language of the soul, which 
 nothing but music can translate. What are the lame efforts of speech 
 by the side of its thrilling tones 1 Music is a divine revelation, but men 
 have not yet received it in their hearts. / have been made its messen- 
 ger and I will speak the message faithfully. 
 
 "Ah Christopher !" interposed Marianne, " I fear you will find no fol- 
 lowers. If the message be to6 lofty for the hearers, the messenger will 
 be driven away in disgrace." 
 
 "Hear' the coward !" cried Gluck vehemently ; "seb the woman's na- 
 ture shrinking from the path of honor because it is beset with danger. I 
 did well, not to let you know the nature of my last labors, for with your 
 sighs and your croakings you would have turned me back again into the 
 hi4hway of flilsehood. But you are too late, poltroon. The work is 
 done, and it shall see light." Gluck looked at his wife's face, and the ex- 
 pression he saw there, made him pause. Already he w^s sorry, and 
 ready to atone. "No ! no ! I wrong you, my Egeria, not only are you 
 the wife of my love, but the friend of my genius. Come dearest, let us 
 brave the world together ; and even if that fail us, let us never doubt the 
 might of truth and the glory of its interpreters." 
 
 So saying Gluck reached out his hands ; and his wife, with a trusting 
 smile laid both hers upon them. "How can you doubt me, Christopher ?" 
 asked she. " Look back into the past, to the days of our courtship, and 
 say who then was fainthearted and who then declared that his little 
 weight of grief was too heavy for those broad shoulders to bear." 
 
 " I ! I !" 'confessed Gluck, " but I was in love, and a man in love is 
 always a craven." 
 
 " And 1 suppose," laughed Marianne, " that I was not in love, which 
 will account for my energy and patience on that occasion. To think that 
 
 my rich father thought me too good for Gluck! Heaven forgive me, 
 
 but I could not mourn him as I might have done, had his death not left 
 
I5x\BELLA. 79 
 
 mc free to marry you, you ill-natured grant. Yes ! and now that twelve 
 years have gone by, 1 love you twice as well as 1 did ; and God, who 
 knew there was no room in my heart for other loves, has given me no 
 children, for I loftg for none. You are to me husband, lover, friend and 
 
 you need not shake your head, sir, you are child, too. Then why 
 
 have you kept your secrets from mc, tell me, traitor, why V 
 
 "Not because you were faint-hearted, my beloved,'' said Gluck with 
 emotion, " my violent temper wronged us both, when it provoked me to' 
 utter a word so false. But jrenius must labor in secret and in silence; 
 its works are like those enchanted treasures of which we have read ; 
 speak of their existence, and lo ! they are ashes. Sometimes genius 
 holds an enchanted treasure before the eyes of the artist, who in holy 
 meditation must earn it for himself. One word spoken, breaketh the 
 spell, and therefore, ,it was, Marianne, that I spoke not the word. But 
 the treasure is mine, I have earned it, and first at my wife's feet I lay it; 
 perchance that she may stand by my side, while the world rejects it as 
 worthless, and heaps obloquy upon my head." 
 
 " His will be a bold hand that casts tfie first stone at the giant," said 
 Marianne, looking proudly upon the tall and stalwart figure of her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " You call me giant, and that recalls to me a fact which bears upon 
 the subject of our conversation now,'' said Gluck, with a laugh. "It 
 was the fall of my " Giant " that first showed me the precipice towards 
 which I and my works, with allmy musical predecessors, w^re hastcninrr."' 
 
 — "You mean your ' Caduta de Giganti,^ which you tried to exhibit 
 before those icy English people V 
 
 — " Do not speak .against the English, !Marianne, they are a good up- 
 right nation. It is not their fault if they are better versed in book-keep- 
 ing than in Music ; and I do not know that they are fi\r wrong when they 
 prefer the chink of gold, to the strumming and piping, which until now, 
 the world, turning up the whites of its eyes, has called music. I who 
 had been piping and strumming with the rest, suddenly rushed out of 
 the throng and thrusting ray master-piece in their faces, told thorn that 
 it was music. Was it their fault if they turned their backs and would 
 not believe me ? I think not." 
 
 — "Oh ! you need not excuse the English, Christopher. I know the 
 history of the ^ Caduta de Giganti,'' although Master Gluck has never 
 told it me. I know that the young Artist met with no favor at English 
 hands ; and I know that because his works were not a lame repetition of 
 Italian music and water, the discerning Londoners voted it — worthless. 
 I know too that Master Gluck, in his distress, took counsel with the great 
 Handel, and besought him to point out the opera's'defects. Then said 
 Handel » . 
 
 — " How, dear prattler, you know what Handel said ?" 
 
 — " I do, Master Gluck. Handel said : You have given yourself too 
 much trouble, man. To please the English public, you must make a 
 great noise. Give them plenty of brass and sheep-skin." 
 
80 JOSEPH THE SECONp. 
 
 ** So he did," cried Gluck, convulsed with laughter. " 1 followed his 
 advice. I spiiukled the choliisses with trumpet and driinrr, and the, 
 second time the opeM came out, it was a complete success." 
 
 3Iarianue joined in the mirth of her husband. 
 
 — " But now, if all this is true, why do you like the English f 
 
 — " Because my failure in England taught me the utter worthlessness 
 of our present school of music, and inspired me with the desire to re- 
 form it." 
 
 He drew her arm within his and seated her on the divan by his side. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE KEW OPERA, 
 
 " Now Marianne," said he, putting his arm arouncl her w^alst, " hear 
 the secret history of my musical career. I will tell you of the. misfor- 
 tunes that my genius has encountered through life. I begin with Eng- 
 land. It is of no use to go back to the privations of my boyhood, though 
 they were many ; for hunger and thirst are the tribute that man must 
 pay to fate for that capital which genius gives to him, and which he must 
 increase with all his might and all his strength. Even as a boy, I crav- 
 ed less for bread than for fame ; and I consecrated my life and soul to 
 Art. I thought that I was in the right way ; for I had written eight op- 
 eras which the Italians lauded to the skies. But the ' Cacluta di Gi- 
 ^ara^i' was a failure, and ' Artamene ' likewise. This double 7?asco en- 
 raged me, (you know my bad temper, Marianne.) I could not bear to 
 be so misconceived ! — I was determined to show the English that, in 
 spite of them, I was an Artist. I longed to bring them to my feet, as 
 Jupiter did the Titans, So I ordered from one-of those poetastieS to be 
 found in every land, a sort oi libretto, called in theatrical parlance, a lyric 
 drama ; and to the words of this monstrosity I arranged the very finest 
 airs of my several operas. When I had completed this musical kaleido- 
 scope, I called it Pyramus and Thisbe. I dished' up my olla podrida ; 
 and set it before the hungry English! ; but they did not relish it. The 
 public remained cold, and — what was far worse — I remained cold, my- 
 self. I thought over this singular result, and wondered how it was that 
 music which, as a part of the operas for which it was written, had seem- 
 ed so full of soul, now faded into insipidity when transplanted to the 
 soil of other dramatic situations. I found the answer in the question. 
 It was because I had transplanted my music from its native soil, that its 
 beauty had flown. Then it burst upon my mind that the Libretto is the ^ 
 
ISABELLA. 8 1 
 
 father of the Opera, the Music, its mother; and so. if the father be not 
 strong and lusty, the mother will bring forth a sickly offspring, which 
 offspring cannot grow up to perfection. Now, my operas are sickly, for 
 they arc the children of an unsound father, who is no true poet." 
 
 " Still, still, rash man," whispered Marianne, looking around as though 
 she feared listeners. " Do you forget that the father of your operas, is 
 Metastasio ?" 
 
 " 1 remember it too well, for many of my works hare perished from 
 their union with his weak and sentimental verses. Perished, in my es- 
 timation, I mean ; for to make my operas passable, I have often been oblig- 
 ed to write fiery music to insipid words; and introduce _/fortfwrfl^ out of 
 place^that the nightingales might compensate to the world for the short- 
 comings of the poet. Well, my heart has bled while I wrote such mu- 
 sic, and I prayed to God to send me a true poet — one who could writa 
 of something else besides Love ; one who could rise to the height of my 
 own inspiration, and who could develop a genuine lyric drama, with 
 characters, not personages, and a plot whose interest should increase un- 
 to its end." 
 
 " And have you found him 1" asked Marianne with a meanitig smile. 
 
 ♦• I have. It is " 
 
 *' Calzabigi," interrupted she. 
 
 "How!" cried the fiery Gluck, " afler promising ^ecresy, has h« been 
 unable to curb his tongue?" 
 
 — '* Nonsense, Christopher, he has not said a "word to rac. I guessed 
 this long ago." 
 
 " And how comes it that you never hinted a word of it to me?^ 
 
 "I waited for the hour when you deemed it best to speak, my love; 
 for I con^prehended fully the reasons for your silence. Therefore I wai- 
 ted until Minerva should come forth full armed, to challenge Jove's op- 
 ponents to the strife. Meanwhile I had faith in God and thee, Christo- 
 pher, and I prayed for Heaven's blessing on thy genius." 
 
 " Heaven will hear thy prayer, my better self," cried Gluck, drawing 
 his wife close to his heart. Oh, how happy I feel to be permitted to 
 speak with thee of my past labors. How gladly shall I listen to thy 
 criticisms or thine approval ; both, more to me than those of all the 
 world beside. Come, Marianne, I will begin now." 
 
 He sprang up from the divan, and would have hurried to the piano, 
 but Marianne held him back. " Maestro," said she, " before we sacrifice 
 to Apollo, let us give to life and mortality their rights. Prose awaits 
 us in the dining-room, and we shall give her audience before we open 
 the pages of this nameless opera." 
 
 " You shall hear its name, Marianne. It is " 
 
 Marianne put her arms around his neek, and whispered, " Hash, my 
 Orpheus." 
 
 *' How ! You know that alsol" 
 
 . She raised her hand, as if in menace. " Know, Christopher, that little 
 Hymen tolerates no man who- has secrets from his wife. You tried to 
 
 6 
 
82 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 be silent, but betrayed yourself in your sleep. You do not know how 
 often in the night you called Eurydice in tones of plaintive music. Nor 
 do you know how, as you appealed to the deities of the infernal regions, 
 I shuddered at the power of your weird notes !" 
 
 " You have heard, then," cried Gluck enchanted. " And you-*—" 
 
 "My friend, Prose, Prose calls with angry voice. Away to the 
 dining-room ! A man who has revelled all night with the Muses, needs 
 refreshment in the morning. Nay — you need not frown like Jupiter 
 Tonans — you must go with me to eat earthly food, before I taste your 
 nectar and ambrosia. Come, and to reward your industry you shall 
 have a glass of Lacrimae Christi from the cellar of the Duke of Bologna." 
 
 She drew him from the room, and succeeded in landing him ^t the 
 breakfast table, 
 
 " Now, I will not hear a word about Art," said Marianne, when tha 
 servants had brought in the breakfast, '"'l am the physician, both of 
 body and mind, and I condemn you to a silence of fifteen minutes. Then 
 you may talk." 
 
 "Of my opera, CarissimaP 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! Of the wind and weather — nothing else. Now hush, 
 and drink your chocolate." 
 
 So Gluck, obedient, drank his chocolate, and ate his biscuit and part- 
 ridge-wing in silence. 
 
 All at once, the comfortable stillness was broken by a loud ringing of 
 the door-bell, and a servant announced Signor Calzabigi. 
 
 Gluck darted off from the table, but Marianne, laughing, brought him 
 back again. " First, your glass of Lacrimae Christi," said she. Calza- 
 bigi will be indulgent and wait for us a moment." \ 
 
 He took the glass, and inclining his head, drank her health. 
 
 " Marianne," said he cheerfully, "I have been amiable and tractable 
 as a good child. Enough of Prose, then — give me ray freedom now, 
 will you f' 
 
 " Yes, Mf^estro ; you are free ; your body is refreshed, and can bear 
 the weight of that strong soul that has no infirmities to impede its flight. 
 Fly if you list — to Calzabigi !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 RANIERO VON CALZABIGI. 
 
 The door of the drawing room had scarcely opened before Calzabigi 
 hastened forward to meet Gluck. But, seeing his wife, he stopped, and 
 made a profound inclination. 
 
 " Speak out, friend " cried Gluck merrily. " She knows everything. 
 
nnd think what a treasure of a wife she is. She has knov\*n it ail along, 
 ■without betraying herself by a word." 
 
 " And does that surprise you," answered Calzabipi, " It does not me, 
 for well I know that the Signora is an angel of prudence as well as of 
 goodness. The Signora will allow me to ppeak before her 1 Well then, 
 Slaestro, the die is cast ! J am just from the house of Count Durazzo, 
 to whom, at your request, I took the opera yesterday. The Count sat 
 Tip all night to examine it ; and this morning, when I was ushered into 
 his room, I found him still in his evening dress, the score on the table, 
 before him." 
 
 " Hear, Marianne," exclaimed Gluck triumphantly. ■*' It is not only 
 the composer who forgets to sleep for the sake of this opera ! And 
 what said the theatfical director, Raniero?" 
 
 " He said that no intrigue and no opposition should prevent him from 
 , representing this magnificent opera. He says that ho feels proud of the 
 privilege of introducing this chef-d'oeuvre to the world. He has already 
 sent for the transcribers ; he has chosen the performers, and begs of the 
 author to distribute the parts. But everything must be done at once ; 
 for the opera comes out in October, to celebrate the birth-day of the 
 young Archduchess Isabella." 
 
 " That is impossible," cried Gluck. "We are in July, and such an 
 opera cannot be learned in three months." 
 
 " With good-will, it can be done, Christopher," said Marianne, implo- 
 ringly. " Do not leave your enemies time to cabal against you ; snatch 
 the victory from them, before they have time for strategy." 
 
 " You do not know what you require at my hands," returned he, pas- 
 sionately. "You do not know how an ill-timed pause or a slighted rest 
 would mar the fair face of my god-like music and travesty its beauty." 
 
 " Hear how he defames himself!" laughied Marianne; "as if it were 
 so easy to desecrate Gluck's master-piece !" 
 
 "It is precisely because it is ray master-pieCe that it is easy to trav- 
 esty," returned Gluck earnestly. "The lines which distinguish the hand 
 of a Raphael from that of a lesser genius, are so delicate as to be al- 
 most imperceptible. Slight deviations of the pencil have no effect upon 
 a caricature ; but you well know how completely a beautiful face may 
 be disfigured by a few unskilful touches. I will cite as an example the 
 aria of Orpheus ; " Che faro senza Euridice." Change its expression by 
 the smallest discrepancy of time or modulation and you transform it into 
 a tune for a puppet-show. In music of this description, a misplaced pia- 
 no or forte, an ill-judged ^/?on7i/re, an error of movement, either one, will 
 alter the effect of the whole scene. Ths opera must, therefore, be rc- 
 heansed under my own direction ; for the composer is the soul of his 
 opera, and his presence is as necessary to its success as is that of the sun 
 to the creation."* 
 
 " Well, I am sure you can manage the whole troop with that Stentor 
 
 voice of yours," replied Marianne. 
 
 ♦ The3« are Gluck's orwn wordE, Anton Scbiaid, Llfo of ©luck ; pus* 1&2. 
 
84 josaru the second. 
 
 •' If jou do not consent, Gluck," intarpoRPil Calzablgi, "they \¥ill have 
 to rehearse for iho birlh-day ftlo an opera of Ilasso and MeUistasio," 
 
 " What !" flhrieked Gluck. " Lay aside my Orpheus for one of Has- 
 eo's puny operas ? Never ! My opera is almost complete. It needs 
 but one last aria to stand out before the world in all its fullness of per- 
 fection, and I shall sutFer it to be laid aside to give place to one of Ila;*- 
 so's tooting, jingling, performances ! No, no; my Orpheus shall not 
 retire before Ilasse's pitiful Jeremiads. It shall be forthcoming on the 
 birth-day, and I must train the singers by day and by night." 
 
 " Right!" exclaimed Marianne, "and we ."hall crown you \s\\.\\ new 
 laurels, Christopjier, on that e%'entful night." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that, Marianne. It is easier to criticise than to 
 appreciate; and every thing original, or new, prov(»kp8 the opposition 
 of the multitude. In our caso, they have double provocation ; for Cal- 
 zabigi's poem is as original as my music. Wo have both striven for 
 simplicity, nature, and truth ; wo have both discarded clap-trap of eve- 
 ry JJort. Oh, Calzabigi, my friend, how happy for me that I h:^e found 
 such a poet ! If, through his Orpheus, Gluck is to attain fame, he well 
 knows how much of it is duo to the inspiration of your noble poem !" 
 
 "And never,", exclaimed Calzabigi, grasping the extended hand of the 
 composer, "never would the name of poor Calzabigi have been known 
 had Gluck not borno it along upon the pinions of his own fame. If the 
 •world calls me Poet, it is because my poem has borrowed beauty from 
 Gluck's celestial music." 
 
 " Yes," said Gluck, laughing, "and if your poem fails, you will be 
 equally indebted to Gluck's music Those half learned critirs, so numer- 
 ous in the world, who are far more injurious to Art than the ignorant, 
 will ravo against our opera. Another class of musical pedants will be 
 for discovering carelessness, and for aught we know, the majority of the 
 ■world may follow in their wake, and condemn our opera as barberous, 
 discordant, and overstrained."- 
 
 " We must try to forestall all theso prejudices and win tho critics to 
 the side of Truth and real Art," said Marianne. 
 
 " The Signora is right," said Calzal)igi ; " it is not so much for our own 
 aake, as for the sake of Art, that we should strive to have a fair hearing 
 before the world. Wo have the powerful party of Metastasio and Jlas- 
 8c to gain. But I will deal with them myself. You, Maestro, speak a 
 word of encouragement to Ilasse, and ho will be so overjoyed that he 
 will laud your opera to the skies. And, pray, be a man and among 
 men, and do as other composers have done before ; pay a visit to the 
 singers, and ask them to bring all their skill to the representation of 
 your great work ; ask them to " 
 
 Here Gluck, boiling over with indignation, broke in upon Calzabigi^ 
 BO as actually to make tho poet start back. "What!" cried he, in a 
 voice of thunder, "shall I vi.sit the ladies' mai<ls also, and make them 
 declarations of love? Shall 1 present each singer with a golden snuff- 
 box, while I entertain the troop at a supper, where champagne shall flew 
 
. 1SABEI.LA. 85 
 
 like water, and Indian birds' nests shall be served up with diamonds? 
 Shall I present myself in full court dress at the ante-room of the tenor, 
 and slipping a ducat in the hand of his valet, solicit the honor of an in- 
 terview ? Shall I then bribe the maid of the prima donna to let me lay 
 upon her mistress' toilet-table, a poem, a dedication, and a sot of jewels ! 
 Shame upon you, cravens, that would have genius beg for suffrages from 
 mediocrity ! Rather would I throw my Orpheus behind the fire, and 
 let every opera I have ever written follow it to destruction ! 1 would 
 bite out my tongue and spit it in Basse's face, sooner than go before 
 him with a mouth full of flattering lies, to befool him with praise of that 
 patchwork he has made and calls — an Opkba ! "When I was obscure 
 and unknown, 1 scorned these tricks of trade; and think you that today 
 I would stoop to such baseness ! Eight years ago, in Rome, a cabal 
 was formed against me to cause the failure of my ' Trion/o de Camiilo.^ 
 Cardinal Albini came to assure me that his influence should put down 
 the plots of my enemies. 1 thanked him, but refused all protection for 
 my opera, and I told his Erninence that my works must depend upon 
 their own worth alone for success * And j-ou dare, at this time, to come 
 with such proposals to me ! You are not worthy of my friendship ; I 
 will have nothing further to say to either of you, you cringing puppets!" 
 
 So saying, wrth his dark blue dressing-gown flying out like an angry 
 cloud behind him, Gluck strode across the l-oom, and sailed off" to hia 
 private study. 
 
 Marianne smiling, reached out her hand to the astounded poet. 
 
 *' Forgive his stormy temper," said she gently. •' He can no more 
 bear contradiction than a spoiled child. His wrath looks formidable ; 
 but though there is much thunder, there is no lightening aboift him. 
 Wait a quarter of an hour, kind friend, and he will be back, suing for 
 pardon, and imploring us to take his hand, just like a naughty child that 
 he is. Then he will smile, and look so ashamed that you will never 
 have the heart to feel resentful." 
 
 " I have none already," replied Calzabigl, "his thunder has rolled 
 grandly over our heads, and right noble are its souuds; but the lighten- 
 ing has spared us ; we are safe, and — unconvinced. For indeed, Signo- 
 ra," continued Raniero with earnestness, " we are rigkt. No reliance is 
 ever to be placed upon the justice or good taste of the world ; and since 
 the Maestro refuses to propitiate his judges, I will undertake the task 
 myself. I will go at once to Metastasio : and after that I thall invite 
 the perfo rmet-s to a supper." 
 
 *TUalitni«. Anton Svkmld, pBff* 48. 
 
86 ;os3;pH aiifi s£coi'i> 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 It was the birthday fjf the Archduchess Isabella, and all Vienna was 
 alive with festivity. The passionate love of the Archduke for iiia beau- 
 tiful young wife was well linown, and the people hastened to offer hom- 
 age to the beloved partner of their future Emperor. 
 
 From early morning, the equipages of the nobility were seen hurrying 
 to the palace, where the Archduchess, in state, surrounded by the other 
 members of the imperial family, received the congratulations of the 
 court. In an adjoining room, on a table of white marble, were exhibited 
 the rich gifts by which her new relatives had testified their affection ; for 
 Isabella was adored by her husband's family. 
 
 The Emperor Francis, usually so simple, had presented her with a set 
 of jewels, worth half a million ; and the Empx^ess, whose joy in the hap- 
 piness of her son's wedded life, knew no bounds, was lavish in her 
 demonstrations of love to the woman who first had awakened his heart 
 to gentle emotions. 
 
 Not only had every variety of rich costumes been ordered for Isabel- 
 la from Paris, but the Empress" had gone so far as to present a set of 
 bridal;^wels to her little grand daughter, a child scarcely a year old. 
 This magnificent jyarwre of diamonds, sapphires and pearls, was the ad- 
 miration of the whole court. Around it, lay the offerings of the young 
 sisters-in-law, all of whom, with oue exception, had presented something. 
 The Princess Christina, the dearest friend of Isabella,' had painted her 
 miniature, and this beautiful likeness was intended as a present to the 
 Archduke Joseph.* He received it with delight; and while his large 
 blue eyes wandered from the portrait to the original, he testified his 
 pleasure by every possible expression of rapture and gratitude. "And 
 yet," said he, " there is something in this picture which I have never 
 seen in your countenance, Isabella. Your eyes, which to me have al- 
 ways seemed to borrow their light from Heaven, here look out dark 
 and unfiithomable, as if within their melancholy depths there lay a se- 
 cret full of untold sorrow." 
 
 Joseph did not perceive the look of intelligence that passed between 
 his wife and sister, as he spoke these words ; he still gazed upon the 
 picture, and at last his face, that had before been lit up with joy, grew 
 full of thought and sorrowful. Suddenly he laid the miniature down, 
 and placing his hands upon Isabella's shoulders, he looked searchingly 
 at her pale countenance. ' 
 
 * Wraxollj pa|e m' 
 
" Look at me, my beloved," whispered he, tenderly, " let me see your 
 bewitching smile, that it may give the lie to yonder strange imr.^'o I 
 see lliere your beautiful fealuns. 'mt instead of my loving and beU'' fd 
 wife, my happy smiling Isabella, i see an angcl, but oh ! I see a niai i} r 
 too, dying of some secret sorrow. That is not your face, is it my wife? 
 You have never looked so wretched, so heart-broken! Speak Isabella, 
 you are happy, are you not, my own one?" 
 
 " Yes, dear husband,'' whispered she, scarcely moving her blanched 
 lips, "I am happy and contented in your happiness. But see, the Em- 
 press beckons to you. She seems about to present some stranger to 
 your notice." 
 
 The Archduke left to obey the summons, andjsabella and Christina 
 remained together, looking vacantly upon the birth-day table and the 
 splendid gifts that lay in such rich profirsion before their eyes. 
 
 " Poor brother !" murmured Christina, " he loves as few have ever 
 loved before. And you, dear sister, can you not kindle one spark from 
 the embers of your heart to warm " , 
 
 "Why speak of my dead heart?" said Isabella mournfully. "Did I 
 not long ago confide to you its terrible secret? You my trusted and 
 dearest friend, have you not seen how I pray Heaven for strength to hold 
 before my husband's eyes the faint ray of light which he mistakes for 
 the sunshine of love? Dear Joseph! His heart is so noble and so 
 rich with love that he sees not the poverty of mine. May God be mer- 
 ciful that his delusion last at least as long as my life, then .will I die 
 happy ; for I shall have don© my duty in the face of a sorrow transcending 
 all other sorrows." 
 
 Christina bent her head over the glittering heaps before her, that no 
 one might see her tears. But Isabella saw them, as they fell upon the 
 bridal gifts of her little daughter. 
 
 She pointed to the jewels. " See Christina, your tears are brighter 
 than our dear mother's diamonds. The Emperor tries in vain to fuse 
 brilliants; but nature has bestowed them unasked upon us women. Now, 
 were he here " 
 
 *' Heaven forbid," said Christina, as with her gossamer handkerchief 
 she wiped away the fallen tear. " If the Empress were to know this,^ 
 she would be justly displeased, that, on such a day, ray tears should din?, 
 the splendor of your little daughter's bridal jewels." 
 
 "Give yourself no concern for ray daughteV-'s jewels, Christina; she 
 will never see her bridal day." 
 
 "How? do you expect her to be an old maid, like my two eldest sis^ 
 ters?" asked Christiha, with assumed playfulness. 
 
 Isabella laid her hand on Christina's shoulder. " I believe," said sh% 
 solemnly, "or rather I know, that my daughter will ere long be an 
 angel." 
 
 "Oh, Isabella!" cried Christina, almost impatiently, "is it not enough 
 that you prophecy your own death to make me wretched, without ad.^ 
 ding to my grief by predicting th&t of your child, too I" 
 
88 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " I cannot leave her behind, Christina ; I should be unhappy withoufc 
 her. She must follow me ; — but hush ! Here comes the Empress, lot 
 us be happy for her sake." 
 
 And -with a sweet smile, Isabella advanced to greet her mother-in- 
 law. TC 
 
 " My dearest daughter," said the Empress, " I long for this ceremo- 
 nial to end, that together we may enjoy our bappiness en famille. To- 
 day we must dine in private, unless you wish it otherwise, for to-day 
 you are empressof all hearts, and your wishes are commands." 
 
 Isabella raised the hand of the Empress to her lips. "1 have but one 
 wish to-day, your Majesty," said she, " it is that you love -me." 
 
 "That wish was granted before it was uttered, my beloved child," re- 
 plied the Empress tenderly, "for indeed I love you more and more 
 each day of my life, and when I see you and my son together, you hap- 
 piness seems like the old melody of my own happy bridal so many 
 years ago." 
 
 " And yet," said Isabella, "your Majesty looks so young " 
 
 " No, child, i am a grand toother," replied the Empress smiling proud- 
 ly, " but my heart is as young as ever, and it leaps with joy when I look 
 upon my son whom you have made so happy. Why, his heart looks out of 
 his great blue eyes with such — —But see for yourself, here he comes.'* 
 
 At this moment, the Archduke entered the room and advanced to- 
 wards his mother, while at the door, apparently awaiting his return, 
 stood the Emperor and the Lord High Chancellor, Kaunitr. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty, if I interrupt you," said the Archduke. 
 "I hajve just learned from the Marshal of the imperial household that 
 your Majesty has declined going to the opera to-night. Can this be pos- 
 sible, when Gluck's new opera has been rehearsing for two months with 
 especial reference to this occasion V 
 
 " It can," replied the Empress, " for I do not interdict the representa- 
 tion, I only absent myself from it." 
 
 The Archduke crimsoned, and he was about to make some hasty re- 
 ply, when he felt the pressure of his ^yife's hand upon his arm. He 
 smiled and controlled himself at once. . 
 
 " Forgive me, if I venture to remonstrate with your Majesty," replied 
 he goodhumoredly. " This new opera of Gluck is a musical gem, and 
 is well worthy of your Majesty's notice." 
 
 — " I have been told, on the contrary, that it is very tiresome," ex- 
 claimed the Empress with impatience. "The Libretto is heavy, and the 
 music also. It is highly probable that the opera will fail, and it would 
 certainly be unfortunate if, on this day of rejoicing, we should assemble 
 there to witness the failure." 
 
 " But your Majesty may have been misinformed," persisted Joseph. 
 "Let me beg of you, my dear mother, for the sake of the great Maestro, 
 who would take your absence sorely to heart, as well as for the sake of 
 the Director, Count Dqrazzo, who has taken such pains to produce this 
 j)ew master-piece — let me be^ you to reconsider your decision." 
 
SABELLA. 89 
 
 " And allow me to add ray entreaties to those of Jos^h," said the 
 Emperor, entering the room. "All Vienna awaits the new representa- 
 tion as a high artistic gratification. Without your Majesty's presence, 
 the triumph of the Maestro will be 'incomplete." 
 
 " And the Emperor too opposes me ?" said Maria Theresa. " Does 
 he too desert the old style, to follow these new-fangled musical eccen- 
 tricities ? Have we not all enjoyed the opera as it exists at present? 
 And if so, why shall this Master Gluck step suddenly forward and an- 
 nounce to us that we know nothing of music, and that what we have 
 hitherto admired as such was nothing more than trumpery. Why does 
 he disdain the poetry of Mefastasio, to adopt that of a man whom no- 
 body knows? 1 will not lend ray hand to mortify the old man who for 
 thirty years has been our court poet. I owe it to him, at least, not to 
 appear at this representation, and that is reason enough for inc to refuse 
 my presence there." 
 
 " But Calzabigi's poem is of surpassing beauty," remonstrated the 
 Emperor; "for Kaunitz himself has seen it, and is in raptures with it." 
 
 "Ah, Kaunitz too has given his adherence to the new musical caprice 
 of Master Gluckf said the Empress, signing to the Count to come forward. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty," said Kaunitz bowing, " I also am for the new 
 and startling, whether in politics or in music. I have learned this lesson 
 from my imperial mistress, whose new line of policy now commands 
 the admiration of all Europe." 
 
 The Empress received these flattering words with an emotion of visi- 
 ble pleasure; for it was seldom that Kaunitz paid compliments, even to 
 sovereigns. 
 
 '• You mean, then, that Gluck has not only produced something new, 
 but something of worth filso?" 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty, music has cut oflf her cue, and really, in her new 
 coiffure, she is divinely beautiful. Moreover, your Majesty has reward- 
 ed the seventy years of Metastasio with a rich pension, proof enough .to 
 him of the estimation in which his talents are held. Metastasio belongs 
 to the old regime you have pensioned it off; Calzabigi and Gluck are 
 children of our new Austria. Your Majesty's self has created this Aus- 
 tria, and you owe to her children your imperial countenance and favor." 
 
 " But I have been told that there will be some strife to-night between 
 the rival parties," said the Empress. 
 
 " And since when has your Majesty shunned the battle-field ?" asked 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 " But the defeat, Count, I fear the defeat. The opera is sure to fail." 
 
 " No one knows better than your Majesty how to console the van- 
 quished. Your Majesty was n^ver greater than when after the defeat of 
 jbieldmarshal Daun, you went forth to meet him with all the honors 
 which you would have awarded to a victorious general.''^ If Gluck fails 
 to-day, he will not be the less a great artist, a;id your Majesty will sus- 
 tain him under his reverses." - 
 
 * ARer Hie b»t«« of Torgera wMrtJ Ihwn Hk^. 
 \ 
 
90 aOSEPIl THE SECOiSlji. 
 
 The Empress laughed, *' It is dangerous to contend with Kaanitz, for 
 he slays me with my own weapons. x\nd you, too^ my husband, would 
 ■have me abandon Hasse and Metastasio, who are so pious and ?o good, 
 for this Gluck, whom I have never met inside of a chiirch'? Gluck is 
 not even a christian." 
 
 " But he is a genius," cried out Joseph, " and genius is pleasing in the 
 sight of God. Metastasio and Hasse are old, and having nothing better 
 to do, they go to church. If they were young, your Majesty w^ould nob 
 meet them so often, I fancy." 
 
 Tlie face of the Empress grew scarlet while the Archduke poured 
 forth these thoughtless words, and all present felt that Gluck and his 
 ■caUsse were lost. 
 
 But Isabella came to the rescue. Approaching the Empress, and kiss- ' 
 ing her hand, she said : " Your Majesty has been so good as to say that 
 today you would refuse me nothing. I have two requests to make. 
 May 'I speak?" 
 
 "Yes, dear child, you may," replied the Empress, already appeased 
 by the gentle voice of her beloved daughter-in-law. "I know so well 
 that you will ask nothing unseemly that I do not fear to grant your re- 
 •questri. What are- they '?" 
 
 "First, your Majesty, I beg that my husband and I be permitted to 
 .attend the Mass that is to be celebrated in your private chapel, that by 
 your side we may beg of God to give peace to Austria, and to bless us, 
 jour Majesty's own family, with unity and love among ourselves. Will 
 you permit this?" » 
 
 The Empress, in her animated way, drew the Archduchess towards 
 her, and kissed her tenderly. 
 
 "You are an angel, Isabella," said she, "and discord ceases at the 
 vevy sound of your voice. Yes, dearest child, you shall come with Jo- 
 seph ; and, side by side, we will pray for peace and family concord. For 
 the second boon, I guess it. Is it not that I grant your husband's peti- 
 tion V] 
 
 Isabella smiling, bowed her head, and the Empress turned towards 
 the Emperor. 
 
 " Well, your Majesty," continued she, " since my presence is indis- 
 pensable, I bow to your superior judgment in Art, and the Court must 
 attend the opera to-night. Are you satisfied, my son ?" asked she of the 
 Archduke, "xlre you satisfied now that I have sacrificed my prejudices 
 to give you pleasure? And on some future occasion will you do as 
 much for me, should I require it?" 
 
 " With shame I shall remember your Majesty's goodness in pardon- 
 ing my ungracious behaviour to-day," replied the Archduke, fervently- 
 pressing his mother's hands to his lips. 
 
 '' Let us forget it also, my son," said Maria Theresa, with one of her 
 enchanting smiles ; " this is a day of rejoicing, and no clouds shall dark- 
 en our happiness. Let us now retire .to the chapel, for believe me, 
 dear son, it is not well to forget our Heavenly Father until age forces us 
 
ISABELLA. 91 
 
 to remember our dependence. A great and brilllftnt destiny is before 
 you, Joseph, and much you need help from Heaven. Watch and pray 
 ■while you are young, that you may call down the blessing of God upon 
 your career." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ORPHEUS AND EUBYDICK. 
 
 On that night, all Vienna sped to the Imperial Opera-house. Not 
 lords and ladies alone, but commoners and artisans, with their wives, 
 thronged to hear the wonderful music which for three weeks had divided 
 the Viennese into two bitter factions. On one side stood Metastasio, 
 the venerable court-poet, whose laurels dated from the reign of the Em- 
 press's father. Linked with his fame, was that of Hasse, who for forty 
 years had been called "i/ caro Sassone.'^ Hasse, who had composed so 
 many operas, was often heard to say, that, when it came upon him un- 
 awares, he did not know his own music. 
 
 All Italy had declared for Hasse and Metastasio, and in scornful secu- 
 rity the Italians had predicted the discomfiture of the new school of 
 music. 
 
 On the other hand were Gluck and his friend Calzabigi, whose parti- 
 sans disdained the old style, and lauded the new one to the skies. Gluck 
 was perfectly indifferent to all this strife of party. Not once, since the 
 first day of rehearsal, had his countenance lost its expression of calm 
 and lofty security. Resolved to conquer, he receded before no obstacle. 
 In vain had the prima donna, the renowned Gabrielle, complained of 
 hoarseness ; Gluck blandly excused her, and volunteered to send for her 
 rival, Tibaldi, to take the role of Eurydice. This threat cured the 
 hoarseness, and Gabrielle attended the rehearsals punctually. In vain 
 had Guadagni attempted, by a few Jioritures, to give an Italian turn to 
 the severe simplicity of Orpheus' air. At the least deviation from his 
 text, Gluck, with a frown, would recall the ambitious Tenor, and do away 
 vith his embellishments. In vain had the chorus-singers complained of 
 the impossibility of learning their parts. Gluck instructed them one by 
 one. He had trained the Orchestra, too, to fullest precision ; and finally, 
 every difficulty overcome, the great opera of Orpheus and Eurydice was 
 ready for representation on the birthday of the Archduchess Isabella. 
 
 Shortly before the hour of the performance, Gluck entered his draw, 
 ing-room in a rich court-dress, his coat covered with decorations. His 
 wife met hira, also elegantly attired, sparkling with diamonds. 
 
92 JOSEfH THE SECOIfD. 
 
 She held out her hand, and smiled a liappy smile. 
 
 " Look at me, my hero," said she. " 1 have arrayed myself in my wed- 
 ding-jewels. J feel to-nightasl didon theday^when we plighted our faith to 
 one another before the altar. Then, dear Christopher, our hearts were uni- 
 ted ; to-day — our souls. Is it not so'? And are we not one in spirit*?" 
 
 " Yes, dearest, yes," replied GJuck, folding her in his arms, "never 
 have J so prized and loved you, as in these later days of strife and strug- 
 gle. Well do I feel what a blessing to man is a noble woman ! OftenP 
 during our rehearsals, when 1 have encountered the supercilious glances 
 of performers and orchestra, the thought of your dear self has given me 
 strength to confront and defy their scorn. And when weary in mind 
 and body, I have found my way home, the touch of your hand has re- 
 fix'shed and cooled the fever in my heart. And often when others have 
 pronounced my music worthless, I might iiave despaired, but for the re- 
 membrance of your emotion. I thought of ybur tears and of your rap- 
 ture, and hope revived in my sick heart. Your applause, dear wife, haa 
 sustained me to the end." 
 
 '' No, dear Christopher," replied Marianne, " not my applause, but th& 
 might of your own inspiration. That which is truly great must sooner 
 or later prevail over mediocrity." 
 
 — "The world is not so appreciative as you fancy, Marianne! Else 
 had Socrates not drunk of the poisoned beaker, nor Christ, our Lord, 
 been crucified. Mediocrity is popular, because it has the sympathy of 
 the masses. Not only does it come within their comprehension, but it 
 is accommodating; — it does not wound their littleness. I know, dear 
 wife, that my opera is a veritable work of Art, and therefore do I trem- 
 ble that its verdict is in the hands of mediocrity. Poor Marianne! 
 You have arrayed yourself for a bridal, and it way happen that we go 
 to the funeral of my master-piece." 
 
 " Well, even so," replied the spirited wife, "I shall not have decked 
 myself in vain ; I shall die like the Indian widow, upon the funeral pile 
 of my dear husband's greatness. I will both live and die with you, 
 Maestro; whether you are apotheosized or stoned, your worth can be 
 neither magnified nor lessened by the world. My faith in your genius 
 is independent of public opinion ; and whether you conquer or die, your ♦ 
 opera must live." 
 
 " How I wish," said Gluck thoughtfully, " that ,from above, I might 
 look down a hundred years hence and see whether indeed my works will 
 have value on earth, or b6 thrown aside as antiquated trumpery ! But 
 it is useless — an impenetrable cloud covers the future, and we must e'en 
 content ourselves with the verdict of the day. Let me be strong to 
 meet it ! — Come, Marianne, the carriage is coming to the door, and we 
 must go. But is all this splendor to be hidden behind the lattice-work 
 of my little stage-box ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Christopher," said his wife gaily, *' on such a night as this, 
 I have taken another box, from whence I can be a happy witness of ray 
 husband's triumph." 
 
ISABELLA. 93 
 
 " What intrepid confidence the woman possesses," exclaimed Gluck, 
 catching his wife's gayety. " P>ut how will my brave champion feel, if 
 she has to see as well as hear the hisses that may possibly greet us to- 
 night?". • 
 
 " I shall feel heartily ashamed of the nudience," replied Marianne, 
 *' and shall take no pains to conceal my contempt." 
 
 " We shall see," answered Gluck, handing her to the carriage, and fol- 
 lowing her, with a merry laugh, "Now, forward !" 
 
 Within the theatre, all was commotion — on one side, the partisans of 
 the old school, who from prejudice or custom adhered to Hasso andMe- 
 tastasio, predicted failure. This party was composed of Italians, and of all 
 those who had "gone out " with old Austria. New Austria, on the oth- 
 er hand, with all the young diUetanie of Vienna, were resolved^to sus- 
 tain Gluck, and, if possible, secure to his new opera an unprecedented 
 triumph. The excitement reached even those boxes where sat ihe elite 
 of the Viennese nobility. Even their voices were to be heard discuss- 
 ing the merits or demerits of the musical apple of discord. The Gluck- 
 ites related that Gpadagni, who, at first, had been strongly prejudiced 
 against the opera, had finally been moved to tears, by jts exquisite har- 
 mony ; and had said to Gluck that for the first .time he was learning to 
 'whatirheightsof beauty music might soar. The Hasseites replied that 
 the opera was none the less tedious for Guadagni's word. Moreover, if 
 Hasse and Metastasio had not openly condemned Gluck's musical inno- 
 vations, it was because they were both satisfied that the opera would 
 damn itself, and they ^were present to witness the discomfiture of its 
 composer.* Suddenly there was a hush in the theatre. The attention 
 of the disputants was directed towards a small box, ]» the first tier, the 
 door of which had opened to give entrance to two persons. One was an 
 old man, with silver-white hair which flowed in ringlets on either side of 
 his pale and delicate face. His thin lips were parted with an afl^uble 
 smile, and the glance of his small dark eyes was mild, benevolent, and 
 in keeping with the rest of his countenance. His small, bent figure was 
 clothed in, the cassock of an ^iitf ; but the simplicity of his costimie 
 was heightened by the order of Theresa which, attached to a silk ribbon, 
 hung around his neck. * 
 
 The other was a tall gaunt man, in the dress of court maestro de ca- 
 pello. His lean face was proud and serious, his large mouth wore an 
 expression of scorn, and his full-orbed light-blue eyes had a glance of 
 power which accorded well with his lofty stature. The two advanced 
 arm in arm towards the railing, and, at their appearance, a storm of ap- 
 plause arose from the parterre, while the partizans. of the Italian school 
 cried " Long live Hasse ! Long live Metastasio !" 
 
 They bowed and took their seats. While this was transpiring, the 
 wife of Gluck entered her box. With a quiet smile she listened to the 
 shouts that greeted her hu.sband's rivals. " He, too," thought ^he, "will 
 have his greeting a nd his triumph." 
 
 * Anton Schnsid ; Rttter V«n Gluck, page 92, 
 
94 JOSEPFT THE SKCOXD. 
 
 Shf> TTas not mistaken. No sooner !ind Gluck appeared iti the orches- 
 tra, llian, iVoin Itn.xes as well as [)arterro, a thousand voices pealed forth 
 his welcome. " Ixmp live Gliicli ! Lontr live the prcat Maestro !" 
 
 Gluck bowed pracefiilly, while Marianne, happy but tranquil, unfold- 
 ed her jewelled fan, and leaned back in supreme satisfaction. Metas- 
 tasio whispered something to llasse, who nodded his head ond then be- 
 gan to run his fingers through the masses of his bushy gray hair. Sud- 
 denly were heard these words: 
 
 " Her Majesty, the Empress, and the Imperial Court." 
 
 Hushed now was every sound. Every «ye was turned towards tho 
 box surmounted by the double-headed cagb^ of Austria. The Marshal 
 of the household appeared with his golden wand, the doors of the box 
 flew asunder, the audience rose, and the PJmpress, leaning on the arm of 
 the Emperor, entered her box. Magnificently dressed, and sparkling 
 •with diamonds, her transcendant beauty seemed still more to dazzle the 
 eyes of her enraptured subjects.- She was followed by the Archduke, 
 who, in conveisation with hi? wife, seemed scarcely to heed the greetings 
 of his future subjects. Behind them came a bevy of princes and prin- 
 cesses, all of whom, including little Marie Antoinette and Maximilian, 
 the two youngest, had been permitted to accompany the imperial party. 
 It was a family festival, and Maria Tberesa chose on this occasionto ap- 
 pear before her people in the character of a mother. 
 
 The Empress and her husband came forward and bowed. The former 
 then glided gracefully into her large gilt arm-chair, while the latter signed 
 to his children to be seated. 
 
 This was the signal for the, music to begin. The audience resnmed 
 their scats, Gluck raised the leader's stafT, and signed to the musicians. 
 
 The overture began. In breathless silence the audience listened to 
 that short, earnest overture, whose horns, trumpets and hautboys seem- 
 ed to herald the coming of kings and heroes. The curtain rose, and in a 
 funereal hall, Orpheus poured for'.h his grief for the loss of his Eurydice. 
 With this pathetic complaint, miiigled the voices of the chorus of mourn- 
 ers ; then a sr)l() from Orpheus, in which ho bewails anew thefhte (^f tho 
 noble woman who had died for his Sake. The God of Love appears, 
 counselling him to descend, himself, to the infernal regions. Orj)heus 
 Btrengihened and revived by hope, resolves to tempt the dangerous de- 
 scent, and calls upon his friends to share his fate. 
 
 The curtain fell at the end of the first act, amidst the profoundest si- 
 lence. The Hasseites shrugged their shoulders, and even Gluck's warm- 
 est adherents felt undecided what to say of this severe Doric music 
 which disdained all the coquettiies of art, and rejected all superfluous 
 embellishment. 
 
 *' I am glad that Metastasio is here," said the Empress, " for his pre- 
 sence will prove to Calzabigi that he is not a pensioned dotard. And 
 what thinks my daughter of the opera?" asked Maria Theresa of the lu- 
 fmta. Cut when she saw Isabella's fiice, her heart grew faint with fear. 
 The Archduchess was pale as death, and licx countenance wore an ex- 
 
ISABELLA. 95 
 
 pression of grief bordering on despair. Her large dark eyes, distended 
 to tlieir utmost, were fixed upon the ceiling; and she seenied as if she 
 still heard the wailings of Orphensand the phvintivc chorus of his friends. 
 Joseph saw nothing of this. He had taken a seat further back, and was 
 chatting gaily with his little brothers and sisters. 
 
 "God help me," murmured the Empress, "she looks as if she were 
 dying. Oh, if she were right with her dismal prophecy of death! What 
 if indeed she is to leave us ! Have mercy, Oh God ! 1 know that I 
 Jove her too well. She will be taken from me; Heaven will claim from 
 me this sacrifice."* 
 
 Isabella shuddered, and awakened from her horrid dream. Her eyes 
 fell, her cheeks flushed, and once more her lips parted with a gentle 
 smile. With a tender and appealing look, she turned towards the Em- 
 press and kissed her hand. 
 
 "Pardon me, your Majesty," whispered she, "the music had entranced 
 and bewildered me. I was in another world, and was lost to the pre- 
 sent." 
 
 "The music pleases you, then ?" asked the Empress. 
 
 "Oh, your Majesty," cried Isabella, "this is no music to give plfa- 
 sure ; it is the sublimest language of Truth and Love !" 
 
 " Then," said the Empress tenderly, " if you prize it so highly, dear- 
 est, I will prove to you how dearly I love you, for your verdict and 
 mine disagree. Our next festive day will be that on which Joseph is to 
 be crowned King of Rome. And we shall do homage to the taste of the 
 Queen of Rome, by ordering that this opera be repeated on the occasion 
 of her coronation." 
 
 Isabella shook her head. "I shall not live long enough to be crown- 
 ed Queen of Rome."f 
 
 Maria Theresa was about to tnurmur a reply, when the curtain rose, 
 and the second act of the opera opened. • 
 
 The audience, who had been loudly canvassing the music, were silen- 
 ced, and awaited in breathless expectation the unfolding of the plot. 
 Soon came the wonderful scene between Or[iheus and the Furies who 
 guard the gates of Avernus. The beseeching tones of Orpheus, and the 
 inexorable "No!" of the Furies, made every listener tremble. Even 
 Hasse, overcome by the sublimity of the music, bowed his head with 
 the rest; and Metastasio, enraptured with the words, murmured "^A, 
 che poesia divina!" Murmurs of applause were heard from every side 
 of the theatre; they grew with every scene, and at last burst forth in 
 ■wild shouts. It seemed as if the audience were gradually rising to an 
 appreciation of this new and unknown music; until with one accord its 
 matx'hless beauty burst upon their hoarts and overpowered them. 
 
 When the curtain fell a second time, the applause knew no bounds. 
 The ^Gluckites in triumphant silence hearkened to the voices of the deep- 
 ly-moved multitude, who gave full vent to their emotions, and noisily 
 ■ — / 
 
 •Thr Empress's words, Carracloll : Life of Joseph 8d, p. 8T. 
 tls»ben»'» own word*. ^rkJrall, IL I'. *>4. 
 
96 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 exchanged the thoughts to which the wonderful opera had given birth„ 
 
 Marianne, supremely happy, listened enraptured, while wreaths fell 
 in showers around the head of her beloved husband. The adherents of 
 Hasse and Metastasio no' longer dared to raise their voices in opposition 
 to the public verdict. lu this state of excitement, the third act began. 
 With increasing delight, the audience listened. When Eurydice, con- 
 demned to return to the infernal regions, sang her plaintive aria, sobs 
 were heard throughout the theatre, and murn>urs of applause were au- 
 dible during the whole scene. But when Orpheus concluded his pas. 
 sionate aria" Che faro senza Eurydice,^'' the people could contain their 
 enthusiasm no longer. Exalted, carried away, with beating hearts and 
 tearful eyes, they cried '■''da capo f'' and when Guadagni, in compliance 
 with the call, had repeated his solo, the audience shouted out so often 
 the name of Gluck, that he could resist his joy no longer. He turned, 
 and they saw his noble face scarlet with blushes; then arose another 
 storm. Again and again the "vivas" and the clappings were renewed, 
 each time more frantic than before. 
 
 Hasse, tired of the spectacle of his rival's triumph, had disappeared. 
 Metastasio, more magnanimous, had remained, and had applauded as 
 loudly as any. Marianne, to conceal her tears, had hidden her face be- 
 hind her open fan ; and as the applause of the people grew louder until 
 it resembled the shouts of victory, she murmured "I knew it! I knew 
 it ! The beautiful and true must always prevail." 
 
 The fire of enthusiasm had spread to the imperial box. The Emperor 
 
 had more than once been heard to call out "Bravo," and Maria Theresa had 
 
 several times felt her eyes grow dim. But she brushed away her tears 
 
 and exclaimed, "It is beautiful, certainly, but it is a heathen opera m 
 
 'which, not God but Gods are invoked !" 
 
 Isabella said nothing. She had held up before her face the bouquet 
 whidi her husband had gathered for her, that her tears might fall unseen 
 among its flowers. Joseph saw those tears shining like dew-drops upon 
 its rose-leaves, and, taking it from her hands, he kissed them away. "Do 
 not weep, my Isabella," whispered he tenderly. "Your tears fall like a 
 weight of sorrow^ upon my heart. Wipe them away, beloved. The day 
 will come when you also shall be an Empress, and your people will do 
 you homage as I do now ; and then you will have it in your power to 
 heal their sorrows, and wipe away their tears ; and they will love and 
 bless you as I " 
 
 A final burst of applause drowned the voice of the Archduke. The 
 opera was at an end, and the people were calling again for Gluck, the 
 creator of the lyric drama. 
 
ISABELLA,: 97 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN THREE YEAKS, WK MEET AOAi:?. 
 
 The war was over. All Vienna was rejoicing that the struggle which 
 had cost so much bloodshed was at an end, and that Austria and Prus- 
 sia had made peace. 
 
 Neither of the two had gained anything by this long war, except glo- 
 rious victories, honorable wounds, and a knowledge of the power and 
 bravery of its enemy. Both had serious burthens to bear, which, for 
 many years to come, would be painful reminders of the past. Austria, 
 to cover the expenses of the war, had invented paper money, and had 
 flooded the empire with millions of coupons. Prussia had coined baso 
 money, and all the employees of the state had received notes, which 
 were nicknamed " Beamtenscheine." After the war these notes were 
 exchanged for this base currency, which soon afterwards was withdrawn 
 from circulation as worthless. But Prussia had obtained from Austria 
 full recognition of her rights to Silesia, and she in return had pledged 
 herself to vote for Joseph as candidate for the crown of Rome, and to 
 support the pretensions of the Empress to the reversion of the Duchy of 
 Modena. 
 
 We have said that all Vienna was rejoicing, and turned out to receive 
 the returning army with laurel wreaths and oaken boughs. The people 
 breathed freely once more ; they shouted and feasted, and prepared 
 themselves to enjoy to their utmost the blessings of peace. 
 
 But while the nation shouted for joy, a cloud was gathering over the 
 Imperial palace, and its black shadow darkened the faces of the once 
 happy family. 
 
 There wanted now but a few months to complete the third year of 
 the Archduke's marriage, and the young princesses seized every oppor- 
 tunity to make Schemes of pleasure for the joyous anniversary. Isabel- 
 la viewed these projects with a mournful smile. Her countenance be- 
 came sadder and more serious, except when in the presence of her hus- 
 band. There she assumed an appearance of gayety ; laughing, jesting, 
 and drawing from her violin its sweetest soun3s. But with her atten- 
 dants, or in the company of the other members of the imperial family, 
 she was melancholy, and she made her preparations for death, which 
 she foretold would overtake her very soon. 
 
 "You believe this terrible presentiment, my daughter?" said the Em- 
 press to her one day, " Will you indeed forsake us who love you so 
 dcarlv?" 
 
98 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " It is not that 1 will, but that I musi go," replied she. " It is God 
 who calls me, and I must obey." 
 
 " But why do you think that God has called you ?" 
 
 Isabella was silent for a moment, then she raised her eyes with a 
 strange, unspeakable look to the face of the Empress. "A dream has 
 announced it to me," said she, ''a dream in which 1 place implicit faith." 
 
 "A dream 1" said the pious Empress to herself. " It is true that God 
 sometimes speaks to men in dreams; sometimes reveals to us in sleep 
 secrets which He denies to our waking earthly eyes. What was your 
 dream love V* 
 
 " What I saw?" w'hispered she, almost inaudibly. "There are visions 
 which no words can describe. They do not pass as pictures before the 
 eye, but with unquenchable fire ihey brand themselves upon the heart. 
 What I saw? I saw a beloved and dying face, a breathing corpse. I 
 lay overwhelmed with grief, near the outstretched form of my — my — 
 mother. Oh, believe me, the prayer of despair has power over death 
 itseJf, and the cry of a broken heart calls back the parting soul. I wept, 
 I implored, I prayed until the dim eyes opened, the icy lips moved, and 
 the stiffening corpse arose and looked at me, at me who knelt in wild an- 
 guish by its side — 
 
 "Horrible," cried the Empress. "And this awful dream did not 
 awake you?" 
 
 " No, I did not awake, and even now it seems to me that all these 
 thin<Ts were real. I saw the corpse erect, and I heard the words which 
 its hollow and unearthly voice spoke to me. ' We shalUmeet again in 
 three ' " 
 
 " Say no more, say no more," said the pale Empress, crossing herself. 
 "You speak with such an air of conviction, that for a moment I too 
 seemed to see this dreadful dream. When had you your dream ?" 
 
 " In the autumn of 1760, your Majesty." 
 ' The Empress said nothing. She imprinted a kiss upon the forehead 
 of the Infanta, and hastily withdrew to her own apartments. 
 
 " I will pray ! I will pray !" sobbed she. " Perhaps God will have 
 mercy upon us." 
 
 She ordered her private carriage, and drove to St. Stephens', where 
 prostrate among the tombs of her ancestors, she prayed for more than 
 an hour. " _ 
 
 From this day Maria Theresa became sad and silent, watching with 
 anxious eye the countenance of Isabella, to see if it betokened death. 
 But weeks passed by, and the Infanta's prophecy began to be regarded 
 as a delusion only fit to provoke a smile. The Empress alone remained 
 impressed by it. She still gazed with sorrowing love at the pale and 
 laelancholy face of her daughter-in-law. 
 
 "You have made a convert of my mother," said the Archduchess 
 Christina one day to Isabella, "although," added she, laughing, "you 
 never looked better in your life." 
 
 "A«4 r^M, Chrisiina, you do not bali«ve?''' said Isabella, putting her 
 
ISABELLA. 99 
 
 arm around Christina's neck. "You, my friend, nnd the confidant of 
 my sorrows, you would wish to prolong the burthen of this life of secret 
 wretchedness and dissimulation ?" 
 
 "I believe in triio goodness of God, and in the excellence of your own 
 heart, dear Isabella. These three years once p.".ssed away, so soon as 
 you will have been convinced that this prophecy was indeed nothing but 
 a dream, your heart will re-open to life and love. A new future will 
 loom up before you, and at last you will reward the love of my poor 
 hi'other, not by noble sell-sacrifice, but by veritable affection." 
 
 "Would that you spoke the truth," returned Isabella sadly. "Had 
 my heart been capable of loving, I would have loved him long ago — 
 him, whose noble and confiding love is at once my pride and my grief. 
 Believ6 me when I tell you that in these few years of married life, I 
 have suffered terribly. I have striven with my sorrows, I have tried to 
 overcome the past, I have desired to live and to enjoy life — but in vain. 
 My heart was dead, and could not awako to life — I have only suffered 
 and waited for release." 
 
 " Gracious heaven !" cried Christina, unmoved by the confidence with 
 which Isabella spoke, " is there nothing then that can bind you to life ! 
 If you are cold to the burning love of your husband, are you indifferent 
 to your child ?" 
 
 " Do you think that I will leave my child ?" said Isabella, looking sur- 
 prised. " Oh no ! She will come to me before she is seven years old."* 
 
 " Oh Isabella, Isabella, I cannot believe that you will be taken from 
 us," cried Christina, bursting into tears, and encircling her sister with 
 her arms, as though she fancied that they might shield her from the 
 touch of death. "Stay with us darling, we love you so dearly !" 
 
 Her voice choked by emotion, she laid her head upon Isabella's shoul- 
 der and wept piteously. The Infanta kissed her, and whispered words 
 of tenderness, and Christina's sobs died away. Both were silent. To- 
 gether they stood with sad hearts and blanched cheeks, two imperial 
 princesses in the prime of youth, beauty and worldly station, yet both 
 bowed down by grief! 
 
 Their lips slightly moved in prayer, but all around was silent. Sud- 
 denly the silence was broken by the deep, full sound of a large clock 
 which stood on the mantel-piece. Isabella raised her pale face, and lis- 
 tened with a shudder. 
 
 For many months this clock had not struck the hour. The clock-ma- 
 ker who had been sent to repair it, had pronounced the machinery to be 
 so completely destroyed that it would have to be renewed. Isabella 
 could not summon resolution to part with the clock. It was a dear me- 
 mento of home and of her mother. She had therefore preferred to keep 
 it, although it would never sound again. 
 
 And now it struck ! Loud, even and fnll-toned, it pealed the hour, 
 and its clear, metallic voice rang sharply through the room. 
 
 ♦The Infanta's own words. This tntcrviow of Isabella with Christina ii historical, and thu mopt 
 •straorflinsi jr part of 5t i«, that the r-rophaoy of htr child's dciiib w(w fulfllbd. 
 
100 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Isabella raised her head and, pointing to the clock, she said, with a 
 shudder : " Christina, ib is the signal, I am called."* 
 
 She drew back as if in fear, while the clock went on with its relentless 
 strokes. " Come, come, let us away," murmured Christina, with pale 
 and trembling lips. 
 
 " Yes, come," sighed Isabella. 
 
 She made a step, but her trembling feet refused to support her. She 
 grew dizzy and sank down upon her knees. 
 
 Christina uttered a cry and would have flown for help, but Isabella 
 held her back. " My end approaches," said she. " My senses fail me. 
 Hear my last words. "When I am dead, you will find a letter for you. 
 Swear that you will comply with its demands." 
 
 " I swear !" said Christina, solemnly. 
 
 " I am content. Now call the physician," , 
 
 Day after day of anguish went by; of such anguish as the human heart 
 may bear, but which human language is inadeq^uate to paint. 
 
 The insensible Isabella was borne to her chamber, and the imperial 
 physician was called in. The Empress followed him to the bedside, 
 where sat Joseph pale and motionless, his eyes rivetted upon the be- 
 loved wife who, for the first time refused to smile upon him, for the first 
 time was deaf to his words of love and sorrow. 
 
 The physician bent over the Princess and took her hand. He felt her 
 head, then her heart, while the Empress, witH folded hands, stood pray- 
 ing beside him, and Joseph, whose eyes were now turned upon Am, 
 looked into his face as if his whole soul lay in one long gaze of entreaty. 
 
 Van Swieten spoke not a wond, but continued his examination. He 
 bade the weeping attendants uncover the feet of the Princess, and bent 
 over them in close and anxious scrutiny. As he raised his eyes, the 
 Archduke saw that Van Swieten was very pale, 
 
 " O doctor," cried he, in tones of agony, " do not say that she will die. 
 You have saved so many lives ! Save my wife, my treasured wife, and 
 take all that I possess in the world beside !" 
 
 The physician replied not, but went again to the head of the bed, and 
 looked intently at the face of the Princess. It had now turned scarlet, 
 and here and there was flecked with spots of purple. Van Swieten 
 snatched from Joseph one of the burning hands which he held elapsed 
 within his own. 
 
 " Let me hold her dear hands," said he, kissing them again and again. 
 
 The doctor held up the little hand he had taken which erst as white 
 as falling snow, was now empurpled with disease. He turned it over, 
 looked into the palm, opened the fingers, and examined them closely. 
 
 " Doctor,^ in mercy speak !" said the agonized husband.' " Do you 
 not see that I will die before your eyes, unless you promise that she 
 shall live." 
 
 The Empress prayed no longer. When she saw how Van Swieten 
 yyas examining the finger s of the Archduchess, she uttered a stifled cry, 
 ' *H»8tori7a?, Ti^ratftH: p. 8ST. 
 
and hidinp; her head with hor hand.^ shii wept silently. At the foot of 
 the bed knelt the attendants, all with their tearful eyes lifted to the face 
 of him, who would promise life, or pronounce death. 
 
 Van &wictcn gently laid down the hand of his patient, and opened her 
 dress over the breast. As though he had seen enough, ho closed it 
 quickly and stood erect. 
 
 His eyes were now fixed upon Joseph with an expression of deep and 
 painful sympathy. "iSpeak," said Joseph, with trembling lips, "1 have 
 courage to hear.*' 
 
 "It is rny duty to speak," replied Van' Swieten, "my duty to exact 
 of her Majesty and of your Highness to leave the room. The Arch- 
 duchess has the small-pox." 
 
 Maria Theresa sank insensible to the floor. From the anto-room, 
 where the Emperor was waiting, he heard the fall, and hastening at the 
 sound, he bore his wife away. 
 
 Joseph, meanwhile, sat as though he had been struck by a thunder- 
 bolt. 
 
 " Archduke Joseph," cried Van Swieten, "by the duty you owe to 
 your country and your parents, I implore you to leave this infected spot." 
 
 Joseph raised his head, and a smile illumined his pale face. "Oh," 
 cried he, " I am a happy man ! I have had the small-pox ! I at least 
 can remain with her until she recovers or dies." 
 
 " Yes, but you will convey the infection to your relatives," 
 
 "I will not leave the room, Doctor," said Joseph resolutely. "No 
 inmate of the palace shall receive the infection through me. I myself 
 will be my Isabella's nurse until " 
 
 He could speak no more ; he covered his face with his hands, and his 
 tears fell in showers over the pillow of his unconscious wife. 
 
 Van Swieten opposed him no longer. He was suffered to remain, 
 nursing the Archduchess with a love that defied all fatigue. 
 
 Of all this, Isabella was ignorant. Her large staring eyes were fixed 
 upon her tender guardian, but she knew him not ; she spoke to him in 
 words of burning tenderness, such as never before had fallen from her 
 lips; but while she poured out her love, she called him by another 
 name — she called him Riccardo ; and while she told him that he was 
 dearer to her than all the world beside, she warned him to beware of 
 her fiitheri Sometimes, in her delirium, she saw a bloody corpse beside 
 her, and she prayed to die by its side. Then she seemed to listen to 
 another voice, and her little hands were clasped in agony, while, exhaus- 
 ted with the horror of the vision, she murmured, "Three years! three 
 years ! Oh, God, what martyrdom ! In three years we meet again !" 
 
 Her husband heeded not her wild language, he listened to the music 
 of her voice. This voice was all that was left to remind him of his onco 
 beautiful Isabella; it was still as sweet as in the days when her beauty 
 had almost maddened him-:— that beauty which had flown forever, and 
 left its possessor a hideous mass of blood and corruption. 
 
 On the sixth day of her illness, Isabella recovered from her deljriqm, 
 
i02 JOSKFH THE SECONB. 
 
 Sho opened her eyes and fixed them upon her husband with a look of 
 calm intelligence. 
 
 " Farewell, Joseph !" said she softly. " Farewell ! It is over now, 
 and I die." 
 
 " No, no, darling, you will not die," cried he, bursting into tears. 
 " You would not leave me, beloved, you will live to bless me again." 
 
 " Do not sorrow for tne," said she. "Forgive and forget me." As 
 Joseph, overcome by his emotion, made no reply, she repeated her words 
 ■with more emphasis, " Forgive me, Joseph, say that you forgive me, 
 for otherwise 1 shall not die in peace," 
 
 " Forgive thee !" cried he. I forgive thee, who for three years, hast 
 made my life one long sunny day !" 
 
 " Thou wert happy then," asked she, " happy through me V 
 ■' " I was, I am happy, if thou wilt not leave me." 
 
 " Then," sighed the wife, " I die in peace. He was happy, I have done 
 my duty, I have atoned " 
 
 Her head fell back. A long fearful silence ensued. Suddenly a shriek 
 — the shriek of a man was heard. When the attendants rushed in, Isa- 
 bella was dead, and Joseph had fallen insensible upon the body.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. ■ 
 
 CHE FARO 8ENZA EUBTDICB, 
 
 The funeral rites were ended, and Isabella of Parma slept in St. Ste- 
 pherls in the tomb of the Kaisers. 
 
 Joseph had refused to attend the funeral. From the hour when his 
 consciousness had returned to him, he had locked himself within his 
 apartments, and night or day he was heard pacing the floor with dull and 
 measured tread. Not even the Empress, who had stood imploring at 
 the door, could obtain a word in answer to her entreaties; For two 
 days and nights he remained within. On the third day, the Emperor 
 knocked at the door, and announced to his son that all was now ready 
 for the funeral, and his presence was indispensable. 
 
 Joseph' opened the door, and, without a word, leaned upon his father's 
 arm, and traversed the long suite of apartments hung in black, until they 
 
 * This extraordinary account of the life and death of the Infanta, Isabella of Parma, Is no ro- 
 niance; it rests upon facts which are mentioned by historians of the reign of Maria Theresa. Car- 
 oline Pichler, whoso mother was tire-woman to the Empress when the Archduchess died, relates tha 
 history of the prophecy, wherein Isabella, first in three hours, then in as many days — weeks, months, 
 and years — awaited her d«ath. ;^he also relates the fact of her death at tlie expiratioji of three 
 jmn " in the arms ef her dcipalrluj husband." (Caroline Pichler : Memoini of My Lifji.) 
 
reached the room where lay the body of his wife. There emid burning 
 wax-lighls was'lhe hideous coffin that now enclosed his beloi^ed one, 
 that now was about to bear away forever his life, his lovo, and his hap- 
 piness. When he saw the coffin, a stifled cry arose from his breast. 
 Jle darted with open arms towards it, and, bending down, he hid bis 
 face upon the lid. 
 
 At this moment, the doors of the room were opened and the Empress, 
 attended by her daughters, all in deep mourning, entered. Their faces 
 were wan v^ith weeping, as were those of all who followed the bereaved 
 Sovereign. Meanwhile Joseph neiUier saw nor heard what passed around 
 him. The ceremonies began, but while the priest performed the funeral 
 rites, the Archduke murmured words which brought tears to the eyes ot' 
 his ftither and mother. 
 
 Maria Theresa approached her stricken son. She kissed his hair, and 
 laid her hand lovingly upon his shoulder. 
 
 " My son," said she with quivering lip, "arise and bo a man. Her 
 soul is with God and with us ; let us give her body to the earth that 
 bore it." 
 
 While the Empress spoke, the bells of the churches began to toll, and 
 from the streets were heard the beating of muffled drums, and the boom- 
 ing of the cannon that announced to Vienna the moving of the funeral 
 procession. 
 
 *' Come, my son, come," repeated the Empress. " Our time of trial 
 is at hand." 
 
 Joseph raised his head from the coffin, and stared wildly around. lie 
 saw the priests, the Levitcs with their smoking censers, the weeping at- 
 tendants of his wife ; he saw the black hangings, the groups of mourners, 
 and his father and mother standing pale and sad beside him. He hciird 
 the tolling of the bells and the dull sound of the funeral drum ; and now, 
 now indeed he felt the aw'^ul reality of his bereavement, and knew that 
 as yet he had suffered nothing. Tears filled his eyes, and he sank upon 
 his father's breast. 
 
 Sobs and wailings filled the funeral hall, while without, the inexorable 
 knell went on, the drums still beat, the cannon roared, all calling for the 
 coffin, for whose entrance the imperial vault lay open. 
 
 Once more Joseph approached this dreadful coffin. He kissed it, and 
 taking from it one of the roses with which it had been decked, he said, 
 " Farewell, my wife, my treasure; farewell, my adored Isabella!" Then 
 turning towards the Empress, he added, " Thank you, dearest mother, for 
 the courage which bears you through this bitter trial ; for me I cannot 
 follow you. Greet my ancestors and say to them that never came a no- 
 bler victim to the grave than the one which you bear thither to-day." 
 
 " You will not go with us !" said the Empress, astounded. 
 
 " No, mother, no. Mingle dust with dust, but do not ask me to look 
 into my Isabella's grave," j 
 
 He turned, and without a word or another look at the coffin, he left 
 the room. 
 
i04 JOSEPii Tiia ijKCuXD. 
 
 " Let him go," whispered tho Emperor. " I believe that it would kill 
 him to witness the funeral ceremony." ^ 
 
 The Empress gave a sign, and the cortege moved with the coffin to 
 thecataphalt, which, drawn by twelve black horses, awaited the body in 
 front of the palace. 
 
 Joseph once more retreated to his room, and there, through the still- 
 ness of the deserted palace,' might; be heard his ceaseless tramp, that 
 sounded as though it might bo the hammer that was fashioning another 
 coffin to break the heart3 of the imperial family. At least it seemed so 
 to the sorrowing Empress, who listefied to the dull sound of her son's 
 footsteps with superstitious fear. She had gone to him, on her return 
 from the funeral, to console him with her love and sympathy. But the 
 door was locked, and her affectionate entreaties for admission were un- 
 answered. 
 
 She turned to the Emperor. "Something must be done to bend the 
 obstinacy of this solitary grief," said she anxiously. " I know Joseph. 
 His is u passionate and obdurate nature, strong in love as in hate. Ho 
 had yielded his whole soul to his wife, and now, alas ! I fear that she 
 will draw him with her to the grave. What shall we do, Franz, to com- 
 fort him"? How shall we entice him from this odious room, which he 
 paces like a lion in his cage?" 
 
 " Go once more, and command him to open the door. He will not 
 have the courage to defy you," said the Emperor. 
 
 Maria Theresa knocked again and cried out, " My son Joseph, I com* 
 mand you, as your Sovereign and mother, to open the door." 
 
 No answer. Still the same dull, everlasting tread. 
 
 The Empress stood awhile to listen ; then, flushing with anger, she 
 exclaimed, " It is in vain. We have lost all control over him. His sor- 
 row has made him cruel and rebellious, even towards his mother." 
 
 " But this is unmanly," cried the Emperor with displeasure. "It is a 
 miserable weakness to sink so helpless under grief." 
 
 "Think you so?" said the Empress, ready to vent upon the Emperor 
 her vexation at the conduct of her son. 
 
 " In your pride of manhood you deem it w^eak that Joseph grieves for 
 his wife? 1 dare say that were your Majesty placed in similar circum- 
 stances you would know full well how to bear my loss like a man. But 
 your Majesty must remember that Joseph has not your wisdom and ex- 
 perience. He is but a poor, artless youth, who has been weak enough 
 to love his wife without stint. This is a fault for which I^crave the Em- 
 peror's indulgence." 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty," replied the Emperor smiling, " God forbid that 
 he should ever grow less affectionate. I was only vexed that the voice 
 of Maria Theresa should have less power over my son than it has over 
 his father ; that silvery voice which bewitched me in youth, and through 
 life has soothed ray every pang." 
 
 The Em^'ess completely softened, reached out her hand. 
 
 "Would you indeed mourn for rae, Franz?" said she tenderly. 
 
ii^ABELLA. 105 
 
 " Would you refuse to listen to father or mother for my sake? Yep, 
 dearest, you would, I believe. From our childhood we were lovers, we 
 will be lovers in our old age, and when we part the one that is. left will 
 mourn as deeply as Joseph, Let us then be lenient wnlh his grief, until 
 our love and forbearance shall have won him to come anfi weep upon his 
 mother's breast." 
 
 "If your Majesty permit," said Christina, stepping forward, "I will 
 try to soften his grief." 
 
 " What can you do, dear child 1" asked the^mpress of her favorite 
 daughter, 
 
 " 1 have a messag^for him," replied Christina. " I swore to Isabella 
 that no one but myself should reveal it to Joseph. I know that it will 
 prove consolatory, and Isabella also knew it. For this reason she en- 
 trusted it to me," 
 
 " Try then, my daughter, try if your voice will have more power than 
 mine. Meanwhile I will essay the power of music. It overcame him 
 once when he was a boy. Wo will try him with the music that Isabella 
 loved best. 
 
 She called a page and spoke with him in a low voice. In conclusion 
 she said, " Let the carriage go at once and bring him hither in a quar- 
 ter of an hour." , 
 
 The page withdrew, and the imperial family were again alone. 
 
 " Now, my daughter," said the Empress, " see ifhe will speak to you." 
 
 Christina approached the door. " My brother Joseph," said she, " I 
 beseech you open the door to me. I come from Isabella ; it is she who 
 sends me to you." 
 
 The bolt was withdrawn, and for a moment the pale face of Joseph 
 appeared at the door. 
 
 " Come in," said he, waving his hand to Christina. She followed him 
 into the room where so many, many tears had been shed. " Now speak," 
 said he, " what did Isabella say to you '?" 
 
 His sister looked with pity upon his ghastly face and those hollow 
 eyes grown glassy with weeping-. " Poor, poor Joseph!" said she softly, 
 "1 see that your love for her was beyond all b|.ounds." 
 
 He made a motion of impatience. " Do not pity me," said he. "My 
 grief is too sacred for sympathy. I do not need it. Tell me at once, 
 what said Isabella ?" 
 
 Christina h^itated. She felt as if the balm she was about to bring 
 would prove more painful than the wounds it was intended to heal. 
 
 " Speak, I tell you," cried Joseph angrily. " If you have made use of 
 Isabella's name to gain access to my presence, it is a trick for which I 
 will never forgive you. Why did you disturb me? I was with her," 
 continued he,staring at the divan where so often they had sat together. 
 "She wore her white dress and the pink roses, and she smiled with ii^r 
 enchanting smile. I lay at her feet, 1 looked into her eyes, I heard the 
 melody of her voice." 
 
 " Did she ever say that she loved you ?" asked Christina. 
 
106 Ja^KfM THj; tSELU>b. 
 
 He looked at her intently and grew thonghtful. " I do not know," 
 said he after a pause, " whether she ever told mq so in words. But 
 there needed no words. I saw her love in every glance, in every smile. 
 Her whole life was love, and oh ! I have lost it forever !" 
 
 " You have not lost it, for you never possessed it," said Christina. 
 
 Joseph drew back and frowned. '• What is that?" said he hastily. 
 
 Christina approached hira, and laying her hand upon his^ shoulder, she 
 looked into his face until her eyes tilled with tears. 
 
 " I say," whispered shein a tremulous- voice, " do not mourn any lon- 
 ger, dear brother. For she for whom you grieve, she whom you call 
 your Isabella, never loved you. ' 
 
 '"That is not true," cried Joseph vehemently. "It is a lie, a wicked 
 lie that you have devised to lessen my grief." 
 
 " It is nothing but the truth, and I promised Isabella to tell it to you." 
 
 Joseph sank almost insensible upon the divan. Christina seated her- 
 self near him, and, throwing her arms around him, she sobbed, "My 
 brother, my darling brother, think no more of the dead, but turn your 
 heart towards us; for we love you, and Isabella never did. She merely 
 suffered your love." 
 
 "Suffered my love," murmured Joseph, and his head sank powel'Iess 
 upon Christina's bosom. But suddenly he rose, and looking with a be- 
 seeching expression at his sister's beautiful face, he said : 
 
 "Bethink you, Christina, of what you do. Think that I love Isabella 
 with all the strength and glow of my heart, think that for me she was 
 the embodiment of all beauty, goodness and purity. Do not seek to 
 comfort me by destroying my faith in the truth of the only woman I 
 have ever loved. In whom shall I have faith, if not in her? U her love 
 was a lie, is there love in this world ! Oh, Christina, in mercy say that 
 you have sought to comfort by deceiving me !" 
 
 " I have sought to comfort you, by telling you the truth. If you will 
 not believe me, believe her own words." 
 
 She drew a paper from her dress and handed it to Joseph. " It is a 
 letter," said she, " which Isabella gave to me, and she made me swear 
 that 1 would fulfill its behests. Read and be satisfied." 
 
 Joseph unfolded the letter. "It is her handwriting," said he to him- 
 self, and he tried to read it, but in vain; his hand trembled, and his 
 eyes fdled with tears." 
 
 He gave it back to Christina, who read it aloud — 
 
 " My Christina — Confidant of my sufferings and sorrow — Hear my 
 dying request. To you I leave the task of consoling my husband. His 
 noble tears shall not be shed over the grave of one who is unv/orthy of 
 them. Tell him the truth, tell him all you know, show him this letter, 
 and bid him not' grieve for one who never loved him. Do this for me, 
 St "is my last request. Isabella." 
 
 /Suddenly, from the adjoining room, the sweet tones of" music were 
 
heard; the air was tremulous with melody, whit;h at first soft and low, 
 swelled louder and louder until it filled the room with a gush of harmo- 
 ny that stirred the hearts of those who listened, with sweetest and holiest 
 emotions. 
 
 Joseph bent eagerly A^rward. He knew tho^^e strains so well ! He 
 renncmbered the nijiht when Isabella's tears had faltcn among the rose- 
 loaves, and he had kissed them away. He saw her once more in the 
 pride of her beauty, looking at him from the depths of those glorious 
 dark eyes which he had so madly loved. The music gave life and being 
 to these memories, and its glamour brought back the dead fnun her 
 grave! He remembered how he had asked her if she loved him. and 
 how, avoiding the words so diflicult to speak, she had answered wilh the 
 witphing tones of her violin. Oh, that heavenly evening hour upon the 
 bthoony ! She had said, "Love has its own langua. e : come and lis- 
 ten." And Christina said she had not loved/ He could not, would not 
 believe her ! 
 
 He took the letter from Christina's hand and kissed the paper. " I 
 do not believe you," he sard softly. My trust in her is like my sorrow 
 — for eternity !" 
 
 This imperturbable faith had the efiect of hardening Christina, and 
 making her cruel. " You shall believe me," said she hastily. "You 
 shall see in her own handwriting that she loved another." 
 
 " Another !" cried the wretched husband. " I will kill him !" 
 " He died before you ever knew her," said Christina, frightened at the 
 effect of her own heartlessness. 
 
 A smile overspread his face. " Dead, before I knew her ! Then she 
 forgot him when I loved her." He took up the letter and read it again. 
 *' Oh," said he, " see how magnanimous was ray Isabella. She has been 
 false to her own heart that she might save me from sorrow. She 
 thought it would dry my tears to think that she did not love me. Oh, 
 beloved, I see through thy noble falsehood — in death as in life I know 
 every working of that unselfish heart !" 
 
 Christina said nothing, but she grew more inflexible in her purpose. 
 "He shall be convinced," said ^he to herself " I will give him her let- 
 ters to mo, and then he will know that he never has been loved." 
 
 Again pealed forth the sounds of that heavenly music. Now the vio- 
 lin, mingling with the tones of the harpsichord, glided into a melody of 
 divinest beauty ; and the full, rich tones of a woman's voice warbled 
 the complaint of Orpheus : Che faro senza Eurydice! 
 
 Joseph sighed convulsively, and a faint color tinged his pale cheeks. 
 This was Isabella's favorite air ; and once more the vision started up 
 before him, once more he saw the tears, he kissed them, and looked into 
 the depths of those starry eyes ! 
 
 He rose from the divan, and, drawn thither by a power with which he 
 could not contend, he left the room, and followed the music that was 
 calling him from madness back to reason. 
 
 At the harpsichord sat Ritter Gluck, and by him .stood the Archduch,- 
 
108 JO?El'fl THE SECOND. 
 
 ess Elizabeth, whose rich and beautiful voice had exorcised the evil spirit. 
 
 The Emperor and Enipres?, with all their children, came forward to 
 meet the unhappy one, and all with tearful eyes, kissed and welcomed 
 him with tender words of love. 
 
 Gluck alone seemed not to have seen the Archduke. He was chiding 
 Elizabeth for singing falsely, and called upon her to repeat her song. 
 Nevertheless, while he corrected his pupil, the big tears were coursing 
 one another dowij. his cheelis, and fell upon his hands,, as they wandered 
 oyer the instrument enrapturing every ear. 
 
 Elizabeth began again ; and again were heard the heart-breaking tones 
 of Che faro senza Eurydice. 
 
 All eyes turned upon the bereaved Orpheus. The Empress opened 
 her arms, and completely subdued, he darted to his mother's heart, ai}d 
 cried out, " Che faro senza Eurydice.''''- j\"^, 
 
 Again and again the mother kissed her weeping son. The Emperor . 
 folded them both to his loving heart. The brothers and sisters wept 
 for mingled grief and joy. Elizabeth's voice failed her, and she sang no 
 more. But Gluck played on, his hands weaving new strains of harmo- 
 ny such as earth had never heard before. His head thrown back, his 
 eyes upturned towards Heaven, his face beaming with inspiration, he 
 listened to his music, while from Joseph's anguish, he created the won- 
 derful song in Alceste " No crudel, no j)osso vivere, iu lo sai, senza de ie." 
 
 The melody went on, the parents caressed their child, and on his 
 mother's bosom Joseph wept the last tears of his great youthful sorrow. 
 The dream of love was over ! Grief had made of him a man. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 FATHER PORHAMMER AND COUNT KAUNITZ. 
 
 The Empress paced her cabinet with hasty steps. Near the large ta- 
 ble, covered with papers of state, stood Father Porhammer. 
 
 "Are you sure of what you say?" said Maria Theresa with impa- 
 tience. " Are you sure that the Lord Chancellor so far forgets his hon- 
 or and his dignity as to spend his hours of leisure in the compapy of 
 disreputable actresses ? Is it true that his house is the scene of shame- 
 ful orgies and saturnalian feasts ?" 
 
 " It is even so, your Majesty," replied Porhammer. " It is unhappily 
 true that he whom your Majesty has raised to the first place in the Em- 
 pire of " 
 
 " The first place !" echoed the Empress angrily. " Know, sir, that 
 
KING OF ROME. 109 
 
 the first place in the Empire is mine. From God I hold my power and 
 my crown, and I depute them to no man — I alone reign in Austria." 
 
 "Your Majesty," resumed the Father, " did uot allow me to finish. 
 I was about to say that he whom yo'ur Majesty has made your most il- 
 lustrious subject, he who ought to give to all your subjects an example 
 of moral conduct, is a profligate and libertine. That infamous school of 
 Paris, where reigns the wanton Marquise de Pompadour ; the debauch- 
 ed Court of Versailles " 
 
 "Plold, flither, and remember that France is Austria's dearest ally," 
 interrupted the Empress. 
 
 The father bowed. "The school of Parisian gallantry, of which the 
 Lord Chancellor is a graduate, has borne its fruits. Count Kaunitz 
 mocks at religion, chastity and every other virtue. Instead of giving an 
 honorable mistress to his house, it is the home of Foliazzi, the singer, 
 who holds him fast with her rosy chains." 
 
 " We must send her away from Vienna." 
 
 "Ah, your Majesty, if you send her, Count Kaunitz will go with her. 
 He cannot live without La Foliazzi. Even when he comes hither to 
 your Majesty's august presence, La Foliazzi is in his coach, and she 
 awaits his return at the doors of the Imperial palace." 
 
 "Impossible! I will not believe such scandalous reports. Count 
 Kaunitz would never dare to bring his mistresses to my palace doors; 
 he would never have the audacity to treat his ofllcial visits to myself as 
 episodes in a life of lasciviousness with an unchaste singer. You shall 
 withdraw your words. Father Porhammer, or you shall prove them." 
 
 — "I will prove them, your Majesty." 
 
 Just then, the door opened and a page announced the Lord Chancellor, 
 Count Kaunitz. 
 
 "Admit Count Kaunitz," said the Empress, " and you Father Por- 
 hammer, remain." 
 
 The father withdrew within the embrasure of a window, while the 
 Lord Chancellor followed the page into the presence of the Empress. 
 The Count's face was as fair, and his cheeks as rosy as ever ; he wore 
 the same fantastic perruque of his own invention, and -his figure was as 
 straight and slender as it had ever been. Ten years had gone by since 
 he became Prime Minister, but nothing had altered him. So marble-like 
 his face, that age could not wrinkle, nor care trace a line upon its stony 
 surface. 
 
 He did not w'ait for the ittiperial greeting, but came forward in his 
 careless, unceremonious W'ay, not as though he stood before his sove- 
 reign, but as if he had come to visit a lady of his own rank. 
 
 " Your Majesty sees," .said he, with a courteous inclination of the 
 head, "that I use the permission which has been granted me, of seeking 
 an audience whenever the state demands it. As I come, not to intrude 
 upon your Majesty with idle conversation, but to speak of grave and 
 important matters of state, I do not apologise for coining unbidden." 
 
 The easy and unembarasscd nianucr iu which Kaunitz announced him- 
 
110 JOSEPH THE 3EC0:i:fD. 
 
 self had its effect upon the Empress. She who was so accustomed to. 
 give vent to the feelings of the moment, overcame her displeasure and. 
 received her Minister with her usual affability. 
 
 "Your Majesty then will graiit an audience to your Minister of 
 State," said Kaunitz, looking sharply at the priest who stood unconcern- 
 ed at the window. 
 
 "Since the Lord Chancellor comes at such an unusual houV," replied 
 the Empress, "I must conclude that his business is of an imperative na- 
 ture. "1 am therefore ready to hear him." 
 
 Kaunitz bowed, and then turning with an arrogant gesture towards the 
 Empress's confessor, he said, " Do you hear, Father Porhammer, the 
 Empress will hold a council with me." 
 
 " I hear it, my Lord," said the priest. 
 
 " Then as we are not on the subject of religion, you will have the 
 goodness to leave the room." 
 
 " I was ordered by her Majesty to remain," replied Father Porham- 
 mer quietly. 
 
 Kaunitz turned towards the Empress, who with knit and angry brow, 
 was listening to her Minister. 
 
 " If it be the Empress's pleasure," said he, bowing, " I will take the 
 liberty of retiring until her Majesty is at leisure for earthly aflairs. Re- 
 ligion and Politics are not to be confounded together; the former being 
 the v/eightier subject of the two, I give way." 
 
 He bowed again, and was about to leave the room, when the Empress 
 recalled him. 
 
 "Stay," said she, "and Father Porhammer wilMeave us for a while." 
 
 Without a word the Father bowed and withdrew. 
 
 " Now speak, Count Kaunitz," said the Empress, hastily, "and let 
 the affair be important that has led you to drive my confessor from my 
 presence in such an uncourteous fashion." 
 
 " Weighty, most weighty is the news that concerns the imperial house 
 of Austria," said Kaunitz, with his unruffled equanimity. "A courier 
 has brought me tidings of the Archduke's election as King of Rome." 
 
 " Is that all ?" said Maria Theresa. " That is no news. The, voice of 
 Prussia decided that matter long ago ; and this is the only advantage 
 we have ever reaped from our long and terrible war with Frederick." 
 
 " No, your Majesty, no, this is not the only thing we have obtained. 
 This war has yielded us material advantages. It has increased the mi- 
 litary strength of the country, it has placed before the eyes of all Eu- 
 rope the inexhaustible nature of Austria's resources, it has brought all 
 the little Germanic principalities under Austria's dominion. It has uni- 
 ted Hungary, Sclavonia, Italy, Bohemia, and Lombardy under Austria's 
 flag and Austria's field-marshals. Indeed, your Majesty, this war has 
 given us something of far more value than Prussia's vote. The bloody 
 baptism of the battle-field has made Austrians of all those who bled for 
 Austria's rights." 
 
 "That does not prevent that abominable man from clinging to my 
 
11 
 
 KING OF ROME. 1 1 1 
 
 fair domains of Silesia. How will my ancestor, the great Charles, gi'eet 
 me, when I go to my grave, bearing the tidings that under my reign 
 Austria has been shorn of a principality." 
 
 " No such tidings shall your Majesty bear to your forefathers," re- 
 plied Kaunitz, fervently, " Leave Frederic alone with his bit of a prin- 
 cipality': more trouble than profit may it be to him ! Long before he 
 ■will have transformed his Silesian Austrians into loyal Prussi.ans, wo 
 shall have repaired the damage he has done us by new and richer acqui- 
 sitions." 
 
 "No, no, no," cried the Empress, "let us have n6 more war. What 
 we do not possess by just right, I shall never consent to win with the 
 sword." 
 
 " But inheritance and alliance be^^tow rights," persisted the Minister. 
 "Your Majesty has mart-iageable daughters and sons, and it is time to 
 think of negotiating honorable alliances for them." 
 
 The eyes of the Empress sparkled, and her foce beamed with happy 
 smiles. The establishment of her children was her constant thought by 
 night and day, and in broaching this subject, Kaunitz was meeting her 
 dearest wishes. Her displeasure against him melted away like snow 
 before the sun, and she gave herself entirely up to the pleasing discussion. 
 
 " It will be difficult to find husbands for my daughters," said she. 
 " All the reigning heads of European families are married, and their sons 
 are too young for Elizabeth and Amelia. I cannot marry my grown-up 
 daughters to boys ; nor can I bring a set of insignificant sons in-law to 
 hang about the court. My husband, the Emperor, would never consent 
 to bestow his daughters upon pelfty princes, who, instead of bringing in- 
 fluence with them, would derive their reflected consequence from an al- 
 liance with us. If we cannot find them husbands worthy of their station, 
 my daughters must remain single, or devote their lives to God." 
 
 — " If your Majesty's eldest daughters choose that holy vocation, poli- 
 tics need not interfere with their inclinations. The boyish heirs of Eu- 
 ropean kingdoms can await the advent of the younger princesses." 
 
 — •' Let them wait," said the Empress, " we will train noble queens 
 for them." 
 
 " But the Archduke Leopold need not wait," said Kaunitz ; " we will 
 begin with him. The Spanish Ambassador has received from his Sov- 
 ereign, Carlos IV., a letter directing him to ofTer his daughter Maria 
 Louisa to your Majesty's second son. Knowing that his Highness, the 
 Archduke Joseph, is your Majesty's successor, he supposes that the Em- 
 peror Francis will bestow upon his second son the Grand Duchy of Tus- 
 cany." J, 
 
 "A very good alliance," returned Maria Theresa, nodding her head. 
 " The women of the house of Bourbon are all estimable. Our lost Isa- 
 bella was a lovely woman. Well ! the grand daughter of the King of 
 Spain, having died, let us renew our connection with him through his 
 daughter ; and may God grant to Leopold happier nuptials than were 
 those of ray poor Joseph." 
 
113 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " The Aichduke Joseph, too, must marry," saiJ Kaunitz. 
 
 " Poor Joseph !" sighed the Empress. " His heart is full of sorrow 
 even now, and while he weeps for his dead, we make plans to marry 
 him to another. But you are right Count ; ho must marry. We cannot 
 listen to his heart, he must sacrifice himself to duty. Austria must have > 
 another heir. But let us give him a little respite," - ' 
 
 " He will forget his sorrow when he is crowned King of Rome," said 
 Kaunitz. " Ambition is certain to cure love ; and the possession of a 
 crown may well console any man for the loss of a woman." 
 
 Maria Theresa was displeased. " Do you deem it, then, so light a 
 thing," said she with a frown, " to lose a beloved wife ? Do you think • 
 it great happiness to wear a crown? You know nothing either of the 
 pains of power or the joys of marriage; but I can tell you that many a 
 time I would have feinted under the burthen of my crown, had my Franz 
 not sustained me with his loving and beloved hand. But what know you 
 of love 1 Your-heart is a market-place wherein you seek slaves for your 
 harem,' but no honorable woman would make it her home. I have heard 
 scandalous reports concerning your house, Count Kaunitz ; I have " 
 
 A light knock was heard at the door, and as the Empress gave the 
 word, father Porhammer entered the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL PLANS. 
 
 Father Porhammer came forward, while the Empress looked at him 
 with a glance of astonishment. 
 
 — " Forgive me, your Majesty, for this intrusion. It is in accordance 
 with your gracious commands, whose fulfillment I have no right to delay. 
 I was ordered by your Majesty to prove the fact which I asserted." 
 
 " Well, have you the proof?" said the Empress impatiently. "I have, 
 your Majesty.' It is in the carriage of the Lord Chancellor, at the great 
 door of the palace." 
 
 The Empress made an exclamation ; and her face grew scarlet with 
 anger. Her stormy looks rested upon Kaunitz, who, perfectly uncon- 
 cerned, seemed not to have heard what Porhammer had said. This un- 
 disturbed serenity on the part of her Minister, gave the Empress time 
 for recollection. She knew from experience that the lightening of her 
 wrath would play harmlessly about the head of this living statue, and 
 she felt more keenly than she had ever done before, that however Kau- 
 nitz's private life might shock her own sense of honor and decency, his 
 vast intellect as State-Gouucillor was indispens-able to Austria. 
 
■ KING OF ROME. 113 
 
 With a quick add haughty gesture, she motioned the priest away, and 
 then began to pace up and down the length of the apartment. 
 
 Kaunitz remained tranquil near the table, his cold glances resting now 
 on the papers, now on the pictures that hang opposite to him. He was 
 busily engaged arranging his Alengon rufiles, when the Empress stopped, 
 and hxed her fiery eyes upon him. 
 
 "My Lord Chancellor, Count Kaunitz, tell me. who sits in your car- 
 riage before the doors of my palace, awaiting your return from this con- 
 ference ?" 
 
 — " Who sits in my carriage, your Majesty T I was not aware that 
 any one was there whoso name it was necessary for me to announce to 
 your Imperial Majesty." 
 
 — " I can well believe that you would not dare to pronounce the name 
 of that person in my presence," cried the Empress indignantly, "but let 
 me tell you, Sir Count, that your behavior is highly displeasing to me, 
 and that I blush to hear the things I do, to the disparagement of your 
 honor and morality." 
 
 " lias your Majesty any complaint to make of mo as Minister, or as 
 President of Council ?" asked Kaunitz almost roughly. " Have I not 
 fulfilled the vows I made to your Majesty ten years ago? Have I dis- 
 charged my duties carelessly ? The ship of state which, in her hour of 
 peril, was confided to my hands, have I not *;teered her safely through 
 rocks and reefs ? Or have 1 been unfaithful to my trust ? If your Ma- 
 jesty can convict me of crime, or even of negligence, then sit in judg- 
 ment upon the culprit. . Tell mo, of what state offence am I accused 1" 
 
 " I do not speak of my Prime Minister," replied the Empress, some- 
 what embarrassed. " I have no fault to find with him. On the contra- 
 ry, he has nobly kept the pledge he made to me and to my Austria, and 
 he has been a wise, faithful and conscientious servant. But this is not 
 enough, there are also duties to perform towards God, towards society, 
 and towards one's self." 
 
 — "For your Majesty as well as for me, it suffices that I am true to 
 my duties as your subject. As to my duty as a man, this is no place 
 to discuss a matter which lies between God and myself. It would be 
 indecorous for me to raise the veil of my private life before the eyes of 
 your Majesty. I came here to speak of Austria's welfare and yours, 
 not of me or mine." 
 
 Without giving time to the Empress to make any reply, Kaunitz re- 
 « sumed the subject which had been interrupted by the visit of Father 
 Porhammer. 
 
 "Though your Majesty may deem it expedient to postpone the may- 
 riage of the Archduke Joseph, still that need not prevent us from taking 
 the steps that will be necessary to secure an advantageous alliance for 
 the heir to the throne. We can grant a respite to the Archduke of 
 Austria, but the King of Rome must stifle his grief, and attend to the 
 calls of duty. He must silence his heart, for the Emperor of Austria 
 must have a successor." 
 
114 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " At least let us choose him a bride worthy to succeed in his affections 
 the angelic wife he has lost," said the Empress, with feeling. 
 . Something like a smile flitted over Kaunitz's sardonic face. "Your 
 Majesty must pardon me, but you view this matter entirely too much 
 as a thing of sentiment, whereas, in fffect, it is an affair of policy. The 
 main object of the Archduke's marriage is to find a princess whose fam- 
 ily can advance the interests of the state, and who is in a condition to 
 bear children." 
 
 '' And have you already found such a wife for my poor child ?" ^sked 
 the Empress. " Have you one to propose whom policy will approve, 
 and who will not be distasteful to the eye or the heart 'I" 
 
 " She must be a German princess," said Kaunitz. 
 
 — " Why MUST ?" 
 
 — " Because the house of Hapsburg must court the good-will of all, 
 Germany, which, through this long war and from the divided interests of 
 the German people, it is in danger of losing. Prussia, grown morally 
 strong by the war, is about to become the rival of Austria, and even 
 now she seeks to have a voice in German politics. Northern Germany 
 already inclines to Prussia by its sympathies of creed and opinion. If^ 
 we allow this to go, on, Prussia will divide Germany into two halves. 
 The northern half, that which is Protestant, and in my opinion the wiser 
 half, because free from the prejudices of religion, will belong to enlight- 
 ened Prussia; the southern half, the bigoted Catholic portion, that which 
 believes in the Pope and his Jesuits, m^iy perhaps adhere to Austria. 
 Then comes revolution. Prussia will have for her allies, not only Nor- 
 thern Germany, but Sweden, England, Holland, Denmark, even Russia, 
 Every step she takes in advance will drive back Austria ; and the day 
 may come when Prussia, our powerful enemy, will seek for the Mar- 
 grave of Brandenburg, the crown of the Kaisers." 
 
 " Never ! never !" exclaimed Maria Theresa passionately. " To think 
 of this little Burgrave of Nuremberg, the vassal of Rudolf of Hapsburg, 
 growing to be the rival of the stately house of Austria ! No, no ! Never 
 shall the day dawn when Austria descends to equality with Prussia ! 
 We are natural enemies, we can no more call the Brandenburgs brothers 
 than the eagle can claim kindred with the vulture ! You are right, 
 Count, the strife of the battle-field is over, let us gird ourselves for that 
 of diplomacy. Let us be wary and watchful; not only the State, but 
 the Holy Church is in danger. I can no longer allow this prince of in- 
 fidels to propagate his unbelief or his Protestantism throughout my 
 Catholic fatherland. We are the ally and the daughter of our holy fa- 
 tlv^r,.the Pope, and we must be up and doing for God and for our coun- 
 try. Now let us think how we are to check this thirst of Prussia for 
 power." 
 
 * " There are two expedients," said Kaunitz, calmly interrupting the 
 Empress in her torrent of indignation. 
 
 — " Let U3 hear them." 
 
 — " The' first one is to strengthen our interest with Germany either- 
 
KING Of ROME. 1 1 o 
 
 by offers of advantages and honors, payment of subsidies, or by matri- 
 monial alliances. For this reason, it. is, that the future King of Rome 
 must choose his wife among the princesses of Germany. Through your 
 Majesty's other children we -will ally ourselves to the rest of Europe. 
 The Bourbons reign in the South, and the}- must all be allied to the 
 house of Ilapsburg. Through the marriage of Archduke Leopold with 
 the daughter of the King of Spain, we will gain a powerful ally ; and 
 the Archduke himself, as Grand ]Juke of Tuscany, will represent Aus- 
 tria's interests in Italy. If the Crown Prince of Parma and the young 
 King of Naples unite themselves to two of your Majesty's daughters, 
 then all Italy will be leagued with Austria. When this is accomplished, 
 the word 'Italy ' will be a geographical designation, but the country will 
 be an Austrian dependency. Now for western Europe, for France, we 
 must confirm our alliance with her also. The son of the Dauphin, tho 
 grandson of Louis XV. is now eleven years old ; just throe years older 
 than the Archduchess Maria Antoinette." 
 
 " Truly, Kaunitz, your plans are great," cried the Empress, her face 
 full of smiles and radiant with joy. "The Emperor often calls me a 
 match-maker, but I am an insignificant scheemer by your side. I must 
 say that I approve your plans, and will do all that I can to ensure«them 
 success." 
 
 "The most of them are for the future ; before all things we must be- 
 stir ourselves about the present. You have seen how later, we will se- 
 cure the friendship of the South ; that of the North must come through 
 the marriage of the King of Rome. His selection of a German princess 
 will incline all Germany towards your Majesty's imperial house. Near- 
 est to Prussia, are the two important Principalities of Bavaria and 
 Saxony." 
 
 " And both have unmarried princesses," exclaimed the Empress, joy- 
 fully. " I wish we might select the daughter of the Elector of Saxony, 
 for that house has suffered so much from Austria, that I would gladly do 
 it this Aivor. But I have heard that the Princess Mary Kunigunde has 
 very few charms." 
 
 " Perhaps Josepha of Bavaria may be handsomer," said Kaunitz dryly. 
 
 — "She is nevertheless the daughter of Carl VII., and he has never 
 been my friend. I have suffered much from this man, and would you 
 have me accept his daughter as mine V 
 
 " There can be no resentment for bygones in politics," said Kaunitz, 
 deliberately. 
 
 "But there may be gratitude for past services," exclaimed the Em- 
 press, warmly. " I shall never forget how Hungary sustained me when 
 this man would have robbed me of my crown. I would never have worn 
 my imperial diadem but for the help of God, and the sword of St. Ste- 
 phen, which my brave Magyars drew for me on the battle-field ! V^ith- 
 out Hungary 1 would have been dethroned, and shall I now place the 
 crown of St. Stephen's upon the brow of an enemy's daughter \ It 
 would be an injustice to my loyal Hungarians. I shall give my voice 
 
116 .JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 to Mary of Saxony, bat if Joseph prefers Josepha, I will not oppose his 
 choice. And this matter settled, tell me your other plans for strength- 
 ening the power of Austria." 
 
 " My second plan is to humanise the Hungarian nobles. These no- 
 bles reign in Hungary like so many j^etty sovereigns. There is no such 
 a thing as nationality among them. The country is divided into nobles 
 and vassals. The nobles are so powerful that the government is com- 
 pletely lost sight of, and the real sovereigns of Hungary are the Mag- 
 yars." 
 
 "That is in some sense, true," answered the Empress. *' I have often 
 felt how dangerous to my rights was the arrogance of my Hungarian 
 subjects. They lift their haughty heads too near the regions of royalty." 
 
 "And your Majesty's great ancestor, Charles V, once said that nothing 
 had a right to lift its head in the vicinity of a king. The very trees 
 ■would l^e lop, that their branches might not grow too near to heaven, 
 how much more the heads of men, when they were raised too high." 
 
 ' — " But such a policy shall never be mine — I will never buy obedience 
 with oppression. Besides, I have already said that I am under obliga- 
 tions to my Hungarian nobles, and I will not injure a hair of their heads." 
 
 " There are other ways of conquering besides the sword," said the 
 crafty Kaunit^j. " Coercion would but fortify the Magyars in their inso- 
 lence. These haughty lords must be enticed from their fastnesses to 
 Vienna. They must be greeted with honors, titles and estates. They 
 must be taught to love splendor, to spend money, to accumulate debts, 
 until they become bankrupt, and their possessions in Hungary fall into 
 the hands of the Crown." 
 
 " What an infamous policy," cried the Empress. 
 
 " Good, nevertheless," said Kaunitz calmly. " Nothing can be done 
 with the Magyars by force. They must be vanquished by pleasure, and 
 also by marriage. They must be made to take home Viennese wives, 
 who will initiate them into the arts of refined life, who will help them 
 to waste their money, and so cut off the wings of their freedom. He 
 who has learned to love pleasure will have no taste for sedition, and he 
 who is in debt is no longer free. Your Majesty must bestow gifts and 
 places 9.t court; the Magyars will grow ambitious, — they will become 
 
 hangers-on of princes, and dissipation, ostentation, and extravagance 
 
 will do the rest." 
 
 While Kaunitz was unfolding his Satanic schemes, the Empress walk- 
 ed up and down, in visible agitation. When he ceased, she came and 
 stood before him, and with her searching eyes she tried to look through 
 the mask of his impenetrable countenance. 
 
 " W^hat you have said there," said she, " is a mournful leaf from the 
 book of worldly wisdom which guides your actions, and it is enough to 
 make an honest heart ache to think that good can be reached by such 
 foul means. My heart struggles against such a course, but my head ap- 
 proves it, and I dare not listen to my womanly scruples, for 1 am a Sov- 
 ereign. May the wiles of thb women of Vienna make loyal subjects of 
 
KTI^ OF ROMy, IIT 
 
 my brftve Hungariani. 1 will bestow honors without end ; but for aught, 
 else, let it come as it may. Extravagance, debt ani^sequesXration, they 
 must bring about themselves." ' 
 
 — "They will follow,' and then sequestered estates must go to Aus- 
 trian nobles, that our own people rnay mingle with the Magyars at home, 
 and strengthen the influence of your Majesty's house in Hungary." 
 
 "Say no more," said the Empress mournfully. " Bring them hither, 
 if you can, but my heart aches, and my /ears burn to have heard M'hat 
 you hfT/e paid. Say no more of Hungary tome — let us ppeak of our 
 bright plana for my children. It makes me happy to think that so many 
 of them will wear crowns." 
 
 "The first will be that of the King of Rome, and I trust that before 
 his coronation, your Majesty will have persuaded him to marry one of 
 the two German princesses of whom we have spoken." 
 
 " The Saxon or the Bavarian," said the Empress. "J think he will 
 comply, for he will understand as well as ourselves the urgency of the 
 case. When will the coronation take place?" 
 
 "In two weeks, your Majesty." 
 
 — "Then poor Joseph has but fourteen days for his grief. When ho 
 returns from Frankfort, I will remind him of his duty as a sovereign. 
 But hark ! It is twelve o'clock, 'the hour for Mass. If the Lord Chan- 
 cellor has nothing more to propose I " 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty. I have an insignificant petition to pre- 
 sent. It concerns myself." 
 
 " It is a pleasure to me," said Maria Theresa, " to think that in any 
 way I can gratify you. Speak then without fear. What can I do to 
 serve you?" 
 
 "It is only for the sake of decorum, your Majesty," replied Kannitz, 
 "You say that I have been useful to the country. I confess that I too 
 think that I deserve something from Austria. If I were another man, 
 and Kaunitz stood by, as I thought of all that he has done and is trying 
 still to do, to make Austria powerful, I would speak thus to your Ma- 
 jesty : ' It is in the power of the Empress to distinguish merit, by eleva- 
 tin'g it in position above the common herd. Your Majesty has honored 
 Count Kaunitz by calling him }?our right hand. When the head of a 
 body politic is an Empress, it is not enough for the right hatid to be call- 
 ed simply a Count.' " 
 
 "Shall I call you Prince?" laughed Maria Tlieresa. 
 
 " It !s that which I was about to propose to your Majesty," said Kau- 
 nitz, as he made a deeper inclination than usual before the Empress. 
 
 "Then it shall be so," said she warmly. " From this moment my es- 
 teemed Minister, is Prince Kaunitz, and the letters patent shall be made 
 this very day." 
 
 She reached her hand to the new-made Prince, who kissed it fervently. 
 " I take this title, so graciously bestowed, not because it will confer 
 splendor upon my own name, because it will prove to the world that 
 those who serve Maria Theresa with |idelity, she delights to honor. 
 
1 18 , JOSEPH TliK .SECOND 
 
 And now that this trifling matter is arranged, 1 beg your Majesty's per- 
 mission to retire." , v 
 
 " fJntil to-morrow," replied the vEmpress, with a smile. 8he wave4 
 her hand, but as Kaunitz left the room, he heard her folloNving him into 
 the ante-room. He had already opened the door leading into the hall, 
 but hearing her still advance, he turned again, and made a profound in- 
 clination. 
 
 "Au Revoir, my dear Prince," said the Empress, loud enough for Fa- 
 ther Porhammer, who waited to accompany her to the Chapel, to hear 
 her greeting. The father could not withhold some trace of his displea- 
 sure from his countenance, while Kaunitz passed on with a laint, derisive 
 smile. 
 
 The Empress at that moment re-opened the door and came out into 
 the hall. Eather Porhammer, advancing to her, said, "Did I not prove^ 
 to your Majesty the truth of my statement concerning the immorality 
 of " 
 
 " The what ?" said the Empress with an absent air. " Oh yes ! yes ! 
 I had forgotten. You wished to prove to me that the Lord Chancellor 
 had some person in his carriage awaiting his return. I believe you, fa- 
 ther — doubtless there is some one in the carriage of the Lord Chancel- 
 lor whom — it would be improper to name in my presence. But listen 
 to what I have to say on Ihis subject. It is better for you and for me 
 not to'see what goes on either in the Lord Chancellor's house or in his 
 carriage. Close your eyes, as I shall mine, to whatever is objectionable 
 in his life. I cannot afford to lose his services. So far as I am concern- 
 ed, he is blameless. His life may be loose, but his loyalty is firm ; he 
 is a wise and great statesman, and that, you will allow, is a virtue that 
 may well cover a multitude of sins." 
 
 Eather Porhammer bowed to the will of his sovereign ; Prince Kau- 
 nitz went on as before. 
 
 " Let us hasten to the Chapel," added the Empress ; and a page 
 throwing wide. open the doors of another apartment, Maria Theresa join- 
 ed her lords and ladies in waiting, and the imperial court entered the 
 chapel. 
 
 But the thoughts of the Empress were more of earth than heaven, on 
 that morning. Her heart was filled with maternal cares, and when the 
 services were over and she had arrived at the door of her cabinet, she 
 dismissed her attendants and surr^moned to her presence the Marshal of 
 the Household, Count Dietrichsteln. ' 
 
 As soon as he appeared, Maria Theresa said eagerly, " come hither 
 Count ; I wish to have a confidential conversation with you. You are 
 an old and faithful servant of my famil}^, and I know that I can depend, 
 upon your discretion." 
 
 " Your Majesty well knows that I would sooner die than betray a se- 
 cret of my imperial mistress," exclaimed good, fat old Dietrichstein, 
 fervently. , 
 
 The Empress looked kindly at his red, good-humored flice. "And 
 
KlJSci i>r KOMK 1 JC} 
 
 you would rather die than loll mc an untruth also, is it not so,*' said 
 she, smiling. 
 
 " That," replied Count Dietrichstein, with another smile, "that 13 au 
 embarassing question ; for there are cases, when even vour Maiestv's 
 self " ' -^ 
 
 — "Yes, yes; but in this instance, I earnestly desire to hear the un- 
 varnished truth." 
 
 "If so, your Majesty's desire is for me a command, and I will answer 
 truthfully whatever you ask." 
 
 "Well then, listen tome. You have just returned from a tour in 
 Havaria and Saxony. Of course you have seen the two princesses, Mary 
 Kunigunde and Josepha." 
 
 "I know them both," said Dietrichstein, pufllng. 
 
 — "Well, tell me what sort of person is the Princess Mary Kuni- 
 gunde." 
 
 " She is slender," replied Dietrichstein, shrugging his shoulders, "slen- 
 der as a beanpole. If your Majesty will pardon me the expression in 
 favor of its truth, her bones rattle as she walks, and if you should chance 
 to touch her by accident, I pity you." 
 
 —"What for?" 
 
 — ^"Because you will retreat from the collision bruised." 
 
 " You are a wicked slanderer. Count," replied the Empress, You 
 mean to say that the Princess of Saxony is frail and feminine in her ap- 
 pearance." 
 
 — "If your Majesty pleases, so be it; but if you looked into her se- 
 rene Highness's face, you might mistake her for a man, nevertheless." 
 
 "Holy Virgin, what does the man mean'?" cried the Empress, as- 
 tounded. 
 
 "I mean," said the Count, with a sort of comic seriousness, "that the 
 frail and feminine princess has a black beard which a Cornet mio-ht 
 enVy." 
 
 — " Nonsense, Count ; you saw her at twilight, and mistook a shadow 
 on her face for a beard." 
 
 — " Pardon me, your Majesty, you commanded me to tell the truth ! 
 I saw the Princess by sunlight as well as by candlelight. Under all cir- 
 cumstances, this black shadow overhung her not very small mouth • and 
 I have strong reason for persisting in my opinion that it was a flourish- 
 ing beard." 
 
 " But Josepha of Bavaria — is she handsomer?" 
 
 "Handsomer, your Majesty," cried the old Count. "It is said that 
 she is a good and estimable person ; if this be true her soul is very, very 
 different from her body. Indeed her beauty may be said to rival that 
 of the Princess Mary." 
 
 "You area keen critic," sighed the Empress. "But suppose you 
 were obliged to marry either one of the princesses, which ono would you 
 choose'?" 
 
 "Your Majesty!" exclaimed the old Countj horror-Btricken, " ] never 
 
^£^ JO:SfiPH THE :*ECONJ*. 
 
 would hovs* the asfiurance to raise my eyes to thoughts of marriage with 
 a serene H'ghness." " 
 
 ** Well then," said the Empress. "Suppose you wore a Prince and 
 her equal in birth, whioh one then would you prefer 1" 
 
 The Count looked at the floor and was silent. 
 
 " The truth, the truth !" cried the Empress. " Speak out and do not 
 fear. Whatever you say shall be sacred with me. Now tell me, which 
 of the two would you take to wife'?" 
 
 " Well, then," said Count Dietrichstein, with a grimace of excessive 
 disgusk, "since your Majesty obliges me to suppose the case, I will tell 
 the truth. If by any artifice I could escape, nothing on earth would in- 
 duce me to marry either one of them. But if the knife were at my 
 throat, and I had no other way of saving my life, I would take the Prin- 
 cess Josepba, for she " 
 
 " Speak out," said the Empress, amused, though sorely disappointed. 
 " You would marry Josepha of Bavaria because " 
 
 " Because," sighed the fat old Count, " if she ts horribly ugly, she has, 
 at least, something like a woman's bosom." 
 
 Maria Theresa broke out into a hearty laugh. "You are right," said 
 she, *' the reason is a very good one, and has its weight. I thank you 
 for your candor, and will turn over in my mind what ^ou have told me." 
 
 " But your Majesty has promised not to betray me," protested the 
 Count with imploring look, 
 
 " And I will keep my promise faithfully," replied the Empress reach- 
 ing him her hand. " Nevertheless, I cling to the hope that you have 
 exaggerated the defects of the princesses, and that they are not altogeth- 
 er fts ugly a« you have pictured fchem to me.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JOSEPHA OF BAVARIA. 
 
 Ebstivity reigned at the Court and throughout the city of Vienna. 
 The weather was cold, but the streets were thronged with people and 
 hung with garlands. Nothing was thought of but balls, illuminations, 
 and dress, Every one was curious to see the splendid spectacle of the 
 day, the entrance of the bride of the King of Rome into Vienna. 
 
 The plans of the Lord Chancellor were beginning to unfold themselves. 
 Tlie Archduke Joseph had been crowned King of Rome at Frankfort, 
 
 * TkJs conversation U hiitorical, and the criticism of Count Dietrichstein upon the two prioceiHS, 
 «■ htre ralbtvd, ii almost verbatim. See WraxaU'a Memoiri, vol. 2, page 406. 
 
KLXCJ OK KQUE. I'^l 
 
 and the Empress, on his return, had prepared him for his second bridaL 
 IIo had stoutly refused at first, but finally had yielded to the reasonings 
 of his mother and the per&iiasions of his father. He had been told to 
 choose between Mary Kunigunde and Josepha. 
 
 Not far from Teplitr, as if by accident, he had met the Princess Mary 
 out on a hunting party. The Princess was on horseback ; but she rodo " 
 awkwardly, and her demeanor was shy and ungraceful. She well knew 
 the object of this casual meeting, and when the King of Rome approach-* 
 ed to greet her, she turned pale and trembled as she felt the gaze of his 
 large blue eyes. Her paleness did not increase her beauty, nor did her 
 shyness contribute to make her interesting. Joseph was annoyed at her 
 taciturnity, and disgusted with her ugliness. After a few brief words, 
 he bowed, and galloped off to join his retinue. The Princess looked 
 sadly after him, and returned htune with a troubled heart. She knew 
 that she had beeli disdained, and that the King of Rome would never 
 choose her for his bride. 
 
 She was right. Joseph preferred the Princess Josepha whom he had 
 also "met by chance." He, like Count Dietrichstein, having the knife 
 at his throat, selected her for his bride who was minus the flourishing 
 black beard. 
 
 It was the 22d of January of the year 1765, and the wedding-day of 
 the King of Rome. From early morning, the Archduchesses at the pal- 
 ace, had been practising a lyric drama from the pen of Metasiasio call- 
 ed " J7 Parnasso confuso.^'' The music was by Gluck, and his deep bass 
 was heard accompanying the sweet rich voices of the bridegroom's sis- 
 ters. They had studied their parts diligently, and felt quite-confident of 
 success, as they gathered around the Maestro. But Gluck was never 
 satisfied, and he kept Apollo and the Muses at their music-lesson until 
 their ladies of honor were obliged to inform them that they must posi- 
 tively retire to their toilets ; a courier having arrived to say that the 
 Princess had entered the gates of the city. 
 
 While all these preparations went on around him, the King of Rome 
 tarried- in his private apartments." He was in the room where he had 
 locked himself after the death of Isabella, the room where day and night 
 he had deplored his lost happiness, until Christina had so rudely awa- 
 kened him from his dream of love and sorrow. / 
 
 This miserable consolation has had its eflect. Joseph wiped away his 
 tears, and having read Isabella's letters and convinced himself that she 
 never had loved him, he had forborn to murmur at her loss. 
 
 On this, his bridal day, he was thinking of the time when alone and 
 heart-broken he had paced this room for three days and nights; and now 
 surrounded by festivity and splendor, he paced the floor again, awaiting 
 the moment when he should have to mount his horse and meet the 
 Princess. He was not with the living bride, but with the dead one, and 
 as he thought of her grace, her smiles, her surpassing beauty, his lip 
 curled with a sneer, and his brow grew dark and stormy. 
 
 *' And she, too, deceived me," said he ; " those smiles, those glances, 
 
122 JOSEPH ftiE SECOND. 
 
 that love, all were false. While she lay in my arms and listened to n:!y 
 words of love, her heart was in the grave with lier murdered lover ! Oh, 
 ray Grod ! now that I know that she deceived me, in whom ou this earth 
 can I place my trust ! Even now what am I but a dependent boy, the 
 slave of the Empress and of her all-powerful Minister, M^ho force upon 
 me a woman whom I hate, and bid me make' her the mother of my chil- 
 dren. 0, when will my shackles fall, when shall I b.e free !" 
 
 In the distance was ii>eard the dull sound of a cannon. "Already!" 
 cried the unhappy bridegroom. " It is time for me to pieet my bride, 
 and to begin the loathsome farce of a second bridal. Verily if I did not 
 hate this Josepha, I could pity her. She will not find me a loving hus- 
 band. The Queen of Rome will never be an enviable woman !" 
 
 So saying, he threw around his shoulders his velvet cloak edged with 
 ermine, and left the room to join his retinue. They were to meet the 
 Princess and accompany her to the castle of Schcinbrunn. It was there 
 that the imperial fiimily awaited the bridal party, and there in the chapel 
 the marriage was to be solemnised. 
 
 The streets were thronged with people that shouted for joy ; the bal- 
 conies and windows were filled with elegant women, who smiled and 
 waved their hands in greeting to the royal pair. For all the world, this 
 was a day of rejoicing. Except for the two persons for whose sake the " 
 rest rejoiced. These had no part in the universal gayety ; and the mirth 
 - which was inspired by their presence found no echo in their souls — Jo- 
 seph's heart was full of dislike and ill-will towards his betrothed, and 
 she was unhappy, fearing the reception that awaited her. She had trem- 
 bled as she thought of the meeting with Joseph, and then of the jjroud, 
 powerful and beautiful woman who was his mother. The fame of her 
 intellect, fascinations, and beauty, had reached the Court of Munich, and 
 poor Josepha knew very well that she was neither handsome, cultivated, 
 nor charming. Her education had been neglected, and if she had attain- 
 ed to the honor of being Queen of Rome, and Empress-expectant of 
 Austria, it was not that she had any right to a station so exalted, it was 
 
 that her brother was childless and had promised his inheritance to 
 
 Austria. 
 
 Josepha was sad, as she thought of these things; but she could not, 
 suppress an emotion of joy, when she saw the brilliant cortege that was 
 coming from Vienna to meet Ijer. This proud and handsome horseman, 
 whose blue eyes shone like star«, this was her husband, the lord of her 
 destiny ! She had seen him once before, and had loved him from that 
 moment. True, he had not chosen her from inclination, but she could 
 not shut her heart to the bliss of being his wife, he who to-day a king, 
 would in future years place an imperial crown upon her brow. 
 
 And now the two cavalcades met; the carriage of the Princess drew 
 
 up, and the King of Rome, dismounting, came towards her with a low 
 
 inclination of the head. Around them stood the noblemen of his suite, 
 
 whose splendid uniforms and decorations dazzled the eye with their bril- 
 
 , limey. They sprang from their horses and each one reverentially salu- 
 
KINU OF liuMi:. 12.", 
 
 ted the bride elect. This done, the King of Rome assisted her to alight, 
 that she might mount the magnificent horse which was now led forward 
 by the Empress's chief master of the horse. 
 
 When her betrothed held out his hand to her, Josepha blushing, look- 
 ed at him with a timid and tender glance, which seemed to implore a re- 
 turn of her love. She could not speak a word, but she pressed his hand. 
 Joseph, so far from returning the pressure, looked surprised — almost 
 disdainful; and stepping* back, he left to the Master of the Horse, and 
 the other lords in waiting, the care of assisting the Prmcess to mount. 
 She sprang into the saddle with perfect , confidence, and grasped her 
 reins with so much skill, that although the beautiful animal reared and 
 pranced until his bridle was covered w'ith foam, hi« rider was perfectly 
 at ease. 
 
 '•She is at least a good horsewoman," said Joseph to himself, as he 
 took his place by her side. And now the bells chimed merrily, and the 
 cannon proclaimed to all Vienna that the r'oyal pair were about to enter 
 the city. 
 
 Silently they rode through the flower-strewn strcetSj silently they 
 heard the joyous shouts of the multitude, here and there smiling wearily 
 in return, but both tired of splendor, and both longing for rest. Neither 
 spoke to the other ; what had they to say to one another, they whom 
 policy had chained together for life? 
 
 At the fartlW-end of the city, the state-coach of the Empress awaited 
 the Princess. .With an iudifl'erent and careless air, Joseph handed Jo- 
 sepha to the carriage. This time she dared not press his hand ; but as 
 the door closed upon herself and her governess, she threw herself back 
 upon the velvet cushions, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " For the love of heaven, what mean these tears, your Highness," 
 cried the governess. " Your Highness's head-dress will be ruined, and 
 your eyes will be swollen." 
 
 " 'Tis true," murmured Josepha, " I have no right to weep, as other 
 women do at such a time. 1 am nothing but a puppet, that laughs or 
 weeps as etiquette ordains." 
 
 " Your Highness is excited, and docs not see your destiny in its true 
 light," replied the lady, with sympathy. "It is one which any woman 
 on earth might envy. You, are about to become the wife of the hand- 
 somest Prince in all Europe, an Emperor in prospect, and son of the great 
 Maria Theresa, whose beauty and goodness arc the theme of the whole 
 world. And then the lovely and accomplished Archduchesses of Aus- 
 tria, they are to be your sisters-in-law." 
 
 "Yes," said the Princess, passionately, "and look at me. You have 
 known me since my infancy, dear friend, therefore you need not flatter 
 me because of my station. , Look at me and tell me if it -^is not enough 
 to break my heart that I must appear before this beautiful Empress and 
 her daughters, and that I must try to win the love of this Prince, the 
 glance of whose eye is enough to kindle love in the heart of every woman 
 living — O say, and speak without reserve — tell rae if a woman so ob- 
 
124 JOSEPH THK SECOND 
 
 scure, so ignorant and so destitute of charms, can ever hope to be loved 
 or cherished by such a family." 
 
 " Your Highness is worthy of all affection, and deserves the choicest 
 of the blessings that are in store for you," replied the lady of honor, 
 warmly. " No one that knows your noble heart would dare to say that 
 any station is too exalted lor you." 
 
 "■ Oh, who will be troubled with looking into my heart in imperial 
 Vienna," sobbed the disheartened Josepha. "Externals are every thing 
 at Court. x\nd I, unhappy one, who scarcely dare to utter my heart's 
 yearnings to those who encourage me, what will become of me if I meet 
 with cold glances or scornful words! I feel how little I am skilled to 
 win love, and the consciousness of my defects heightens them and ren- 
 ders me still more repulsive." 
 
 "Your Highness is unjust towards yourself. No one else would ever 
 dream of speaking in such terms of you. Be happy, dear lady, and you 
 will soon grow comely, too." 
 
 " Happy !" sighed the Princess, looking from the window at the ele- 
 gant and graceful Prince, who, cold and stern as though he had been fol- 
 lowing the dead, vouchsafed not a. look towaWs the carriage where sat 
 his bride. 
 
 With a;iother sigh she turned her head. Her eyes encountered those 
 of the governess fixed upon her in wondering sympathy. . With a bitter 
 smile, Josepha laid her hand upon the shoulder of her f.-tiwd. 
 
 "1 must tell you something, Lucy," said she. "something terrible and 
 sad. Hear well my words and mark them ! I already love my be- 
 trothed beyond power of expression, but he will never return my love. 
 I will worship him, and 1 feel that he will hate me!" 
 
 Blushing painfully at the sound of her own words, the Princess hid her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 The carriage stopped, and now the confused and self-tortured girl had 
 to go forward to meet the Emperor, who waited at the foot of the great 
 staircase to conduct her to the presence of the Empress. 
 
 Maria Theresa came gracefully forward, surrounded by her beautiful 
 daughters and a dazzling train of lords and ladies. Josepha's head reeled 
 when she saw them, and almost fainting, she sank down at the feet of 
 the Empress. 
 
 " Mercy, gracious Empress, mercy !" sobbed the poor girl, almost be- 
 side herself with terror, while regardless of all courtly decorum, she cov- 
 ered the hand of Maria Theresa with tears and kisses. 
 
 A sneer was perceptible on the faces of the courtiers, and the. young 
 Archduchesses smiled derisively ; but Maria Theresa, whose generous 
 heart beat in sympathetic response to the emotion and fright of the poor 
 young stranger, raised her kindly up, and kissing her forehead, encour- 
 aged her with gracious words. 
 
 " Be welcome, my daughter," said she in her clear and silvery voice. 
 " May all happiness be yours through life. Come, my children, let us 
 feastien to the chapel." 
 
Kir^G OF HOME. ■ 125 
 
 She made a sign to her husband, and took the arm of (he King of Rome. 
 The'Emperor followed with the Princess Josepha, and now through the 
 splendid halls, that dazzled the eye with festive magnificence, .came the 
 long train of courtiers and ladies that graced the pageant of this ro)al 
 bridal. In the chapel, before the altar, stood Cardinal Megazzi, surroun- 
 ded by priests and acolytes all arrayed in the pomp and splendor of a 
 solemn Catholic ceremony. 
 
 The Princess had not been wedded by proxy ; it was therefore neces- 
 sary that she should be married with the blessings of the church, before 
 she proceeded in state to the throne-room to receive the homage due to 
 her as a queen. No time had therefore been given her to retire before 
 the ceremony, and she was married in her travelling-dre>s. At the en- 
 trance of the chapel stood the new ladies in waiting of the Queen of Rome. 
 One of them relieved her of her hat, which the Empress replaced by a 
 wreath of myrtle. Then Maria Theresa, placing the hand of Josepha in 
 that of her son, the imperial cortege af)proachcd the altar. 
 
 As they stood before the chancel, the King of Rome, overcome by the 
 bitterness of the moment, bowed his head to his unfortunate bride and 
 whispered, " Poor Josepha, I pity you." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE KIGHT. 
 
 The ceremonial was over. The Empress herself had conducted the 
 young Queen of Rome to her apartments ; and she had stood by her 
 side, while her tire-woman exchanged her dress of golden tissue, for a 
 light white wf^^ee of finest cambric trimmed with costly lace. With 
 her own hand, Maria Theresa unfastened the myrtle wreath and coronet 
 of diamonds that encircled her daughter-in-law's brow. She then kissed 
 Josepha affectionately, and bidding her good-night, she. besought the 
 blessing of God upon both her children. 
 
 And now the Princess was alone in this vast apartment. On one side, 
 under a canopy of blue velvet embroidered with gold, was the state-bed 
 of the Queen of Rome. Close by, stood the toilet of gold with its wil- 
 derness of jewels and eiuis, all the gifts of the Empress. On the walls 
 of blue velvet, hurig large Venetian mirrors, filling the room with ima- 
 ges of that gorgeous bed of state. In the centre, on a marble table, 
 thirty wax-lights in silver candelabra, illumined the splendor of the 
 scene. The heavy velvet window-curtains were closed ; but they threw 
 no shadow, for the Park of Schonbrunn was illuminated by Iwo-hundrcd 
 
126 JOSEPH THE SECOKD. 
 
 thousand lamps, which far and near lit up the Castle on this festive eve- 
 ning, with a flood of fiery splendor.* 
 
 The Queen of Rome was alone*^ her bridesmaids and attendants had 
 left her, and she awaited her husband, who would enter her room through 
 a private door which, close to the bed of state, led to his own apart- 
 ments. 
 
 With beating heart and in feverish suspense, trembling with hope and 
 fear, Josepha paoeil her magnificent room. Heavy sighs broke from her 
 bosom, hot tears fell from her eyes. 
 
 "He will come," cried she, wringing her hands, "he will come and 
 look into my face with his heavenly blue eyes, and I — I will cast down 
 iTiine like a culprit, and dare not confide my secret to him. Oh God! 
 Oh God ! I hav^ sworn to conceal my infirmity, for it is not contagious, 
 it will harm no one — and yet my heart misgives me when I think that — 
 Oh no ! no ! It will soon be over, and he will never have known it. 
 Were he told of it, it might prejudice him against me, and how could I 
 bear to see those beauteous eyes turned away from me in disgust! I 
 will keep my secret, and after, — my love shall atone to him for this one 
 breach of faith. Oh, my God ! teach mo how to win him ! I have no- 
 thing to bring to this splendid court save the gushing fountains of my 
 love for him — Oh, my lather, why have I nothing but this to offer — why 
 have I neither beauty nor grace to please my husban4's eyes — for I love 
 him, oh, I love him already more than my life !" 
 
 She started, for she heard a somid near the side door. Now the key 
 turned in the lock, and in another moment the King walked in. He still 
 wore the magnificent Spanish Court-dress in which he had received the 
 homage of his marriage-guests. The order of the Golden Fleece was on 
 his breast, and also the sparkling diamond cross of the Imperial house of 
 Hapsburg. Josepha blushing, recalled to mind her night negligee, and 
 dared not raise her eyes. 
 
 For awhile they stood opposite to one another, Josepha in painful 
 confusion ; Joseph, his eyes beiit with cold scrutiny upon her person. 
 At length he approached and touched her gently on the arm. 
 
 " Why do you trem"ble so ?" asked he kindly. " Raise your head and 
 look at me." , 
 
 Slovcly she lifted her eyes, and looked at him with a gaze of entreaty. 
 
 " Now," said he, with a bitter smile, "am I so frightful that you have 
 reason to tremble at my coming ?" 
 
 "I did not tremble from fear or. fright," said she in a voice scarcely 
 audible. 
 
 "Ah, you have no confidence in me," said he, "you wish to hide your 
 emotions from me. And yet, madam, let me tell you that nothing but 
 mutual and perfecc confidence will help us through this hour, and through 
 life. Come then, Josepha, I will set you the example. I will confide in 
 you without reserve. Give me your band and let us sit together on 
 yonder divan." . 
 
 * Honnayer. Rewiniscencee of Vicnua. Vol. 5, p. 81. 
 
KING OF ROME. . 127 
 
 She placed her trembling; hand within his, and he led her to the sofa^ 
 A flood of deep and silent joy overwhelmed her heart, as alone in that 
 royal apartment, which was hers, she sat by the side of this man whom 
 she already loved with passion. « 
 
 "First madam, let me ask your forgiveness for accepting a hand 
 which was<not freely bestowed by yourself, but was placed in mine by 
 the inexorable policy of the destiny tliat rules kings. In obeying the 
 commands of your brother you have not only married one whoiii you 
 did not know, but perhaps you have been forced to stifle other wishes, 
 other inclinations." 
 
 "No," cried she earnestly, "no. I have left nothing to regret, I have 
 made no sacrifice, 1 " 
 
 "Yes, you have sacrificed your freedom, the most precious boon that 
 Heaven has bestowed man, to become the galley slave of policy and 
 princely station. Poor Josepha, 1 pity you !" 
 
 "Do not pity me," said Josepha, tearfully, "pity yourself whose free- 
 dom has been sacrificed to me. You have j;iven your honored hand to 
 a woman whom you do not love, a woman who would be too hap- 
 py " 
 
 " Had she the power th free herself and me from this compulsory union,' 
 interrupted Joseph. " 1 believe you, for I read in your countenance that 
 your heart is good and noble, and gladly would contribute to the happi- 
 ness of your fellow creatures. But we must both bear the destiny which 
 the hand of diplomacy has woven for us. The beads that wear tho 
 crowns, must also wear the thorns. But we w ill try to lighten the pain 
 to one another. You have become my wife without love, and I, too, 
 have become your husband^ without love." 
 
 Josepha's head fell, she sighed, and murmured somethir^ which Jo- 
 seph could not hear. , 
 
 He went on : "I do not come to you with the vain pretensions of a 
 man who fancies he has won an honorable woman's heart, because the 
 priest has bid them love one another. I will not take advantage of the 
 rights which either diplomacy or church have given me over you. Here 
 at least there shall be no dissimulation ; here we shall both be privileged 
 to avow honestly and honorably, that we are not lovers. Then let us 
 be friends. I come to you in ail frankness, offering myself to be to you 
 as a brother. Perhaps it may come to pass that 1 win your love ; per- 
 chance your goodness and your worth may win my sad heart back again 
 to life — the day may come when we shall be able to say that we love 
 one another. Let us await this day, and soften the interval by mutual 
 confidence and trust. And should it ever come to us Josepha, we will 
 then seal with heartfelt embrace the bond which the church has made 
 between us to-day. Take me, then, as brother and friend, and be to me 
 a sister and companion. Will you Josepha?" 
 
 He reached out his hand, and looked at her with a glance of brotherly 
 kindness. She gave him hers with a mournful smile, and her eyes sought 
 the ground. 
 
128 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 *' Welcome*, then, my friend and sister," said Joseph warmly. "Now 
 for unreserved confidence. You promise me that, do you not?" 
 
 " I promise," gasped the poor girl. 
 
 — " And you will open your heart that I may read its every page*?" 
 
 " I will — I promise to keep nothing from you." 
 
 — " I promise the same to you, and perhaps this plant of friendship 
 may one day bear the flowers of love. You are iuexperienced in the 
 ways of court-life. You will need a pilot to steer you safe amid reefs 
 and breakers. I will be this pilot to you, I will teach you what to sus- 
 pect and what to avoid. Above all, never venture to have an opinion 
 that does not coincide with that of the Empress. We are all a pious 
 and well brought-up fiunily who see with her eyes, and hear with her 
 ears, and never dare confess that we possess sight or hearing in our own 
 persons. Recollect that you, too, must fall in the line of puppets, and 
 give up your senses to the Empress." 
 
 " But in the depths of my own heart, I trust that I may see with the 
 eyes of the King of Rome," replied Josepha with a smile. " For if I am 
 to learn from you I must surely dare to use my senses." 
 
 " Yes ; but let no one suspect that you learn anything from me. In this 
 court, we tread on flowers ; and if one of our flowers chances to wither, 
 we cover it over with a pater nosier, and that makes all right again." 
 
 *' But suppose it will not be made right," returned Josepha. "Sup- 
 pose that prayer should fail ?" 
 
 " Gracious heaven, what do I hear !" cried Joseph. " What profane 
 doubt are you so bold as to utter ! You do not belong to the stupid, 
 pious band, who think that prayer cures all woes? Poor Josepha, let 
 no one but me hear such heresy from your lips — Pray, pray ; or make 
 believe to pi-ay ; no one will ever ask you whether your heart is in it 
 or not. And if any one seek to know, answer nothing. Pray on, and 
 mistrust every one." 
 
 "What! Mistrust the generous friend whom kind Providence has 
 given to me this day !" cried Josepha with feeling. "That I can never 
 do. You have encouraged me to confide in you, and even had you not 
 done so, you would have won my confidence, unsought." 
 
 " I am glad that you think so," returned Joseph. " Let us begin at 
 once then. Have you a wish that I have it in my power to gratify ? 
 Or have you anything in your heart which you will confide to me as a 
 proof of your faith in my friendship ?" 
 
 Josepha started, and her cheeks grew white with fear. This question 
 awakened her from her short dream of hope and happiness, and she re- 
 membered that she had a secret which it was her duty to reveal to her 
 husband. She looked furtively at him. Perhaps he had heard some- 
 thing, and this was a trial of her truth ! But no! His face was tran- 
 quil and unsuspecting ; there was nothing searching in the glance of his 
 deep blue eyes. 
 
 No ! he knew nothing, and wherefore cloud the brightness of the hour 
 with a confeesion which might crush its promise of future bliss ! 
 
KING UF POME. 129 
 
 " Well," said Joseph kindly. " Is there nothing on your heart that 
 you would confide to your friend ?" 
 
 " No," at last said Josepha, resolutely. " My life has been dull and 
 uneventful. It is only to^ay that I begin to live; the sun of hope is 
 dawning upon my heart ; I feel as if I might " 
 
 " Hark !" said Joseph, " I think I hear some one coming. Yes ; there 
 is surely a light tap at the dooi-." 
 
 The King rose hastily and crossed the room towards the little side- 
 door. 
 
 "Is any one there?" asked he in a loud tone of displeasure. 
 
 '' Yes, your Majesty," whispered a trembling voice, '• and I pray vou 
 earnestly to open the door." 
 
 ♦'It is my valet, Anselmo," said Joseph to the Princess, while he 
 withdrew the bolt. 
 
 It was Anselmo, in truth, who, with mysterious mien, beckoned to his 
 lord to come out. 
 
 "Will your Majesty condescend to step mto the corridor, that I may 
 deliver the message with which 1 am entrusted ?" said the valet. 
 
 — "Is it so weighty, Anselmo, that it cannot lie upon your conscience 
 until morning'?" 
 
 — " Not one moment can I defer it, your Majesty, for I was told that 
 your Majesty's well-being and health depended upon my speed." 
 
 The King stepped outside and closed the door. " Who sent you hith- 
 er, Anselmo?" asked he. • 
 
 — "I do not know, sire, but I suspect. It was a female form envel- 
 oped in a long black cloak with a hood, which concealed her face. She' 
 came from the gallery which leads to the apartments of their imperial 
 highnesses, your Majesty's sisters, and entered your Majesty's own 
 cabinet, which I had left open while I was lighting your Majesty 
 hither." 
 
 "And what said she ?" asked the King impatiently. 
 
 — "She asked if your Majesty had gone into the Queen's apart- 
 ments. When I told her that you had, she held out this note and 
 said, ' speed to the King, and as you value his health and welfare, give 
 him this note at once.' She disappeared, and here, your Majesty, is the 
 note."^ 
 
 The King took the paper, which by the dim light of the corridor he 
 could not read. 
 
 "And who do you think is the mysterious lady, Anselmo?" asked he. 
 
 — " Sire, I do not know. Perhaps your Majesty will recognise the 
 handwriting." 
 
 " I wish to know, Anselino, who you think was hidden under that 
 cloak?" 
 
 — "Well then, j^our Majesty," said Anselmo, in a whisper scarcely- 
 audible, " I think it was the Archduchess Christine." 
 
 " I suspected as much," said the King to himself. " It is some intrigue 
 of hers against the Princess Josepha, whom she hates because I selected 
 
130 JOSEPH THE SECOi^D. 
 
 her in preference to the sister of airistine's lover, the Elector of Sax- 
 ony."* 
 
 Ansel mo perhaps imderstcoi a few words ofithis soliloquy, for he con- 
 tinued, "A courier arrived from Saxony, and I was told by my sister, 
 the tire-woman of her Highness, that the Archduchess Christine had re- 
 ceived a packet of letters." 
 
 " Very well, Anselnio," said the Kuig. " If to-morrow you should ha 
 asked whether you delivered the note, say that I tore it up without open- 
 ing it. Do you hear"?" 
 
 Dismissing the valet with a wave of the hand, he returned to the 
 Princess. 
 
 — " Pardon me," said he, " for leaving you, and allow me in your 
 presence to read a note which has just been mysteriously delivered into 
 my hands, I wish to give you a proof of my confidence, by entrusting 
 you at once with my secrets." 
 
 So saying, he approached the marble centre-table, and opened the let- 
 ter. 
 
 What was It that blanched Josepha's cheek and made her tremble, as 
 Joseph smiled and looked at her? Why did she stare at him while he 
 read, and why did her heart stand still with fright, as she saw his expres- 
 sion change. ' 
 
 He seemed shocked at the contents of the note, and when hay raised 
 his eyes and their g«|dnce met that of Josepha, she saw them filfed with 
 aversion and scorn. 
 
 " Madam," said he, and his voice had grown harsh, " Madam, I asked 
 you in good faith whether you had anything to confide to m}'- honor. I 
 expressed a, desire to win your confidence. You answered that you had 
 nothing to tell. Once more I ask have you anything to say. The more 
 humiliating the confession, the more will I appreciate your candor. 
 Speak therefore." 
 
 Josepha answered not a word. Her teeth chattered so painfully that 
 she could not articulate ; she trembled so violently that she had to grasp 
 the back of an arm-chair for support. 
 
 Joseph saw this, and he laughed a hoarse and contemptuous laugh. 
 She did not ask hini why he sneered. She threw herself at his feet, and 
 raised her arms imploringly. 
 
 " Mercy," cried the unhappy woman, " mercy ?" 
 
 He laughed again, and heW the paper before her eyes. 
 
 " Read, madam, read," said he rudely. 
 
 " I cannot," sobbed she. " I will not read what has been written of 
 me. I will tell you myself all that I know. I will confide my secret to 
 you, I will indeed." 
 
 " You have nothing to confide, madam," cried Joseph. "With a sin- 
 
 *The Prinoesi Christine was in lore with the Elector of Saxony; but the Emperor Francis was 
 opposed to the marriage. Christine used all her influence to bring about a marriage between her 
 brother and Mary Konigunde, the sister of her lover, hoping thereby to pave the way for her owa 
 union with tbe handsome Alberts failing in this, &he became tii« bit.t«r tiiemy of tb« unb&ppx wo- 
 naac to whcmi Jossph htd glrwi tb<» pr^farencc. 
 
riNG OF ROME. 131 , 
 
 oe.re and holy desire to perform my duty, I acked for your friendship 
 and your confidence. I cast them both back, for you have allowed the 
 hour of trust to go by ! Now it is too late ! You are accused. Do not 
 look tome for protection ; vindicate yourself if you can. Read this let- 
 ter, and tell me if the writer speaks the truth." " 
 
 Josephs still knelt at his feet); but her arms had fallen in despair. 
 She knew that she had nothing more to hope from her husband ; she felt 
 that she was about to be sentenced to a life of utter misery. 
 
 "Y^u will not read," said Josepli, as, unnoticed, Josepha lay at his 
 feet. "If so, I must read the letter for you, myself. It warns me not 
 to come too near to your royal person — It '' 
 
 "I will spare you, si|^," exclaimed she, as with the energy of despair, 
 she roseto her feet. " lou will not let me speak, you shall see for 
 yourself!" 
 
 With a frantic gesture, she tore her dress from her neck and shoulders, 
 and heedless that she stood with arms and bosom exposed, she let it fall 
 to the floor, and bowed her head as iCto receive the stroke of the heads- 
 man's axe. 
 
 " Knovv my secret," said she, as she folded her hands and stood be- 
 fore her outraged husband. " And now hear mo. A few months ago, 
 I had a beloved brother, whofn I loved the more that he was unfortun- 
 ate and afflicted. From his childhood he had suflered from a malady 
 which his physicians called leprosy. The very servants deserted hirn, 
 for it was said that the disease was contagious. I loved my brother 
 ■with devotion ; I went to him, and nursed him until he died. God 
 shielded me, for I did not take the malady. But on my neck and back 
 there came dark spots which, although they are [painful, are not conta- 
 gious. My physicians told me that my strong constitution had rejected 
 the leprosy, and these spots were a regeneration of my skin, which 
 ■would soon disappear. This sire, is my fatal secret, and now — ^judgo 
 me. It is in your power to make me the happiest of mortals by grant- 
 ing me a generous pardon : but I will not complain if you condemn and 
 d^pisc me." . 
 
 "Complain if you choose, it is indifferent to me," cried Joseph with a 
 hoarse laugh. " Never in this world shall 3'ou be my wife. If the hate- 
 ful lie that binds me to you cannot be unloosed, I will make you an- 
 swerable for every day of disgust and misery that I am forced to pass 
 under the same roof with you. If I am cursed before the world with the 
 name of your husband, I will punish you in secret with mjn everlasting 
 hate." 
 
 As if stricken by lightning, she fell to the floor. Her fallen dress ex- 
 posed to view her beautiful form. Her arms, which were folded above 
 ^er head, were round and white as these of a Greek statue; and as she 
 lay with her full, graceful shoulders bared almost to the waist, she look- 
 ed like Niobe just stricken by the wrath of a god. 
 
 Joseph was unmindful of this. He had no sympathy with the noble 
 sftcrifice which her loving heart had offered to a dying brother. Ho saw 
 
' ;>2 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 neither her youth nor her grace; he saw only those dark spots upon her 
 back, and he shuddered as "she raised her arm to clasp his feet. 
 
 - " Do not touch me," exclaimed he, starting back. " Your touch is 
 pollution. We are forever divorced. To-day the priest joined our hands 
 together, but to-night I part them never more to meet. Farewell." 
 
 And hurling at her prostrate form the letter which had betrayed her, 
 he turned and left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AN UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. 
 
 It was the morning after the wedding. Maria Theresa had just com- 
 pleted her toilet, and was smiling at her own beautiful image reflected 
 in the looking glass. She looked every inch an Empress in her rich 
 crimson' velvet dress, with its long and graceful train, and its border of 
 ermine. Her superb blond hair had been exquisitely dressed by her lit- 
 tle favorite, Charlotte Von Hieronymus. It was sprinkled with gold 
 powder, and the coiffure was heightened by a little cap of crimson vel- 
 vet, attached to the hair by arrows of gold set with costly brilliants. 
 The complexion of the Empress was so lovely that she n?ver wore rouge; 
 aad surely such eyes as hers needed none of the "adulterers of art" to 
 heighten their brilliancy or beauty. Although she was in her forty-ninth 
 year, and had given birth to sixteen children, Maria Theresa was still 
 beautiful ; not only youthful in appearance but youthful in heart, and in 
 the strength and greatness of her intellect. She loved the Emperor as 
 fondly as she had done twenty-eight years before, and each of her ten 
 living children was as dear to her maternal heart as if each had been aa 
 only child. 
 
 To-day she had arrayed herself with unusual magnificence, to celebrate 
 the entry of the newly married couple into Vienna. The imperial cor- 
 tege was to stop at the Cathedral of St. Stephen's, there to witness the 
 bridals of twenty- five young couples, all of whom the Empress had dow- 
 ered in honor of her son's second marriage. 
 
 " Surely the prayers of these fifty lovers will bring happiness upon 
 the heads of my son and his wife," said the Empress to herself. " They 
 need prayers indeed, for poor josepha is very unlike our peerless Isa- 
 bella, and I fear she will not be attractive enough to cause the dead to 
 be forgotten. Still, she seems mild and kind-hearted, and I have already 
 read in her eyes that she is in love with Joseph. I hope this will lead 
 him to love her in return. Sometimes a man will love a woman through 
 pity, afterwards through habit." 
 
KING OF KOMt. IXi 
 
 A nervous and impatient knock at her door, interrupted the current of 
 the Empress's thoughts ; the door was flung open without further cere- 
 mony and the King of Kome entered the room. He was pale and agi- 
 tated, and to his mother's afTectionatc welcome he replied by a deep in- 
 clination of the head. 
 
 The Empress perceived at once that something was wrong, and her 
 heart beat rapidly. " My dear boy," said she, " you do not wear a ho- 
 liday face, and your young bride " 
 
 " I have no bride," interrupted Joseph angrily. " I have come to beg 
 of your Majesty 'to discontinue these rejoicings, or at least to excuse 07ie 
 from appearing in public at the side of the Princess of Bavaria. She is 
 not my wife, nor ever shall be !" 
 
 "What means thisT' stammered the Empress, bewildered. 
 
 "It means that my marriage is null and void; and that no hu- 
 man power shall force me to be husband of a creature tainted with 
 leprosy." 
 
 The Empress uttered a cry of horror. " My son, my son," exclaimed 
 she, " what unheard-of charge is this ?" 
 
 — " A charge which is a miserable truth, your Majesty. Do you not 
 remember to have heard that the natural son of Carl of Bavaria had died 
 not long ago of leprosy which he had contracted during a journey to the 
 East 1 Well, his tender and self-sacrificing half sister volunteered to nurse 
 him, and was with him until he died. Your Majesty, no doubt, will 
 look upon this as something very fine and christiau-like. I, on the con- 
 trary, would have found it at least more honorable if the Princess had 
 advised us of the legacy she wears upon her back." 
 
 " Woe to her and to the house of Bavaria," cried the Empress indig- 
 nantly. " if you speak the truth, my son !" 
 
 —" If your Majesty will send Van Swieten to her, you may convince 
 yourself of the fact." 
 
 A few moments later, Van Swieten entered the room. His fame was 
 European ; he was well known as a man of great skill and science ; ad- 
 ded to this, his noble frankness and high moral worth had greatly en- 
 deared him to the imperial family. Maria Theresa went hastily forward 
 to meet him. 
 
 " Van Swieten," said she, with a voice trembling from agitation, "you 
 have been our friend in many an hour of sorrow, and many a secret of 
 the house of Hapsburg has been faithfully buried in your loyal heart. 
 Help me again, and above all let it be in secresy. The King of Rome 
 says fearful things of his wife. I^will not believe them until I hear your 
 verdict. Go at once, I implore you, to the Princess, and command her, 
 in my name, to declare her malady." 
 
 — " But, your Majesty, she has not called for my advice," replied 
 Van Swieten with surprise. 
 
 " Then she must take it unasked," said the Empress. "The Princess 
 will receive you, and you will know how to win her to reveal her con» 
 dition. As soon as you leave her, return to me," 
 
i34 JOSSFH I'Hi; SECOI'iD. 
 
 Van Swieteu bovvcd and left the room : the Empress and her sou re. 
 msiined together. Neither spoke a v/ord. The King of Kome stood iu 
 the embrasure of a Aviudow, looking sullenly up at the sky. The Em- 
 press walked hurriedly to and tVo, careless that her violent motions were 
 rilling her dress with the gold povder that fell from her head like little 
 showers of stara. 
 
 " Christina was right to vrarn me," said she, after a long pause. " I 
 should never have consented to thia alliance veith the daughter of ray 
 enemy. It is of no use to patch up old enmities. Carl was humbled 
 and defeated by me, and now comes this Josepha to revenge her father's 
 iosses and to bring sorrovs' to my child. Oh, my son, why did you not 
 follow my counsel, 'and marry the Princess of Saxony ! But it is use- 
 less to reproaeii you. The evil is done ; let us consult together how 
 best we may bear it."* 
 
 " Not at all," cried Joseph. " We must consult how we may soonest 
 cast it away from us. Your Majesty will never require of me the sacri- 
 jice of remaining bound to that woman. I obeyed your behest, and in 
 spite of my dismclination to a second marriage, I bent my will before 
 the necessities of diplomacy and the command of my Sovereign. But 
 we are now on a ground, where the duty of a subject ends, and the honor 
 of a man stands pre-eminent. I never will consent to be the husband 
 of this woman whose person is disgusting to me. Ear above all claims 
 of political expediency, I hold my rights as a man." 
 
 " And you hold them with unbecoming language," replied the Em- 
 yiress, who did not at all relish the tone of the King of Rome. "And 
 let me tell you, my royal son, that an upright and honorable prince 
 thinks less of his rights as a man than of his duties as a ruler ; he strives 
 while a prince to be a man ; and while a man to sacrifice his inclinations 
 to the calls of a princely station." 
 
 " But not his personal honor," cried Joseph. " Your Majesty's code 
 is that of Machiavelli, who counsels a prince never to let his feelings as 
 a man interfere with his policy as a ruler." 
 
 The Empress was about to make an angry rejoinder to this remark, 
 when the door opened and Van Swieten re-appeared. 
 
 " Ah !" said the Empress, " did you see her, Van Swieten ?" 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty," replied Van Swieten with emphasis, "I have 
 seen the Queen of Rome." 
 
 " Do you mean ro say that she has no disease that unfits her to be the 
 wife of the King of Rome 1" asked Maria Theresa. 
 
 "Her only malady is a cutaneous one, which in a short time will be 
 completely cured. Some persons are so happily organized that they 
 throw off disease, even when in contact with it. The Princess possesses 
 this sound and healthy organization. The poison which she inhaled by 
 her brother's bedside has settled upon her skin in a harmless eruption ; 
 her constitution is untouched. In a few weeks all trace of it will disap- 
 pear, and nothing will remain to remind' us of her noble disregard of 
 ?elf, save th& memory of her heroism apd magnanimity. Eor indeed, 
 
your Majesty, it is easier to confroiit death on the bsttle-fieJd than to 
 face it in the pestiferous atmosphere of a sick-room." 
 
 Maria Theresa turned with a radiant smile towards her son. *' You 
 see, my son," said she, " that you have dene injustice to your noble 
 wifc. Go, then, and entreat her forgiveness." 
 
 *' No, your Arfljcsty," -said a soft voice behind them, " it is for me to 
 implore my husband's forgiveness." 
 
 The Empress turned and behold her daughter-in-law, splendiJly attir- 
 ed, but pale and wan with unmistakable grief." 
 
 " Josepha, how came you hither?" asked she. 
 
 " 1 followed llerr Van Swietcn," replied Josephs. " He told me that 
 your Majesty and the King of Kome were, here, awaiting his verdict, 
 and I judged from his manner that it would be in my favor. Therefore 
 I came, and having hcai'd his fiattering words, which I do not deserve, 1 
 am here to inculpate myself. No, Herr Van Swieton, if there were any 
 merit in suffering for a brother whom I dearly loved, it would all be ef- 
 faced by the wrong which I have done to the King of Rome. I feel that 
 I was guilty in not confiding my malady to your Majesty, and 1 
 bow my head before the justice of my punishment, severe though it 
 may be." 
 
 " It shall not be severe, my daughter," said the Empress, whose kind 
 heart was completely overcome by Josepha's humility, " I for my part 
 forgive you ; jo\i are already sufficiently punished." 
 
 " I thank your Majesty," returned Josepha, kissing her outstretched 
 hand. " It is easy for one so magnanimous, to pardon the guilty ; but 
 my husband, will he also forgive me?" 
 
 She turned her pale and imploring face towards Joseph, who, withhia 
 arms crossed, looked scornfully back. 
 
 " No," said she sa^ly, " No. 'To obtain his forgiveness, I must make 
 a full confession of my fault." 
 
 She approached the window, but her head was cast down so that she 
 did not see with what a look of hate Joseph beheld her advancing to- 
 wards him. 
 
 " To obtain your pardon, sire," said she, " I myst say why I deceived 
 you. It was because I preferred perjury to the loss of my earthly hap- 
 piness — the unspeakable happiness of being your wife. I was afraid of 
 losing my treasure. For 1 love you beyond all power of expression ; 
 from the first moment of our meeting, I have loved you, and this love 
 which, thanks to Almighty God, I have a right to avow before the wo/-ld 
 — this love it was that misled me. Oh, my husband, ha^e mercy, and 
 forgive the fault that was born of my excessive love for you. A whole 
 life of love and obedience shall atone for my sin. Forgive me, forgive 
 me for the sake of my love !'' 
 
 And overwhelmed by her grief, the Princess knelt at the feet of her 
 husband, and raised her hands in supplication for pardon. 
 
 The Empress looked on wirh sympathetic heart and tearful eyes ; she 
 expected at every moment to se«j Joseph raise up his wife, and presi* 
 
13G JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 her to his heart for her touching avowal of love. She expected to hear 
 him implore forgiveness; but she was sadly mistaken. 
 
 Joseph stood immovable, his eyes flashing scorn and fury at the kneel- 
 ing Princess before him. 
 
 This outraged all the pride of Maria Theresa's womanhood. Hastily 
 approaching Josepha, and stretching her arms towards her, she said, " If 
 Joh^epii iias no mercy in his obdurate heart, I at least will not witness 
 such hnmiljation on the part of his wife. Rise, my daughter, and take 
 shelter under my love ; 1 will not suffer you to be oppressed — not even 
 by my own son." 
 
 She would have raised Josepha, but the poor girl waved her gently 
 bacK. " No, dear lady," said she sobbing, " let me remain until he for- 
 gives me." 
 
 " Let her remain, your Majesty," cried Joseph with a burst of wrath, 
 " she is in her proper place. But if she means to kneel until she has 
 obtained my forgiveness, let her kneel throughout all eternity, i con- 
 sented to this marriage for e.xpediency's sake, and I would have done 
 my best to make the burthen as light for us both as lay in my power. 
 Your Majesty knows how she has deceived me ; you have heard her pit- 
 iful lie with its pitiful excuse. I might have forgiven her for marrying 
 me, with her disgusting disease, but for being a liar — never !" 
 
 " Enough," cried the Empress, as much excited by her sou's obduracy 
 as by Josepha's touching confession. " This scene must end, and so help 
 me God, it shall never be enacted a second time ! You are bound to 
 one another ibr life, and together you shall remain. Each mortal has 
 his weight of grief to bear. Bear yours in silence, and bear it as be- 
 comes your dignity and station. Have the manliness to smile before 
 the world, my son, as beseems a prince who has more regard for his 
 princely duties than for his rights as a man to happiness." 
 
 And with that imposing grandeur which Maria Theresa knew so well 
 how to assume, she continued : •' Rise, Queen of Rome, and never again 
 forget'either your own royal station, or the dignity of your womanhood. 
 Oive her your hand, my son, if j'^ou will not love, you must at least ho- 
 nor and respect your wife. The bells of Vienna even now are pealing 
 your welcome ; the people await their Sovereigns, and it does not be- 
 come us to keep them in suspense on such an occasion as this." 
 
 Without looking back to see the effect of her words, the Empress left 
 the room, and called to her pages to fling wide the palace-doors. 
 
 " Apprize the court that we are ready to move," said she in a com- 
 manding voice, "and let the carriages approach." 
 
 The pages threw open the wide-doors •, the Emperor and the Arch- 
 duchesses entered, and following them came the courtiers and ladies of 
 the imperial household in all the splendor of flashing jewels and costly 
 robes. 
 
 The Empress advanced to meet them with unruffled serenity. Not 
 once were hej eyes cast behind towards the unhappy couple, whom she 
 knew perfectly well had yielded to the force of circumstances, and were 
 
Ki.N*.. «jJr KOMK j 37 
 
 already throwing the veil of etiquette and courtly decorum over their 
 bleeding hearts. 
 
 An hour later, the imperial family made its entry into Vienna. In 
 her gilded state-carriage sat the proud and beautiful Empress, and at hef 
 side was the pale Queen of Rome. On either side of the carriage rode 
 the two husbands, the Emperor Francis of Lorfaine and the King of 
 Kome. The people once more shouted for joy, wishing long life to the 
 imperial pair, and joy to the newly-married couple. From one side to 
 another, the Empress and the Queen bowed and smiled to all, while the 
 King of Rome thanked the enraptuied Viennese for their welcome, .On 
 this day appeared a new color in Vienna, so called in honor of* Joseph's 
 deep blue eyes; it was called "imperial blue." 
 
 And the bells chimed, the cannon roared ; while in the Cathedral the 
 fifty lovers awaited the King and Queen of Rome, whose marriage filled 
 all hearts with joy, and seemed to realize every dream of happiness oa 
 earth ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A statesman's H0UR€ OF DALLIANCK. 
 
 " Are there many people in the ante-room ?" asked Prince Kaunitz of 
 the States-Referendarius, Baron Binder. 
 
 "Yes, your Highness," returned Binder, "all waiting impatiently for 
 your appearance." 
 
 " Let them wait, the stupid strutting representatives of littleness I 
 The more insignificant the petty masters, the more conceited are the 
 petty ambassadors. I have no time to see them to-day. We are at 
 peace with the whole world, and our only diplomacy regards marrying, 
 and giving in marriage." 
 
 " So far you have nothing to boast of in that line," said Binder, laugh- • 
 ing. "Thei-e are all sorts of stories afloat about the unhappy marriage 
 of the King of Rome. Some go so far as to say that he shows his dis- 
 like in public." 
 
 — " Bah ! what matters it whether a prince is a happy husband or 
 not? When a king sets up pretensions to conjugal felicity, he is either 
 an egotist or a fool. .If the King of Rome cannot love his good, stupid, 
 ugly wife, he can least make love to the dowry, she brings him. A 
 goodly inheritance comes with her, what matters it, if a woman be thrown 
 in the bargain ?" • 
 
 — "Ah, Prince, a woman is sometimes harder to conquer than a pro. 
 
# 
 
 vinre, nnd I think the Kinj; of Uorae would much rather have won hi» 
 Bavaria uilh the sword." 
 
 " Hecaiise he is a blockhead full of sublime uonsensp, who mistakes 
 his love of novelty for wisdom. IIo would rather break his head against 
 .1 wall, this obstinate King of Koine, while I crept kifely through a 
 )i:ouse-hole. Walls are not so easily battered down as he supposes, but 
 mouse-holes abound every where, a> this sapient Kina[will find out some 
 of these days. Jt was much easier f jr us tojcrcep into I^avaiia with the 
 help of the lovely Josepha, than to flourish our sword in her brother's 
 face. He has not long to r.ve, and we will come peacefully in posses- 
 sion of his fair province." 
 
 ^"JJr rather, the war for its possession will be waged in the King's 
 private apartments." 
 
 "On that silly subject again," exclaimed Kaunitz impatiently. "If' 
 your heart bleeds so freely for the sentimental sorrows of the King of 
 Rome, you will have another opportunity for your sensibilities in the 
 marriage of his brother Leopold ; for 1 assure you that his intended is 
 not one whit handsomer or more intelligent than Josepha of liavaria. 
 So you see that the King of Rome will not be apt to envy his 
 brother." 
 
 — " Your Highness is to escort the Infanta of Spain to Inspruck ?" 
 
 — "Not I, indeed ; that honor I do not confer upon insignificant prin- 
 cesses who are nothing but grand-duchesses elect. I go to Inspruck one 
 day sooner than the imperial family, to inspect the preparations f >r the 
 festivities, and then I shall go as far as the gates of Inspruck — no farther, 
 to receive Donna Maria Loui?a." 
 
 " That is tha reason why your levee is so crowded to day," replied 
 Binder laughhig. " The foreign ministers wish to take leave of their 
 master. And now they have waited long enough for you. Prince." 
 
 " I shall not see one of them. Austria, thanks to me, is now so pow- 
 erful, that 1 need give myself no concern to soothe the anger of a dozen 
 petty envoys, and to-day there are none other in the ante-room." 
 
 "The Dutch and Saxon Ministers," urged Binder. 
 
 " Little nobodies," said Kaunitz with a shrug. " T will not see them." 
 
 " But, indeed, you presume too much upon their littleness. <)nly yes- 
 ■terday you invited the Hessian Ambassador to dine, and then you sat 
 •down to table without him." 
 
 — " lie wa<! three minutes behind the time. And do you imacino 
 that Piiuce Kaunitz waits for a poor little Hessian Envoy ? 1 did it on 
 purpose to teach him punctuality." 
 
 Here the Prince rang a bell, and ordered a page to dipiniss thegentle- 
 Tnen in the ante-room.* 
 
 Baron Binder looked after the page, and shook his head. Kaunitz 
 smiled. " Enoufjh of ambassadors for today. The ship of Austria lies 
 proudly and safely in the haven of her own greatness; and would you 
 'deprive the pilot of a few hours of relaxation ? I will have to take the 
 
 " Kcport of th* Pniitlan Ambaciador. Baron Furtt ti Frrdirick II, 
 
EiSC OF P.OiK. 13 S 
 
 helm again to morrow, when I go to Inspruck, and do you grumble iT for 
 a few hours I enjoy life to-day ?" 
 
 " I was not aware that dismissing one's visitors was a way to enjoy 
 life," said Binder. 
 
 — "I do not mean that, you old pedant. Do yon hear that tapping at 
 the door 1" 
 
 — " Yes, I hear it. It is from the little private door that leads to tho 
 *«Drridor." 
 
 — ''Well, that corridor, as you know, leads to a side entrance of the 
 palace, and if you look out of the window you will see there ihe equi- 
 page of the handsomest, frailest, and most fascinating actress in all Vien- 
 na; the equipage of the divine Foliazza. IIea^ how the knocking grows 
 louder. !NIy charmer becomes impatient?" 
 
 "Allow me to retire, then," said Binder, "and leave the field to the 
 prima donna." As he left the room, he muttered, " If Kaunilz were not 
 a great statesman, he would be a ridiculous old fop ! ' 
 
 Kaunilz listened with perfect unconcern to the repeated knocking of 
 his charmer until Binder was out of sight, then he walked up to the 
 looking-glass, smoothed his locks, straightened his ruffles, and drew tho 
 bolt of the door. The beautiful Foliazza, in a coquettish and most be- 
 coming morning costume, radiant with smiles and beauty, entered the 
 room. 
 
 Kaunitz greeted her coldly, and ansv, ered her rapturous salutations by 
 ""a faint nod. 
 
 "Your impatience is very annoying, Olympia," said he, "you beat 
 upon my door like a drum-major." 
 
 "Your Highness, it is the impatience of a longing heart," said (he sin- 
 ger. "Do you know that it seems to me a thousand years since last I 
 was allowed to enter these gates of Paradise! For eight days, I have 
 been plunged in deepest sorrow, watching your carriage as it passed by 
 my house, snatching every note from my footman's hands in the hope 
 that it might be one from you — hoping in vain, and at last yielding my- 
 self up to full despair.'' 
 
 "You express yourself warmly," said Kaunitz, unmOved. 
 
 "Yes, indeed ; for a feeling heart always finds strong expressions," an- 
 swered the Signora, showing a row of teeth between her rosy lips that 
 looked like precious pearls. "And now my adored reprobate, why have 
 you banished me from your presence for an eternity? Which of my* 
 two enemies h;ive prevailed against me, politics or the Countess Clary '? 
 Justify yourself, unkind, but beloved Prince ; say that you have not de- 
 ceived me, for my heart yearns to forgive you." 
 
 She came very, very near, and with her bewitching smiles, looked up 
 into Kaunitz's face. 
 
 Kaunitz bent to receive the caress, and laid his hand f mdly upon her 
 raven-black hair. " Is it true that you have longed fur me — very true 
 indeed ?"' said he. 
 
 " I never knew how dear .you were to me until I had endured the in- 
 
14U JOSEl'H THE SECOND 
 
 tolerable pangs of your absence," replied Fdliazza, leaning her head up- 
 on the Prince's shoulder. 
 
 — -'You love me tlien, Olympial Tell me dearest, tell me truly." 
 
 "Unjust! you ask me such a question!" cried the Siguora, putting 
 her arms around the Prince's neck. 
 
 " If I love you 1 Do you not feel it in every pulsation of my heart, 
 do you not read it in every glance of my eyes? Can you not feel that 
 my only thought is of you — my only life, your love?" 
 
 "I am really glad to hear it," said Kaunitz, with statue-like tranquili- 
 ty. " And now I will tell you why I have not sent for you this past 
 week. It was that I might not interrupt your tender interviews with 
 Count Palffy, nor frighten away the poor enamored fool from the snares 
 yon were laying for him," 
 
 The Signora looked perfectly astounded. " But surely," stammered 
 
 she, " your Highness does not believe " 
 
 ' — " Oh, no. I believe nothing ; I know that the Olympia who loves 
 me so passionately, has been for two days the fair friend of the young, 
 rich and prodigal Count Palffy." 
 
 Here the Signora laughed outright. " But your Highness, if you knew 
 this, why did you not stop me in my protestations, and tell me so V' 
 
 " I only wanted to see whether, really, you were a finished actress. I 
 congratulate you, Olympia; I could not have done it better myself" 
 
 '' Prince," said the Signora, seriously, " I learned the whole of this 
 scene from yourself; and in my relations with you I have followed the 
 •example you gave me. While you swore eternal love to me, you were 
 making declarations to the Countess Clary. Oh, my lord. I have suffered 
 at your hands, and the whole world sympathises with my disappointment. 
 The whole world knows of'your double dealings with women, and calls 
 you a heartless young libertine." 
 
 " Does it?" cried Kaunitz, for a moment forgetting his coldness, and 
 showing his satisfaction in his face. " Does it indeed call me a heartless 
 young libertine?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the Signora, who seemed not to see his gratification. 
 *'And when people see a man who is adored by women, and is false to 
 them all, they say : ' He is a little Kaunitz.' " 
 
 When the Signora said this, Kaunitz did what he had not done for 
 years, he broke out into a laugh, repeating triumphantly, "A little Kau- 
 nitz." "But^Tiarkyou," continued he, "other libertines are calle'd little 
 Kaunitzes, and I alone am the great Kaunitz," 
 
 " True," sighed the Signora, " and this great Kaunits it is, who has aban- 
 ■doned me. While I worshipped the air he breathed, he sat at the feet 
 of the Countess Clary, repeating to her the selfsanie protestations with 
 which an hour before he had intoxicated my senses. Oh, when I heard 
 this, jealousy and despair took possession of my soul. I was resolved 
 to be revenged, and so I permitted the advances of Count Palffy; ah! 
 while I endured his presence, I felt that my heart was wholly and for- 
 ,e.ver yours! Oh, my adored, my great Kaunitz, cay that you love 
 
KING OF ROME. 141 
 
 me, and at your feet I throw all the lesser Kaunitzcs in token of my 
 fealty." 
 
 The Signora would have flung her arms around him, but Kaunitz, with 
 a commanding gesture, waved her oiT. 
 
 " Very well done, Olympia,'^ said he, nodding his head. " You are as 
 accomplished as you are beautiful ; and well I understand how it is that 
 jou infatuate with your charms all manner of little Kaunitzes. But now 
 listen to Kaunitz the great. I not only allow, but order you to continue 
 your intrigue with Count PalflTy. Take everything he offers*, wring his 
 purse dry; and the sooner you ruin him the better." 
 
 "That means that I importune you with my love. Farewell, Prince, 
 and may you never repent of your cruelty to poor Olympia." 
 
 "Stay," said Kaunitz, cooly. " I have not done with you. Continue 
 your amours with the Hungarian, and love him as much as you choose, 
 provided " 
 
 "Provided," echoed the singer anxiously, as Kaunitz paused. 
 
 — " Provided you affect before the world to be still my mistress." 
 
 " Oh, ray beloved Prince," cried Foliazza, "you will not cast me off!" 
 and in spite of his disinclination, she folded Kaunitz to her heart. 
 
 The Prince struggled to get free. " You have dipananged my whole 
 dress," said he, peevishly. '' On account of your folly, i shall have to 
 make my toilet again. Hear mo, and let me alone." 
 
 " I said that you would affect to be my mistress. To this end you 
 will drive as usual to the side-door by which you have been accustomed 
 to enter the palace, and while your carriage stands there for one hour, 
 you shall be treated to a costly breakfast in my little boudoir, every 
 morning." 
 
 — " By your side, my own Prince ?" 
 
 — "By yourself, my own Olympia. I have not time to devote an 
 hour to you every day. Tour carriage shall stand at my door in the 
 morning. Every evening, mine will be for an hour before y(u)rs, and 
 while it remains there 1 forbid you to be at home to any one whatso- 
 ever." , 
 
 " I shall think of nothing but you until that hour," said the Signora, 
 fondly. 
 
 "Fra^me;i;, you are very presuming to suppose that I will trouble 
 myself to come in the carriage," replied Kaunitz, conternptuously. " It 
 is enough tlmt the coach being there, the world will suppose that I 
 am there also. A man of fashion must have the name of possessing a 
 mistress; but a statesman cannot waste his valuable time on women. 
 You are my mistress, ostensibly, and therefore I give you a year's salary 
 of four thousand guilders." 
 
 " You are an angel — a god V cried La Foliazza, this time with genuine 
 rapture. " You come upon one like Jupiter, in a ehowcr of gold." 
 
 " Yes, but I have no wish to fall into the embraces of my Dana3. 
 Now hear my last words. If you ever dare let it transpire that you aro 
 not really my mistress, I will punish you severely. I will uot only stop 
 
142, JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 your salary, but I will cite you before the committee of morals, and you 
 will be forced into a marriage with somebody.'' 
 
 . The singer shuddered and drew back. " Let me go at onco into my 
 boudoir. Is my breakfast ready ?" 
 
 — "No — Your morning visits there begin to-morrow. Now go home 
 to Count Palffy, and do not forget our contract." 
 
 '• I will not forget it, Prince," replied the Signora smiling. I await 
 your coach this evening. You may kiss me if you choose." She bent 
 her head to his, and held out her delicate cheek, fresh as a rose. 
 
 "Simpleton," said he, slightly tapping her beautiful mouth, " doyou 
 suppose that the great Kaunitz would kiss any lips but those, which, like 
 the sensitive Mimosa, shrink from the touch of man ! Go away. Count 
 Palffy will feel honored to reap the kisses 1 have left." 
 
 He gave her his hand, and looked after her, as with light and graceful 
 carriage, she left the room. 
 
 " She is surpassingly beautiful," said Kaunitz to himself. " Every 
 one envies me ; but each one thinks it quite a matter of course that the 
 loveliest woman in Vienna should be glad to be my mistress. Ah ! two 
 o'clock. My guests await me. But before I go, 1 must bring down the 
 Countess Clary from the airy heaven which she has built for herself." 
 
 He rang, and a page appeared; for from the time he became'a Prince, 
 Kaunitz introduced four pages in his household, aftid kept open table dai- 
 ]y, for twelve persons. 
 
 "Tell the Countess Clary," said he, "that I will come in a few rao- 
 ments to conduct her to the dining-r9om. Then, await me in my pow- 
 der-room." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PRINCE KAUNITZ AND KITTER GLUCK, 
 
 Prince Kaunitz had finished his promenade in the powder-room, and 
 having ascertained, by means of his mirror, that his perruque was in or« 
 der, he betook himself to the apartments of the Countess Clary, to con. 
 duct her to tabic. 
 
 The young Countess, Kaunitz's niece and a widow scarcely thirty 
 years of age, flew to greet her uncle, radiant with smiles and happiness. 
 
 " What an unexpected honor you confer upon me, my dear uncle," 
 said she with her sweet lov/ voice. " Coming yourself to conduct me to 
 the table ! How I thank you for preparing mo a triumph which every 
 woman in Vienna will envy me." 
 
KINe OF ROMS. 143 
 
 — " [ came with no intention whatever of preparing you a triumph or 
 a pleasure. I came solely because I wish to have a lew words with you 
 before we go in to dinner." 
 
 " I am all ears, your Highness," said the Countess smiling. 
 Kaunit2 looked at his young and lovely niece with uncommon scruti 
 ny. " You have been crying," said he, after a pause. 
 "No, indeed," said she, blushing. 
 
 — " t)o you *!upposc that you can deceive me? I repeat it, you have 
 been crying. Will you presume to contradict me?" 
 
 — "No, dear uucle, I will not." 
 
 "And wherefore? No prevarication ; I must know." 
 
 The young Countess raised her soft blue eyes to the face of the haugh- 
 ty Prince. " I will tell the truth," said she again blushing. " 1 was cry- 
 ing because La Foliazza was so long wit!i you to-day." 
 
 " Jealous, too !" said Kaunitz with a sneer. " And, pray, who ever 
 gave to you the right of being jealous of me ?" 
 
 The Countess said nothing, but her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Allow me to discuss this matter with you. I came for this purpose. 
 Our relations must be distinctly understood, if they are to last. You 
 must have the goodness to remember their origin, "When you were left 
 a widow, you turned to me, as your nearest relative, for assistance. You 
 were unprotected, and your husband had left you nothing. I gave you 
 my protection not because I was in any way pleased with you, but be- 
 cause you were my sister's child. I invited you hither to do the honors 
 of my house, to give orders to the cooks and steward, to overlook my 
 household arrangements, and to rijceive my guests in a manner worthy 
 of their host. To ensure you the appearance and consideration due to 
 you as my niece and as the lady of my house, I gave you a remunera- 
 tion of two thousartd guilders a year. Were not these my terms ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Highness, they were. They filled me with gratitude and 
 joy ; and never will I fojget your kindness." 
 
 " It seems, however, that you do forget it,;' replied the Heartless uncle. 
 " How- does it happen, that you take the liberty of being unhappy because 
 La Foliazza is in my room? What business is it of yours, "whom I re- 
 ceive or entertain ? Have I ever given you the slightest hope that from 
 my niece I would ever raise you to the eminence of being my wife?" 
 
 " Never, never, dear uncle," said the Countess, scarlet with shame. 
 "You have never been otherwise to me than my generous benefactor." 
 
 "Then oblige me by silencing the absurd rumors that may have led 
 you into the delusion of supposing that I ever intended to make of you 
 ft princess. I wish you to know that I have no idea of marrying again; 
 and if ever I should form another matrimonial alliance, it will either be 
 with an imperial or a royal princess. Will you be so good as to re- 
 member this and to act accordingly." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the.Couniess, her eyes filling' with tears. " I as. 
 sure your Highness that I nave never been so. presuming as to regard 
 you otherwise than as my kinsman and guardian. My feelings of ad- 
 
144 JOSEPH THE SECOND, 
 
 miration for you are iq.deed enthusiastic ; but I have never felt anything 
 towards 3'ou but the attachment of a daughter." 
 
 " Pray do not trouble yourself to feel anything at all on my account," 
 said Kaunitz ill-humoredly. " I am not under the necessity of playing 
 the part of a tender father towards you ; therefore, dry up the tears you 
 took the trouble to shed on La Foliazza's account. But enough of this 
 folly. I hope that we understand one another and that I will not have 
 to repeat this conversation. Be so good as to take my arm. We will 
 go forward to meet our guests." 
 
 The young Countess took fhe arm of the Prince, and they entered the 
 drawing-room. The guests had long been assembled there, but it never 
 occurred to Kaunitz to make any apology for his late appearance. Nev- 
 ertheless, his guests were all noble ; some of them representatives of 
 princely houses or powerful kingdoms. Kaunitz, however, was not only 
 the all-powbrful Minister of Maria Theresa; it was well known that his 
 slender, diamond-studded fingers directed the policy of all Europe. No 
 one in that room had the courage to recent his rudeness. All seemed 
 to feel honored as he walked haughtily forward with a slight inclination 
 of his head to the many, and a condescending smile to the (ow whom it; 
 pleased him to distinguish by his notice.* 
 
 Prince Kaunitz did not choose to perceive that several distinguished 
 ambassadors, as well as a German Prince, himself a reigning sovereign, 
 were present as his guests. He passed them all by, to accost a small 
 graceful man, who seated in a recess had received no further attention 
 from the highborn company than a condescending nod. Kaunitz gave 
 him his hand, and welcomed him audibly. The honored guest was No- 
 verre, the inventor of the Ballet as it is performed to-day on the stage. 
 Noverre blushed with pleasure at the reception given him, while the 
 other guests scarcely concealed their chagrin. 
 
 Just then, the folding doors were thrown wide open, and the steward 
 announced in a loud voice that the table of his Lord, the Prince, was 
 served. The company rose, and tie ladies looked to see which of them 
 was to have the honor of being conducted to the table by the host. 
 Kaunitz feigned neither to see nor to hear. He continued his conversa- 
 tion with Noverre, and when he had quite done, he sauntered carelessly 
 up to his other guests. Suddenly he paused, and his eyes wandered 
 from one to another with a searching glance. 
 
 " Good heavens !" exclaimed he, " of what a rudeness we were about 
 to be guilty ! I had invited Ritter Gluck to meet us to-day, and he has 
 not yet arrived. It shall not be said of me that I was ever wanting in 
 respect to genius as transcendant as his. I must beg of my distinguish- 
 ed guests to await his arrival before going to dinner."f 
 
 Hereupon he resumed his conversation with Neverre. The other 
 guests were indignant ; for they all felt the insult. The nobles disap- 
 proved altogether of the fashion, which had been introduced by Kaunitz, 
 
 * Wraxall Memoirs, vol. 1, page 880. 
 t Bwinburno, vol, 1, page 80. 
 
II12sG OP ROME. [45 
 
 of mingling artists and savans of no birth with the .11 istocracy of Vienna- 
 a^id the ambassadors Mt it as a personal injury, that Kaunitz, who ve.! 
 ' terday had refused to wait for them, to-day called upon them to wait for 
 a musician. 
 
 Kaunitz pretended not to see the displeasure which, nevertheless his 
 guests were at no great pains to conceal, and he went on talkin<' in an 
 animated strain with Noverre. The poor dancer meanwhile gave short 
 and embarrassed answers. He had remarked the discontwit of the com- 
 pany, and the Pnncc s over-politeness oppressed him : the mom so that 
 he perceived one of the lords approachin«€gradually with the intention 
 of addressing the Prince. W ith the deepest respect, the dancer attempt- 
 ed to withdraw; but the merciless Kaunitz caught him by one of the 
 buttons ot his velvet coat, and h^ld him fast j 01 uio 
 
 " Do not stir," said the Prince. " I see the Duke quite as well as you 
 do ; but he IS a bar and a braggart; I dislike him, and he shall not speak 
 with me Tell me something about the new ballet that you are arrang- 
 ing lor the Emperor's festival. I hear that Gluck has composed the mu- 
 sic. But hush! Here comes the Maestro." 
 
 Kaunitz walked rapidly forward and met Gluck in the middle of the 
 nS; l.a T ^''^'i o»e another cordially, but proudly, as (wo princes 
 might have done Around them stood the other guests, frownin-^ to .ee 
 these two men, both so proud, so conscious of greatness, scarcely seem- 
 ing aware that others besides themselves were present. Gluck was in 
 iul comt-dress; athisside,asword; on his breasr, the brilliant order 
 ot tbo.Pope. He received with unembarrassed courtesy the greetin- of 
 the 1 nnce, and made no apology for his tardy appearance. • 
 
 ihank heaven you have come at last !" •ex-claimed Kaunitz in an 
 
 the dailv associa es of the great Maestro, would deprive us poor mortals 
 ot the honor of dining with the favorite of the Muses and the Grace!'' 
 i he Gods, the^ Muses, and the Graces, are the associates of Prince 
 Kaunitz, returned Gluck. " If they are not to be found in their tem- 
 ples, wo may be sure that they have taken refuge here." 
 
 Kaunitz, who never vouchsafed a civil word in return for compliments 
 bowed his head,, and with a gratified smile turned to his assembled 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said he, " let us sit down to dinner " . 
 ^hpn'.K V^';'^!^'^ 7'T.^'^ ^""^ ^^'^ "'Sn^il to rise, which would be given 
 
 7Mlt^i:f"T''^ ^'" ''^'■'" '^ '^' ^'^y "^^^'^ ^« complimented by 
 laKing ner in to dmner. ^ 
 
 The Prince^looked around, and his-cy^s rented again on Gluok 
 durt n.l . !, '"l'.^'"'\'" '"'^ ^^'^ gracioustyt»the honor of con-, 
 am '"''Prvi'- %'\^'^; ^"^"'''^ ■'^ ^^"'•^^'^"^ '^«-he ollered his 
 De?'of vonr n '1 ?' ^^"'''' '°'"" ''''^ "^*^ ' ^ ^'^ too true a worship- 
 per ot your mne lovely mistresses, to resign you to any one ehe." 
 
 ^luck, wi h a smile appreciative of the honor conferred upon him, took 
 the arm of the Prmco, and was led into the dining-room. 
 
 10 
 
140 . ^ JOSEPH THE SECOi«>. 
 
 Behind them came the other guests. All wore discontented faces ; for 
 this time, the slight had been oliered not only to dukes and ambassa- 
 dors, but to the Jadies themselves, who could not help feeling biltsrly 
 this utter disregard of all etiquette and good breeding. 
 
 On the day after the dinner, Kaunitz started for Inspruck to superin- 
 tend the festivities preparing for the marriage of the Archduke Leopold. 
 Count Durazzo, the Dir*iCtor of the Theatres, had preceded the Princa 
 by a week. Noverre, with his ballet-dancers, was tojollow. The great 
 opera ©f Orpheus and Eurydice, whose fame was now European, was 
 being rehearsed at Inspruck, for representation on the fu'st night of the 
 festival. 
 
 Although Florian Gassman was a leader of acknowledged skill, Gluck, 
 at the request of the Emperor, had gone to Inspruck to direct and over- 
 see the rehearsals. 
 
 The Furies has just concluded their chorus, and Gluck had given the 
 signal for dismissal, wHen Prince Kaunitz entered the Theatre, and came 
 forward, offering his hand to the Maestro. 
 
 " Well Maestro," said he, "are you satisfied with your artists? Shall 
 we have a great musical treat to-morrow ?" 
 
 Gluck shrugged his shoulders. " My sipgers are not the angels who 
 '' taught me this music, but for mortals they sing well. I scarcely think 
 that Donna Maria Louisa has ever heard anything comparable to the 
 music with which we will welcome her to-morrow." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," said Kaunitz, with his usual composure, al- 
 though he was inwardly annoyed at Gluck's complacency. "But as I 
 promised the Empress to see and hear every thing myself, I must hear 
 and judge of your opera also. Be so good as to have it repeated." 
 
 Gluck looked at the Prince in amazement. • " What," cried he, " your 
 Highness wishes them to go through the whole opera without an au- 
 '<iiencel" 
 
 Prince Kaunitz raised his lofty head in displeasure, and said : 
 
 " liitter Gluck, quality has always been esteemed before quantity, I 
 alone am an audience. Let the opera begin, the audience is here."* • 
 
 Gluck did not answer immediately. He frowned and looked down. 
 Suddenly he raised his head, and his face wore its usual expression of 
 energy and power. . 
 
 " I will gratify your Highness, I myself would like to hear the opera 
 without participating in it. Ladies and gentlemen of the Coulisses, be 
 so kind as to return — Gentlemen of the Orchestra, resume your instru- 
 ments. Gassman, have the goodness to lead. Do your best, let us 
 have your highest interpretation of Art, for you have an audience such 
 as you may never halfc again. Prince Kaunitz and Ritter Gluck are 
 your listeners !" ^ ^> 
 
 •lb* Prince'* own words. Swinburne, toI, I, p. 862. 
 
JiyC OF ROilE. 1^-; 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 ^ AN UNFORTCKATB MEKTlSa. 
 
 FssTivAL followed festival. The streets of the l^mitifd ciipitol of 
 Tyrol were gay with the multitudes who fhronced to do houo7 o tho 
 luarriage of the Empress's second son. ^ ° ^"" 
 
 Jt was the second diiv after tlio wprlrlmrr r>„ ♦! r » 
 
 fore he . ,« of the city. A second represcna.ion had been ealkd for' 
 
 zi '17,^: s„rorrrM°^i'f :-^^^ 
 
 roon, ; not only mortals, but Fair" , Sy ph Ides . nd he' t ZZd "",■ 
 goddesses. It was a bewildering sce^e^fato'W" ,f Sastlf^vtll r, 
 
 ;5;i&s:s:-^^^^^^^^ 
 • ;nr:rrpT,^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 iorehead encu-eled by a coronet of d^nmonds and saf^hi res walked 
 among her gnests with enchanting smiles and gracing vod<Shf 
 
 sorbed m one another that it was easv fn «=pa tUf fi! 1 , ' ^'^^ 
 happy in their an-ections. BehindThiS^d'tL' vou glrcMXlr 
 who were enjoying the ball to the utmost When fht Frn^, ' 
 
 saie^Sol^L-CatdrL^ 
 
 then, their adnriration burst'fSfn e^e'ry ti'nrb '^ ^oU'^f" wo/dt 
 The Empress, who overheard these murmured phudit. «mnl i J" 
 
 l.y upon her young daughters, who even if thev had bJ,? I'V'^' 
 ^^JjcM.c,es.es, ^ould still have^^l^l t'ndtmesT"g|;i J^f^ 
 
 While the Empress, in the full splendor of her rank and bpont. ^ 
 the Etnperor'/n,. fatitr H^St^ of^rueT';:?::'' "'^' " ""' 
 
1 48 JOSEPS THE SECO?«D. 
 
 As the pair went by, the Emperor overheard the conjectures of the 
 crowd, and he turned with a smile to the lady who accompanied him. 
 
 '* Do not fear," said he, " there is no danger of your being recognised. 
 You are mistaken- for another lady. I promised you that you should 
 meet Joseph hero, and I will keep ray promise. Let us try to make our 
 way through the crowd that we may join him as soon as possible ; for I 
 sbel oppressed this evening, I know not why." 
 
 ''Oh, then, your Majesty, let me go back into the ante-room," said- 
 the veiled lady. "I begin to feel all the rashness of my undertaking, 
 and although it has the sanction of your ]\Iajesty and the Empress, 
 I feel like a criminal, every moment dreading discovery. Let us go 
 back." . » 
 
 " No, no," replied the Emperor, "let us'remain until the interview 
 with Joseph is over. I shall feel no better in the ante-room than here. 
 I shall never be well until I leave this beautiful, fearful Tyrol. Its moun- 
 tains v/eigh heavily upon my head and my breast. But let us sib 
 down awhile. I love to listen to the people talk, when the Court is 
 not by." • 
 
 '• But while your Majesty is present, the Court is here," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " Not so, my dear," whispered the Emperor, " the Empress and my 
 children are the Court, 1 am but a private nobleman. Ah, there they 
 oome ! See how beautiful and stately the Empress looks ! Who would 
 suppose that this grown-up family were her children ! — But she, she 
 signs us to approach. Take courage and ay^^ait me here." 
 
 So saying, the Emperor hastened towards his wife, who received him 
 with a loving smile of welcome. 
 
 "Now, my son," said |he, withdrawing her arm from Joseph, "I give 
 you your freedom. 1 advise you to mix among the masks, and to go in 
 search of adventures. We have done enough for ceremony, I think" we 
 may now enjoy ourselves a little like the rest of mankind. If we were 
 younger, Franzel, we, too, would mix with yonder crowd, and dance 
 awhile. But I suppose we must leave that to our children, and betake 
 ourselves to the card table, or to the fjpera-house." 
 
 " If your Majesty leaves me the choice," said the Emperor, " I vote 
 for the opera." 
 
 The Empress took his arm, while she turned to the Countess Lerchen- 
 feld, the governess of the Archduchesses. "To thedanclng-roD.m, Coun- 
 tess," said she; "the Archduchesses may dance, but no ma^-k must en- 
 ter the room. Now, my dear husband, follow me. Adieu, Joseph! 
 To-morrow, I expect to hear what fortune has befallen you to-night." 
 . " Your Majesty forgets that Fortune is a woman," returned Joseph 
 smiling, "and you know that I have no luck with women." 
 
 '■ Or you will not have il," said the Empress laughing, and leaving her 
 son to his thoughts. 
 
 " Or you will not have it," repeated a soft voice near, and Joseph 
 turning, saw an elegant looking woman, veiled and ran-''kcd. 
 
KIS^ OV ROME: 149 
 
 "Fair mask,'' said he smilinf:, ''uUhough you have the t^ualilies of 
 Echo, you havn not yet pined away to invisibility." 
 
 " Perhapp, Sire, my body is only the coffin of my heart, and my heart 
 the unfortunate Echo that has grieved hcri.e!f to death nvid inviaibility. 
 But perhaps your Majesty does not believe in the power of grief, for 
 doubtless you are unacquainted with its pangs." 
 
 ''And why should you imagine that lam unacquainted with grief 1" 
 asked Joseph. 
 
 "Because your Majesty's station is exalted above that of other men; 
 because God has blessed you with a noble heart, that is worthy of your 
 destiny — the destiny which gives you the power of making other mor- 
 tals happy." 
 
 — " How do you know all tliisT' 
 
 "I see it," whispered she, " in your eyes ; those eyes that reflect the 
 blue of lieaven. Oh, Sire, may never a cloud darken that heaven !'' 
 
 " I thank you for your pious wish," replied the King sadly, but if you 
 ■ are mortal, you know that in this world there is no such thing as cloud- 
 less skies. Let us not_ speak of such serious matters; give me your 
 arm, and let us join in the mirth that is around us." 
 
 — "If your Majesty will permit me, 1 will while away the hour bv 
 relating to you a sad .story of life." 
 
 — " Why a sad story, why not a merry one?" 
 
 " Because I came here for no other object than to relate this sad story 
 to yourself. 1 came to crave your Majesty's sympathy and clemency 
 in behalf of a suflering fellow-creature." 
 
 " Can I do anything in the matter ?" asked the King. 
 
 — "From your Majesty alone do 1 hope for succor." 
 
 — " Very well ; if so, let me hear the story. I will listen." 
 
 "Sire, my mournful history will ill accord with the merriment of a 
 
 ball-room. If you will condescend to go with me to one of the boxes in 
 
 the gallery, there I will confide my secret to your ear, and there, I hope 
 
 to soften your heart. Oh, Sire, do not tarry ; it is a case of life or 
 
 "death." 
 
 " Well," said Joseph after a pause, " I will go. After all, I am about 
 to have an adventure." 
 
 The mask bowed, and made her way through the crowd to a side- 
 door which opened upon the private stair-case leading to the boxes. Jo- 
 seph looked with interest at the light and elegant fornrf that preceded him, 
 and said to himself, " Truly an adventure ! I will follow it to the end." 
 
 They were now in the galleries from whence a beautiful view of the 
 ball-room was obtained. The lady entered a box, the King following. 
 The sound of the music, and the gay voices of the dancers, came with 
 softened murmur to the ears of the King. He thought of the past ; but 
 rousing himself 10 the exigencies of the present, he turned to the lady 
 and said, '• Now, fiiir mask, to your narrative." 
 
 " Swear first to hear mc to the end ! Swear it by the memorv of Is- 
 abella, whom you s(; passionately loved," 
 
i5IJ JoSfiJTH i'H£ su:uj<» 
 
 *• Idabellu !" crieil Joseph turning pule. " You are very bold, madam, 
 to call that name, and call it here ! But spccak. By her loved memory 
 I will listaij." 
 
 She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. Then she begged the 
 lung to be seated, and took her place by his side. 
 
 "Sire, I will relate to you the history of a woman whom God has 
 cither blessed or cursed ; a woman who, if she were not the most unlor- 
 tunate, would be the happiest of mortals." 
 
 "You speak as the Sphinx did before the gates of Thebes. How eaa 
 one bo at the same time blessed and cursed ?" 
 
 "Sire, it is a blessing to be capable of loving with passion ; it is a 
 curse to love and not be loved in return." 
 
 " And a greater curse,", murmured Joseph, " to feign love and not to 
 feel it. I have been the victim of such hypocrisy, and never will 1 out- 
 live its bitter memories." , * 
 
 "Sire," began the lady, "the woman of whom I speak would willing- 
 ly givo a year of her life if the man she loves would but vouchsafe to 
 her thirsting heart one single glance of love. Think how wretched she 
 must be, when even the appearance of love would satisfy her. But do 
 not suppose, Sire, that this woman is -the victim of a guilty passion, 
 which p1i9 dare not own. She is a wife, and the man she adores and 
 who loves her not, is her husband." 
 
 " Why does he not lovo her?" asked Joseph quickly. 
 
 "Because," Raid the mask in an agitated voice, "because she has 
 sinned against him. On the day of her marriage, although he nobly in- 
 vited her confidence, she hid from him a — a — malady — Oh, in mercy, do 
 .not go ! You miisi hear mo," cried she, almost frenzied, " you swore to 
 listen, by the memory of Isabella." 
 
 Joseph resumed his seat and said roughly, " Go on, then." 
 
 "It was a crime," continued she in a voice of deepest emotion, "bufc 
 she has paid dearly for her sin. Her husband repulsed her, but her 
 heart was still his; he desj;fised her, and yet she adores him. Her mal- 
 ady has long since disappeared ; her heart alone is sick ; that heart which 
 will break if her lord refuse to forgive her the offence that was born of 
 her love for him I But oh, Sire ! he has no pity. When she meets him 
 with imploring looks, he turns away ; her letters he sends to her uno- 
 pened. Oh, he is severe in his wrath ; it is like vengoince from heaven ! 
 But still she loves, and still she hopes that one day he will be generous, 
 and forgive her another crime — that of not being blessed with beauty. 
 For mouths she has bulged to tell him that she repents of her faults, that 
 her punishrneut is just, hut oh! oh! she begs for mercy. She was for- 
 bidden to follow him to Inspruek, but she could not stay behind. His 
 parents gave their consent, and she is here-at your knees, my Lord and 
 .King, to plead for mercy. Oh ! has there not been enough of cruelty. 
 See me humbled at your feet; reach mo your beloved hand, and, bid 
 me sit by your side !" 
 
 iShe had sunk to the ground, and now tearing from her face the mask: 
 
£L>« 0¥ nj/nusi Ijl 
 
 and veil, the King of Kome beheld #Le death'-iikd oouaUaAnAe of his 
 despised wife. I 
 
 Jcvseph rose from his se^t and looked at her \vith inexorahle hate. 
 " Madam," said he, " ihaiilis to the name which vou used- to force uae 
 into comj)liance, I have heard you out. I married you without affectifv.i, 
 and yon had been my wife but a few houi« when you turned my indif- 
 ference into undying hate. You come and whine to mo for my love; 
 and you inform rao that you are love-sick on my account. If so, I dare 
 say that Van Swieten, who cured you of leprosy, can also cure you of 
 your unfortunate attachment. If you never knew it before, allow me to 
 inform you that your love givesyou no claim upon viine ; and when a 
 woman has the indelicacy to thrust herself upon a man who has never 
 sought her, she must expect to be despised and humbled to the dust. 
 And now, madam, as I still have the misfortune to be your husband, lis- 
 ten to my commands. You came here in sphe of my prohibition ; as 
 you pass in the world for my wife, you shall at least be obedient to my 
 will. Go back this night to Vienna, and never again presume to entrap 
 me into another interview like this." 
 
 Without vouchsafing a look at the fainting woman who lay at his feet, 
 Joseph left the box, and descended to the ball-room. 
 
 But what wail was that, which, coming from the imperial banquetting' 
 hall, hushed every sound of music and mirth, and drove the gay multi- 
 tude in terror from the ball-room ! 
 
 The King of Rome was hastily making his way through the terrified 
 crowd, when he was met by one of his own ofTicers, 
 
 "I have been seeking your Majesty," said he in a trembling voice. 
 " The Emperor " 
 
 — " In heaven's name, what of the Emperor V 
 
 — " He is very ill, your Majesty. On leaving the theatre, he was 
 struck down by apoplexy." 
 
 The King made no reply. He dashed on from room to room until he 
 reached his father's sleeping apartment. 
 
 And there on the bed, that white, motionless body, that cold insensi- 
 ble piece of clay, that marble image without breath — that was all that 
 earth now held of the Emperor, Francis of Lorraine. 
 
 He was dead, and his wish had been granted. He had gone forever 
 from the " beautiful, fearful Tyrol j" and its mountains lay no longer 
 heavy on his breast 
 
i.V2, i'j-^l'H lUL 5i,(.'UMl;' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 The sound of rejoicings was hushed. The people of Inspnick had has- 
 tened to remove from the streets every symbol of festivity. The flow- 
 ers and flags, the triumphal arches and the wreathed Arcades had disap- 
 peared. The Epithalanium had been followed by the dirge. ' 
 
 Night had set in — the first night of the Emperor's death. The corpse 
 still lay on the bed where its last breast had been drawn, and no one was 
 with the deceased Sovereign except two night-watches,,, whose drowsy 
 heads were bui'ied in the arm-chairs where they sat. 0eath had ban- 
 ished ceremony. In the presence of their dead Emperor, his attendants 
 were seated and slept. In the centre of the room stood the coffin that 
 awaited the imperial remains ; for on the morrow, the funeral ceremo- 
 nies were to begin. But the Empress had ordered that on this night all 
 ceremony should be suspended. 
 
 Deep silence reigned throughout Inspruck. The citizens worn out 
 with the excitement of the day, had all retired to rest. Even the chil- 
 dren of the deceased had forgotten their sorrow in sleep. Maria There- 
 sa alone sought no rest. 
 
 All that day she had 'been overwhelmed by grief; even prayer seem- 
 ed to bring no relief to her heart. But. now she was tranquil, she had 
 thrust back her tears, and the Empress-widow, all etiquette forgetting, 
 was making her husband's shroud. 
 
 As a woman she grieved for the partner of her joys and sorrows ; as 
 a woman she wished to pay the last sad honors to the only man whom 
 she had ever loved. She whose hands were accustomed to the sceptre, 
 now held a needle, and to all oflfers of assistance she made but one reply. 
 
 " Nont^- of you are worthy to help me in this holy \s-ork, for none of 
 you loved him. For you, he was the benificent and honored Sovereign, 
 but for me, he was the joy, the light, the air of my life. I, who loved 
 him, have alone the right to work upon his shroud. 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty,' cried the Countess I3aun, while her eyes filled 
 with sympathizing tears, " would that the world could see with what 
 devotion the great ]\Iaria Theresa sits in the stillness of the night, and 
 with her own hands prepares her husband's shroud !" 
 
 The Empress quickly raised her head, and with something like her 
 accustomed imperiousncss, said, ^I forbid any one of you' to speak of 
 what you have seen to-night. Innthe simplicity of my grief, \ do what 
 my heart urges me to do ; but let not my sorrow become the subject 
 of the vrorld's idle gossipT When the husband dies, his wife, be she 
 
KING OF ROME. ^ 1 y.'. 
 
 empress or lieg^gftr, is nolliing but a sorrow iii;j widow. Ah! I aui iit- 
 dced beggared ofal) my \\e:ilt.h, for I have lose the dearest treiisiire I 
 possessed on earth. All my joys will die with hiui." 
 
 The Empress's sobs choked her utteranrr ; and Vmryincr her fjrce in 
 the ,shrou(>, she wept aloud. 
 
 " In the riaflle of heaven, your Majesty, do not let yonr tears fall up- 
 on the shroud," cried the (Countess Daun, while she tried -with gentle 
 force to wrest the cloth from the Empress's hands. " I have heard it 
 said that what is laid in the coflin bedew'cd with tears draws after it to 
 the grave the one sheds them." 
 
 '• Would it were true!" exclaimed the Empres's, who had already re- 
 sumed her work. " Would that my Francis could open his arms to re- 
 ceive me, that I might rest by his side from the cares of life ! Would 
 that 1 were with hin\, who was my lover from 'earliest childhood ; for 
 cold and cheerless will be the life that is no longer lit up by his smile !" 
 
 She bent once more over her work, and nothing further was said ; but 
 her ladies of honor gazed with tearful eyes upon the hiph-horn mourner, 
 who, in her long black dress, was making a shroud (or her lost husband. 
 
 Ac last the task was completed, and she rose irom her seat. With a 
 sad smile, she threw the shroud over her head, and it fell around her 
 r^estic form like a white veil. 
 
 ^ My veil of eternal widowhood !" said she. " Lot me warm it with 
 my love, that it may not lie too cold upon my darling's breast. Now, 
 my friends, go and rest. Pray for the Emperor, and for his heart-bro- 
 ken wife." 
 
 "Surely," POvid the Countess Daun, "your Majesty will not send ns 
 away until we liave attended to your wants. Let us remain; we will 
 watch by your bedside." 
 
 — " No, Countess, I will dispense with your services to-night. Char- 
 lotte Von Ilieronymus will stay with me." 
 
 Turning to her beloved little tire-woman she said, "I want your at- 
 tendance yet awhile, Charlotte ; you are to dress my hair to night as be- 
 comes a widow. Good night, ladies." 
 
 The ladies of honor, with deep curtsies, left the room. 
 
 As the door closed behind them, she said to Charlotte, " Now, Char- 
 lotte, dear child, you shall go with me on my last visit to the Emperor. 
 Take a pair of scissors, and come." 
 
 "Scissors, your Majesty !" said Charlotte. 
 
 " Yes, my dear," replied she, as she advanced to her work-table from 
 whe.nce she took up a silver candelabrum, and signed to Charlptte to 
 follow. 
 
 Wrapping the shroucl close about her, the Empress went forward 
 through the long suite of magniiicent, but dark and empty rooms, that 
 lay b('tween her and her husband. Her tall white figure, enveloped in 
 the shroud, looked in the gloom of night liklj a ghost. The light which 
 she carried, as it. flashed across herlace gave it a weird aspect; and as 
 the two wanderers wont flitiingby the large mirrors that here and t'l^erp 
 
154 .^. JOSEPH THJE SKCOMU 
 
 ornamented the rooms, they looked like a vision Oiiit liad started up for 
 a moment, then vanished into utter darkness. 
 
 At last ihey came to a door which stood ajar, through which a lighfc 
 was visible. 
 
 " We are here," said the Empress, leaning against the dooi- for sup- 
 port. Step lightly, Charlotte, and make no noise, for the Emperor 
 sleeps." 
 
 There on the bed, with its yellow sunken flice, was the corpse that 
 had been her husband — the only man she had ever loved ! And that 
 hideous black cofiln, which looked all the gloomier for the wax-lights 
 that burned around it, was his last resting-place. 
 
 Maria Theresa shuddered when she saw all this; but her strong will 
 came to her help, and she went steadily forward until she reached the 
 nrght-watchers. She awoke them, and said " Go— ^wait in the next room 
 until I call you." Charlotte was already on her knees, praying. 
 
 The £^pres3 stood once more irresolute, then rushing forward with a 
 cry she leaned over the body. 
 
 "^Presently she laid her hand lovingly upon the staring eyes of the 
 corpse, and looked long and tenderly at the face. , 
 
 "Shut your eyes, my Franz," said she scfftly, "shut your eyes, for 
 never have they looked so coldly upon me before. Do not forget m Ai 
 heaven, my beloved ; but leave your heart with me; min'e h'a3 b^n 
 with you for so many years. First I loved you as a child — then as a 
 maiden — and lastly, I loved you as a wife and the mother of your chil- 
 dren. And I will ever love you, my own one. I was true as your wife, 
 and I will be true as your widow. Farewell, my beloved, farewell !" 
 
 She bent over and kissed the Emperor's mouth ; then for a moment 
 she laid her head upon his cold, still bosom. Then again she drew her 
 hand softly across his eyes, and tried to close them. A proud smile 
 flitted over her wan face, for the eyes of the corpse closed. The loving 
 hand of the wife had prevailed where every other effort had failed. True 
 to her wishes in death as in life, the dead Emperor had shut his eyes to 
 eal'th forever, * 
 
 " Come, Charlotte, come," cried the Empress, almost joyfully, " see 
 how my Emperor loves me ! He hears me still, and he has granted my 
 last request. I will mourn no more, but will think of the day when I 
 shall go to him again and share his home in heaven. Until then, ray 
 Franz, farewell !" 
 
 She bent her bead, and taking the shroud from her shoulders, she 
 spread it carefully over the coffin, smoothing every wrinkle with her 
 hands, until it lay as perfect as the covering of a cotich. 
 
 "Call the valets, Charlotte," said she, "and as they entered thefoom, 
 she motioned- them to advance." Help me to lay the Emperor on yon- 
 der — bed," said she. " Take the feet and body, and I will bear his head." 
 
 With her strong arms, she raised him as a mother would move her 
 sleeping child, and with the help of the valets, she laid her husband ia 
 hh coffin. This done, she again sent away the attendants, and then 
 
KL-5G OF RoMJi 155 
 
 wrapped ilie body in the ehroud aa though she had been protecting it 
 from tlie cold. 
 
 " Come hilher, Charlotte," said she, " with your scissors." Charlotte 
 approached noiselessly. " Cut oft'my hair," eontinue'd she, takinir out; 
 her comH, and letting down the rich masses until it fell about her person 
 like another shroud. 
 
 " No, your Majesty ; no," cried Charlotte bursting into tears. " I 
 never can cot off that magnificent hair." 
 
 " Good child," said the i'Jmpress, " many a weary hour has that mag- 
 nificent hair cost you, and do you ask to have it spared 1 h shall give 
 you no more trouble. Take the scissors, and cut it off!" 
 
 " Has your Majesty then forgotten," pleaded Charlotte, '• how dearly 
 the Emperor loved this hair 1" 
 
 "No, Charlotte, and therefore he must have it. 'Tis the last love- 
 tok-en I have to give.him. I cannot die with him like an iiidinn wife; 
 but religion does not forbid nic to lay this off(!iing at least, in his cofiiii. 
 He so often used to pass his hands through it, he was so proud of its 
 beauty, that now he is gone,'no one else shall see it. Lay no more, Char- 
 lotte, but cut it off." 
 
 The Empress bent her head, while Charlotte, with a heartfelt sigh, 
 and trembling hands cut off the long and beautiful blond hair which 
 Maria Theresa laid as a love-token in the coffin of her husband.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE IMPERIAL ABBESS. 
 
 I 
 
 The funeral rites were over. In the crypt of the church of the Capu- 
 chins, under the monumcnt^which, twenty years before, the Empress had 
 built for herself and her husband, lay the body of Emperor Francis. In 
 this vault slept all the Imperial dead oi" the house of HapsKurg. One 
 after another, with closed eyes and folded hands, their marble effigies 
 were stretched across their tombs, stiff and cold as the bones that were 
 buried beneath. The eternal night of death reigned over those couchant 
 images of stone and bronze. 
 
 But Maria Theresa and her Emperor had conquered Death. Both ris- 
 ing from the tomb, their eyes were fixed upon each other with an ex- 
 pression of deepest tenderness, while Azrael who stood behind, with a 
 /wreath of cypress in his hands, seemed to have transformed himself into 
 an Angel of love that sa nctified their union even beyond the tomb — 
 
 * CnroUne Pichler, Memotrg, Vol. 1, paje 38. 
 
156 ' .JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 All bad left the vault save the widowed En)press; she had remained 
 behind to weep and pray. • Her prayers ended, she drew her Jptig black 
 cloak around her and strode tlirbugh the church, unmindfuTof the monkj^ 
 who, on either side of the ai?le, awaited her appcarancejn respectful siw 
 Jence. She heeded neither their inclined heads nor their looks of sympa- 
 thy : stunned by grief, she was unmindful of externals, and scarcely 
 knew that she had left the vault, when her coach stopped before the im- 
 perial palace. 
 
 Once there, Maria Theresa pussed by the splendid apartments which 
 during her husband's life she had inhabited ; and ascending the stair-case 
 to the second story of the palace, she entered upon the dwelling which 
 had been prepared for her widowhood. . It was simple to coldness. 
 Hung with black, nothing relieved the gloom of these rooms; 'neither 
 mirror, picture, gilding nor flowers wore there. The bed-room looked 
 sad in the extreme. The walls were hung in gray silk; gray velvet 
 curtains were drawn in front of the small widow's bed ; the floor was 
 covered with a gray carpet studded with white lilies, and the furniture 
 was like Che curtains, of dim, dull gray vcliet.^ 
 
 As the Empress entered this dismal room she saluted her ladies of 
 honor who had followed her, and now stood awaiting her commands at 
 the door. 
 
 " Bring all my dresses, shawls, laces, and jewe!^ to me in the recep- 
 tion room, ffnd send a messenger to Prince Kaunitz to say that I await 
 his presence." 
 
 The ladies of honor left the room silently, and the Empress, closing 
 the door, again began to weep and pray. Meanwhile her attendants 
 were occupied bringing up the costly wardrobeof their imperial mistress. 
 In a little while the dark rooms were brightened with velvet and silk of 
 every color, with gold and silver, with jewels and flowers. 
 
 The ladies looked with eager and admiring eyes at the magnificence 
 which had transformed this funereel apartment into a bazar of elegance 
 and luxury, scarcely daring to speak the hopes and wishes that were 
 filling all their hearts. Suddenly their curious eyes sought the ground, 
 for the Empross appeared, and entered the room. Whai'a contrast be- 
 tween this pale figure, clad in simplest mourning, and the rich costumes 
 which in the days of her happiness had heightened her beauty; — those 
 days which seemed to lie so far, far away from the bitter present ! 
 
 The Empress laid her hand upon her heart, as if^to stifle a cry of an- 
 guish ; then approaching the black marble table, she took up some of 
 the dresses that lay upon it. 
 
 With a voice softer and more pathetic than ever they h.ad heard be- 
 fore, she begged the companions of her happier days to accept and wear 
 these costly things -as a .legacy from the Emperor. She then divided 
 them as she thought best ; asF^igning to each lady what best became her, 
 and was most appropriate. • 
 
 Her ladies stood weeping around, while Maria Thpre.«^a besought each 
 
 * Caroline Pichler, Memoirg : Vol. 1, p. 20. 
 
KING OF ROME. 157 
 
 one to pardon the trouble she had given in her joyous days, for the sake 
 of the misery she now endured. And as she entreated them to forget 
 that she had been imperious and exacting, they knelt weeping at her 
 feet, and earnestly implored her not to leave ihemi 
 
 The Empress sadly shook her head. " I am no longer an Empress," 
 said she, " I am a poor, humbled woman, who needs no more atiendanc« ; 
 whose only aim on earth is to serve God, and die in his favor ! Pray 
 for the Emperor, dear friends, and pray for me also," 
 
 Slowly turning away, she left the room, and entered her cabinet, which 
 opened into the gray bed-room. 
 
 " And now to my last worldly task," said she, as ringing a silver 
 hand-bell, she bade a page conduct Prince Kaunilz to her presence. 
 
 The page opened the door, and the Prince came in. 
 
 The Empress greeted him with a silent bend of her head, and exhaus- 
 ted, sank into an arm-chair that stood before her v/riting-desk. Kaunilz, 
 without awaiting permission, took a seat opposite. 
 
 There was a long pause. At length Kaunitz said : " Your Majesty 
 has honored me by commanding my presence hither." 
 
 — " Yes, I sent for you because 1 have something of great importanco 
 to say," replied the Empress. 
 
 " I am all attention," replied the Minister.. " For it is worthy of your 
 noble self, so soon to stifle your grief and to attend to the duties of your 
 crown. You have sent for me that we may work. And your Majesty 
 has done well, for much business has accumulated on our hands since 
 we last held a cabinet council." 
 
 The Empress -shook her head. " Business no longer troubles me," re- 
 plied she; "I have sent for you to say that we \\\\\ no longer work to- 
 gether." 
 
 "Does that mean that your Majesty is about to dismiss me in dis 
 grace 1 Are you no longer satisfied with your Minister 1" asked Kau- 
 nitz. 
 
 — " No, Prince. It means that I myself mu^t retire.^ from the bustle 
 and vanities of this world. My hands are no longer fit to wield a scep- 
 tre ; they must be folded in prayer — in prayer for my Emperor, who 
 was called'away without receiving the sacraments of the church. My 
 strength has gone from me ; my crown oppresses me ; I can no longer 
 be an* Empress." 
 
 "Were you made a Sovereign by any power of yours 1" asked Kau- 
 nitz. " Had yon the choice of becoming an Empr,ess, or remaining an 
 Archduchess? What did your Majesty say to mie when the insoI.ent 
 Carl of Bavaria tried to wrest your imperial crown from your head ? — ' I 
 received my crown from the hands of God, and I must defend my divine 
 right!' — Floods of noble blood were spilled that Maria Theresa might 
 preserve her right ; and does she now intend to dim the glory of her 
 crown by sacrificing it to her sorrow as a wife 1" 
 
 — "I am tired of life and of the world, and I intend to take refuge 
 from their troubles in a cloister. Say no more ! I am resolved to go, 
 
158 cJUSEPH THE SECUKU 
 
 and the palace at lospruck shall be jny convent. There, on the spot 
 where he died, will 1 make my vows ; and as an Abbess will I spend my 
 life praying that God may give him eternal rest. My vocation as a Sov- 
 ei»eign is at an end; I will resign my sceptre to my son/'*" 
 
 " That means that your Majesty will destroy with your own hands 
 the structure you had commenced; that you have grown faint-hearted 
 and are unfaithful to your duty and to your subjects." 
 
 " I will follow the steps of my great ance>tor, Charles V," cried the 
 Empress with energy. " I lay down my earthly digniiy to humble my- 
 self before God." 
 
 " And your Majesty will be quite as unhappy as your ancestor. Do 
 you suppose that the poor monk ever was able to forget that he had 
 been a great Prince ?" 
 
 — " And yet Charles V. remained for twenty years in a cloister." 
 
 — " But what a life, your Majesty. A life of regret, repentance, and 
 despair. Believe me, it is far better, like Cesar to die pierced by twenty 
 daggers on the steps of a throne, than voluntarily to descend from that- 
 throne to enter the miserable walls of a cloister." 
 
 "Better perhaps for those who have not renounced the world and its 
 pomps," cried the Empress, raising her beautiful eyes to heaven. "But 
 it is neither saluty nor weariness of grandeur that has driven me to a 
 cloister. It is my love for my Emperoi', my yearning to be alone with 
 God and with the past. 
 
 " But your Majesty," said Kaunitz with emphasis, " you will not bo 
 alone with the past; the maledictions of your people will follow you. 
 Will they hold you guiltless to have broken your faith with them 1" 
 
 — " I shall not have broken my faith ; I shall'have left to my people 
 a successor to whom sooner or later they will owe the same allegiance 
 as they now owe to me." 
 
 " But a successor who will overturn all that his Mother has done for 
 Austria's welfare. Your Majesty laid the foundations of Austria's great- 
 ness. To that end, you called me to the lofty station which I now oc- 
 cupy. Remember that together we pledged our lives and love to Aus- 
 tria. Be not untrue to the covenant. In the name of that people which 
 1 then represented, I claim from their Einperoi\ /Maria Theresa, the strict 
 fulfillment of her bond. I call upon her to be true to her duty as the 
 Ruler*of a great nation, until the hand of God releases her from her 
 crown and her life." ' 
 
 While Kaunitz spoke, Maria Theresa walked up and down the room, 
 ■with troubled brow and folded arms. As he ceased, she came and stood 
 before him, looking earnestly into his face, which now had cast aside its 
 mask of tranquility, and showed visible signs of agitation, 
 
 "You are a bold advocate of my people's claims ;" said she, "a brave 
 defender of my Ausitria. I rejoice to know it, and never will take um- 
 brage at what you have so nololy spoken. But you have not convinced 
 
 me ; my sorrow Speaks louder than yqur arguments. You have termed 
 
 - — — — ' J '- — ■ ^^^ — 
 
 • C«>xe. History of the House of Austria. Tol 5, p8g<! 13S. 
 
KING OF ROMi lr>9 
 
 me ' your Emperor.' I know why you have once more called me by 
 th;it (lattcriii" title. You wish to remind me that in mounting the throne 
 of my ancestors, 1 lost the right to grieve as a woman, and pledged my. 
 Keif to gird on the armor of manhood. IJither'o I have made it my 
 pride to plan, to reign, to fight like a man. 1 ha\e always tlared that 
 men mi'^ht say of me that my hand was too weak to grasp the reins of 
 power. ■ But God, who perhaps gave me the head of a man, while leav- 
 ing me the heart of a woman, hks punished me i'or my ambition. He 
 has left me to learn that alas! I am but a woman — with all the weak- 
 ness of my sex. It is that wonjanly heart which, throbbing with an an- 
 guish that no word^can paint, has vanquished wf head : and loud above 
 all thoughts of my duty as an Empress is the wail of my sorrow ks a 
 widow ! But I will show yon, Kaunitz, that I am not stubborn. 1 will 
 communicate my intentions to no one. For four weeks I will retire to 
 my cloister. Instead of naming Joseph my successor, 1 will appoint him 
 co-regent. If, after four weeks of probation, I still feel that I can with- 
 out guilt retire from the world, shall I then be absolved from my oath, 
 and suffered to lay down my crown without reproach from my faithful. 
 Minister?" 
 
 " If after four weeks of unlimited power delegated to the Emperor Jo- 
 seph, your Majesty still thinks that you have a right to abdicate," re- 
 plied kaunitz, "1 shall make no opposition tO your Majesty's choice of 
 a private vocation, for I shall feel that after that time, remonstrance with 
 you would be useless." •, * 
 
 , — " Well then, my novitiate shall begin to-morrow. Apprise the 
 CourC and the Foreign represcntativefe that I wish to meet them in the 
 throne-room, where in their presence I will appoint my son Emperor 
 co-reeent." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE CO-KEGENT. 
 
 Maria Theresa had kept her word. She had appointed her son co- 
 regent, investing the young Emperor with full power to reign, to make 
 laws, to punish, to reward, and to govern her people, while she retired 
 to the Palace of Inspruck. There she dwelt in strictest privacy, scarce- 
 ly seeing her children, and restricting her intercourse to her first lady of 
 honor, her confessor, and a few chosen friends^whom she sometimes ad- 
 mitted to her mournful rooms. 
 
 Joseph, the young Emperor of four-and'-twenty years, was now mon- 
 arch of all Austria, Hungary, Ijombardy, and the Netherlands. He ha'^ 
 
1 1)0 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 reached the goal of his longings for power, and now he could begin to 
 think about the happiness of his people. 
 
 Since the intoxicating moment when Maria Theresa in presence of the 
 whole Court, had named him co-regent, and delivered over to his hands 
 her vast empire, Joseph felt as it he had suddenly been transported to a 
 world of enchantment. lie had, together with her ministers, dissuaded 
 the Empress from her resolution of retiring to Inspruck ; but even as he 
 joined his voice to theirs, his heart was trembling with fear lest she 
 should yield. He felt that if she revoked the^ power she had conferred 
 he would almost die with disappointment. But the Eaipress remained 
 firm, and her son was triumphant. 
 
 She had gone from the throne to the solitude of *erown apartments, 
 and left him Lord and Emperor of Austria! He would no longer be 
 • obliged to conceal his thoughts; they should come out into the broad 
 day as deeds, for he was sovereign there ! 
 
 A day and night had passed by since his mother had renounced her 
 rights to him. He could not sleep. His head was full of plans, his 
 heart of emotion. He dared not sleep, he who was the guardian of mil- 
 lions of his fellow-beings, he who felt ready to shed his heart's l^lood for 
 , their good. 
 
 On the first day, Joseph had been in council with the ministers of state. 
 The will of the deceased Emperor had been opened, and his son now 
 learned that while his mother was conferring upon him power, his father 
 had left him boundless wealth. The Emperor Erancis had left his eldest 
 son sol& heir to his estates in Hungary and Galicia, to his jewels and 
 treasures, and also to the millions of money which he had accumulated 
 through raanuflictures and trade. He had also left to his eldest son the 
 twenty-two millions of coupons which he had taken for the gold v/hich 
 he had advanced to the state for the prosecution of the seven -years' war. 
 Joseph was therefore the richest prince in all Gern>any, for his father's 
 vast estates amounted to one hundred and fifty nine millions of guil- 
 ders.* But. he v;ho had been so intoxicated with joy at his mother's gift, 
 seemed scarcely moved at all as he received the tidings ot his vast inhe- 
 ritance.. 
 
 " I wish that my father had bought all the coupons that were issued, 
 and that they were all mine ;" said he, with a sigh. 
 
 " Your Majesty would be no gainer thereby," replied the Lord Keep- 
 er o£ the Finances, Von Kinsky. "These coupons bear but little inter- 
 est, and paper money is not gold. Its value is nominal." 
 
 " But it has one merit," rejflied the Emperor smiling, "it can be 
 burned. Oh ! what a miserable invention is this paper money which 
 represents value, but possesses none. Suppose that all the holders of 
 these coupons were to come this morning and ask their redemption, 
 could the imperial coflers meet their obligations?" 
 
 — " Not if they all came at once, your Majesty." 
 
 " But the people have a right to call for them," said the Emperor. 
 
 *Hubner. Life of Joseph II. Vol. l. p. 29. 
 
KiKG OF ROME. IGl 
 
 "In lending their money, they showed iheir confidence in the govern- 
 ment, and this confidence must not be betrayed. Let the twenty-two 
 millions of coupons be put in a package and brought to my private 
 apartments. I wish to dispose of them." 
 
 Throughout this day, Joseph was so absorbed by business, both private 
 and onicial, that he had no opportunity of exhibiting himself in his new 
 character, either to his family orjiis subjects. 
 
 But on the second day of his co-regency, the voung Emperor appear- 
 ed in public. On this day, the Viennese celebrated the deliverance of 
 Vienna from the Turks, by John Tobieski and his brave Polish legions. 
 The mourning of the female members of the imperial family did not^ 
 permit them to mingle as usual with the people, on this favorite festival ; 
 but the Emperor resolved to show himself on this occasion in the char- 
 acter of a Sovereign. All Vienna was eager to see him, as soon as it 
 became rumored that he would certainly attend the mass in honor of the 
 day at the Cathedral of St. Stephens. 
 
 Meanwhile the young Emperor was in his palace. The ante-rooms 
 were filled with petitioners of every sort, who, through bribes ofi'eVed to 
 the members of the imperial household, had penetrated thus far, and 
 were now awaiting the appearance of the Emperor. The ante-rooms of 
 Maria Theresa had always been thronged with these petitioners, and now 
 they jostled each other, without ceremony, each one hoping to be re- 
 marked by the Emperor as he passed on to his carriage. 
 
 Suddenly the commotion ceased and took the form of a panic, as 
 the door opened and the valets of the Emperor came forward, their hands 
 filled with the petitions which they had just taken in. They had all 
 been refused ! 
 
 A few Hiotiienta afterwards, the door opened again, and the Lord- 
 chamberlain, Count Rosenberg, advanced to the centre of the room. 
 There was no necessity for the pages to order silence ; for the crowd 
 were breathless" with expectation, and the deepest stillness reigned 
 throughout the thronged rooms, while Count Rosenbjerg read the first 
 greeting of the Emperor to his people. 
 
 It was sharp, and to the point. It forbade, in strongest terms, all in- 
 direct eflbrts to obtain promotion or pensions ; and it declared once for 
 all that merit alone would be the test of all applications presented to 
 the Emperor Joseph II. 
 
 When the Count had done reading the proclamation, the valets laid 
 the petitions upon a table, that each man might select and remove his 
 own paper. 
 
 " Your Majesty has made many enemies today," saifl Count Ivosen- 
 berg, as he reentered the cabinet of the Emperor. " I saw many a 
 scowl in the ante-room as I passed by the disappointed multitude that 
 thronged my way." 
 
 " I do not wish the friendship of intrigues and flatterers," replied the 
 Emperor, with a merry laugh. " If my proclamations make me ene- 
 mies, I think it will also make me friends. The good shall be satisfied 
 
 H 
 
162 JOSEPH THE SECOND, 
 
 with my rule; for during my long silence under my mother's reign, I 
 have observed much, and thought much. And now the day has come 
 when the power is mine to reward virtue and punish vice." 
 
 " May heaven grant that your Majesty's day draw to a close without 
 clouds or storms," said Rosenberg. 
 
 The Emperor laughed again, " What do you fear, ray friend ?" ask- 
 ed he. " Have you so long shared with me my hutthen of dissimula- 
 tion that you are frightened to see our shackles falll Are you afraid of 
 the fresh air, because we wear our masks no longer ? Patience, Rosen- 
 berg, and all will be well with ns. Our dreams are about to be fulfill- 
 ed ; what we have whispered together in the twilight of mutual trust, 
 we will now cry out with fr§e and joyous shouts, ' Reform ! Reform !' 
 My people have prayed quite enough, they shall now learn to do some- 
 thing better — they shall think ; they have been long enough led by 
 faith, like little children. I will give them conformation, and they shall 
 enter upou the responsibilities of manhood. I mean to be a blessing to 
 the virtuous and a terror to the vicious." 
 
 "Unhappily there is more evil than good in this world," said Count 
 Rosenberg, sighing, "and a man, though he seldom can count his friends, 
 is never at a loss to count his enemies." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said Joseph, smiling, " I intend to draw 
 out the fangs of the wicked, so that they shall have power to injure no one." 
 
 "Your Majesty will do this if time should be granted ydu," said the 
 Count. " If ''' 
 
 " What do you mean?" cried the Emperor, impatiently, as Rosenberg 
 hesitated. "Speak on. What do you fear ?" 
 
 "I fear," whispered the Count, "that your day will be darkened by 
 bigots and priests. 1 fear that the Empress will not leave you freedom 
 to carry out your reformation. I fear that your enemies will dry up 
 her tears, and unclasp her folded hands, to place within their grasp the 
 sceptre to which your manhood gives you the right. I fear the influence 
 of her confessor, Slather Porhammer; try to conciliate him. It is far 
 better to win over our opponents by forbearance than to exasperate them 
 by open warfare." 
 
 " But open warfare is my right," cried Joseph, " and I am powerful 
 enough to despise all opponents, as well as strong enough to pursue my 
 way without regard to the wickedness of all the bigots in Christendom. 
 Eace to face shall we stand, and I defy them all ! We have had enough 
 too of Spanish etiquette and Italian mummery here. Now we shall have 
 honest German customs ; we shall be Germans in thought, in speech, 
 and in sentiment. This is my dream, my bright and beautiful dream ! 
 xVustria shall one day be Germanised; the kingdoms and provinces 
 which compose my dominions shall no longer be separate nationalities, 
 but all shall be the branches of one lofty tree. The limbs shall loose 
 their names, and be called by that of the trunk ; and the trunk shall 
 bear the name of Germany. High above the boughs of this noble tree, 
 which shaU'exlend from Franco to Poland, 1 will place my banner and 
 
KING OF KUilE. 1 63 
 
 my crown, and before their might all Europe shall bow. This is my 
 dream, KosenbGrg, my dream of future greaineps!" 
 
 — " While I hoar you speak, and look upon your Majesty's counte* 
 nance, bright with inspiration, I ,100 bow before the grandeur of youi- 
 thought, and feel as if this god-like dream nuistsurelv become a glorious 
 truth!" 
 
 "It will be glorious truth, Rosenberg," exclaimed the Emperor. 
 *' Why should Germany be severed into many parts, when France and 
 Spain are each a kingdom in itself? \Vhy is England so powerful? 
 Because Scotland and Ireland have cast their identity into hers! Swe- 
 den and Norway, are they not one?, And Russia: how many different 
 races own the sway of the mighty Czar 1 My empire, too, shall become 
 strong through unity, and I shall not only be Emperor of Austria, but 
 in very deed and truth. Emperor of all Germany." 
 
 Rosenberg shook his head and sighed. "Ah, your Majesty," said he, 
 "you are so young that you believe in the realization of mortal dreams." 
 
 — " I do ; and 1 intend to work out their realization myself. I shall 
 begin by being German myself. I intend to do away with ceremony, 
 priestcraft, and foreign indueuce. To that intent, my Lord Chamberlain, 
 you will see that all foreigners are dismissed from the palace and their 
 places supplied by Germans. My two Italian valets 1 make t)ver to 
 Porharamer — nothing but (xerman shall be spoken at Court. I will 
 have neither French nor Italian actors here ; Count Dura/zo shall dis- 
 miss his foreign troupes and employ Germans in their stead.* Let him 
 sec that the German stage flourishes, and does honor to the metropolis 
 of the- German empire." 
 
 "This is an ordinance that will enchant the youths of Vienna," replied 
 the Count, gaily. 
 
 " Here is another which will equally rejoice their hearts, as well as 
 those of all the prettj' women in Vienna," added the Emperor. 
 
 " Your Majesty means to revoke'the power of the Committee on Mo- 
 rals?" 
 
 — "Not quite» .1 dare not fly so soon in the face of my lady-mother's 
 pet institutions," returned Joseph, laughing, " but I shall suspend them 
 until lurther notice. Now the pretty sinners may all go to sleep in 
 peace; now the young girls of Vienna may walk the streets without be- 
 ing asked whither they go, or whence they come. Reform ! Reform ! 
 But hark — there are the church-bells, I go to show myself to my subjects. 
 Come, let us away." 
 
 "But your Majesty, has not made your toilet. The valets are now 
 waiting with your Spanish court-dress in your dressing-room." 
 
 "I make them a present of it," said the Emperor. "The day of 
 Spanish court-dresses is over. The uniform of my regiment shall be my 
 court-dress hereafter, so that you see that I am dressed and ready." 
 
 — "Then allow me to order that the carriage of state be prepared for 
 your Majesty." 
 
 *Grojs~Hoffiiiger. History of Joseph 11. Vol. 1, p. 91. 
 
1 64 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " Order that the carriage of stale be left to rot in the Empress's sta- 
 bles," returned Joseph. The day of etiquette, also, is over. I am a man 
 like other men, and have as much use of my limbs as they. Let crip- 
 ples and dotards ride : I shall go to church on foot." 
 
 " But your Majesty," remonstrated Rosenberg, " what will the peo- 
 ple say when they see their Emperor stripped of all the pomp of his high 
 htation? They will think that you hold them too cheaply to visit them 
 in state." 
 
 "No, no: my people will feel that I come among them, not with the 
 cold splendor of my rank, but with the warmth of human sympathy and 
 human na,ture; and they will greet me with more enthusiasm than if I 
 came in ray carriage of state." 
 
 The Emperor was right. The people who had thronged every street 
 through which he was to pass, shouted for joy, when they saw the ruler 
 of all Austria on foot, accompanied by a few of his friends, making his 
 way among them, with as much simplicity as p, burgher. At first, as- 
 tonishment had repressed the enthusiasm of the Viennese; but this mo- 
 mentary reticence overcome, the subjects of Joseph the second, rent the 
 air with their cries of welcome, and pressed around his path, all eager to 
 look into the" face of the Sovereign who walked among his people as an 
 equal and a man. 
 
 " See him, ! See him!" cried they. " See the German Prince who is 
 not ashamed to be a German ! See our Emperor in the uniform of the 
 German infantry ! Long live the Emperor. Long live our Fatherland!" 
 
 ''Long live the Emperor !" Shouted the multitude, while Joseph, his 
 heart overflowing with joy, made his way at last to the Cathedral of St. 
 Stephen. 
 
 And now the trumpets sounded, and the mighty organ thundered forth 
 a welcome, while cardinals and priests lifted their voices, and the clerg}' 
 sang the " Salvum fac imperaiorum nostrum.'''' And ever and anoli, 
 through the open windows of the Cathedral, the people shouted still, 
 *' Long live the Emperor ! Long live our Fatherland !" 
 
 Overcome by the ovation, Joseph sank down upon his knees, and his 
 heart softened by the scene, the circumstances, and the sublime chants 
 of the Church, he prayed. Clasping his hands he prayed that God might 
 give him strength to do his duty to his subjects, and to make them 
 happy. 
 
 The Salvum fac imperaiorum over, the Mass for the repose of the 
 soul of Sobieski and his twelve thousand Poles, was entoned. The 
 Emperor prayed for them, and thanked the Almighty Ruler of all things 
 for the rescue they had brought to Vienna in her hour of danger from 
 the Infidel. 
 
 This was the first public act of Joseph's reign as co-regent. 
 
 The Mass over, the people witnessed another public act of the young 
 Smperor's reign. While Joseph, smiling and bending his head to the 
 crowds that pressed around him, was quietly pursuing his way back to 
 the palace, a procession was seen coming through the streets which at- 
 
KIN(i UF ROME. ](jj 
 
 tracted the attention pf the uiultitnde and called forth their wonder. 
 First came a file of soldiers with shouldered carbines, then an open ve- 
 hicle drawn by horses from the imperial stables, then another file of 
 Koidiers. Within the wagon 'sat several ofhcorR of the Emperor's house- 
 hold, with large rolls of paper in their hands, and behind it was a detach- 
 ment of cavalry with drawn sabres. 
 
 " What means this pageant?" asked the peopl« of one another. 
 
 For all answer to this question, the multitudes pressed forward and 
 fell in with the mysterious procession. 
 
 The train moved on until it arrived at an open market place, where it; 
 halted. In the centre of the square was a heap of fagots, near which 
 stood two men with lighted torches in their hands. 
 
 " An execution !'' cried the terror-stricken multitude. " But what an 
 executionJ Who was to be burnt at the stake f 
 
 While the crowd were murmuring within themselves, the officers of 
 the Emperor's household advanced to the pile and laid the rolls of papers 
 which they had brought, upon it. They then signed to the people for 
 silence, and one of the officers addressed the crowd. 
 
 "The Ernperor Joseph, co-regent with the EmpTess Maria Theresa, 
 sends greeting to his subjects," cried he in a clear, loud voice. " To-day, 
 the first of his reign, aud the festival of John Sobieski the deliver of Vi^ 
 enna, he wishes to prove to his people, how much he loves them. Iti 
 testimony whereof, he presents to them, twenty-two millions of coupons 
 bequeathed to him by his father, the late Emperor Francis. These pa- 
 pers are the coupons. In the name of the Emperor Joseph, approach, 
 ye torch-bearers, and kindle the pile, that the people of Austria, made 
 richer by twenty-two millions, may recognise in this sacrifice, the love 
 of their Sovereign." 
 
 The torches were applied, and high in the air soared the flames that 
 were consuming the Emperor's bequest, while tile faces of the multitude 
 around were lit up by the glare of the burning pile. 
 
 ^ The bells of the churches began to chime, the flames soared higher and 
 higher, and the people looked on in wondering gratitude at the twenty- 
 two millions of guilders, which were the first offering of Joseph II. to his 
 subjects.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 HAROUK AL RASOIIID. 
 
 The Emperor wa«i alone in his dressing-cabinet. He stood before a 
 mirror, covering his rich blond curls with a large wig, which fell in long 
 ringlets over his shoulders, and completed the very singular costume in 
 which it had please d his Majesty to array himself, 
 
 ♦ITomiayer. Austrian Plutarcli, First Vol., p. T29. 
 
The Emperor surveyed himself with evident gatisfuetion. and broke out 
 into a hearty laugh. '• I think," su'id he, " that in this dark-haired fop, 
 with his fashionable costume, no one will recugniae ihe Empeior. I 
 suppose that in this di.-'guiso I may go nhdetectod in search of adven- 
 tures. If I am to be of use as a prince, I must see all thini^s, prove all 
 things, ;ind learn all things. It is written : .'Prove ail things and hold 
 1 Hat to that which is good.' I am afraid that I will not hold fast to much 
 that comes under my observation." 
 
 He drew back from the mirror, threw over his shoulders a little cloak, 
 bordered with fur, set a three-cornered hat upon the top of his wig, took 
 lip a sniall gold-headed cane, and then returned to survey himself a se- 
 cond time. 
 
 — " A fop of the latest style, that is to say, a fool of the first water 
 looks out upon himself fron-i this looking-gla.ss," said he, laughing. "It 
 would be an afiVont to my majesty if any one were to presume to sus- 
 pect the Emperor under this absurd disguise. I hope I shall be as success- 
 ful in the way of adventures, as was my predecessor Haroun Al Raschid." 
 
 He drew his cloak close around him, and stepped from a little private 
 door that opened from his dressing-room into the corridor which led to 
 the apartments of his wife. Retired and unobserved, the Empress Jo- 
 seph.'* lived within these rooms, which, from the first night of their mar- 
 riage, her husband had never re-entered. The corridor was empty. Jo- 
 sepli could therefore pass out unobserved, until he reached a privat-B 
 staircase leading to the lower floor of the palace. Once there, he raised 
 his head, and stepped boldly out into the hall. The porters allowed 
 him to pass without suspicion, and unrecognized, the young adventurer 
 reached the public thoroughfares. 
 
 ''Now," thought he, with a sensation of childish delight, "now I am 
 free, a man just like other men. I' defy any one to see my divine right 
 upon my bro\7, or to ob'serve any dilference between the ' imperial blue' 
 of my eyes, and the .ordinary blue of those of my subjects." 
 
 " Halt, there!" cried a threatening voice to the careless pedestrian. 
 "Out of the way, young coxcomb-, do you suppose that I must give 
 way to youf 
 
 " Not at all, your worship," replied Joseph smiling, as with an active 
 bound he cleared the way for a colossal carman, who covered with sweat 
 and dust, was wheeling a load of bricks in a barrow. 
 
 The carman stopped and surveying the Emperor angrily, cried out in 
 a voice of thunder, " What do you mean by calling me ' Your Worship V 
 Do you mean to insult me 'because you are wasting your father's money 
 on your pretty per.son, decked out like a flower-girl on a holiday?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should seek to insult you," replied the Em- 
 peror. " The size of your fists is enough to inspire any one with re- 
 spect. For all the world, I would not offend their owner." 
 
 " Well, then, go your way, you whippersnapper," muttered the car- 
 man, while the EmpeVor congratulated himself upon having gotten out 
 of the scrape without detection. 
 
KING UF liOxME. 1 G7 
 
 " It would have^ been n pretty anecdote for the history of the Empoior 
 Joseph, had he been dibcovered in a street-braw) M-ith a cnrman,'* said 
 ho to himself. "A little luore, and my imperial iiice would have been 
 pounded into jelly by that Hercules of a fidlow ! ]t i^j not such an easy 
 matter, as I had supposed, to mix on equal terms with other men ! But 
 1 will learn by bitter experience how to behave." 
 
 At this moment Joseph heard the sounds of weeping. 'J'urning, he 
 beheld coming towards him, a youn^' girl of about sixteen, whose slight 
 ligurejxin spite of the cqoI autumn day, was scarcely covered by a thin, 
 patched dress of dark stuff. An old, faded silk hankerchicf was thrown 
 over her shoulders ; her sweet, pale face was bedewed with tears, and 
 her lips were murmuring gentle complaints, though no one stopped to 
 listen. On her right arm she carried a bundle, which every now and 
 thCTi sl^ watched, as if afraid that some one might rob her of its trea- 
 sures. 
 
 Suddenly a kind voice whispered, " Why do you weep, my child ?" 
 
 The young girl started and met the gaze of a young man, whose blue 
 eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of tenderest sympathy. 
 
 " I weep," said she, " because 1 am unhappy," and she quickened her 
 stops that she might leave him behind. But the Emperor kept paca 
 with her. 
 
 — '' Why do you walk so flist. Are you afraid of me f 
 
 "I fear the Committee of Morals," said she, blushing. "If they 
 should see me with you, I might be mistaken for " 
 
 -■ — "Have you ever been suspected by them?" 
 
 " Yes sir, although I have always tried, when I was in the streets, to 
 avoid observation. Go, sir, go. Do not heed my tears. I am accus- 
 tomed to misfortune." 
 
 — " But it is said that the Emperor has suspended the office of that 
 committee." 
 
 — "I am glad of it," replied the girl "for good and evil are alike ex- 
 posed to suspicion, and I would like to walk the streets without fear of 
 being taken for Avliat I am not.'" 
 
 -^" Where are you going, child ?" 
 
 — " I am going," replied she with a frcs^i burst of tears, *' to sell the 
 .clothes I carry in this bundle." 
 
 " What clothes, child ?" 
 
 " The last decent covering that my poor mother owns." lobbed the girl. 
 
 " You are then very poorl" asked the Emperor softly. 
 
 " Very poor. We have often been hungry, and have had no fixid but 
 our oWn bitter tears. These are the last clothes we have, but they must 
 go for bread, and then perhaps we will perish of cold." 
 
 — " Poor girl, have you no father V 
 
 — " My father died in defence of Austria and the Empress, and as a 
 reward of his devotion to his sovereign, his wife and child hare been left 
 to die of want." 
 
 "Your father was a soldier?" asked the Emperor, much .iffected. 
 
16« JOSKfH riJli SKCUNl), 
 
 — " lie was an officer, who served with clistinclion in the seven years 
 war. But he never wks promoted, lie died for Maria Theresa, and his 
 ■widow and child will soon fallow him to the grave." 
 
 — " Why have you not applied to the Empress for relief? Her purse 
 is always open to the wants of the needy." 
 
 "To obtain anything from royalty, Sir, you know that one must have 
 influence," replied the girl, bitterly. We have no induence, nor would 
 we know how to intrigue for favor.'' 
 
 " Why then do you not go to the Emperor. He at least has no fancy 
 for intriguers and flatterers. You should' have gone to him." 
 
 " To be haughtily repulsed f said she. " Oh, Sir, the new Emperor 
 is a man w^hose only love is a love of power, and whose only pleasure is 
 to make that power felt by others. Has he not already refused to listen 
 to any petition whatever? Did he not forbid his people to come to him 
 for favors f 
 
 "He did that," replied Joseph, "because he wished to do justice to 
 all, and for that reason, ho has done away with all presentation of peti- 
 tions through courtiers or other officers of his household. But he has ap- 
 pointed an hour to receive all those who will present their petitions in 
 person." 
 
 "So he has said," returned the girl, "but no one believes him. His 
 guards will turn away all those who are not richly dressed, and so tho 
 Emperor will have promised to see the people, though the people will 
 never be allowed to come into his presence." 
 
 " Have the Austrians so little faith in the sincerity of the Emperor?" 
 asked Joseph. " Do they think that his heart " 
 
 " His heart !" exclaimed the girl. " The Emperor is without a heart. 
 Even towards his mother, he is said to be undutiful and obstinate. He 
 hates his wife, and she is as mild as an angel. He whose pleasure it is 
 to see an Empress at his feet, do you suppose that he will sympathise 
 with the misfortunes of his subjects ? No, no ; he has already stopped 
 all the pensions which the generous Empress had given from her private 
 purse." 
 
 — " Because he will bestow them upon worthier objects." 
 
 — " No, no ; it is because he is a miser." 
 
 " He a raiser !" cried Joseph. " Did he not some days ago burn up 
 twenty -two millions of coupons ?" 
 
 " It was said so; but no one saw them ; and it is whispered that the 
 twenty-two millions were nothing but pieces of waste paper." 
 
 The Emperor was speechless. He looked at his young traducer with 
 an expression of real horror. 
 
 " How ?" at length said he in a voice choked by emotion, " the Em- 
 peror. is suspected of such baseness !" 
 
 " He is known to be sdfish and miserly," replied his tormentor. 
 
 Joseph's eyes flashed with anger; but conquering his bitterness, he 
 constrained himself to smile. 
 
 " My child," said he, " you have been deceived. If you knew the 
 
I KING OF ROME. H\\) 
 
 Emperor, you would find that ho is generous and ready to do justice to 
 .'ill men. Go home and write your petition ; and come to-day at noon, 
 to the imperial palace. You will see that the guards will allow you to 
 pass," and a servant will be there to conduct you to me. I myself will 
 present your petition, and I know that the Emperor will not refuse a 
 pension to the widow and child of a brave Austrian ofilcer." 
 
 The girl's eyes filled with tears, as she attempted to thank her uu- 
 known benefactor. 
 
 iBut the Emperor who had all(fwed her to abuse him without interrup- 
 tion, would not list<?n to her praises. 
 
 " Your mother is sick, and needs care," said he. " Go home and do 
 not sell your clothes, for you will need them to visit the Emperor. 
 How much did you expect to get for them?" 
 
 . — " I expected seven ducats, for a portion of this clothing is my moth- 
 er's wedding-dress." 
 
 "Then, my child, let me beg you to accept twelve," said he, drawing 
 out his purse. "I hope they will suffice for your wants until the Em- 
 peror fills them all." 
 
 The young girl bent over and kissed Joseph's hand. " Oh, Sir," said 
 she, " you save us from death, and we have nothing to offer in return, 
 but our poor prayers," 
 
 " Pray for the Emperor," said he gently. " Pray God that he may 
 win the love of his people. Earewell ! 1 will wait for you to-morrow 
 at noon." 
 
 With these words, Joseph quickened his pace, and was soon lost to 
 view. 
 
 " My second adventure !" thought he. "I must confess that it is not 
 very flattering to walk incognito about the streets and hear the senti- 
 ments of one's own subjects. How often do kings mistake the murmur- 
 int's of discontent for the outpourings of joy. It is so pleasant to believe 
 in the love of our subjects, and to shut our eyes to all doubts of their 
 loyalty. But I am resolved to see and judge of the people for mysdf. 
 My path will often be beset with thorns, but Fate has not made me a 
 Monarch for my own good ; I am an Emperor for the good of others. 
 That child has revealed some painful truths to me ; it would seem as if 
 I were fated, forever to be misjudged." 
 
17U JUSKl'li I'fcth SKCDND. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE DISGUrSli REMOVED. 
 
 At micl-day the Emperor re entered the pahice gates. Tliis time he 
 came through the pruicipal entrance, feeling quite secure in his disguise. 
 
 He proceeded at once to the hall of reception, wondering whether his 
 young protegee would present herself as he had requested her to do'. 
 
 The sentries allowed him to p,ass, supposing him to be one of those 
 about to seek an audience with the Emperor. Unsuspected he reached 
 the hall. 
 
 Yes, there was his little accuser. She stood trembling and blushing 
 in one corner of the room, holding in her hand a paper. As she recog- 
 nised her unknown protector, blushing still more deeply, she hastened 
 to meet him, and timidly gave him her hand. 
 
 " Oh, sir," said she, "you have been true to your word. I was so 
 afraid you would forget me that I was several times ou the point of 
 leaving this grand place. I feel lonely and ashamed ; for you see that 
 no one is here but myself. Nobody trusts the Emperor. And I who 
 am here, will surely be repulsed ; he will never be so kind as you have 
 been to a poor, friendless girl. My mother has no hope ; and if she has 
 sent me to the palace, it was that I might see you again, and once more 
 pour forth my gratitude for your kindness. [^ you would add another 
 to the generous, gift you have already bestowed, tell me your name, that 
 my mother and 1 may beg God's blessing upon it, and then let me go, 
 for I feel that my visit here will be vain 1" 
 
 " My deal- child," said Joseph laughing, "if all the Emperor's oppo- 
 nents \vere as headstrong as you, the poor man would have but little 
 hope of ever gaiuing the good-will of his subjects. But I intend to prove . 
 to you that you are unjust. Give me your petition. I myself will pre- 
 sent it for you. Wait awhile, and I will send a messenger who will 
 conduct you to the Emperor. Follow him and fear nothing, for I will 
 be there too, ixnd there 1 will tell you my name. Au revoir.'^ 
 
 The young girl looked anxiously after him as he disappeared, and 
 once more betook herself 'to the window. Gradually the room filled 
 with a sad, humble, and trembling crowd, such as often throngs the ante- 
 rooms of princes and nobles : a crowd which with tearful eyes and sor- 
 rowing hearts, so often returns home without succor and without hope. 
 
 But the peoplp who were assembled in this hall of reception seemed 
 more sanguine than is usual with petitioners for imperial favor. They 
 phattcd together of their various expectations; they spoke of the Empe- 
 
KING OF KUilK. 171 
 
 ror's Ijencnolence; and all seemed to hope thai they would be hoard 
 with patience, and favorably answered. 
 
 A door opened, and an officer entered. He looked sharply around 
 the room, and then went directly to the window where the }oiing girl 
 with a beating^ heart was listening to the praises of that Emperor whom 
 in her soul she believed to be a tyrant. 
 
 "The Emperor will be here presently," said the officer in answer to a 
 storm ofenijuiries from every side. " But I havt^ been luderod first to 
 conduct this young lady, the daughter of a .deceased oflicer, to his Ma- 
 jesty's presence." 
 
 She followed him, silent and anxious. They went tlirough suites of 
 splendid rooms, whose costly decorations struck the child of poverty 
 with new dismay. At last they stopped in a richly gilded salon, cover- 
 ed with a carpet of Gobelin, and hung with the same rich tapestry. 
 
 " Remain here," said the officer, ■" while I announce you to his Ma- 
 jesty." 
 
 He disappeared behind the velvet portiere, and the frightened girl re- 
 mained with a crowd of richly-dressed nobles, whose guld-embroidered 
 court dresses, and diamond crosses, almost blinded her with their 
 splendor. 
 
 Once more the j^orture was drawn aside, and the officer beckoned tho 
 girl to advance. iShe did 'so with trembling limbs and throbbing heart. 
 Tho hangings fell, and she was in the dreaded presence of the Emperor. 
 He stood near a window with his back towards her : a tall, graceful 
 man, in a white uniform. 
 
 The poor girl felt as if she woi>ld cease to breathe, for this was the de- 
 cisive moment of her young life. The Emperor could either consign 
 her to misery, or he could raise her to comfort, and wipe away the tears 
 of her dear, sufiering mother. 
 
 lie turned and looked at her with a benevolent smile. " Come hither, 
 ray child," said he. " You Avould speak with the Emperor. I am he." 
 
 The girl uttered a stified cry, and falling on her knees, she hid her 
 deathdike face m her hands. For she had recognised her unknown pro- • 
 Hector. Yes, this noble man, who had proflcred help, and promised j>ro- 
 tection, this was the Emperor, and to his face she had called him a miser 
 and a tyrant! 
 
 She never for one moment thought whether he w'ould punish her in- 
 solence ; she had but one feeling, that of unspeakable anguish for having 
 wounded a noble and generous heart. This alone caused her shame and 
 grief. 
 
 The Emperor approached, and looked with tenderness at the kneeling 
 maiden, through whose fingers her tears were flowing in streams. 
 
 — " I have read your petition, and have fonnd that you spoke the 
 truth. From this day your father's pay falls to your mother ; and at her 
 death it will revert to you. I beg you and your mother to forgive the 
 tardiness of this act of justice, for neither the Empress nor I had ever 
 heard that your Gather had any family. Once move forgive us for al\ 
 
172 JOSEl»B THJi SECUiNl) 
 
 lliat you have endured since his death. And now, my child, rise fiorai 
 your knees ; for human beings should kneel before God alone. Dry your 
 tears, and hasten to your mother. Tell her that the Emperor is not as 
 heartless as he has been pictured toiler by his enemies." 
 
 " No, no," cried she, " I cannot rise until ray Sovereign has forgiven 
 my presumption and my calumnies." 
 
 " They are forgiven ; for what could you know of me, you poor child, 
 but what you had been told ? But now you know me yourself; and for 
 the future if you hear me traduced, you will defend me, will you not?"* 
 
 He reached out his hand, which she kissed and l)edewed with her tears. 
 
 The Emperor raised her tenderly himself. " Be comforted ; for if you 
 cry so bitterly, my courtiers will think that I have been unkind to you. 
 You told me just now that you wished to know the name of your pro- 
 tector that you might pray for him. Well, my child, pray for me — my 
 name is Joseph." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 ROSARY AND SCEPTRE. 
 
 The four weeks to which Maria Theresa had limited her novitiate had 
 almost expired. She still secluded hersglf from the world, and in the 
 deep retirement of her palatial cloister, she would suffer no mention of 
 worldly affairs in her presence. 
 
 • In vain her confessor and her attendants strove to awaken her interest 
 to the dissatisfaction of the people with the wild projects of reform that 
 threatened the subversion of all social order. From the day of her re- 
 tirement, Maria Theresa had forbidden the slightest allusion to politics. 
 Her confessor had on one occasion ventured a hint on the subject of the 
 changes which were being made by the Emperor, but the Empress had 
 turned her Hashing eyes upon him at once, and had reminded him that 
 as the servant of the Lord, he was there to exhort and to pray, not to 
 concern himself about the trivialities of this world. 
 
 On aiTother occasion the Countess Euchs had presumedtb mention the 
 changes in the imperial household. The Empress interrupted her cold- 
 ly, faying that as she had not lost her relish for the vanities of the court, 
 the Countess must absent herself until further orders. 
 
 This severity had put an end to all plans for inducing the Empress to 
 resume the cares of.enipire. She was now at liberty to weep and pray 
 without distrajction. Even her children, who came daily to kiss her 
 
 * Historical. 
 
KIIfG OF ROME. 173 
 
 hand, were allowed no conversation but that which turned upon relicion. 
 When the morning services were ended, they silently withdrew to their 
 rooms. 
 
 For a few days past, the Archduchess Christine had absented herself 
 from this mournful levee. On the first day of her nonappearance the 
 Empress had not appeared to remark her absence. But on thfe second 
 day, her eyes wandered sadly from her prayer-book to her children, and 
 her lips seemed ready to frame some question. Instead of speaking, she 
 bent her head over her rosary, and strove to pray with more devotion 
 than usual. 
 
 Finally came a third day, and still Christine was absent. The Em- 
 press could no longer master her maternal anxiety, and as the Arch- 
 duchess Elizabeth approached to kiss her hand, she spoke. 
 
 " Where is Christine ? Why is she not with you ?" 
 
 " My sister is sick, your Majesty," replied the Archduchess ; and as 
 though she feared to displease her mother by further speech, she bent 
 her head and withdrew. 
 
 The next day when the imperial children entered their mother's apart- 
 ment, her prayer-book was lying on the table, while she, pale and agita- 
 ted, was pacing the room with hasty steps. She received her family 
 witli a slight motion of the head, and looked anxiously towards the door 
 until it had closed after the entrance of little Marie Antoinette. Then- 
 the Empress sighed, and turned away her head lest her children should 
 see the tears that were gushing from her eyes. 
 
 But when mass Mas over, and little Marie Antoinette approached her 
 mothp^r, she took the child up in her arms, and tenderly kissing her cheek, 
 said, " How is Christine, my darling?" 
 
 "Sister Christine is very sick, imperial maniva," replied the child,*'and she 
 cries all day long. But she loves you very dearly, and longs to see you." 
 
 The Empress put down her little daughter without a word, and as if 
 she sought to mortify her worldliness, she signed to all present to with- 
 draw, and falling upon her knees, prayed long and fervently.-^ 
 
 An hour or two after, she sent for her confessor. As he left her room 
 and passed through the ante-room, the attendants saw that his counte- 
 nance looked joyous in the extreme. They flocked to hear if there was 
 any hope of convincing the Empress of the necessity of her return to 
 the world. 
 
 " I think there is much," replied the father. " God be thanked, her 
 maternal love has overcome the dangerous lethargy into which sorrow had 
 plunged our beloved Sovereign. For a time she was overcome by her 
 grief as a widow; but she begins to feel that her children have a right 
 to her counsels and care. Later she will recognise the claims of her 
 people, and Austria wMll be saved from the mad schemes of that unbe- 
 lieving dreamer, her son." 
 
 " Do you really believe that her Majesty will return to the throne?" 
 asked the Countess. 
 
 — '■ I do. She besought me in trcinbling tones to tell her something 
 
1 74 J03EPH THE SECOND. 
 
 of her beloved child, and I did nothing to tranquilize her ; *lor she has no 
 right to seclude herself from her people. Maria Theresa is a greater 
 sovereigu than her son will ever be, tind Austria cannot aflord to lose 
 her now. She will visit her daughter to-day. TeJl the Archdnclicssnot 
 to fear her brother's opposition; for her mother, once resolved to her 
 people, will see that her own daughters are not made Avretched by a ty- 
 rannical brother. TJie Priacess will marry her lover." 
 
 — "1 hasten. How soon will the Empress come?" 
 
 — "She will surely be there before many hours — Solitude is not con- 
 genial to Maria Theresa's heart, her active mind craves occupation, and 
 her grief requires it. Let us appeal to her atiections through the ill- 
 ness of her child, and complete, reaction will ensue. If once we can per- 
 suade her to quit her seclusion, her cloister-dream is over. Let us all 
 work in concert to restore her to the world. It is not the sovereign of 
 a great nation who has a right like Mary, to sit at the feet of Jesus— i-Go 
 at once. Count Bathiany, and may God bless the eflbrts we are making 
 to restore our Empress to her sense of duty. Church and state are alike 
 endangered by the fatal step she has taken." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN ABBESS AND AN EMPRESS. 
 
 It was the hour of dinner. Complete silence reigned throughout the 
 imperial palace, except in the halls and stairways that led from the im- 
 perial dining-hall to the kitchens below. Both lay far from the apart- 
 ments of the Empress-Abbess. She therefore felt that she could visit 
 her sick child without fear of observation. <-She had just concluded her 
 own solitary dinner, and was trying to collect her thoughts for prayer. 
 In vain ! They would wander to the sick bed of her daughter, whom, 
 fancy pictured dying without the precious cares that a mother's hand 
 alone is gifted to bestow. Maria Theresa felt that her heart was all too 
 storm-tost for prayer. She closed her book with a, pang of self-reproach, 
 and rose from her arm-chair. 
 
 " It is useless," said she at last. "I must obey the call of ray re^)elli- 
 ous heart, and tread again the paths of earthly love and earthly cares. »I 
 cannot remain here and think that my Christine longs for her mother's 
 presence, and that I may not wipe her tears away v/ith my kisses ! It 
 is not only my right, it is my duty to tend my sick child. I am not in 
 the right path, or a merciful God would strenghten me to tread it cour- 
 ageously. I must rpplace their father to my children. Poor orphans ! 
 
KIKG OF ROME. ' 173 
 
 They need twice the love I gav^ before, and God forgive me ! I was 
 about to abandon them entirely. It is no injury to the memory of my 
 Francis, for through his children, 1 will but love him the more. How I 
 long once more to press them to my heart ! Yes — I must go, and this 
 is the hour — I will pass by the private corridors, and surprise my Chris- 
 tine in her solitude." 
 
 With more activity than she had been able to summon to her help 
 since the Emperor's burial, i\Iaria Theresa hastened to her dressing-room 
 and snatching up her long black cloak, threw it around hur person. As 
 she was drawing the hood over her face, she caught a glimpse of herself 
 in a mirror close by. She was shocked at her own image ; her flice so 
 corpse-like, her cloak so like a hideous pall. 
 
 " I look like a ghost," thought the Empress. " And indeed I am dead 
 to all happiness for I have buried my all 1 But Christine will be shock- 
 ed at my loolcs. I must not frighten the poor child." 
 
 And actuated partly by maternal love, partly by womanly vanity, 
 Maria Theresa slipped back the ugly hood that hid her white forehead, 
 and opened the black crape collar that encircled her neck, so that some 
 portion of her throat was visible. 
 
 "I will always be my Franz's poor widow," said the Empress while 
 she arranged her toilet, *' but 1 will not affright my children by my dress 
 — Now I look more like their mother. Let me hasten to my child." 
 
 And having again flung back the hood so that some portions of her 
 beautiful hair could be seen, she left the room. She opened the door 
 softly and looked into the next apartment. She had well calculated her 
 time, for no one was there ; her ladies of honor had all gone to dinner. 
 
 " That is pleasant," said she. " I ani glad not to meet their wondering 
 faces; glad not to be greeted as an Empress, for I am an Empress no 
 longer. 1 am a poor humble widow fulfilling the only earthly duties 
 now left me to perform." 
 
 She bent her head and went softly through the second ante-room to 
 the hall. Again, all was empty and silent; neither page nor sentry nor 
 lackey to be seen. She knew not why, but a feeling of desolation came 
 over her. She had bidden adieu to the etiquette due to her rank, but 
 this, she thought, was carrying the point too far. 
 
 " If I had had the misfortune to fiiU suddenly ill," said she, " I must 
 have called in vain for succor. No one i-^ by to hear my voice. But at 
 least there must be sentries in the other hall." 
 
 No ! That hall too was empty. No lackeys were there, no guards ! 
 For the first time in her life, Maria Theresa was out of hearing of any 
 human being, and she felt a pang of disappointment and humiliation. 
 She started at the sound of her own footsteps, and walked faster, that 
 .she might come within sight of some one — any one. Suddenly, to her 
 joy, she heard the sound of voices, and she paused to listen. 
 
 The door of the room whence the voices were heard was slightly ajar, 
 and the Empress overheard the following conversation. The speakers 
 were I'atlicr Porharamer and the Countess Fuchs, 
 
17G JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " Do not despair," said the fathei* " the Empress is forgiving and 
 magnanimous, and when she shall have admitted you again to her pre- 
 sence, it will be your duty to aid all those who love Austria, in using 
 your influence to recall her Majesty to the throne. Woe to Austria if 
 she persists in elevating her grief above her duty as a sovereign ! Woe 
 to the nation if her son, that rebellious child of the Church, reign over 
 this land ! His insane love of novelty " 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Father," replied the Countess, "say nothing 
 against the Emperor. His mother's will has placed him on the throne, 
 and wfe must submit." 
 
 The Empress heard no more. With noiseless tread she hurried on, 
 until she turned the corner of a side-hall, and then she relaxed her pace. 
 She pondered over what she had just heard, and it did not contribute to 
 tranquilize her mind. 
 
 "What can he be doing?" thought she. "What are those mad 
 schemes of which my friends have tried to apprize me? He was ever 
 self willed and stubborn ; ever inclined to skepticism. Alas ! alas ! I 
 foresee sad days for my poor Austria !" 
 
 At that moment the Empress had gained a small landing which led to 
 a staircase which she had to descend. She was about to proceed on her 
 Avay when she perceived a man, whose back was turned towards her, 
 seated on the topmost step. He was so quiet that she thought he was 
 asleep. But as her foot touched him, he turned carelessly round, and 
 perceiving the Empress, he rose slowly, and bent his head as though to 
 any lady he might pass. 
 
 Maria Theresa was astounded. She knew not what to think of the ir- 
 reverent bearing of this man, who was^no other than Stockel, one of the 
 servants whose duty it had been, for thirty years, to light the fires in her 
 dressing-room. 
 
 He had been accustomed every morning to appear before his impe- 
 rial lady, in winter to see that her fires were burning, in summer to dis- 
 tribute her alms. Stockel was from Tyrol ; he had been a fovorite ser- 
 vant of the Empress ; and being an upright and intelligent man, his word 
 was known \o have some weight with her.* Stockel had been the most 
 respectful and loyal of servants; the appearance alone of the Empress 
 had always made his old wrinkled face light up with joy. How did it 
 happen that now, when he had been parted from her for four weeks, he 
 seemed indifferent? 
 
 " He is offended because I have never sent for him," thought the kind- 
 hearted Empress ; " I must try to appease him." 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Stockel," said she, with one of her own be- 
 witching smiles, " it is long since you have visited me in my room. I 
 am such a poor, sorrowing widow, that I have not had heart enough to 
 think of the poverty of others." 
 
 Stockel said nothing. He turned and slightly shrugged his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 * Thiebault, Memoires de ringt nm. 
 
KING OF ROME. J 77 
 
 " How ?" said Maria Theresa, good-humoredly, " are you offended ? 
 Have you the heart to be angry with your Empress." 
 
 " Empress ?" returned Stockel. " I took your Highness for a pious 
 nun ; the whole world knows that Maria Theresa is no longer an Em- 
 press, she no longer reigns in Austria." 
 
 Maria Theresa felt a pang as she heard these words, and .her cheeks 
 flushed— almost with anger. But overcoming the feeling, she smiled 
 sadly and said : *' I see that you are really angry, poor Stockel. You 
 do not like to see my palace made a cloister. You think, perhaps that 
 I have done wrong ?" ' 
 
 " I do not pretend to judge of the acts of the rulers of earth," replied 
 he gloomily. " Perhaps the deeds which in ordinary people would be 
 called cowardly, may with them be great and noble. I know nothing 
 about it. But I know what my beloved Empress once said to me. She 
 was then young and energetic ; and she had not forgotten the oath she 
 had taken when the Archbishop crowned her at St. Stephen's— the oath 
 w^ich bound her to be a faithful ruler over her people until God releas- 
 ed her." 
 — " What said your Empress then 1" ♦ 
 
 — " I will tell your Highness. I had lost my young wife, the one I 
 loved best on earth, and I came to beg my discharge ; for my longing 
 was to go back to my native mountains and live a hermit's life in Tyrol. 
 My Empress would not release me. ' How,' said she, ' are you so weak 
 that you must skulk away from the world because Almighty God has 
 seen fit to bereave you of your wife 1 He tries your faith, man, and 
 you must be firm, whether ypu face the storm or bask in the sunshine. 
 Did you not promise, too, to serve me faithfully, and will you now cast 
 away your nsefi;! life in vain sorrow 1 What would you think of me 
 were 1 so lightly to break my oath to my people ? I who must lift my 
 head above every tempest of private sorrow, to fulfill my vow until 
 death !' Thus spoke my Empress ; but that was many years ago, and 
 then she was the Sovereign of all Austria." 
 
 Maria Theresa looked down, and the tear-drops that had been gather- 
 mg in her eyes fell upon her black dress M'here they glistened like dia- 
 monds. 
 
 ''It is true," whispered she, "I was Sovereign of all Austria." 
 *' And what prevents you from being Sovereign to-day *?" asked Stockel 
 eagerly, " Have your people released you "?" 
 
 The Empress waved her hand impatiently. " Enough," said she " let 
 me go my way." ' 
 
 — " But I have a petition to make, and as it is the last favor I shall 
 ever ask, I hope your Majesty will not deny me." 
 ~" Speak your wish," replied Maria Theresa hastily. 
 " I beg of your Majesty to allow me to quit your service," replied the 
 man moodily. « I cannot forget the words of Maria Theresa. I wUl 
 not skulk away from the world while I have strength to work. I am 
 tired of the idle life i lead. It. is summer, ajid there is no fire to kindle. 
 
 12 
 
178 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 As for the poor unfortunates •whom I used to visit, I can do them no 
 good ; their benefactress is no more. I must do aomethina:, or life will 
 be a burthen, and if your Majesty will condescend to give me leave, I 
 will seek another pilace." 
 
 " Another place, Stockel !" said the Empress. What other place ?" 
 
 " A place in the household of the reigning Empress," answered Stockel 
 with a low inclination. 
 
 Maria Theresa raised her head, and her astonishment was visible la 
 her large, open eyes. 
 
 " The reigning Empress V said she musing. " Who can that be ?" 
 
 "The wife of the reigning Emperor, your Majesty," said Stockel 
 grimly. 
 
 The Empress threw back her proud head and drew her mantle con- 
 vulsively around her. 
 
 "It is well," said she. "Come to me to-morrow and you shall hear 
 my decision." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THB REIGNING EMPRESS. 
 
 The Empress went slowly down the staircase. This staircase led to 
 the left wing of the palace, where the apartments of the imperial chil- 
 dren were situated. From earliest childhood the daughters of Maria 
 Theresa had each her separate suite. Each one had her governess, her 
 ladles of honor and her train of servants, and lived as if in a miniature 
 court. 
 
 On great festivals, national or domestic, the younger members of the 
 imperial family were invited to the table ot the Empress ; otherwise 
 they ate in private with their retinue, and each child had a separate table. 
 
 It was now the dinner-hour, and Maria Theresa had selected it, because 
 she felt sure that all the attendants of her childern -were at table, and no 
 one would know of her visit to Christine. But she was mistaken. As 
 she passed by the ante-room leading to the apartments of her children, 
 she heard the voices of the lords and ladie?! in waiting, and through the 
 half opened door, saw them chatting together in groups. They did not 
 seem to observe their ex-sovereign, they went on conversing as if noth- 
 ing had happened. But as the Empress was passing the aparments of 
 little Maria Antoinette, her governess appeared, and with a cry of joy, 
 threw herself at Maria Theresa's feet, and covered her hand with kisses. 
 
 The Empress smiled. A thrill of pleasure ran through her frame, as 
 
KING Q? HOME. I79 
 
 she received the homage to which from her birth she had been accus- 
 tomed. 
 
 " Kise, Countess," said she kiodly, " and do not let Maria Antoinette 
 know that I am near. But tell me, how comes it-that at this hour 1 find 
 the retinue oi'my children at leisure, while they are at table?" 
 
 !' We are at leisure, your Majesty," replied the Countess,' "because 
 we are waiting for their Highnesses to rise fiom table." 
 
 " Is it then a festival that my children should be dining at the impe- 
 rial table ?" 
 
 — " Please your Majesty, the reigning Emperor has abolished the pri- 
 vate tables of their Highnesses, your children. He finds it cheaper and 
 more convenient for all the members of the Imperial family to be served 
 at once and at one table." 
 
 — " Where, then, do my children dine ?" asked the Empress with as- 
 perity. 
 
 — "■ Ea famille, with h«r imperial Majesty, the reigning Empress." 
 " The reigning Empress !" echoed J^Iaria Theresa, and her brow grew 
 dark. " But how comes it that my children leave their rooms without 
 their retinue ? Have you then already forgotten that I never permit a 
 breach of court-ceremonial on any account?" 
 
 —"Please your Majesty, the Emperor dislikes etiquette, and he has 
 ■ strictly forbidden all Spanish customs at court, as laughable and ridicu- 
 lous. He has forbidden all attendance upon the imperial family, except 
 fin New Year's day. He has also forbidden us to kneel before'his Ma- 
 jesty, because it is an outlandish Spanish custom, and an homage due to 
 God alone. All the French and Italian servants of the palace are dis- 
 missed, and their places are supplied by natives. The Emperor wishes 
 to have every thing at his court essentially German. Eor that reason 
 he has ordered .the Mass to be translated and celebrated in the German 
 language." 
 
 The Empress heaved a sigh, and drew her mantilla over her face, as 
 if to shut out the future which was unrolling itself to her view. She 
 felt sick at heart, for she began to comprehend that her successor was 
 creating a new order of things, and was speaking with contempt of his 
 mother's reign. But she would not contemplate the sad vision • she 
 strove to turn back her thoughts to the present. ' 
 
 " But if you no longer have your private table," continued she, "why 
 not accompany the Princesses ?" 
 
 " Because the Emperor deems it fitting that the imperial family dine 
 alone. We, ladies in waiting, dine alone in a small room set apart for 
 us, and then return to our apartments to await their Highnesses." 
 — " But the lords in waiting, do they not dine with you ?" 
 'I No, your Majesty, they have received orders at one o'clock to go to 
 their own houses, or to their former lodgings, to dine. The court table 
 is abolished, and the Emperor finds that by so doing he has economised 
 a very considerable sum." 
 
 A deep flush of anger passed over the face of Maria Theresa, and her 
 
ISO JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 lip curled contemptuously. Economy was one of the few virtues which 
 the profuse and munificent Empress had never learned to practice. She 
 considered it beneath the dignity of a sovereign to count the cost of 
 any thing. ' 
 
 — " Enough," said she in a constrained voice, "I will go to Christine. 
 Let no one know of my visit. I desire to see my sick daughter 
 alone." , . 
 
 She bent her lofty liead, and walked rapidly away. With a beating 
 heart, she opened the door that led to the sleeping-room of the Princess. 
 There on a couch lay a pale, weeping figure, the Empress's darling, her 
 beautiful Christine. 
 
 She stopped for a moment on the threshhold, and looked lovingly at 
 the dear child whom for four days she had not seen ; then a thrill of un- 
 utterable joy pervaded her whole being. 
 
 At this moment, Christine raised her eyes languidly ; her glance met 
 that of her mother ; and with a piercing cry, she sprang from the couch 
 with open arms. But overcome by weakness and emotion, she faltered, 
 grew paler, and sank to the floor. 
 
 The Empress darted forward and caught her fainting daughter in her 
 arms. She carried her to the divan, laid her softly down, and with 
 quivering lip surveyed the pale face and closed eyes of the Princess. 
 
 She recovered slowly, and at length, heaving a deep sigh, Christine 
 unclosed her eyes. Mother and child contemplated each other with lov- 
 ing glances, and as the Archduchess raised her arms and clasped them 
 around her mother's neck, she whispered feebly : " Oh, now, all is well ! 
 I am no longer desolate ; my dear, dear mother has returned to me. 
 She has not forsaken us ; she will shield us from oppression and mis- 
 fortune." 
 
 Like a frightened dove, Christine clung to the Empress, and burying 
 her face in her mother's breast, she wept tears of relief and joy. 
 
 The Empress drew her close to her heart. " Yes, darling," said she 
 with fervor, " 1 am here to shield you, and I will never forsakd you 
 again. No one on earth will dare to oppress you now. Tell me, dear 
 child, what goes wrong with you "J" 
 
 " Oh, mother," whispered Christine, " there is one in Austria, more 
 powerful than yourself, who will force me to his will. You cannot 
 shield me from the Emperor, for you have given him the power to rule 
 over us, and oh, how cruelly he uses his right !" 
 
 " What I have given, I can recall," cried the Empress. " Mine are 
 the power and the crown, and I have not yet relinquished them, Now 
 speak, Christine ; — what grieves you, and why are your eyes so red with 
 weeping ?" 
 
 " Because I am the most unhappy of mortals," cried Christine passion- 
 ately. " Because I am denied the right which every peasant-girl exerci- 
 ses ; the right of refusing aman whom I do not love. Oh, mother ! if 
 you can, save me from the detested Duke of Chablais whom my cruel 
 brother forces upon me na a husband." 
 
KINO UK KOilE. 181 
 
 " Is that your sorrow, my child V exclaimed the Empi-ess. " Joseph 
 is like his father ; he loves wealth. The Emperor had proposed this 
 half-brsther of the^ung of Sardinia for you, Christine, hut I refused my 
 consent ; and now without my knowledge, Joseph would force him up- 
 on you because of his great riches. But patience, patience, m^* daugh- 
 ter. I will show you that I am not so powerless as you think ; I will 
 show you that no one in Austria shall give away piy Christine without 
 her mother's approbation." 
 
 While the Empress spoke, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glowed 
 with a proud consciousness of might not yet renounced forever. The 
 sorrowing widow was being once more transformed into the stately sov- 
 erfiign, and the eyes, which had been so dimmed by tears, were lit up 
 by the fire of new resolves. 
 
 " Oh, mother, my own imperial mother," said Christina, " do not only- 
 free me from the man whom I detest, but bless me with the hand of the 
 man I love. You well know how long I have loved Albert of Saxony, 
 you know how dear I am to him. I have sworn never to be the wife of 
 another, and I will keep my oath, or die ! Oh, mother, do not make 
 me the sport of policy and ambition ! Let me be happy with him whom 
 I love. What are crowns and sceptres and splendor when the heart is 
 without love and hope ? I am willing to lead a simple life with Albert 
 — let me bo happy in my own way. Oh, mother! I love him so far 
 above all earthly creatures that I would rather be buried with him in a 
 grave than be an Empress without him." 
 
 And she fell upon her knees and wept anew. The Empress had lis- 
 tened musingly to her daughter's appeal. While Christine was speak- 
 ing, the glamour of her own past love was upon her heart. She was a 
 girl again ; and once more her life seemed bound up in the love she bore 
 to yoiuig Francis of Lorraine. Thus had she spoken, so had she entrea- 
 ted her father, the proud Emperor, until he had relented, and she had 
 become the wife of Christine's own father ! Not only maternal love, 
 but womanly sympathy pleaded for her unhappy child. 
 
 She bent over her, and with her white hand fondly stroked the rich 
 masses of Christine's golden-brown hair. 
 
 " Do not weep, my daughter," said she tenderly. "True, you have 
 spoken words most unseemly for one of your birth ; for it is the duty 
 of a Princess to buy her splendor and her rank with many a stifled long- 
 ing, and many a disappointment of the affections. Kind fate bestowed 
 upon me not only grandeur, but the husband of my love, and daily do I 
 thank the good God who gave me to my best beloved Franz. I do not 
 know why you, too, may not be made a happy exception to the lot of 
 Princes. ] have still four beautiful daughters for whom state policy 
 may seek alliances. I will permit one of my children to be happy as I 
 have been. God grant that the rest may find happiness go hand in hand 
 with duty." 
 
 The Princess enraptured would have thrown her arms around her 
 mother's neck ; but suddenly her face, which had grown rosy with hap- 
 
1 82 JOSEPH THE SECOiro 
 
 piness, became pale again, and her countenance wore an expression of 
 deep disappointment. 
 
 " Oh, motlier," cried she, " we build castles, while we forget that you 
 are no longer the Sovereign of Austria. And while you weep and pray 
 in your dark and silent cell, the Emperor, with undutiful hand overturns 
 the edifice of Austria's greatness — that edifice which you, dearest moth- 
 er, had reared with your own hands. He is like Heratostratus ; his on- 
 ly fame will be to have destroyed a temple which he had not the cun- 
 ning to build." 
 
 " We will wrest the faggots from his sacreligious hands," cried the 
 Empress. 
 
 The Archduchess seemed not to have heard her mother's words. She 
 threw her arms around the Empress, and clinging convulsively to her, 
 exclaimed, '' Oh do not forsake me, my mother' and my Emp'ress. That 
 horrible woman, who was dragged from her obscurity to curse my bro- 
 ther's life ; that tiresome, hideous Josepha — do not suffer her to wear 
 your title and your crown. Oh, God ! Oh, God ! Must I live to see Ma- 
 ria Theresa humbled, while Josepha of Bavaria is the reigning Empress 
 of Austria." 
 
 The Empress started. This was the third time she had heard these 
 words, and each time it seemed as if a dagger had pierced her proud 
 heart. ' 
 
 "Josepha of Bavaria, the reigning Empress of Austria!" said she 
 scornfully. " We shall see how long she is to bear my title and wear 
 my crown ! But I am weary, my daughter. I must go to my solitude, 
 but fear nothing. Whether I be Empress or Abbess, no man on earth 
 shall oppress my children. The doors of the cloister have not yet closed 
 upon me ; I am still, if I choose to be, the reigning Empress of Austria." 
 
 She pressed a kiss upon Christine's forehead,' and left the room. 
 
 On her return, she encountered no one, and she was just about to open 
 the door of her own ante-room, when she caught the sound of voices 
 from within. 
 
 " But I tell you, gentlemen," cried an angry voice, " that her Majesty 
 the ex-Empress, receives no one, and has no longer any revenues. She 
 has nothing more to do with the administration of affiiirs in Austria." 
 
 " But I must see the Empress," replied a second and a deprecating 
 voice. "It is my right, for she is our Sovereign, and she cannot so for- 
 sake us. Let me see the Empress. My life depends upon her goodness." 
 
 "And I," cried a third voice, " I too must see her. Not for myself do . 
 I seek this audience, but for her subjects. Oh, for the love of Austria, 
 Jet me speak with my gracious Sovereign !" 
 
 " But I tell you that 1 dare not," cried the ruflled page. "It would 
 ruin me not only with her Majesty, but with the reigning Emperor. The 
 widowed Empress has no more voice in State affairs, and the Emperor 
 will never suffer her to have any, for he has all the power to himself, 
 and he never means to yield an inch of it." 
 
 ^' Woe then to Austria !" cried the third speaker. 
 
KING Of ROMIL 18:3 
 
 "Why do you cry, ' woe to Austria ' !" asked a voice outside; and 
 the tall, majestic form of the Empress appeared at the door. 
 
 " Our Empress !" cried the two petitioners, while both fell at her feet, 
 and looked up into her face with unpiistakeable joy. 
 
 The Empress greeted thera kindly, but she added, "Rise, gentlemen. 
 I hear that my son, the Emperor, has forbidden his subjects to kneel to 
 him ; they shall not, therefore, kneel to me, for he is right. To God 
 alone belongs such homage. Rise, therefore. Father Aloysius; the bro- 
 thers of the holy order of Jesus mustnever kneel to fellow-mortal. And 
 you. Counsellor Biindener, rise also, and stand erect. Your limbs have 
 grown stifi'in my service; in your old age you have the right to spare 
 them. You," added she, turning to the page, " return to your post, and 
 attend more faithfully to your duty than you have done to-day. ' Whea 
 1 left this room, no one guarded the entrance to it." 
 
 "Your Majesty," stammered the confused page, " it was the dinner 
 hour, and I had never dreamed of your living your apartments. liis 
 Majesty, the Emperor, has reduced the pages and sentries to half their 
 number, and there are no longer enough of us to relieve one another as 
 we were accustomed to do under the reign of your Majesty." 
 
 " It is well," said the Empress haughtily. "I will restore order to 
 my household before another day has passed. And now, gentlemen, 
 what brings you here ? Speak, Father Aloysius." 
 
 " My conscience, your Majesty," replied Father Aloysius fervently. 
 *'I cannot stand by and see the hailstorm of corruption that devastates 
 our unhappy country. I cannot see Austria flooded with the works of 
 French philosophers and Gorman infidels. What is to become of reli- 
 gion and decency, if Voltaire and Rousseau are to be the teachers of 
 Austrian youth !" 
 
 " It rests with yourself, my friend," replied the Empress,^ to protect 
 the youth of Austria from such contaminating influences. Why do those 
 whom I appointed censors of the press, permit the introduction of these 
 godless works in my realms ?" 
 
 " Your Majesty's realms !" replied the Father sadly. "Alas, they are 
 no longer yours. Your son is Emperor and ^Master in Austria, and he 
 has commanded the pfinting and distribution of every infidel work of 
 modern times. The censors of the press have been silenced, and order- 
 ed to discontinue their revision of books." 
 
 " Has my son presumed so far '?" cried the Empress angrily. " Has 
 he dared to overthrow tlie barriers which for the good of my subjects I 
 had raised to protect them from the corrupt influerices of French infideli- 
 ty 1 Has he ordered the dissemination of obscene and ungodly books % 
 Oh, my God ! How culpable have I been to the trust which thou hast 
 placed in my hands ! I feel my guilt; I have sinned in the excess of 
 my grief. But I will conquer my weak heart. Go in peace. Father, I 
 •will ponder your words, and to-morrow you shall hear from me." 
 
 The Fatber bowed and retired, while the Empress turned towards 
 Counsellor Biindener, and inouired the cause of his distress. 
 
184 JOSEPH THK SECOND 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty," cried liie old map, in accents of despair, " unless 
 you help me, I am ruined. If you come not again to my assistance, my 
 children -will starve, for I am old and — '■ — " 
 
 "What!" interrupted the Empress, "your children starve with the 
 pension I gave you from my own private purse!" 
 
 " You did indeed give me a generous pension," replied Biindener, "and 
 may God bless your Majesty, for a more bountiful Sovereign never boro 
 the weight of a crown. But desolation and despair sit in the places 
 where once your Majesty's name was mingled each day with the prayers . 
 of those whom you had succored. The Emperor has withdrawn every 
 pension bestowed by you. He has received a statement of every annui- 
 ty paid by your Majesty's orders, and has declared his intention of 
 cleaning out the Augean stables of this wasteful beneficence." '•'' 
 
 The Empress couid not suppress aery of indignation. Her face grew 
 scarlet, and her lips parted. I3ut she conquered the angry impulse that 
 would have led her to disparage her son in the presence of his subject, 
 and her mouth closed firmly. With agitated mien, she paced her apart- 
 ment, her eyes flashing, her breast heaving, her w"hole frame convulsed 
 with sense of insulted maternity — Then she came towards the Counsel- 
 lor, a^id lifting her proud head as though Olympus had owjied her sway, 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Go home, my friend," said she imperiously, "and believe my royal 
 word, when I assure you that neither you nor any other of rrjy pensioners 
 . shall be robbed of your annuities. Princely faith should be sacred above 
 all consideration of thrift ; and we shall see who dares to impeach mine !" 
 
 So saying, Maria Theresa passed into her dressing-room where her la- 
 dies of honor were assembled. They all bent the knee as she entered, 
 and awaited her commands in reverential silence. At that moment the 
 flourish of trumpets and the call of the guards to arms were heard. The 
 Empress looked astounded, and directed an inquiring glance towards the 
 window. She knew full well the meaning of that trumpet signal and 
 that call to arms : they were heard on the departure or the return of 
 one person only in Austria, and that person was herself, the Empress. 
 
 Eor the third time the trumpet sounded. " What means this V ask- 
 ed she frowning. 
 
 " Please your Majesty," answered a lady of the bed-chamber, " It sig- 
 nifies that her imperial Majesty, the reigning Empress, has returned 
 from her walk in the palace gardens." 
 
 Maria Theresa answered not a word. She walked quickly past her 
 ■attendants arid laid her hand upon the lock of the door which led into 
 her private study. Her head was thrown back, her eyes were full «of 
 flashing resolve, and the tone of her voice was clear, full and majestic. 
 It betokened that Maria Theresa was " herself again." 
 
 " Let Prince Kaunitz be summoned," said she. " Send hither the 
 Countess Fuchs and Father Porhammer. Tell the two latter to come to 
 
 my study when the Prince' leaves it." __ . 
 
 *Hubner : life of Joseph II. Vol, 1, pag* 58. 
 
KING OF KOilE. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE CO-REGENT DISMISSED. 
 
 SoARCELT a quarter of an hour had elapsed since the Empress's orders 
 had been issued, when a page announced Prince Kaunitz. 
 
 Maria Theresa went forward to receive him. Her whole being seem- 
 ed filled with a feverish excitement which contrasted singularly with the 
 unaltered demeanor of her Prime Minister, who, cold and tranquil as 
 ever, advanced to meet his Sovereign and bowed with his usual phlegm. 
 
 "Well," said Maria Theresa after a pause, "every thing has not 
 changed in the four weeks of my retirement from court. You at least 
 are the same in appearance. Let me hope that you are the same in spirit 
 and in mind." 
 
 " Please your Majesty," replied Kaunitz, "four weeks have not yet 
 gone by since J had the honor of an inferview with you," 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" asked the Empress impatiently. "Do 
 you wish to remind me that I had resolved to wait four weeks before I 
 decided upon a permanent course of action ?" 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty," said Kaunitz. "I am somewhat vain, as every- 
 body knows, and 1 have already seen my triumph in your Majesty's 
 face. I read there that my noble'Empress has proved me a true pro- 
 phet. She has not yet been awfty from her subjects for four weeks, and 
 already her head has silenced the weakness of her heart. Three weeks 
 have sufficed to bring Maria Theresa onoe more to her sense of duty." 
 
 "Ah?" said the Empress. "Are you then so sure that my novitiate 
 will not end in a cloister ?" 
 
 — " I am convinced of it ; for never will I forget the day on which 
 your Majesty swore to be a faithful ruler over Austria as long as you 
 lived. I am convinced of it, too, because I know that although my Em- 
 press has the heart of a woman, she has the head of a man, and in all 
 well-ordered unions, the head rules the household," 
 
 The Empress smiled fiiintly but said nothing. Her arms were cross- 
 ed over her b'reast, her head was bent in thought, and she vient slowly 
 forth and back from one end of her study to the other. Kaunitz follow- 
 ed her with his large, tranquil eyes, which seemed to penetrate to the 
 remotest regions of her throbbing heart. 
 
 Suddenly she stood before him, and for a moment gazed earnestly in 
 his face. 
 
 " Kaunitz," said she, " I have not only considered you for many years 
 as a wise and great statesman,' but what is better yet, I have esteemed 
 you as a man of honor. I exact of you that you act honorably and opeqT 
 ly towards me in this hour. Do you promise?" 
 
18G JOdKPK THE SECOND. 
 
 — " An honorable man your Majesty need not promise to do that 
 ■which honor requires of him. ^ 
 
 — " True, true ; but you might pay unconscious deference to my rank, 
 and to my sex. Courtesy might mislead you. This is precisely what I 
 warn you to avoid. I wish you to speak candidly without thought of 
 consideration for Empress or woman. Remember how you pledged 
 your life to Austria's good ;" and forgetting all else, answer me truthful- 
 ly and without fear. Will you Kaunitz ?" 
 
 — " I will, your Majesty. Ask and you shall be answered truthfully, 
 so help me God." 
 
 " Then tell me, which of us is better calculated to reign in Austria 
 Joseph or myself? Which of us will best promote the welfare of the 
 Austrian people? — —^o not answer me at once. Take time to reflect 
 upon the subject, for a weighty question lies in the balance of this hour. 
 I cannot trust myself in this decision, for 1 have wept so many tears that 
 1 have not the strongth to see wherein my duty lies. I cannot even 
 trust my own misgivings, for pride or vanity may have blinded my eyes 
 to truth. I am not. sure that 1 view things in their proper light. It is 
 useless therefore for me to speak ; I desire to h^ar no one but yourself. 
 I swear to you by the memory of Charles V., that whatever you say 
 sh:i,ll he sacred, for 1 have exacted of you candor, and say what you will, 
 your candor shall not oftcnd. Who then is best fitted to reign, Jpseph 
 or I?" 
 
 "Your Majesty I have had full time to reflect upon this weighty ques-, 
 tion, for since Jir.st you announced your intention to resign the throne, I 
 have thought of nothing else. In politics we know neither pred-eliction 
 nor prejudice. Necessity and interest decide all things. Your Majesty 
 has so often called me a good politician, that I have ended by believing 
 myself to be one. It follows from thence that in deliberiiting upon this 
 great question, I have laid aside all personal inclination and sympathy, 
 and have had in view the welfare alone of Austria. But for this, 
 the matter would have required no thought, for the Emperor Joseph and 
 I lyive nothing in common. He fears me, and I do not loye him.* We 
 never could be made to understand one another ; for the language of the 
 heart is not to be forced by edicts, as is the language of the court. The 
 Emperor has forbidden all tongues in Germany save one. If he persist 
 in this, he will alienate his subjects and Austria will soon lose her great- 
 ness. When a man intends to force his people to forget their mother- 
 tongue, he must do it by degrees, and if he sflcceed, he will be a skillful 
 teacher. The best reforms are only to be introduced through the by- 
 ways of life. If we trust them on the highway, they shock and terrify 
 the people. The young Emperor, regardless of these considerations, has 
 violently suppressed whatever seemed injudicious to him in your Majes- 
 ty's administration. Perhaps you had done too much, your son certain- 
 ly does too little — I hear every where of interdicts, but nowhere of con- 
 cessions, old things destroyed, but nothing created to replace thera. 
 
 » Kaunitz'* own words. Waxall, Vol. II, p. 490. 
 
KING OF nOMK. . 1S7 
 
 What will be the result of this"? Au?tna must soon be reduced to a 
 mass of ruins, and your son will go down to posterity with a fame like 
 that of Attila. Save Austria, save him from the curse that threatens 
 both. We have not yet completed the noble edifice of which eleven 
 years ago we laid the foundations. We must finish the structure, and 
 80 solid must be its walls that our thoughtless young reformer shall not 
 batter them down. Your Majesty must remain the reigning Empress 
 of Austria! You cannot resign your Empire to your son. Duty and 
 the welfare of your subjects, forbid it." 
 
 The Empress inclined her head approvingly. "I believe that you are 
 right, Kaunitz," replied she. "It is not in the pride, but in the deep 
 humility of my heart that I re-assum<} the crown which God himself has 
 placed upon my head. I have no right to say that the load is too heavy 
 since He.wills mc to bear it. Indeed I feel that He will give me strength 
 to accomplish His will in me, and I am now ready' to say, ' Behold the 
 hand-maid of the Lord ; be it done to me according to His word.' I will 
 never again lift my treasonable hand against that crown which I pray 
 heaven I may wear for the good of my people. — But you, Prince, you 
 must be at my side ; together we have planned for Austria, together we 
 ' must complete the noble structure of her greatness." 
 
 — " I remain, your Majesty, and will never cease to labor until the 
 banner of the Hapsburg floats proudly from its battlements. But we 
 must decorate as well as strengthen. We have beautiful young Prin- 
 cesses whose alliances will bring wealth and splendor to our imperial 
 edifice. Within, we shall have solid walls that will ensure the durabil- 
 ity of our structure; without, we shall have brilliant alliances that will 
 perfect its beauty." 
 
 "You have a marriage to propose?" said the Empress smiling. 
 
 — "I.have, your Majesty, a marriage with the young King of Naples." 
 
 — "For which of my daughters?" asked Maria Theresa uneasily. 
 
 — "For the one your Majesty shall select." 
 
 — "Then it shall be Johanna. She is very beautiful, artd has a proud 
 and ambitious heart which craves less for love than for rank and splen- 
 dor. But if I give one of my daughters to diplomacy, you must leave 
 me another for domestic happiness. Christine has undertaken to thii^c 
 that she must marry for love, and I think we ought to make her happy 
 in her own modest way. We owe amends to Albert of Saxony for hav- 
 ing declined an alliance with his sister; we also owe him something for 
 his fidelity and good fvith as an ally. Let the young lovers be united 
 then; we have gold and daughters enough to tolerate one marriage of 
 inclination in our imperial house." 
 
 " But your Majesty ^'ill give up the youngest, Marie Antoinette, to 
 diplomacy, will you not?" I 
 
 — " You destine her to the throne of France, Prince, is it not so ?" 
 
 — " Yes, your Majesty. The son of the Dauphin is a noble youth, 
 and although'^his father was unfriendly to Austria, Choiseuil and La 
 Pompadour are for us. Marie Antoinette, therefore, is to be Queen c.f 
 
[88 JOSEPH TH£ ^CONU 
 
 France. This, however, must boa profound secret between ourselves. 
 While her little Highness is being fashioned for lier future dignity, we 
 will marry her elder sisters, if not so brilliantly, at least as advantage- 
 ously as we can. First then upon the list is the Archduchess Christine. 
 We must find some suitable rank for herself and her husband, and your 
 Majesty will of course bestow a dowry worthy of your daughter's birth 
 and station." 
 
 "I will present them the Duchy of Teschen as a wedding-gift, and it 
 must be your care, Prince, to find an appointment for the Elector of 
 Saxony that will be worthy of my son-in-law." 
 
 " Let us name him Captain-General and Stadt-holder of Hungary. 
 That will be an effectual means of converting the Hungarians into Aus- 
 trians, and the appointment is in every way suitable to the Elector's 
 rank." 
 
 The Empress nodded, smiling acquiescence. " Your head," said she,, 
 '• is always in the right place ; and sometimes I cannot help thinking 
 that your heart is better than the world believes it to be, else how could 
 you so readily divine the hearts of others? How quickly have you de- 
 vised the best of schemes to promote my daughter's happiness, without 
 compromising her imperial station ! Christine shall be Statthalterin of 
 Hungary, and in her name and my own, I thank you for the suggestion. 
 One thing, however, lies heavy on my heart. It is the thought of the 
 blow I am about to inflict upon my poor Joseph. How will he bear to 
 be deprived of his sovereignty.?" 
 
 " I think your Majesty named him co-regent only," said Kaunitz. 
 
 " I did," replied the Empress, " and in very truth I withdraw nothing 
 but a temporary privilege. As Empress I know my right to resume 
 the reins of power, but it grieves my maternal heart to exercise it. I 
 think I see him now, poor boy, with his great blue eyes fixed in despair 
 upon me. I shall never have the courage to announce my return to him." 
 
 — " There will be no need to restrict him in his co-regency. He can 
 be removed to the War department, where he may reign unfettered." 
 
 " He shall have unlimited power there," exclaimed the Empress, joy- 
 fully. " It is the proper province of a man, and Joseph will fill the sta- 
 tion far better than I have ever done. 1 promise not to interfere with 
 him in the field. For other state affairs, I will attend to them myself, 
 and I do not think that I will ever delegate my power a second time. 
 You had best inform Joseph of my resumption of the throne, and let the 
 Frau Josepha also be advised that she is no longer reigning Empress of 
 Austria. For me, I must always remain at heart a sorrowing widow. 
 My sorrows I can never overcome, my widow's weeds I shall never lay 
 aside.* But above the weeds I will wear the mantle of royalty, and 
 since you have so determined for me, Austria shall once more own the 
 sway of Maria Theresa." 
 
 * She kept her word. Every month, on the day of her husband's death, she spent the day in sol- 
 itary prayer, and on every yearly anniversary of her widowhood, she knelt for hours by the side of 
 the Emperor's tomb, praying for the repose of his soul. Uer private apartments were ever after 
 hnnff with gray, and ber coacheg and liveries were of the same sad hue.— Caroline Piehler : Meraolra, 
 
KIIfG OF ROJIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 Thk dream was over — the blessed dream of philanthropy and reform ! 
 The reins of power had been snatched from his hands, and Joseph was 
 once more consigned to a life of insignificant inactivity. Like a wound- 
 ed bird, whose broken wing no longer bears him aloft, his Jieart flutter- 
 ed and fell — its high hopes dasked to earth. The old influences which 
 he hated were at work again, and he had no recourse but absolute silence. 
 His deep humiliation he was constrained to hide under a mask of seren. 
 ity, but he knew that his spirit was crushed, and night fell over his 
 stricken soul. Still, he struggled against the chill of his despair, and 
 ,with all the strength of his being, he strove against misfortune, 
 
 "I will not succumb," thought he, " I will not be vanquished by this 
 secret grief. I will not be a cause of sorrow to my friends and of tri. 
 umph to my enemies, — I will live and overpower "misfortune." Since all 
 
 in Vienna is so dark, let me seek sunshine elsewhere — I will travel 
 
 Away from this stifling court to breathe the fiee air of heaven ! Here 
 I am an Emperor without an Empire, there at least I shall be a man to 
 •whom the world belongs wherever his steed has strength and speed to 
 bear him. Yes, let mc travel, that I may gird up my loins for the day 
 •when the sun of royalty shall rise for me — It will come ! It will come ! 
 And when it dawns, it must find me strong, refreshed, and ready for ac- 
 tion." 
 
 The Emperor made his preparations to depart, and then, in compli- 
 ance with the requisitions of court etiquette, he sought his mother, to 
 obtain her consent to his journey. Maria Theresa received her son with 
 that half mournful tenderness -which lent such an indescribable fascina- 
 tion to her appearance and manners. She looked at Him with a smile 
 so winning and affectionate, that Joseph, in spite of himself, felt touched 
 and gladdened ; and the hand which his mother held out was most fer- 
 vently pressed to his lips, ' It was the first time they had met in private, 
 since the Empress had re-ascended her throne, and both felt the embar- 
 rassment and significance of the hour. 
 
 " I have longed for this moment with anxlons and beating heart, mj'- 
 son, said the mother, while she drew him towards her. '' I know, my 
 child, that your heart is embittered towards me. You think that I would 
 have been wiser as well as kinder had I never left my widow's cloister. 
 But reflect, my dear son, as I have done, that my sceptre was given me 
 by the hand of God, and that it would be sinful and cowardly in mo to 
 
^90 /OSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 give it into the hands of another, until He, in His wisdom,- releases me 
 from durance." 
 
 Joseph looked with genuine emotion at the agitated countenance of 
 his mother, fie saw the tears gather and fall from her eyes, ho saw the 
 quivering lip, the trembling frame ; he felt that her integrity was beyond 
 suspicion, her love for him beyond all question. The icy barriers that 
 had closed upon his heart, gave way • he felt the warm and sunny glow 
 of a mother's unspeakable love, and yielding to the impulse of the mo- 
 ment, he flung his arms around the Empress's neck, while he covered, 
 her face with kisses. "Mother, my dear mother!" sobbed he; and as 
 if these words had opened the floodgates of all the love which filled his 
 heart, he leaned his head upon her bosom, and was silent. 
 
 She smiled fondly upon him as he lay there ; she returned his kisses, 
 and stroked his fair, high forehead with her loving hand. 
 
 '• Have you come back once more to your mother's heart, my darling !" 
 whispered she. " Have you found your way back to the nest from 
 whence yqu have wandered away so long, you stray birdling ! Do you 
 feel, my son, that the mother's bosom is the resting-place for her chil- 
 dren ? Oh, promise me, my heart's treasure, to trust and love me from 
 this hour. We are human and, therefore, we are sinful and erring. I 
 well ktiow, dear boy, that I have many fillings. From my heart I re- 
 gret them ; and if in your short life, as boy or man, I have grieved you, 
 pardon me, deai^est, for I have not meant it in unkindness." 
 
 " No, mother," said Joseph, " it is I who should sue for pardon. My 
 heart is wild and stubborn ; but I believe that it beats with a love as 
 true and warm for my Empress as that of any other man in Austria. 
 Have patience with me, then, my mother, for I am indeed a wandering 
 bird ; and in my wild flight, the shafts of this life have wounded -and 
 maimed me. But let us not speak of life — mine is a blasted one." 
 
 " Yes, my son, let us speak of your life, and of its misfortunes; for I 
 know that Josepha of Bavaria is its chiefest sorrow. I have heard some-' 
 thing ».f your unhappiness as a husband, and f pity you both." 
 
 " You pity her !" cried Joseph hastily. "How does she deserve my 
 mother's compassion?" 
 
 The Empress laid her hand gently upon her son's shoulder. "She 
 loves you Joseph," said she, "and I cannot refuse my sympathy to a 
 woman who loves without hope of return." • 
 
 " She loves me !" exclaimed Joseph with a laugh of derision. " Yes 
 — and her love is my abhorrence and nxy shame. Her ogling glances 
 make me shudder with disgust. When she turns upon me her blotched 
 and pimpled fice, and calls me by the name of haeband, the courtiers 
 
 sneer, and I 1 feel as if I would love to forget my manhood and fell 
 
 her to the earth." 
 
 " She is certainly ugly," said the Empress, shaking her head, " but 
 uglier women than she have inspired love. And remember, Joseph, 
 that you chose her yourself. Besides she has an excellent heart, if you 
 would but take the trouble to explore its unknown regions. Moreover 
 
KING OF ROME. 19 1 
 
 you will one day be sole Emperor of Austria, and you should seek to 
 g?v0 an heir to your throne. If Josepha were the mother of your chil- 
 dren, you would no longer think her ugly." 
 
 " She, the mother of my children !" cried Joseph with such keenness 
 of hate that the Empress shuddered. "Do you think me capable of 
 such a degradation ! You have not seen Van Swieten lately, or he 
 would have told you that this woman, in addition to her other attrac- 
 tions, is troubled with a new malady." 
 
 — "Van Swieten did not mention it to me." 
 
 — "Well, then, your Majesty, I will mention it. This so-called Em- 
 press has the scurvy." 
 
 "Oh, my son, my poor boy!" cried the Empress, putting her arm 
 around Joseph's neck as though she would have shielded him from in- 
 fection. "This is a disgusting malady, but Van Swieten's skill will 
 soon conquer it." 
 
 " Yes ; but neither ho nor you will ever conquer my hate for ?ier. 
 Not all the world could make ine forgive the deception that was prac- 
 ticed upon me when she was allowed to become my wife. This woman 
 the mother of my children ! No ! No one shall ever force me to be the 
 father of anything born of Josepha of Bavaria!" 
 
 The Empress turned away and sighed. It was in vain. This was ha- 
 tred strong as death. " May God comfort yoh both !" said she mournfully. 
 
 "Then he must put us asunder," cried out Joseph almost beside him- 
 self. " Believe me, mother," continued he, " death alone can bring us 
 consolation J and may God forgive me when I pray that this atoning 
 angel may come to my relief She or I ! No longer can I bear the ridi- 
 cule of hearing this leper called an Empress !" 
 
 " Travel, then, my dear son," said his mother. " Travel and tr}^ to 
 enjoy life away from Vienna. Perchance when you will have seen how 
 little true happiness there is on earth, experience may come to your help, 
 and teach you to be less unhappy." 
 
 The Emperor shook his head. " Nothing," replied he moodily, " can 
 ever console me. Wherever I go, I shall hear the rattle of my prisoner's 
 chain. Let us speak of it no more. I thank your Majesty for the per- 
 mission to leave Vienna, and I thank you for this bright and saci-ed h(3ur 
 whoso memory will bless me as long as I live. You have been to me 
 this day a tender and sympathising mother. May 1 henceforward be to 
 you a grateful and obedient son." 
 
 " You have not yet told me whither you design to travel," said the 
 Empress after a pause. v 
 
 " With your Majesty's permission, I would wish to travel in Bohemia 
 and Moravia, and then I wish to visit the courts of Dresden and Munich. 
 Both Sovereigns, through their Ambassadors, have sent me urgent invita- 
 tions." 
 
 " It would be uncourteous to refuse," said the Empress earnestly. 
 "It is politic for us, as far as possible, to bind all the German Princes to 
 us by interchange of kindness." 
 
192 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " Since this is youv Majesty s opinion, I hope that you •will also con- 
 sent to my acceptance of a third invitation. The King of Prussia has 
 requested to have an interview with me at Torgau. 
 
 The brow of the Empress darkened. 
 
 "The King of Prussia !" said she almost breathless. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty ; and to be frank with you it is of all my invita- 
 tions the one which I most desire to accept. I long to see face to face 
 the King whom all Europe, friend or foe, unites in calling ' Frederick 
 the Great ' — great not only as a hero, but also as a law-giver." 
 
 " Yes," cried the Empress with indignation^ "The King whom infi- 
 dels delight to honor. I never supposed that lie would presume to ap- 
 proach my son and heir as an equal. The Margrave of Brandenburg 
 has a right to hold the wash-basin of the Emperor of Germany, but rae- 
 thinks he forgets his rank when he invites him to an interview." 
 
 " Ah, yopr Majesty," replied Joseph smiling, " the Margrave of Bran- 
 denburg has proved himself to be a King to our sorrow and our loss ; in 
 more than one battle has he held the wash-basin for Austria's Sovereign, 
 but it was to fill it with Austrian blood." 
 
 Maria Theresa grew more and more angry as she heard these bold 
 words. " It ill becomes my son," said she, " to be the panegyrist of 
 the victor whose laurels were snatched from his mother's brow." 
 
 "Justice impels rne to acknowledge' merit, whether I see it in friend 
 or foe," answered the Emperor. "Frederick of Prussia is a great man, 
 and I only hope that I may ever resemble him." 
 
 The Empress uttered an exclamation, and her large eyes darted light- 
 ening glances. 
 
 " And thus speaks my son of- the man who has injured and robbed 
 his mother !" exclaimed she indignantly. " My son would press his 
 hand who has spilled such seas of Austrian blood — would worship as a 
 hero the enemy of his race ! But so long as I reign in Austria, noHaps- 
 burger shall condescend to give the hand to a Hohenzollern. There is 
 an old feud between our houses ; it cannot be healed." 
 
 " But if there is feud, your Majesty perceives that it is not the fault 
 bf the King of Prussia, since he holds out the right hand of friendship. 
 I think it much more christian-like to bury feuds than to perpetuate 
 them. Your Majesty sees then how Frederic has been calumniated, 
 since he follows the christian precept which commands us to forgive our 
 enemies." . 
 
 " I wish to have nothing to do with him," said the Empress. 
 
 — n" But as I had the honor of saying before, the King has sent me a 
 pressing invitation, and you said just now that it would be uncourteous 
 to refuse." 
 
 " Not the invitation of Frederic. I will not consent to that." 
 
 " Not even, if I beg it as a favor to myself ?" asked Joseph fervently. 
 " Nol; even if I tell you that I have no wish so near at heart as that of 
 knowing the King of Prussia? Think of this day so brightened to mo 
 by the sunshine of your tenderness ! Let tho mother plead for ine with 
 
^ KING OF ROME. 193 
 
 the Sovereign ; for it is not to my Empress, it is to my mother that I 
 confide my hopes and wishes. Oh, do not drown the harmony of this 
 hour in discord ! Do not interpose a cloUd between us now !" 
 
 The Empress threw back her head — " You threaten me, Sir, with your 
 displeasure ? If there are clouds between us, see that they disperse from 
 your own brow, and show me the face of a loyal subject and a respectful 
 son. I will not consent to this visit to the King of Prussia : the very 
 thought of it is galling to my pride." 
 I — "Is that your Majesty's last word?" 
 
 — « It is my last." 
 
 " Then I have nothing farther to say, except that, as in a\ity bound, I 
 will obey the orders of my Sovereign," replied Joseph, turning deathly 
 pale. " I will refuse the invitation of the King of Prussia; and beg leave 
 to retire." 
 
 Without awaiting the answer of his mother, ik bowed, and hastily 
 left the room. 
 
 "Dismissed like a school-boy !" muttered he, while tears of rage flow- 
 ed down his cheeks. " Two chains on my feet — The chains of this ac- 
 cursed marriage, and the chains of my filial duty impede my every step. 
 When I would advance, they hold me back and eat into my flesh. But 
 it is of no use to complain, I must learn to bear my fate like a man ! I 
 will not rebel '"lOpenly, therefore must I be silent. But my time will 
 come!" 
 
 He raised his head proudly, and with a firm step took the way to his 
 private apartments. He went at once into his study where, on his wri- 
 ting-desk, lay the letter of the King of Prussia. 
 
 The Emperor seated himself at the desk, and with a heavy sigh, took 
 up his pen. " Tell the King, your Master," wrote he, " that I am not 
 yet my own master, I am the slave of another will. But I will find 
 means some day to atone for the rudeness which I have been forced to 
 offer him in return for his kindness." * 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 DEATH, THE LIBERATOR. 
 
 The cruel enemy which had laid low so many branches of the noble 
 
 house of Hapsburg, had once more found entrance into the imperial 
 
 palace at Vienna. This terrific invisible foe, which from generation to 
 
 generation had hunted the i mperial family with such keen ferocity, was 
 
 * Hubner ; Life of Joseph II. Vol. 1, p. 8T.— Gross Hofflngcr. Vol. 1, p. 116. 
 
 IS 
 
{ 94 jusEru THE sEco:<D. 
 
 the small-pox. Emperors and Empresses of Austria had been its vic- 
 tims, and almost every one of Maria Theresa's children, bore, sooner or 
 later, its brand upon their taces. This fiend had robbed them of the fair 
 Isabella; and now its envenomed hand was laid upon the affianced bride 
 of the King of Naples. The beautiful young Jdhanmv was borne to the 
 vaults of the Capuchins, while in the palace its inmates were panic- 
 stricken to hear that Joscpha of Bavaria, too, had taken the infection. 
 
 With such lightening swiftness had the venom darted through the 
 veins of the unhappy Empress, that her attendants had fled in disgust 
 from the pestiferous atmosphere of her chamber. 
 
 And there, with one hired nurse, whom the humane Van Swieten had 
 procured from a hospital, lay the wife of the Emperor of Austria. 
 
 No loving hand smoothed the pillow beneath her burning head, or 
 held the cooling cup to her blood-stained lips ; no friendly voice whis- ^ 
 pered words of symp4.ihy, or familiar face bent over her with looks of 
 pity and of sorrow. 
 
 Alone and forsaken, as she had lived, so must she die ! At his first 
 wife's bedside, Joseph had watched day and night; but Josepha, he did 
 not approach. In vain had she sent each day through Van Swieten, a 
 petition to see him, if only once ) Joseph returned, for all, answer that 
 his duty to his mother and sisters forbade the risk. 
 
 And there lay the woman whose princely station mockgd her misery 
 — there she lay, unpitied.and unloved. The inmates of the palace hur- 
 ried past the infected room, stopping their breathing as they ran ; the 
 daughters of Maria Theresa never so much as enquired whether their ab- 
 horred sister-in-law was living or dead. 
 
 But the poor dying Empress was not all alone. Memory was there 
 to haunt her with the mournful histories of her past" life; all pale, all 
 tearful, all despairing were these ghosts of an existence unchequered by 
 one ray of happiness. Ah, with what a heart full of trembling hope had 
 she entered the walls of this palace, whicl;i to her had proved a prisoner's 
 cell. With what rapture had she heard the approaching st«p of that 
 high-born Emperor, her husband, on their wedding-night; and oh! how 
 fearful and how swift had fallen the bolt of his vengeance upon her sin ! 
 Memory whispered her of this. 
 
 She thought of the Emperor Francis, of his tender sympathy with her 
 sorrow ; she remembered how he had conspired with her on that fatal 
 night at Inspruck. Then she remembered her husband's scorn, his with- 
 ering insults, and her loss of consciousness. She thought how she had 
 been found on the floor, and awakened by the terrifying intelligence of 
 the Emperor's sudden death. Her tears, her despair, she remembered 
 all ; and her wail of sorrow at the loss of her khidest friend.* Memory 
 whispered her of this. 
 
 She thought of her dreary -life from that day forward ; forever the 
 f;hrinking victim of Christine's sneers, because she, and not the sister^of 
 Albert o f Saxony, had become the Emperor's wife.. Even the kind- 
 * Wrnxall, vol. 2, page 411. 
 
KIWO OF ROilE. 
 
 195 
 
 heiarted Maria Theresa had been cold to her ; even she, so loving so af- 
 fectionate had never loved Josepha. And the wretched woman thought 
 how one day -when the imperial fliraily had dined together, and her en- 
 trance had been announced as that of " Her Majesty, the reigning Em- 
 press," the Archduchesses had sneered, and their mother had smOed in 
 derision. Memory whispered her of this.* 
 
 She thought how her poor, martyred heart had never been able to give 
 np all hope of love and happiness— how day by day she had striven 
 through humility and-obedience to appease her husband's anger. But 
 he had always repulsed her. One day she had resolved that he should see 
 her. She knew that the Emperor was in the daily habit of sitting on the 
 balcony which divided her apartments from his. She watched his com- 
 ing, and went forward to meet him. But when he saw her, in spite of 
 her tears and supplications, with a gesture of disgust, he left the balcony 
 and closed the window that led to it. The next day when she ventured 
 a second time on the balcony, she found it separated by a high partition 
 shutting out all hope of seeing her husband more. And she remember' 
 ed how one day afterwards, when she stepped out upon it, and her hus 
 band became aware of her presence, he had, in sight of all the passers- 
 by, started back into his room, and flung down his window with violence f 
 Memory whispered her of this. * ' 
 
 But now that she had expiated her first fault by two years of bitter 
 repentance, now that death was about to free him from her hated pre- 
 sence forever, surely he would have mercy, and forgive her the crime of 
 having darkened his life by their unhappy union. v 
 
 Oh, that once more &lie could look into the heaven of those deep blue 
 eyes ! That once more before she died, she could hear the music of that 
 voice which to her was like the harmony of angels' tongues ! 
 
 In vain ! Ever came Van Swieten with the same cold message— 
 
 "The Emperor cannot compromise the safety of his relatives." - 
 
 At last, in the energy of despair, Josepha sat erect in her bed and 
 with her livid, bloody hands, she had written a letter which Van Swie- 
 ten, at her earnest entreaty, delivered to the Emperor. 
 
 When, after a short absence, he returned with another denial Jose- 
 pha gave such a shriek of anguish that it was heard throughout the palace" 
 
 Van Swieten, overwhelmed by pity for the poor martyr, felt that he* 
 must make one more effort in her behalf. He could do nothing for her- 
 bodily, she was beyond his power to heal ; but he was resolved to be 
 the physician of her broken heart, and, if it lay within the power of man 
 to soothe and comfort her dying moments. * 
 
 With the letter which Joseph had returned to him, he hastened to the 
 
 Empress Maria Theresa. To her he pictured the agony of her dyin^r 
 
 . daughter-in-law, and besought her to soften the Emperor's heart. ^ 
 
 The Empress listened to the long-tried friend of her house, with deep 
 emotion; Tears of sympathy gathered in her eyes, and fell over her 
 pale cheeks. 
 
 * nubner : Life of Joseph II., page 2T t Caroline Pichler : Memoirs; vol. 1, page 182. 
 
196 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " Joseph will not grant her request, because he fears the infection for 
 us 1" asked she. 
 
 — " Yes, your Majesty, that is his pretext." 
 
 " He need not fear for me, and he can remain at a distance from the 
 other members of the family," said Maria Theresa. " But I know what 
 are his real sentiments. He hates Josepha, and it is his hatred alone 
 that prevents him from granting her petition. He has a hard, unforgiv- 
 ing heart ; he will never pardon his wife, not even when she lies' cold in 
 her grave." 
 
 " And she will not die until she has seen him," returned Van Swieten 
 sadly. "It seems as if she had power to keep off death until the last 
 aim of her being has been reached. Oh, it is fearful to see a soul of such 
 fire and resolution in a body already decaying !" 
 
 The Empress shuddered. " Come, Van Swieten," said she resolutely, 
 " I will know how to force Joseph to the bedside of his poor, dying wife." 
 
 She rose and would have gone to the door, but Van Swieten, all cer- 
 emony forgetting, held her back. 
 
 '• 1 will call the Emperor myself," said he, " whither would your Ma- 
 jesty go ?" 
 
 " Do not detain me," cried the Empress, " I must go to the Emperor." 
 
 "But what then?" asked Van Swieten, alarmed. The Empress, who 
 had already crossed her ante-room, looked back with a countenance 
 beaming with noble energy. 
 
 " I will do my duty," replied she. " I will do what christian feeling 
 prompts. I. will go to Josepha." 
 
 " No, your Majesty, no !" cried Van Swieten, again laying hands up- 
 on his Sovereign. " You owe it to your people and your children not 
 to expose yourself to danger." 
 
 The Empress smiled sadly. " Doctor where did Isabella and Johanna 
 take the infection ? God called them to Himself, and God has shielded 
 me. If it pleases Him that I also shall suffer this fearful scourge it will 
 not be from contagion. It will be from His divine hand." 
 
 " No, no, your Majesty, it will be my fault," cried Van Swieten, " on 
 my head will be the sin." 
 
 " I free you from all responsibility," replied she, "and say no more, 
 for it is my duty to visit this deserted woman's death-bed. I have been 
 less kind to her than I should have been, and less indulgent than on my 
 death-bed I will wish to have been. I have not been a tender mother 
 to her, living — let me comfort her, at least, now that she is dying." 
 
 " But she has not asked for your Majesty," persisted Van Swieten. 
 « Wherefore " 
 
 But suddenly he stopped, and a cry of horror was stifled between his 
 lips. He had seen upon the forehead and cheeks of the Empress those 
 small, dark spots which revealed to his experienced eye that it was too 
 late to shield her from infection. 
 
 Maria Theresa was too excited to remark the paleness of Van Swie- 
 ten. She continued : 
 
KI]S(; Ob ROME. 197 
 
 "Go to Joseph and tell him that I iiwait him at the death-bed of his 
 wife. He will not dare to refuse her now. Go, doctor, we must both 
 do our duty." 
 
 Van Swieten stepped aside, for he had blocked the door. 
 
 " Go, jour Majesty," said he almost inaudibly. "I will not detain 
 you, but will see the Emperor." He turned away, sick at heart. " One 
 
 Empress dying, and another ! Oh, God grant me help that I may 
 
 save my beloved Jlaria Theresa !" 
 
 Meanwhile the Empress hurried through the deserted halls of the pal- 
 ace to the room of the unhappy Josepha. As she approached the door, 
 she heard her voice in tones of bitterest anguish. The sound filled the 
 heart of Maria Theresa with deepest sympathy and sorrow. For one 
 moment she stood irresolute, then gathering j<l her strength, she opened 
 the door and went in. At the foot of the bed knelt two Ursuline nuns ; 
 those angels of mercy who are ever present to comfort the dying. The 
 entrance of the Empress did not interrupt their prayers. They knew 
 that no one could rescue the dying woman; they were praying heaven 
 to comfort her departing soul. 
 
 But was she comforted? She ceased her lamentations and now lay 
 still. She had heard the door open, and had struggled to rise, but she 
 was too weak, and sank back with a groan. But she had seen the Em- 
 press, who, with the courage of a noble spirit, had conquered her disgust, 
 and advancing to the bed, bent over Josepha with a sweet, sad smile. 
 Josepha saw it, and the Empress looked more beautiful to her dying 
 eyes than she had ever looked before. 
 
 " God bless you, my poor daughter," whispered she in broken accents. 
 " I come to give you a mother's blessing and to beg of Almighty God 
 10 give you peace." 
 
 " Peace ! peace !" echoed the sufferer, while the Empress, with a shud- 
 der, surveyed her black and bloated face. Suddenly she uttered a cry, 
 and opened her arms. " He comes ! he comes !" cried she ; and her dy- 
 ing eyes opened with a ray of joy. 
 
 Yes — he came ; he whom she had so longed to see. "When Van Swie- 
 ten told him that his mother had gone to Josepha's room, he started 
 from his seat, and hurried through the corridor with such wild speed that 
 the physician was unable to follow him. 
 
 Hastily approaching the bed, he put his arms gently around his mo- 
 ther, and sought to lead her away. "Mother," said he, imploringly, 
 "leave this room; it is my duty to be here, not yours. Bid adieu to 
 the Empress Josepha, and go from hence." 
 
 " Oh! oh!" groaned Josepha, falling back upon her pillow, " he does 
 not come for my sake, but for his mother's." 
 
 "Yes, Josepha," replied Joseph, "I am here for your sake also, and I 
 will remain with you." 
 
 " I also will remain," sa!d Maria Tlieresa. " This sacred hour shall 
 unite in love thosq who so long have been severed by error and misap- 
 prehension. Life is a succession of strivings to do well and relapses 
 
] 98 - JOSCPH I'HK SECOW D. 
 
 )n*o Wrong. We too, h.ive erred towards you, and we coftie with over- 
 flowing hearts to crave forgiveness. Forgive 'us, Josepha, as' you hope 
 to be fyrgivea !" 
 
 " Forgive me also, Josepha," said Joseph \7ith genuine emotion. 
 " Let us part in peace. Forgive me my obduracy, as from my soul I 
 forgive you. We have both been unhappy " 
 
 " No," interrupted Josepha, " I have not been unhappy, for I — I have 
 loved. I die happy, for he whom I love, no longer turns abhorrent from 
 my presence. 1 will die by the light of your pardoning smile. Death 
 that comes every moment nearer, death, to me, brings happiness. He 
 comes with his cold kiss, to take my parting breath — the only kiss my 
 lips have ever felt. He brings me love and consolation. He takes from 
 niy face the hideous mask' which it has worn through life, and my soul's 
 beauty, in another world, shall win me Joseph's love! Oh, death, the 
 comforter ! I feel thy kiss. Farewell, Joseph, farewell !" 
 
 " Farewell," whispered Joseph and Maria Theresa. 
 
 A fearful pause ensued — a slight spasm — a gasp — and all was over. 
 
 " She is released !" said Van Swieten. " May her soul rest in peace." 
 
 The Ursuliues entoned the prayers for the dead, and Maria Theresa, 
 in tears clasped her hands and faltered out the responses. Suddenly she 
 reeled, heaved a sigh, and fell back in the Emperor's arms. 
 
 " My mother, my dear mother," cried he, terrified. Van Swieten 
 touched him lightly. " Do not arouse her. Yonder sleeps the one Fm- 
 press in death — her pains are past ; but this one, our beloved Maria 
 Theresa, has yet to suffer. May God be merciful and spare her life!" 
 
 " Her life !" cried Joseph, turning pale. 
 
 — " Yes, her life," said Van Swieten solemnly. " The !jEmpress has the 
 small-pox."* 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE MIRROR. 
 
 Six fearful weeks had gone by ; six weeks of anxiety, suspense, and 
 care, not only for the imperial family, but for all Austria. Like the 
 lighlening's flash, intelligence had gone through the land that the Em- 
 press was in danger ; and her subjects had lost interest in everything 
 
 * The Empress Josepha died May 28, 1767, at the age of twenty-nine years. Her body was so de- 
 cayed by small-pox that, before her death, the flesh fell from her in pieces. It was so completely de- 
 composed that it was impossible to pay it the customary funeral honors. It was hurriedly wrapped 
 up in a linen cloth, and oofBned. From thence a rumor prevailed in Bavaria that she had not died, 
 bit had been forced into a cloister by her husband. 
 
p.\cept the bulletins issued from the palace, where VanSwieteu and Von 
 Si oik watched day and night by the bedside of their beloved sovereign. 
 Deputations were sent to Vienna sympathising with the Emperor ; and 
 theavenues to the palace were thronged with thousands of anxious faces, 
 each waiting eagerly for the bulletins that came out four times a day. 
 At. last the danger had passed away. Van Swieten slept at home, 
 
 and the Empress was recovering. 
 
 She had recovered. Leaning on the arm of the Emperor and sur- 
 rounded by her happy children, Maria Theresa left her widow's cell to 
 take up her abode in the new and splendid apartments which Joseph du- 
 ring her convalescence, had prepared for her reception. 
 
 She thanked her son for his loving attention, so contrary to his usual 
 habits of economy, and therefore so much the more aproof of his earnest 
 desire to give pleasure to his mother. She, in her turn, sought to give 
 strun" expression to her gratitude, by admiring with enthusiasm all that 
 had been done for her. She stopped to examine the costly Turkey car- 
 pets, the gorgeous Gobelin tapestries on the walls, the tables carved of 
 precious woods, or inlaid with jewels and Florentine mosaic, the rich 
 furniture covered with velvet and gold, the magnificent lustres of spark- 
 lin<T crystal, and the elegant trifles that here and there were tastefully 
 disposed upon ctag'eres or consoles. 
 
 " Indeed, my son," cried the Empress, surveying the beautiful suite^ 
 "you have decorated these rooms with the taste and prodigality of a 
 woman. It adds much to my enjoyment of their beauty to think that 
 all this is the work of your loving hands. But one thing has my princely 
 son forgotten ; and therein he betrays his sex, showing that he is no wo- 
 man, but in very truth a man." 
 
 " Have I forgotten something, your Majesty," asked Joseph. 
 — "Yes; something, my son, which a woman could never have over- 
 looked. There are no mirrors in my splendid home." 
 
 " No mirrors !" exclaimed Joseph, looking confused. " No — yes — 
 indeed your Majesty is right, I had forgotten them. But I bog a thou- 
 sand pardons for my negligence, and I will see that it is repaired; I 
 shall order fhe costliest Venitian mirrors to be made for these apart- 
 ments." 
 
 While Joseph spoke, his mother had looked earnestly at his "blushing 
 face, and had perfectly divined both his embarrassment and its cause. 
 She turned her eyes upon her daughters, who, with theirs cast down, 
 were sharing their brother's perplexity. 
 
 ''I mu^t wait then until my mirrors are made," said the Empress af- 
 ter a pause. " You must think that I have less than woman's vanity, 
 my son, if you expect me to remain for weeks without a greeting from 
 my looking-glass. Of course the small-pox has not dared to disfigure^ 
 the face of an Empress; I feel secure against its sacrilegeous tou6h. Is 
 it not 80, my little Marie Antoinette, has it not respected your mother's 
 comeliness 1" 
 
 The little Archduchess looked frightened at her mother's question, and 
 
raised her large eyes timidly. " My imperial mama is as handsome as 
 ever she was," said the child, in a trembling voice. 
 
 " And she will always be handsome to us, should she live until old 
 a<Te shall have wrinkled her fiice and paled her cheeks," cried Joseph 
 warmly. " The picture of her youthful grace and beauty is engraved 
 upon our hearts, and nothing can ever remove it thence. A noble and 
 beloved mother, to the eyes of her children, is always beautiful." 
 
 The Empress said nothing in reply. She smiled affectionately upon 
 her son, and inclining her head kindly to the others, she retired to her 
 sitting-room. • She walked several times up and down, and finally ap- 
 proached her mirror. In accordance with an old superstition, which pro- 
 nounces it ill-luck to allow a looking-glass in the room of a sick person, 
 this large mirror had been covered with a heavy silk curtain. The Em- 
 press drew it back, but instead of her looking-glass, she was confronted 
 by a portrait of her late husband, the Emperor. She uttered an excla- 
 mation of surprise and joy, and contemplated the picture with a happy 
 smile. " God bless thee^ my Franz, my noble Emperor," whispered 
 she. "Thou art ever the same ; thy dear smile is unaltered, although 
 I am no longer thy handsome bride, but a hideous and disfigured being ; 
 from whom my children deem it fit to conceal a looking-glass. Look 
 at me with thy dear eyes, Franz ; thou wert ever my mirror, and in thy 
 li^ht have I seen my brightest days of earthly joy. My departed beau- 
 ty leaves me not one pang of regret, since thou art gone for whom alone 
 I prized it. Maria Theresa has ceased to be a woman — she is nothing 
 more than a Sovereign, and what to her are the scars of the small-pox 1 
 — But I must see what I look like," said she dropping the curtain. I 
 will show them that I am not as foolish as they imagine." 
 
 She took up her little golden bell and rang. The door of the next 
 room opened, and Charlotte Von Hieronymus entered. The Empress 
 smiled and said, " It is time to make my toilet. I will dine to-day en 
 famille with the Emperor, and 1 must be dressed. Let us go then into 
 my dressing-room." • 
 
 The maid of honor curtsied and opened the door. Every thing there 
 
 was ready for the Empress. The tire- women, the mistress of the ward- 
 
 I robe, the maids of honor were all at their posts ; and Charlotte hastened 
 
 to take her place behind the large arm-chair in which the Empress was 
 
 accustomed to have her hair dressed. 
 
 Maria Theresa saw that she had not been expected quite so soon in 
 her dressing-room, for her cheval-glass was encumbered with shawls, 
 dresses, and cloaks. She took her seat, smilingly saying to herself, " I 
 shall see myself now, face to face." 
 
 Charlotte passed the comb through the short hair of the Empress, and 
 sighed as she thought of the offering that had been laid in the Emperor's 
 coffin ; while the other maids of honor stood silent around. Maria The- 
 resa, usually so familiar and talkative, at this hour, spoke not a word.^ 
 She looked sharply at the cheval-glass, and began carelessly, and as if 
 by chance, to remove with her foot the dresses that encumbered it ; then, 
 
KI^G OF llOAIK . 201 
 
 as If ashamed of her artifice, she suddenly rose from her chair and with 
 an energetic gesture, unbarred the mirror. 
 
 , No mirror was there ! Nothing greeted the Empress's eyes save 
 
 the empty frame. She turned a reproachful glance upon the little 
 coiffeuse. 
 
 Charlotte fell upon her knees, and looked imploringly at the Empress. 
 " It is my fault, yeur Majesty," said she, blushing and trembling, "I 
 alone am the culprit. Pardon my maladroiuiess, 1 pray you." 
 
 " What do you mean, child ?" asked the Empress. 
 
 " I — I broke the looking-glass, your Majesty. I stumbled over it in 
 the dark and shivered the glass in pieces. I am very, very awkward — 
 I am very sorry." 
 
 " What ! You overturned this heavy mirror !" said Maria Theresa. 
 *' If so, there must have been a fearfal crash. Plow comes it that I never 
 heard any thing, I who for six weeks have been ill in the adjoining room V 
 
 — " It happened just at the time when your Mnjesty was delirious 
 with fever, and " 
 
 — ••' And this mirror has been broken for three weeks!" said Maria 
 Theresa, raising her eyebrows and looking intently at Charlotte's blush- 
 ing flice. " Three weeks ago ! I think you might have had it replaced, 
 Charlotte, by this time; hey, child?" 
 
 Charlotte's eyes sought the floor. At length she stammered, in a voice 
 scarcely audible, " Please your Majesty, I could not suppose that you 
 would miss the glass so soon. YoU have made so little use of mirro'rs 
 since " 
 
 " Enough of this nonsense," interrupted the Empress. *' You have 
 been well-drilled, and have played your part with some talent, but don't 
 imagine that I am the dupe of all this pretty f acting. Get up, child, 
 don't make^a fool of yourself, but put on my crape cap lor me, and then 
 go as quickly as youcan for a looking glass." 
 
 — "A looking-^lass, your Majesty !" cried Charlotte in a frightened 
 voice. 
 
 " A looking-glass," repeated the Empress emphatically. 
 
 — " I have none, your Majesty." 
 
 — '* Well, then," said Maria Theresa, her patience sorely tried by all 
 this, "let some one with better eyes than yqurs look for one. Go, 
 Sophie, and bid one of the pages bring me a mirror from my old apart- 
 ments below — I do not suppose that there has been a general crashing 
 of all the mirrors in the palace. In a quarter of an hour I shall be in 
 my sitting-room. At the end ,of tTiat time the mirror must be there — 
 Be quick, Sophie, and you, Charlotte, finish the combing of my hair. 
 There is but little to do to it now, so dry your tears." 
 
 " Ah!" whispered Charlotte, "I would there were more to do. I 
 cannot help crying, your Majesty, when I see the ruins of that beautiful 
 hair." 
 
 " And yet, poor child, you have spent so many weary hours over it," 
 replied the Empress. " You ought to be glad that your delicate little 
 
202 JOSEPH THE SKOUNU. 
 
 hands are no longer obliged to bear its weight." -► " Charlotte," said she 
 suddenly, " you have seveial times asked for your dismissal. Now, 
 yoii shall have it, and you shall marry your lover, Counsellor Greiner. 
 1 niyseif will give you away, and bestow the dowry." 
 
 'ihe grateful girl pressed the hand of the Empress to Her lips, while 
 she whispered words of love and thanks. 
 
 Maria Theresa smiled, and took her seat, while Charlotte completed 
 her toilet. Maich-making was the Empress's great weakness, and she 
 was in hi^ spirits over the prospect of marrying Charlotte. 
 
 The simple, mourning coslume was soon donned, and the Empress 
 rose- to leave her dressing room. As she passed the empty frame of the 
 Psyche, she turned laughing towards her maid of honor. 
 
 "I give you this mirror, Charlotte," said she. "If the glass is really 
 broken, it shall be replaced by the costliest one that Venice can produce. 
 It will be to you a souvenir of your successful debut as an actress on this 
 day. You have really done admirably. But let me tell you one thing 
 my child," continued Maria Theresa, taking Charlotte's hand in hers. 
 *• Never be an actress with your husband; but let your heart be reflec- 
 ted in all your words and deeds, as yonder mirror will give back the 
 truthful picture of your foce. Let all be clear and bright in your mar- 
 ried intercourse; and see that no breath of deception ever cloud its sur- 
 face. Take this wedding-gift, and cherish it as a faithful monitor. Truth 
 is a light that comes to us from heaven ; let us look steadily at it, for 
 evil as well as for good. This is the hour of my trial — no great one — 
 but still a trial. Let me now look at Truth, and learn to bear the reve- 
 lation it is about to make." 
 
 She opened the door, and entered her sitting-room. Her commands 
 had been obeyed, the mirror was in its place. She advanced with reso- 
 lute step, but as she approached the glass, her eyes' were instinctively 
 cast down until she stood directly before it. The decisive moment had 
 arrived — she was to see what? 
 
 Slowly her eyes were raised, and she looked. She uttered a low cry, 
 and started back in horror. She had seen a strange, scarred, empurpled 
 face, whose colourless lips and hard features had filled her soul with 
 loathing. 
 
 But with all the streigth of her brave and noble heart, Maria Theresa 
 overcame the shock, and looked again. She forced her eyes to contem- 
 plate the fearful image that confronted her once beautiful face, and long 
 and earnestly she gazed upon it. 
 
 " Well !" said she, at last, with a sigh, " I must make acquaintance 
 with this caricature of my former self. I must accustom myself to tbe 
 mortifying f^t that this is Maria Theresa, or I might some of these days 
 call for a page to drive out that hideous old crone ! — T must learn, too, to 
 be resigned, for it is the hand of my heavenly Father that has covered 
 my face with this grotesque mask. Since He has thought fit to deprive 
 me of my beauty, let His divine will be done.". 
 
 She remained for some moments silent; still gazing intently at the 
 
KING OK KOAlJi. 203 
 
 mirror. Finally a smile overspr^d her entiio counteuance, and sh& 
 nodded at the image in the glass. 
 
 " Well ! You ugly old woman," said she aloud, " we have begun our 
 acquaintance. Let us bo good friends. I do not intend to make 6iie 
 effort to lesson your ugliness ^y womanly art ; I must seek to win its par- 
 don from the world by noble deeds and a well-spent life. Perhaps, in 
 future d^ys, when my subjects lament my homeliness, they may add that 
 
 nevertheless 1 was a ffood, and well ! in this hour of humiliation we 
 
 may praise one another, I think perchance a gi'eat soverei|n." 
 
 Here the Empress turned from the mirror and crossing over to the 
 spot where the Emperor's portrait hung, she continued her soliloquy. 
 " But Franz, dear Franz, you at least are spared the sight of your The- 
 resa's transformation. I could not have borne this as 1 do, if yoii had 
 been here to witness it. Now! what matters it? My people will not 
 remind me of it, and my children have already promised to love me, 
 and forgive my deformity. Sleep then, my beloved, until I rejoin you 
 in heaven. There, the mask will fall for me, as for poor Josepha, and 
 there we shall be glorified and happy." 
 
 The Empress then returned to the dressing-room where her attend- 
 ants, anxious and unhappy, awaited her ro-appearance. What was their 
 astonishment to see her tranquil and smiling, not a trace of discontent 
 upon her countenance ! 
 
 " Let the steward of the household be apprized that I will have mir- 
 rors in all my apartments. They can be hung at once, and may be re- 
 placed by those which the Emperor has ordered, whenever they arrive 
 from Venice. Let rny page Gustavus*^ repair to Cardinal, Migazzi ai.d 
 inform him that to-morrow I will make my public thanksgiving in the 
 Cathedral of St. Stephens. I shall go on foot and in the midst of my 
 people, that they may see me and know that I am not ashamed of the 
 judgments of God. Let Prince Kaunitz be advised that on to-piorrov/» 
 after the holy sacrifice, I will receive him here — Open my doors and win- 
 dows, and let us breathe the free air of heaven. I am no longer an in-* 
 vali'd, my friends ; I am strong, and ready to begin life anew." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 THE INTERVIEW WITH KAUNITZ. 
 
 From earliest morning the streets of Vienna had been thronged by &^ 
 joyous multitude, eagerly awaiting the sight of their restored Sovereign. 
 All Vienna had mourned when the Empress lay ill ; all Vienna now r^ 
 
204 JUSEhH THE SKCO^'D 
 
 juiced that she had recovered. Maria Theresa's road to the church was 
 one long triumph — the outpouring of the sincere love which filled the 
 hearts of her subjects. The Empress had done nothing to court this 
 homage ; for the notice given to the Cardinal had been as short as it 
 possibly could be; but the news of the thanksgiving had flown from one 
 end of Vienna'to the other ; and every corporation and society, the stu- 
 dents of every college, and every citizen that was at liberty to leave 
 home, flocked to congratulate the well-beloved Sovereign, Tllfe streets 
 through wbich she had to pass, were lined with people bearing flags, 
 banners and emblems, while near them stood the children of the educa- 
 tional and orphan asylums, which had been endowed by the munificence 
 of the Empress. Lofty and lowly, rich and poor, stood in friendly con- 
 tact, with each other ; even the nobles, imitating Maria Theresa's affa- 
 bility, mixed smiling'and free among the people. All sense of rank and 
 station seemed lost in the univers^al joy of the hour. 
 
 The bells chimed, and the people rent the air with shouts ; for this 
 was the signal of the Empress's sortie from the palace, and her people 
 knew that she was coming to meet them. At last they saw her ; — ■ 
 leaning on the arm' of the Emperor, and followed by her other children 
 she came, proud and resolute as ever. It was a beautiful sight, this 
 Empress with her ten lovely sons and daughters, all joyful and smiling, 
 as like simple subjects they walked through the streets towards the 
 church to thank God for her recovery. 
 
 Inexpressible joy beamed from Maria Theresa's eyes — those superb 
 eyes whose light the small-pox could not quench. Her great and noble 
 soul looked out from their azure depths, and her head seemed encircled 
 by a glory. In this hour she was no ** ugly old crone," she was the hap- 
 py, proud triumphant Empress, who in the eyes of her people was both 
 beautiful and beloved. For the moment lier widow's sorrows were for- 
 gotten ; and when surrounded by so many loyal hearts, she sank on her 
 knees before the altar of St. Stephens, she thanked God for the joy of 
 this hour, and made a vow that her whole life should be devoted to the 
 welfare of the people who on this day had given her so touching a wel- 
 come. 
 
 Exhausted not only by emotion, but by the heat of the July sua 
 which shone on her head as she returned, the Empress at last reache'd 
 her own rooms. Her tire-women hastened to relieve her of her cover- 
 ings and to dry Jier moistened hair and face. But she waved them back. 
 
 " No, no, my friends, let me refresh myself in my own way. The air 
 is more skillful than your hands, and is softer than your napkins. Open 
 the doors and the windows, and place my arm-chair in the middle of 
 the room." 
 
 " But, your Majesty," remonstrated one of the maids of honor, " you 
 'forget your condition. The draught will do you injury." 
 
 " I do not know what such fastidious pe"ople mean by a draught," re- 
 plied the Empress, laughing and taking her seat, " but I know that the 
 ^0Q(3 God has sent this air from heaven for man's enjoyment, and when 
 
KING OF ROME. . 205 
 
 I feel its cool kiss upon my cheek, I think that Gud is nigh. I have al- 
 \vays loved to feel the breath of my Creator, and therefore it is that I 
 have always been strong and healthy. See ! See ! how it blows away^ 
 my mantle! You are right, sweet summer wind. I will ihrow the bur-' 
 then away." ♦ 
 
 She let fall her mantle, and gave her bare shpulders to the wind, en- 
 joying the breeze, and frightening her maids of honor out of their pro- 
 priety. 
 
 " Now let mo have some refreshment," cried she. Away sped two 
 or three of the ladies, each one anxious to escape from the gust that was 
 driving every thing before it in the Empress's rooms. 
 
 A page brought in a tray, and there, in the centre of the room, the 
 Empress, although yet overheated, ate a plate of strawberries and drank 
 a glass of lemonade cooled in ice.* 
 
 She was interrupted in themiidst of all this comfort by another page, 
 who announced Pnnce Kaunitz. Maria Theresa rose hastily from her 
 sedt, "Shut all the doors and windows," exclaimed she, "do not let 
 him scent the draught."f 
 
 While her orders were being obeyed, she looked around to convince 
 herself that everj'^ avenue was closed through which the wind might pe- 
 netrate, and that done, she ordered the door to be thrown open, and the 
 Prince admitted. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz approached with his usual, serious and tranquil demea- 
 nor. He bowed low and said, " I congratulate your Majesty and the 
 Austrian empire upon your happy recovery. I, who have no fear of any 
 other enemy, have trembled before this deadly foe of your imperial 
 house. For all other dangers, we have craft and valor, but against this 
 one, no bravery or statesmanship can avail." 
 
 " But skill has availed ; and to Van Swieten, under Providence, I am 
 indebted for my life," cried the Enipress, warmly. " I know Kaunitz 
 that you have but little faith in heavenly or earthly physicians; and I 
 pray God that you may never acquire it through the bitter experience 
 of such suffering as I have but lately endured. Often during my sFeep- 
 less nights I have longed for a sight of your grave face, and it grieved 
 me to think that perchanc^we might never meet again to talk of Aus- 
 tria, and plan for Austria's welfare." 
 
 "But I knew that your Majesty would recover," said Kaunitz, with 
 unusual warmth, "I knew it, for Austria cannot spare you, and s'o long 
 as there is work for you here below, your strong mind will bid defiance 
 to death." 
 
 Maria Theresa colored with pleasure. It was so seldom that Kaunitz 
 gave utterance to such sentiments, that his praise was really worth having. 
 
 "You think then that Austria needs me," said she. 
 
 . * Caroline Pichler: Memoirs, vol. 1, 'page 18, 19. MariaTbereeasupported witliout pain exfrem© 
 degrees of heat and cold. Summer and -wintdr her windows stood open,,and often the snow-flakes 
 have been seen lo fall upon her eacriiiHr while she wrote. The Emperor Joseph, to winter, always 
 camo into his mother's rooms wrapped up in furs, 
 t Wraxall, vol. 'J. page 860, 
 
'206 JOSEPH lafi 5Eco:<D. 
 
 — "I do indeed, your Majesty." 
 
 — " But if God had called me to himself, -what would yo\i have done?" 
 — "I would still have labored as in duty bound to my country, but 
 I would have owed a life-long grudge to Providence, for its want of wis- 
 dom." 
 
 " You are a scoffer, Kaunitz," said the Empress. " Your Creator is 
 very merciful to allow you time to utter the unchristian sentiments 
 which are forever falling from your lips. But God sees the heart of 
 man, and He knows that yours is better than your words. Since the 
 loving, all-suffering Lord forgives you, so will I. But tell me, how has 
 my empire fared during these six long weeks?" 
 
 " Well, your Majesty. Throughout the day, I worked for myself, 
 throughout the night for you, and nothing is behind hand. Each day 
 adds to our internal strength, that gives us consideration abroad, and 
 sooti we shall hold our own as one of the four great European powers, 
 mightier than in the days when the sun nevet set upon Austrian realms. 
 The empire of Charles Fifth was grand, but it was not solid. It resem- 
 bled a reversed pyramid, in danger of being crushed -by its own weight. 
 The pyramid to day is less in size, but greater in base, and therefore 
 firmer in foundation.* Strength does not depend so much upon size as 
 upon proportion; and Austria, although her territory has been vaster^ 
 has never been so truly powerful as she is in this, the reign of your Ma- 
 jesty." 
 
 — " If Silesia were but ours again ! As for Naples and Alsatia, they 
 were never more than disjccla membra of our empire; and they were al- 
 ways less profit than trouble. But Silesia is ours— ours by a common 
 ancestry, a common language, and the strong tie of affection. I shall 
 never recover from the blow tjiat I received when I lost Silesia " 
 
 " We shall have restitution some of these days, your Majesty," said 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 '* 1)0 you mean to say that I shall ever recpver Silesia?" asked. the 
 Empress, eagerly. 
 
 — "From the King of Prussia? No— never. He holds fast to his 
 possessions, and his sharp sword would be unsheathed to-morrow, were 
 we to lay the weight of a finger upon his right to Silesia. But we shall 
 be otherwise revenged, in the day when we shall feel that we haVe at- 
 tained the noon-tide of our power and strength." 
 
 "You do not intend to propose to me a war of aggression!" said the 
 Empress, shocked. 
 
 " No, your Majesty, but if we should see two eagles tearing to pieces 
 a lamb which is beyond hope of rescue, our two-headed eagle must 
 swoop down upon the robbers, and demand his share of the booty. I 
 foresee evil doings among our neighbors. Catharine of Russia is bold 
 and unscrupulous: Frederic of Prussia knows it, and he already seeks 
 the friendship of Russia, that he may gain an accomplice as well as an 
 
 ally-" ^ 
 
 * Letters of a French Traveller. Vol. 1, p. 421. 
 
ElUG OF ROME. 207 
 
 " God forbid that I should follaw ip the wake of the King of Prussia !" 
 crfed Maria Theresa, " Never wili I accept, miicli less seek to knou- 
 this ci-uel woman, whose throne is blood-stained, and whose heart i-s dead 
 to every sentiment of womanly virtue and honor !" 
 
 "Your Majesty need have no intercourse with the woman, you have 
 only to confer with the sovereign of a powerful ncighborinjr ewipire." 
 
 " Russia is not a neighbouring empire," exclaimt.-d the Empress. "I 
 ivrote on one occasion to the Empress Elizabe-th, ' 1 will always be your 
 friend, but. with my consent you shall never be my neighbor.'* Poland 
 lies between Russia and Austria." 
 
 "Yes," said Kaunitz, with one of his meaning smiles, •' but how long 
 will Poland divide us from Russia?" 
 
 " Man !" exclaimed Maria Theresa with horror, " you do not surely 
 insinuate that we would dare to lay a hand upon Poland !" 
 
 — "Not we, but the Empress of Russia will " 
 
 — "■ Impossible ! impossible ! She dare not do it- 
 
 Kaunitz shrugged his shoulders. '•'•Dare, your Majesty ? Some things. 
 we dare not attempt because they are difficult; others arc diflicult be- 
 cause we dare not attempt them.f The Empress of Russia dares do 
 anything ; for she knows how to take matters easily, and believes in her 
 own foresight. Despots are grasping, and Catharine is a great despot. 
 We must make haste to secure her good-will, that when the time comes 
 we may all understand one another." 
 
 "I!" exclaimed the Empress, "I should stoop so low as to seek th# 
 good-will of this wicked Empress, who mounted her throne upon the 
 dead body of her husband, while her lovers stood by, their hands reek- 
 ing with the blood of the murdered Emperor! Oh, Kaunitz! You 
 would never ask of me to do this thing !" 
 
 — "Your Majesty is great enough to sacrifice your personal antipa- 
 thies to the good of your country. Your Majesty once condescended 
 to write to Farinelli, and tlm act won us the friendship of the King of 
 Spain and of his sons; this letter will be the means of placing an Arch- 
 duchess of Austria on the throne of Naples." 
 
 *' Would have been," said Maria Theresa, heaving a sigh. " The 
 bride of the King of N;iples is no more ! My poor Joanna! My beau- 
 tiful child !", 
 
 — " But the Archduchess Josepha lives, and I had intended to propose 
 to your Majesty to. accept the hand of the King of Naples for her High- 
 ness." 
 
 — "Is the House of Naples then so desirous of our alliance that it 
 has already offered its heir to another one of my daughters % I am sor- 
 ry that we should be obliged to accept, for I have heard of late that the 
 King is an illiterate and trifling fellow, scarcely better than the Lazza- 
 roni who are his chosen associates. Josepha will not be haj'py with 
 such a man." 
 
 — " Your Majesty, h er TTiirhnrss does not marry the young ignoramus 
 * Hi»loric»l. t KRunitz'i own wordi. Uormayr Plutarcb; vo\. 12, pago2Tl. 
 
208 JOSEPH TRE SECOND. 
 
 •who to be sure knows neither how to read nor write ; she marries the 
 'King of Naples, and surely if anything can gracefully conceal a man's 
 faults, it is the purple mantle of royalty." 
 
 "I will give my child to this representative of royalty," said Maria 
 Theresa sadly, " but I look upon her as a victim of expediency. If she 
 is true to her God and to her spouse, I must be content, even though, 
 as a woman, Josepha's life will be a blank." 
 
 "And this alliance," said Kaunitz, still pursuing the object for which 
 he was contending, " this marriage is the result of one letter to Farinelli. 
 Your Majesty once condescended to write to La Pompadour. That 
 letter won the friendship of France, and its fruits will be the marriage 
 of the Archduchess Marie Antoinette, and her elevation to the throne 
 of France. Your Majesty sees then what important results have sprung 
 from two friendly letters which my honored Sovereign has not disdain- 
 ed to write. Surely when wise statesmanship prompts '^'our Majesty to 
 indite a third letter to the Empress of Russia, you will not refuse its 
 counsels and suggestions. The two first letters were worth to us two 
 thrones; the third may chance to be worth a new province." 
 
 " A new province !" exclaimed the Empress, coming closer to Kau- 
 nitz, and in her eagerness laying her hand upon his shoulder. "Tell 
 me — what wise and wicked stratagem do you hatch within your brain 
 today r 
 
 ^" My plans, so please your Majesty," said the Prince, raising his eyes 
 so as to meet those of the Empress, "my plans are notofto-dav. 
 They " 
 
 But suddenly he grew dumb, and gazed horror-stricken at the face of 
 Maria Theresa. Kaunitz was shortsighted, and up to this moment he 
 had remained in ignorance of the fearful change that had forever trans- 
 formed the Empress's beauty into ugliness. The discovery had left him 
 speechless. 
 
 " Well 1" cried the Empress, not suspecting the cause of his sudden 
 silence. " You have «ot the courage to confide your plans to me ! They 
 must be dishonorable. If not, in the name of heaven, speak." 
 
 The Prince answered not a word. The shock had been too great ; and 
 as he gazed upon that scarred and blotched face, once so smooth, fair 
 and beautiful, his presence of mind forsook him, and his diplomacy came 
 to naught. 
 
 " Forgive me, your Majesty," said he, as pale and staggering he re- 
 treated towards the door. " A sudden faintness has come over me, and 
 every thing swims before my vision. Let me entreat your permission 
 to retire." 
 
 Without awaiting the Empress's reply, he made a hasty bow, and 
 fled from the room. 
 
 The Empress looked after him in utter astonishment. " What has 
 come over the man V said she to herself. " He looks as if he had seen 
 a ghost ! Well — I suppose it is nothing more than a fit of eccentricity." 
 
 And she flung back her head with a half disdainful smile. But as she 
 
KING OF KUiili. 209 
 
 did so, hor eyes lit accidentallj upon llie mirror, and she. saw lier own 
 image reflected in its bright depths. 
 
 She started ; for she had already r^rgotlc!) the " ugly old woman " 
 whom she had apdstrpphised ou the day previous. Suddenly she burst 
 into a peal oflaughter, and cried out, " No wonder poor Kaunitz looked 
 as if he had seen something horrible! He saw uk — anJ I am the Me- 
 dusa that turned him into stone. Poor, short-siglited man ! lie had beqn 
 in blissful ignorance of my altered looks until I laid my hand upon his shoul- 
 der. I must do something to heal the wound 1 have inflicted, I owe hiui 
 more than I can well repay. I will give him a brilliant decoration, and 
 that will be a cure-all ; for Kaunitz is very vain and very fond of show." 
 
 While the Empress was writing the note which was to accompany her 
 gift, Kaunitz, with his handkerchief over his mouth, was dashinij through 
 the palace corridors to his carriage. With an impatient gesture he nio- 
 tioned to his coachman to drive home with all speed. 
 
 Not with his usual stateliness, but panting, almost running, did, Kau- 
 nitz traverse the gilded halls of his own. palace, which were open to-dav 
 in honor of the Empress's recovery, and were already festive with the 
 sound of the guests assembling to a magnificent dinner which was to ce- 
 lebrate the event. Without a word to the Countess Clary, -who came 
 forward elegantly attired for the occasion, Kaunitz flew into his study ' 
 and sinking into an arm chair, he covered his flice with his hands. He 
 felt as if he had been face to face with death ! That was not his beauti- 
 ful, majestic, awperb Maria Theresa; it was a frightful vision, a messen- 
 ger from the grave, that forced upon his unwilling' mind the dreadful 
 futurity that awaits all Avho are born of woman ! 
 
 "Could it be ! Was this indeed the Empress, whose beauty had in- 
 toxicated her subjects, as drawing from its sheath the sword of St. Ste- 
 phen, she held it flashing in the sun, and called upon them to defend her 
 rights ! Oh, could it be that this woman, once -beautiful as Olympian 
 Juno, had been transformed into such a caricature!" 
 
 A thrill of pain darted through the whole frame of the Prince, and he 
 did what, since his mother's de.flh, he had never done — he wept. 
 
 But gradually he overcame lus grief, the scanty fountain of his tears 
 dried up, and he resumed his cold and habitual denieanor. For a long 
 time he sat motionless in his chair, staring at the wall that was opposite. 
 Finally he moved towards his escritoire and took up a pen. 
 
 He began to write instructions fdr the use of his secretaries. They 
 were never to pronounce in his presence the two words, Death and 
 Small Pox. If those words ever occurred in any correspondence or 
 oflicial paper that was to come before his notice, they were to be erased. 
 Those who presented themselves before the Prince were to be warned 
 that these fearful words must never pass their lips in his presence. A 
 secretary was to go at once to the Countess Clary, that she might pre- 
 pare Ihc guests of the Prince, and caution tliem against the use of the 
 oflensivo words.* 
 
 *U<Jrm8yr. Auatiiau I'lutarcli. Vol, 12, p. 2T4. 
 11 
 
210 iOStPa THE SECOND. 
 
 When Kaunitz had completed. these singular instructions, lie rang, and 
 gave the paper to a page. As lie did so, a servant entered with a let- 
 ter and a package from her Majesty, the Empress. 
 
 The package contained tlic Grand Cross of the or'der of St. Stephen, 
 hut instead of the usual syrabol, the cross was composed of costly bril- 
 liants. The letter was in the Empress's own hand — a worthy answer 
 to the "Instructions" which Kauntlz was in the act of sending to his 
 secretaries. 
 
 The Empress wrote as follows: "1 send you the Grand, Cross of St. 
 Stephen ; but as a mark of distinction you must wear it in brilliants. 
 You have done so much to dignify it, that I seize with eagerness the op- 
 portunity which presents itself to offer you a tribute of that gratitude 
 which I feel for yoiir services, and shall continue to feel until, the day of 
 my death.* Maria Theresa." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIY. 
 
 THE AKCHDUCHESS JOSEPIIA. * 
 
 The plans of the Empress and her Prime Minister approached their 
 fulfillment ; Austria was about to contract ties of kindred with her pow- 
 erful neighbors. 
 
 MariaTheresa had again consented to receive the King of Naples as 
 her son-in-law, and he was the affianced husband of the Archduchess Jo- 
 sepha. The palace of Lichtenstein, the residence of the Neapolitan Am- 
 bassador was, in consequence of the betrothal, the scene of splendid fes- 
 tivities, and in the imperial pSfece preparations were making for the ap- 
 proaching nuptials. They were to be solemnised on the fifteenth of Oc- 
 tober, and immediately after the ceremony the young bride was to leave 
 \ ienna for Naples. 
 
 Everything vv-as gayety and bustle ; all were deep in consultation 
 over dress and jewels ; and the great topic of court conversation was the 
 paHre of brilliants sent by the King of Spain, whose surpassing magni- 
 ficence had called forth an expression of astonishment from the lips of 
 the Empress herself 
 
 The trousseau of the Archduchess was exposed in the apartments which 
 had once been occupied by the Empress and her husband ; and now Maria 
 Theresa, followed by a bevy of wonderingyoung Archduchesses, was exam- 
 ining her daughter's princely wardrobe, that with her own eyes she might 
 be sure that nothing was wanting to render it worthy of a Queen-elect. 
 
 ♦Wmxa!! II; 4T?. 
 
KimO OF KUMK '^ [ I 
 
 The young giris burst into exclamations of rapture A\hen they approach- 
 ed the table where, in its snowy parity, lay the bridal dress of white 
 velvet, embroidered with pearls and diamonds. 
 
 « "Oh!" cried little Marie Antoinette, while she- stroked it with hor 
 pretty, rosy hand, "Oh, my beautiful Josepha, you will look lilic an an- 
 gel, when you wear this lovely wbiie dress."' 
 
 "Say rather, lii%e a queen," returned Josepha, smiling. "When a 
 \vonian is a queen, she is sure to look like an angel in the cvosVof the 
 world." 
 
 "It does not follow, however, that because she is a queen, .she shall 
 be as happy as an angel," remarked the Archduchess Maria Amelia, who 
 was betrothed to the Duke of Parma. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I would rather be the unhappy queen of an important 
 kingdom than the happy wife of a poor little prince," replied Josepha, 
 hastily, as raising her superb diadem of brilliants, she advanced to a mir- 
 ror and placed it upon her brow. "Do you think," asked she proudly, 
 "that I can be very miserable while I wear these starry gems upon my 
 forehead? Oh no! If it were set with thorns that drew ray blood, I 
 would rather wear this royal diadem than the light coronet of an insi'f^- 
 nificant duchess." v ^ 
 
 "And I," exclaimed Amelia, indignantly, "would rather wear the ring 
 of a beggar than be the wife of a king who neither reads nor writes and 
 throughout all Europe is known by the name of a Lazzarone." 
 
 " Before whom millions of subjects must, nevertheless, bend the knee, 
 and who, despite of all, is a powerful and wealthy monarch," returnee! 
 Josepha, angrily. 
 
 "That is, if his master, the Marquis Tannucci allows it," cried the 
 Archduchess Caroline, laug-hing. " For you know very well, Jose^iha 
 that Tannucci is the king of your Lazzaroni-king, and when he behaves 
 amiss, puts him on his knees for punishment. Now when you are his 
 wife, you can go and comfort him in his disgrace, and kneel down in the 
 corner by his side. How interesting it will be!" 
 
 Upon this the Archduchess Amelia began to laugh, while her sisters 
 joined in — all except Marie Antoinette, who with an expression of sym- 
 pathy, turned to Josepha. ' 
 -' "bo not mind them, my Josepha," said she, "if your kinf» cannot 
 read, you will teach him, and he will love you all the better and in 
 spite of everything, you mmII be a happy Queen in the end." 
 
 "I do not mind them, Antoinette," returned Josepha, her eyes flash- 
 ing with anger, " for 1 well know that they are envious of my prosperity 
 and would willingly supplant me. But my day of retaliation will come! 
 It will be that on which my sisters shall be forced to acknowledge thu 
 rank of the Queen of Naples, and to yield her precedence !" 
 
 A burst of indicnation would have been the reply to these haughty 
 words, had the Archduchess Caroline not felt a hand upon her shoufder 
 and heard a voice which commanded silence. 
 
 The Empress, who at the beginning of this spicy dialogue, had been 
 
■J 1:2 JOSEl'H THi": aiXOND 
 
 absent on her survey in a neighboring apartment, had returned, and had 
 heard Josepha's last words. Shocked and grieved, she came forward, 
 and stood in the midst of her daughters. 
 
 " Peace !" exclaimed the imperial mother. " I have heard such worcks 
 of arrogance fall from your lips as must be expiated by humble petition 
 to your Creator. Sinful creatures are we all, whether we be princesses 
 or peasants; and if we dare to lift our poor heads in pride of birth or 
 station, God will surely punish us. Willi a breath He overturns the 
 sceptres of kings — with a breath JIc hurls our crowns to earth, until 
 cowering at His feet, we acknowledge our unworthiness. It becomes a 
 queen to remember that she is a mortal, powerless without the grace 
 of God to do one good action, and wearing under the purple of royalty 
 the tattered raiment of humanity. But it is these absurd vanities that 
 have starred up the demon of pride in your hearts," continued the Em- 
 press, giving a disdainful toss to the velvet wedding-dress; "let us 
 leave these wretched gewgaws and betake ourselves to the purer air of 
 our own rooms." 
 
 She waved her hand, and motioning to her daughters, they followed 
 her, silent and ashamed. All had their eyes cast down, and none saw 
 the tears that now fell like rain from Josepha's eyes. She was thor- 
 oughly mortified and longed to escape to her room ; but as she bent her 
 head to take leave of the Empress, the latter motioned her to remain. 
 
 " I have as yet a few words to speak with you, my daughter," said 
 Maria Theresa, as she closed the door of her dressing-room. " Your 
 haughty conduct of this day has reminded me that you have a sacred 
 duty to perform. The vanities of the world will have less weight with 
 you when you return from the graves of your ancestors. Go to the im- 
 perial vault, and. learn from the ashes of the Emperors and Empresses 
 who sleep there, the nothingness of all worldly splendor. Kneel down 
 beside your dear father's tomb, and pray for humility. Tell him to 
 pray for me, Josepha, for my crown weighs heavily upon my brow, and 
 I fiiin would be at rest." 
 
 Josepha made no answer. She stared at her mother with an expres- 
 sion of horror and incredulity, as though she meant to ask if she had 
 heard her words aright. 
 
 "Well my daughter!" cried Maria Theresa, surprised at Josepha's 
 silence. "Why do you linger? Go — go child, and recalling the sins 
 of your life, beg pardon of God, and the blessing of your deceased fa- 
 ther." 
 
 " Give me that blessing yourself, dear mother," faltered the Princes,^, 
 <;lasping her hands, and looking imploringly at the Empress. My fatl^er's 
 spirit is here, it is not in that fearful vault." 
 
 The Empress started. "I cannot believe," said she, with severity, 
 " that my daughter has cause to tremble before the ashes of her father. 
 The guilty alone fear death ; innocence is never afraid !" 
 
 " Oh mother ! mother, I have no sin upon my soul and yet I 
 
 " And yet." echoed the Empress as Josepha paused. 
 
KliKi Ob KUAIK. 'Ji.; 
 
 '^ And yd 1 shlvi>r at the vory thon^iht of going thither," pr.iJ the 
 Archduchess. "Yes, your Majesty, I shiver at tlie thought of encoun- 
 tering the black coffins and mouldering skeletons of my forefdtherr.. Oh, 
 mother, have pity on my youth and cowardice ! Bo not force me to 
 that horrid place !" 
 
 " I have no right to exempt you from the performance of this sacred 
 duty, Josepha," replied the Empress firmly. " It is a time-honored cus- 
 tom of our fomily, that the Princesses of Austria, who marry kings, 
 should take leave of the graves of their ancestors. 1 cannot release the 
 Queen of Naples from her duty. She will wear the crown, she must 
 bear the cross." 
 
 " But I dread it ! I dread it so !" murmured J-osepha. •' I shudder .at 
 the thought of Joscpha's corpse. I never loved her, and she died with- 
 out forgiving me. Oh, do not force me to go alone in the presence of 
 the dead !" 
 
 "I command you to go into the vault where repose the holy ashes of 
 your fathers," repeated the Empress sternly. " Bend your lofty head, 
 my daughter, and throw yourself with humility upon the graves of your 
 ancestors, there to learn the vanity of oil human greatness and human 
 power." 
 
 " Mercy, mercy !" cried the terrified girl. '• I cannot, I cannot obey 
 your dreadful behest." 
 
 " AVho dares say ' I cannot ' when duty is in question V exclaimed the 
 Empress indignantly. " You are my daughter and my subject still, and 
 I will see whether you intend to defy mj' authority." 
 
 So saying the Empress rose and rang her little golden bell. " The 
 carriage of the Archduchess Josepha," said she to the page who answer- ' 
 ed the summons. " Let a courier be despatched to the Capuchin fathers 
 to inlorm them that in a quarter of an hour the Princess will visit th6 
 imperial vault. Novf Prhicess," continued the Em]n-ess as the page left 
 the room, "you will not surely have the hardihood to say again ' 1 can- 
 not.'" 
 
 " No," faltered Josepha, "I will obey. But one thing I must ask. 
 Does your Majesty wish to kill me?"' 
 
 " What do you mean, child ?" 
 
 "I mean that I will die, if you force me to this vault" replied Jose- 
 pha, pale as death. " I feel it in the icy chill that seizes my heart even 
 now. I tell you, mother, that I will die, if you send me to the fearful 
 place where Josepha's Corpse infects the air witli its Kleath. mould. Do 
 you still desire that I shall go ?" 
 
 " You need not seek to frighten me, Josepha ; stratagem will avail 
 you nothing," replied the Empress coldly. "It is not given to mortals 
 to know the hour of their death, and 1 cailnot allow myself to be influ- 
 enced by such folly. Go, my child, there is nothing to fear ; the spirits 
 of your forefathers will shield you from harm," added she kindly. 
 
 " I go," replied Josepha ; " but I repeat it. My mother has sentenced 
 me to death." 
 
•J 1 4 . JOSKFH THE dEUOND 
 
 She bent her head and.lcft the room. The Empre33 Jooked after her 
 daughter as she went, and a sudden pang shot through her heart. She 
 felt as though she could not let her go — she lelt as if she must call her 
 back, and pressing her to her haart, release her from the ordeal which 
 tried her young soul so fearfililly. 
 
 ' .last then the Princess, who had reached the door, turned her largo 
 dark eves with another look of entreaty. This was enough to restore 
 yie Empress to her self-possession. 
 
 She would not call her back. Stie saw, rather than heard the trem- 
 bling lips that strove to form a last appeal for mercy, and the graceful 
 iigure vanished. 
 
 When she was out of sight, all the tenderness, all the anxiety of the 
 Empress returned. She rushed forwards, theh suddenly stood still, and 
 .shaking her head she murmured, "No! no! It would be unpardona* 
 ble weakness. I cannot yield. She must go to the grave of her flithers." 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 The messenger has returned, the carriage waited, and Josepha had no 
 longer a pretext for delaying her visit to the vault. She must obey her 
 mother's behest — she must perform the horrible pilgrimage ! Pale and 
 speechless she suffered her attendants to throw her mantlearound her, and 
 then, as if in obedience to some invisible phantom that beckoned her on, 
 she rose from her seat, and advanced rigidly to the door. Suddenly she 
 paused and, turning to her maid of honor, she said. " Be so kind as to 
 call my sister Antoinette, I must bid her farewell." 
 
 A few moments elapsed, when the door opened and the Archduchess 
 Maria Antoinette flew into her sister's arms. Josepha pressed her close- 
 ly to her heart. 
 
 " I could not go, my darling," whispered she, " without once moro 
 seeing you. Let me look, for the last time, upon that sweet face, and 
 those bright eyes that are lit up with the blue of heaven. Kiss me, 
 dear, and promise not to forget me," 
 
 '• i can never forgot, never cease to love you, sister," replied the child, 
 returning Josepha's caresses, "But why. do you say farewell? Why 
 are you crying? Are you going to leave us already for that young 
 King who is to take you away from us 1 Oh, Josepha, how can you 
 love a man whom you have never seen I" 
 
 "I do not love the King of I^aples, dear child,'' said Josepha sadly, 
 f- Oh, Antoinette ! would yon could uflderstand my sorrows!" 
 
AkN(' I 't- lUjjit:^ J I,; 
 
 '• Spoak, dear sister/' replied Antoinette tenderly-. " Am 1 not twelve 
 vears old, and does not the Cuunicss Lerchcnfeld tell me, every time I 
 do wronj;, that 1 am uo longer a child? Tell nic, then, vliai, grieves 
 you. I will keep your secret, 1 promibc you." 
 
 '•I -weep,'' suid Joscpha, '• beoauso it is so sad to die before one has 
 known the happiness of living." 
 
 " Die !" exclaimed Antoinette, turning pale. " Why do you speak of 
 dying, you who are about to become a queen ?" 
 
 — " I shall never live to be a queen, my sister. The Empress has 
 commanded me to descend into the imperial va*ilt. I go thither to-day 
 — in a few days I shall be carried thither never to return.* Farewell, 
 Antoinette — I leave you to-day, but 1 leave you for the grave." 
 
 "No, no, no !" screamed the child. "You shall not go. 1 will throw 
 myself at the feet of the Empress, and never rise until she has released 
 you, dear sister." 
 
 — " Have you yet to learn that the Empress never retracts her words ! 
 If is useless. I must go, and my death-warrant is signed." 
 
 " It shall not be !" cried Antoinette, beside herself witnfjrief. "Wait, 
 dear Josepha, until I return. I go to obtain your release."' 
 
 — " What can you say to the Empress, my poor little one?" 
 
 — " I will beg for mercy, and if she wJU not listen, I shall rise and tell" 
 her fearlessly. Your IMajesty, Josepha says that you have sentenced her 
 to death. No mortal has power over the life of an imperial Princess; 
 God alone has that power. My sister must not go into the vault, for if 
 she does, she dies, and that by your hand." 
 
 And p.s the child spoke these words, she threw back her head, and her 
 eyes darted fire. She looked like her mother. 
 
 "I see, Antoinette," said Josepha with a smile, " that you would not 
 submit tamely to death. You have a brave soul, my little sister, and 
 will know how to struggle against misfortune. But I — I have no spirit, 
 I can only sufler and obey ; and before I die I must open my heart to 
 you — you shall receive my last thoughts." 
 
 Marie Antoinette looked w'ith tearful eyes at her sister, and sank, 
 white as a lily, on h^r knees. 
 
 " I am ready," said she, folding her hands, while Josepha bent forward 
 and laid her hand as wii;h a blessing upon her sufc blond hair. 
 
 " When 1 am dead," said Josepha, '• go to my sisters and beg them 
 to forgive my unkind words. Tell them that I loved them all, dearly. 
 Say to Marie Amelia that she must pardon my unsisterly conduct. It 
 arose, not from haughtiness, but from despair. For, Antoinette, 1 hated 
 the King of Naples, and well I knew what a miserable fiite awaited me 
 as his Queen. But'there was no rescue for me, that I knew, so I tried 
 to hide my grief under the semblance of exultation. Tell her to forgive 
 me for the sake of the tears 1 have shed in secret over this hatetl be- 
 trothal. How often liave I called upon death to liberate me: and yet, 
 
 • The Princri.s'» own vtmAi. See Morooircs sur la Tie privec do Maria Antoinette, par Madnqie 
 famp:in: v«). 1, pn^o 88. 
 
junv thnt the dark shadow of Azrael's icy wing- is upon inc — I foar to 
 die." 
 
 " Let me die for you sister !" exclaimed Antoinette resolutely. " Give 
 ine the hood and mantle. I will cover my face, and' no one will know 
 that it is I, for 1 am almost as tall as you. If I uever re'^urn from the 
 vault alive, the Empress will pardon you for my sake. Oh, I should 
 die happy, if my death would rescue you, Josepha." 
 
 A.nd Antoinette attempted to draw off her sister's mantle, and put it 
 around her own shoulders. But Josepha withheld her. 
 
 " Dear child," said she, kissing her, " is it possible that you are wil- 
 ling to die for Toe, you \\ ho are so yoftng and happy '?" 
 
 "For that very reason, Josepha," said Antoinette, "it might be well 
 ta die. Who knows what sorrows the world may have in reserve for 
 me ! Let mc die to-day, dear sister,' let me " 
 
 At that moment the door opened and the maid of honor of the Arch- 
 duchess Josepha appeared. 
 
 "Pardon me, your Highness,", said she deprecatingly. "A page of 
 her Majesty is here to know if you have gone to the imperial vaults." 
 
 " Apprize her Majesty that I am about to leave," replied Josepha 
 with dignity. Taking Antoinette in her arms she said in a whisper : 
 "You see. it is I who must die. Farewell, dearest, may you live and 
 be happy." 
 
 So saying, she tore herself away from the weeping child and hastened 
 to her carriage. Antoinette with a shriek rushed forward to follow, but 
 Josepha had fastened the door. The poor child sank on her knees and 
 began to pray. But prayer brought no consolation. She thought of her 
 sister dying "from terror and she wrung her hands while she cried aloud. 
 
 Suddenly she ceased, started to her feet, and the blood mounted to 
 her pale face. 
 
 " The secret door !" exclaimed she. " I had forgotten it." She cross- 
 ed the room tov/ards a picture that hung on the wall opposite, and touch- 
 ing a spring in its frame, it flew back and revealed a communication 
 with one of the state-apartments. She sprang through the opening, her 
 golden hair flying out in showers behind her, her cheeks glowing, her 
 ej^es flashing and her heart beating wildly as she sped through the pal- 
 ace to the Empress's apartments. The sentry would have stopped her, 
 but throwing him off"v/ith an imperious gesture, she darted through the 
 door, and all ceremony forgetting, flew to the sitting-room of the Em- 
 press, and threw herself at her mother's feet. 
 
KING OK ICOME. '^IT 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 INSrOCULATION. 
 
 Maria Tueresa was standini; in the embrasure of a window, and she- 
 scarcely turned her head as she heard the rustling behind her. She took 
 no notice of the breach of etiquette of which Antoinette was guilty, in 
 rushing unannounced upon her solitude. Her eyes were fixed upon the 
 Chapel of the Capuchins in whose vaults lay so many whom she had 
 loved. Her heart and thoughts were within those gray walls, now with 
 her husband and her dead children, now with Josepha, for whom she felt 
 pang after pang of anxiety. In an absent tone she turned and said : 
 
 " What brings you hither, little Antoinette ?" 
 
 " Josepha, dear mother ! Have pity on Josepha !" 
 
 The Empress, with a thrill of joy at her heart, replied, " she did not 
 go then !" 
 
 " Yes, yes, she went because you forced her to go, but she went with 
 a broken heart. Oh mama ! Josepha says that the dead are waiting 
 to take her with them. May I not order my carriage and fly to bring 
 her back 1" 
 
 Maria Theresa said nothing. Her eyes turned first upon the beauti- 
 ful little suppliant at her feet, then they wandered out through, the eve- 
 ning haze, and rested on the dark towers of the Capuchin Chapel. 
 
 " Oh, dear mama," continued Antoinette, "if I may not bring her back, 
 at least let me share her danger. Be good to your poor little Antoin- 
 ette. You promised if I behaved well to do something for me, mama, 
 and now I deserve a reward, for Count Brandcis says that I have been 
 a good girl of late. Do not shake your head, it would make me better 
 if I went to pray with Josepha. You do not know how vain and world- 
 ly I am. When I saw Josepha's beautiful jewels I was quite envious of 
 her, and indeed, mama, no one needs solitude and prayer more than I. 
 Let me go and pray for grace by the grave of my father," 
 
 The Empress laid her hand upon her daughter's head, and looked at 
 her beautiful coiintenance with an expression of deepest tenderness. 
 
 "You are a noble-hearted child, ray Antoinette," said she. "With 
 such sensibility as yours, you are likely to suffer from the faults and 
 misconceptions of the world; for magnanimity is so rare that it is often 
 misunderstood. You would share your sister's danger, while believing 
 in its reality ! No, no, darling, I cannot accept your generous sacrifice : 
 It would be useless, for Josepha's terror will shorten her prayers. Be- . 
 fore you could reach" the Chapel, she will have left it " 
 
 ]\Iaria Tlieresa paused and again looked out from the window. Thf^ 
 
 • 
 
•JiJ< JOSEi'H iEE SECOiv'J>, 
 
 roiling of carriage wheels ^vas distinctly heard comiugtowards the pal- 
 ace. Now it ceased, and the sentry's voice was heard at the gates. 
 
 ''Ah!" cried the Empress, joyfully, "I was right. It is Josepha. 
 Her devotions have not been long ; but — 1 will confess to you, Antoin- 
 ette, that — a weight is lifted from my heart. 1 have not breathed free- 
 ly since she left my presence. Oh I I will forgive her for her short 
 prayers, for they have shortened my miserable suspense !" , 
 
 " Let me go and bring her to you, mama," cried Antoinette, clapping, 
 her hands, , and darting towards the door. But the Empress held her 
 back. 
 
 — " No, dear, remain with ine. Josepha's heart will reveal to ber 
 that her mother longs to welcome her back." 
 
 At that moment a page announced the Countess Lerchenfeld. 
 
 " It is not my child," cried the Empress, turning pale. 
 
 The Countess, too,.was very pale, and she trembled as she approached 
 the imperial mother, 
 
 "She is dead I" murmured Marie Antoinette, sinking almost fainting 
 to the floor. 
 
 But the Empress called out, " Where is my child ? In mercy tell me 
 why you are here without her?" 
 
 " Please your Majesty," replied the Countess, " I come to beg that 
 you will excuse her Highness. She has been suddenly taken sick. She 
 was lifted insensible to the carriage, and has not yet recovered her con- 
 sciousness." 
 
 Maria Theresa reeled, and a deathly paleness overspread her counte- 
 nance. "Sick!" murmured she, with quivering lip. "What — what 
 happened 1" 
 
 " I do not know, your Majesty. According to your imperial com- 
 mand I accompanied her Highness to the Chapel. I went as hr as the 
 stairway that leads to the crypts. Her Highness was strangely agita- 
 ted. 1 tried to soothe her, but as she looked below, and saw the open 
 door, she shuddered, and clinging to me, whispered : ' Countess — I scent 
 the loathsome corpse that even now stirs in its coffin at my approach.' 
 Again I strove to comfort her, but all in vain. Scarcely able to support 
 herself, she bade me farewell, and commended herself to your Majesty. 
 Then, clinging to the damp walls, she tottered beloW, and disappeared." 
 
 "And you did not hold her back !" cried Marie Antoinette. "You had 
 the cruelty to leave her " 
 
 " Still, Antoinette," said the Empress, raising her hand imploringly. 
 " What else?" asked she hoarsely. 
 
 " I stood at the head of the stairway, your Majesty, awaiting her High- 
 nees's return. Eor a while all was silent ; then I heard a piercing shriek 
 ;and I hastened to the vault " 
 
 " Was it my child ?" asked the Empress, now as rigid as a marble 
 statue. 
 
 — " Yes, your Majesty. I found her Highness kneeling with her head 
 i-esting upon the tomb of the Emperor." 
 
KING Ui* HOMU;. 'J 19 
 
 — " Insensible V 
 
 ■ — " No, your Llajesty. I ripproacjhed and found her icy cold, her eyes 
 dilated, and her Aice covered with drops of cold sweat. She was scarce- 
 ly able to speak, but in broken accents she related to me that as die 
 was making her way tov/ards the altar at the head of the Emperor's 
 Tomb, she. suddenly became sensible that somethincr was holding her 
 back. Horror-stricken, she strove to fly, but could not ; when as she 
 turned her head she beheld the coffin of the Empress Josepha, and saw 
 that from thence came the power that held her back. With a shiiek, 
 she bounded forward and fell at the foot of the Emperur's tomb. I sup- 
 ported her until we reached the chapel-door, when she fainted, and I had 
 to call for help to bear her to her carriage.'' 
 
 *' And now V asked the Empress, who was weeping bitterly. 
 
 " She is still unconscious, your Majesty. Ilerr Van Swieten and the 
 Emperor are at her bedside." 
 
 •' And I," cried the unhappy Empress, " I, too, must be with my 
 poor martyred child." Marie Antoinette would have followed, but her 
 mother bade her remain, and hastening from the room, Maria Theresa 
 ran breathless through the corridors until she reached her daughter's 
 apartments. 
 
 There, like a crushed lily, lay the fair bride of Naples, while near her 
 stood her brother in speechless grief. At the foot of the bed, Van Swie- 
 ten, and one of the maids of honor, were rubbing her white feet^ith 
 stimulants. 
 
 The Empress laid her hand upon Josepha's cold brow, and turning to 
 Van Swieten as though in his hands lay the fate of her child, she asked, 
 " Will she die ?" 
 
 " Life and death," replied the physician, " are in the hands of the 
 Lord. As long as there is life, there is hope." 
 
 Maria Theresa shook her head. " I have no hope," said she with the 
 calmness ofdespair. 'Tis the enemy of our house, is it not, Van Swie- 
 ten 1 Has she not the small-pox V 
 
 — " I fear so, your Majesty." 
 
 — "She must die, then, and it is I who have murdered her," shrieked 
 the Empress wildly, and she fell fainting to the floor. 
 
 On the fifteenth of October, the day on which Josepha was to have 
 given her hand to the King of Naples, the bells of Vienna tolled her fu- 
 neral knell. Not in her gilded carriage, rode the fair young bride, but 
 cold and lifeless she lay under the black and silver pall, on which were 
 placed a myrtle wreath and a royal crown of gold. Another spouse had 
 claimed her hand, and the marriage-rites were solemnised in the still 
 vaults of the chapel of the Capuchins. 
 
 The Empress had not left her daughter's room since the fatal day of 
 her return from the chapel. With all the tenderness of her affectionate 
 nature, she had been the nurse of her suffering child. Not a tear was 
 in her eye nor a murmur on her lips. Silent, vigilant and sleepless, sho 
 
'J20 joskj'H ruK skcuni^ 
 
 had struggled with the foe that was wresting yet another loved one from 
 her house. 
 
 Day by day Josepha grew worse, until she lay dying. Still the Em- 
 press shed no tear. Bending over lier daughter's bed, she received her 
 last sigh, and now she watched the corpse and would not be moved, 
 though the Emperor and Van Swieten implored her to seek rest. When 
 the body was removed, the poor, tearless mourner followed it from the 
 room, through the halls and gates of the palace until it was laid in the 
 grave. 
 
 Then she returned home, and without a word retired to herownapartj 
 ments. There on" a table, lay heaps of papers and letters with unbroken 
 seals, but the Empress heeded nothing of all this. Maternity reigned 
 supreme in her heart, there was room in it for grief and remorse alone. 
 She strode to the window, and there, as she had done not many days be 
 fore, she looked out upon the gray towers of the Chapel, and thought 
 how she had driven her own precious child into the dismal depths of its 
 loathsome vaults. 
 
 The door was softly opened and the Emperor and Van Swieten were 
 seen with anxious looks directed towards the window where the Em- 
 press was standing, 
 
 " What is to be done ?" said Joseph. " How is she to be awakened 
 from that fearful torpor 1" 
 
 " We must bring about some crisis," replied Van Swieten thought- 
 fully. •' We must awake both the Empress and the mother. The one 
 must have work — the other, tears. This frozen sea of grief must thaw 
 or her Majesty will die." 
 
 " Doctor," cried Joseph, " save her, I implore you. Do something to 
 humanise this marble grief." 
 
 — " I will try, your Majesty. With your permission, I will assemble 
 the imperial family here, and we will ask to be admitted to the presence 
 of the Empress. The Archduchess Marie Antoinette and the Archduke 
 Maximilian I shall not summon." 
 
 Not long after, the door was oncemore softly opened and the Empe- , 
 ror Joseph, followed by his sisters and the doctor, entered the Empress's 
 sitting-room. 
 
 Maria Theresa was still erect before the window, staring at the dark 
 towers of the chapel. 
 
 "Your Majesty," said Jqaeph approaching, "your children are here 
 to mourn with you."' 
 
 " It is well," replied Maria Theresa, without stirring from her posi- 
 tion. " I thank you all. But leave me, my children. I would mourn 
 alone." 
 
 "But before we go, will not your Majesty vouchsafe one look of kind- 
 ness ?" entreated the Emperor. " May we not kiss your hand? — Ob, 
 my beloved mother, your living children, too, have a right to your love ! 
 Do not turn away so coldly from us — let your children comfort their 
 sad hearts with fchesight of your dear and honored countenance!" 
 
KING OF ROME. 22 I 
 
 There was so much genuine feeling in Joseph's voice, as he uttered 
 these words that his mother cuuld not resist him. She turned and gave 
 him her hand. ' 
 
 " God bless you, my son," said she, " for your loving words. They 
 full like balsam upon my sore and woClided heart. God bless you all, 
 my children, who have come hither to comfort your poor, sorrowing 
 mother." 
 
 The Archduchesses flocked weeping to her side, and .«!miled through 
 their tears as they met her glance, of love. But suddenly she started, 
 and looked searchingly around the room. 
 
 " Where are my little ones ?" said she anxiously. 
 
 No one spoke, but the group all turned their eyes upon Van Swieten, 
 whose presence, until now, had been unobserved by the Empress. ..;. ' 
 • Like an angry lioness, she sprang forward to the tlircshliold and laid 
 her hand upon Van Swieten's shoulder. 
 
 " What means your presence here, Van Swieten?" cried she loudly. 
 " W^hat fearful message do you bear me now ? My children ! my chil- 
 dren ! where are they ?" » 
 
 "In their rooms, your Majesty, replied Van Swieten seriously. "I 
 carao hither expressly to apologize for their absence. It was 1, who pre- 
 vented them from coming." 
 
 " Why so V exclaimed the Empress. 
 
 " Because, your Majesty, they have never had the small-pox; a;id 
 contact with you would be dangerous for them. For some weeks they 
 must absent themselves from your Majesty's presence." 
 
 "You are not telling me the truth, Van Swieten !" cried Maria The- 
 resa hastily. " My children are sick, and 1 must go to them." 
 
 " Your Majesty may banish me forever from the palace," said he, 
 " but as long as I remain, you cannot approach your children. It is my 
 duty to shield them from the infection which still clings to your Majes- 
 ty's person. Would you be the probable cause of their death ?" 
 
 The earnest tone with which Van Swieten put this question, so over- 
 came the Empress, that she raised both her arms and cried out in a voice 
 of piercing anguish: " Ah ! jt is I who caused Josepha's death ! — I wh6 
 murdered my unhappy child !" 
 
 These words bnce uttered, the icy bonds that had frozen her heart 
 gave way, and Maria Theresa w^ept. 
 
 " She is saved !" whispered Van Swieten to the Emperor. Will your 
 Majesty now request the Archduchesses to retire? The Empress does 
 not like to be seen in tears ; ard this paroxisDT once over, the j^reseuce 
 of her daughters will embarrass her." 
 
 The Emperor connnunicated Van Swieten's wish, au(f the Princesses 
 silently and noiselessly withdrew. 
 
 The Empress wa? on her knees, while showers of healing tears were 
 refreshing her seethed heart. 
 
 " Let us try to induce her to rise," whispered Van Swieten. "This 
 hour, if it please God, may prove a signal blessing to all Austria." 
 
222 JOSEPH THE SEqpND. 
 
 The Emperor approached, and tenderly strove to lift his. mother \vhile 
 he lavished words of love and comfort upon her. She allowed him to 
 lead her to a divun, where gradually the tempest of her grief gave place 
 to deep-drawn sighs, and finally, to peace. The crisis, however, was 
 long and terrible, for the affections of Maria Therosa,were as strong as 
 herwill ; and fierce had been the conflict between the two. 
 
 For some time, a deep silence reigned throughout the room. Final- 
 ly, the Empress raised her eyes and said, " You will speak the truth, 
 both of you, will you not 1" ' 
 
 "We will, your Majesty," replied the Emperor and Van Swieten. 
 *'Then, Joseph, say are my children well and safe?" 
 
 "They are, my dearest mother, and but for the doctor's prohibition, 
 both would have accompanied us thither." 
 
 Maria Theresa then .turned to the physician. " Van Swieten," said 
 she, " you, too, must swear to speak the truth. I have something to ask 
 of you also." , 
 
 " I swear, your Majesty," replied Van Swieten. 
 
 " Then say if I anr the cause of my daughter's death.* Do not answer 
 me at ouce. Take time for reflection, and as Almighty God hears us, 
 answer rale conscientiously." 
 
 There was a pause. Nothing was heard save the heavy breathing of 
 the Empress, and the ticking of the golden clock that stood upon the 
 mantel. Maria Theresa sat with her head bowed down upon her hands; 
 before her stood Joseph, his pale and noble face turned towards the phy- 
 sician, and his eyes fixed upon him with an expression of deepest en- 
 treaty. Van Swieten saw the look, and answered it by a scarcely per- 
 ceptible motion of his head. 
 
 " Now speak, Van Swieten," said the Empress, raising her head, and 
 looking him full in the face. " Was Josepha's visit to the chapel-vault 
 the cause of her death ?" 
 
 " No, your Majesty," said the physician gravely. " In this sense you 
 were not guilty of her Highness's death ; for the body, in small-pox, is 
 infected long before it shows itself on the surface. Had her Highness 
 received the infection in the crypts of the chapel, she would be still liv- 
 ing. Her terror and presentiment of death were merely symptoms of 
 the disease." 
 
 The Empress reached out both her hands to Van Swieten and said, 
 "Thank you, my friend. You surely would not deceive me with false 
 comfort ; I can, therefore, even in the face of this great sorrow, find cour- 
 age to live and do my duty. I may weep for my lost child, but while 
 weeping I may teel that Heaven's will, and not my guilt, compassed her 
 death. Thanlc you, my dear son, for your sympathy and tenderness. 
 You wnll never know what comfort your love has been to me this day." 
 
 So saying, she drew the Emperor close to her, and putting both her 
 arms around his neck, kissed him tenderly. 
 
 " Van Swieten," said she then, " what did you mean by saying that 
 ' in this sense ' I was not guilty of Josepha's death?" 
 
KING OF ROME. 22.> 
 
 " I think, your Majesty," replied the Emperor, " that I can explain 
 tbpse words. lie means to say that had you yielded to his frecjuenl 
 petitions to tnake use of innocuhition as a safeguard against the violence 
 of the smallpox, our dear Josepha might have survived her attack, is 
 it not so, Van Swieten ?" 
 
 — " Jt 13, your Majesty. If the Empress would consent to allow the 
 introduction in Austria of innoculation for the small-pox, she would not 
 only shield her own family from danger, butwould confer a great bles- 
 sing on her subjects." 
 
 — "Indeed, Van Swieten," replied the Empress, after pause, "what 
 you propose seems sinful t(5 me. Besides, I have heard that many who 
 were innoculated for small-pox have died of its effects. Thepe people, 
 but for this, might have lived for many years. How can 1 reconcile it 
 to my conscience to assume such an awful responsibility ?" 
 
 " But," urged Van Swieten, " thousands have been rescued, where 
 . two or three have perished. I do not say that the remedy is infalli- 
 ble ; but I can safely say that out of one hundred cases, ninety, by its 
 use, are rendered innoxuous. Oh, your Majesty ! When you remember 
 that within ton years, five members of your family have been victims 
 to this terrific scourge — when you remember how for weeks Austria was 
 in cxtremest sorrow while your Majesty lay so ill, how can you refuse 
 such a boon for yourself and your people?" 
 
 " It is hard forme to refuse any thing to the one whose skillful hand 
 restored me to life," replied the Empress, while she reached her hand to 
 Van Swieten. 
 
 "• My dear, dear motther," exclaimed Joseph, " do not refuse him ! 
 he asks you to save tHe lives of thousands. Think how difierent life 
 would have been for me, had my Isabella lived ! Think of my sisters — 
 think of Antoinette and Maximilian, who long to be with you and 
 cannot." 
 
 "Doctor," said the Empress, "if mv children were innoculated, how 
 long would it be before I could see them ?" 
 
 — '"In two hours, your Majesty ; for in that time the poison would 
 have permeated their systems." 
 
 By this time the Empress had resumed her habit of walking to and 
 fro when she was debating anything in her mind. She went on for some 
 time, while Van Swieten and the Emperor followed her movements with 
 anxious looks. 
 
 Finally she spoke. " Well, my son," said she, coming close to Jo- 
 seph, and smiling fondly upon him, " I yield to you as co-regent of 
 Austria. You, too, have some right to speak in this matter, and your 
 wishes shall decide mine. To you, also. Van Swieten, I yield in grati- 
 tude for all that you have done for me and mine. Let Austria profit 
 by this new discovery, and may it prove a blessing to us all ! Are you 
 satisfied, Joseph?" 
 
 — " More than satisfied," exclaim.ed he, kissing his mother's hand, 
 
 " Now Van Swieten," continued Maria TheroBti, "hapten to innocu 
 
224 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 late my children. I long to fold them to my poor achuig heart. Re- 
 member ! You have promised that! shall see them in two hours." 
 
 — '-In two hours they shall be here, your Majesty," said Van Swle- 
 ten, as he hurried away. 
 
 '•Stop a moment," cried Maria Theresa. "As you have been the 
 instigator of this thing, upon your shoulders shall i'all the work that will 
 arise from it. I exact of you therefore to superintend the innoculatiou 
 ef my subjects, and your pay as Chief Medical Inspector shall be five 
 thousand (lorins. I also give my palace at Iletzendorf as a model hos- 
 pital for the reception of the children of fifty families, who shall there be 
 innoculated and cared for at my expense. This shall be the monument I 
 will erect to my beloved Josepha, and when the little ones who there 
 are rescued from death thank God for their recovery, they will pray for 
 my poor child's departed soul. Does this please you, my son?" 
 
 The Emperor did not answer. — His heart was too full for speech. 
 The Empress saw his agitation, and opening her arms to clasp him in her 
 embrace, she faltered ouf, " Come, dear child, and together let us mourn 
 for our beloved dead." * 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 It was a lovely day in June; one of those glorious days when field 
 and wood are like a lofty cathedral, where the birds are the choir, and 
 .the wind stirring the censers of the forest perfume, is the organ ; while 
 man, in ecstacy with nature's beauty, glances enraptured from heaven 
 to earth — from earth again to heaven. 
 
 But pleasantest of all on such a day, are the reveries that come and go 
 over the heart, under the shade of a noble oak that lifts its crowned head 
 to the clouds, while birds twitter love-songs among its branches, and 
 lovers lie dreaming on the green sward below. 
 
 So thought a young man as he reclined under the shadow of a tall 
 beech tree that skirted the green border of a meadow, somewhere near 
 the woods around Schoubrunn. Ho had fastened his horse to a tree not 
 far off, and while the steed cropped the fresh grass, his own,er revelled 
 in the luxury of sylvan solitude. With an expression of quiet enjoy- 
 
 * The institution founded on ihat day by the Empress went very soou into operation. Every 
 spring the children of fifty families among tl^e nobles and gentry were received at the hosjJital of 
 Hetzendorf< The Empress was accustomed to visit the institution froqueutly ; and at the end of each 
 season, she gave to its little inmates a splendid ball, which was always attended by herself and her 
 daughters. The festivities closed with concerts, lotteries, and a ])resent to each child. — [Caroline ■ 
 richler'a Memoirs; vol. 1, page 03, Coxc's Ilietory of lUe House of Auftria ; vol, 9, page IS?. 
 
KING UF HOME. 225 
 
 ment he glanced now upon the soft green meadow, now at the dim, sha- 
 dy woods, and then at the blue and silver sky that parted .him from 
 heaven, 
 
 -^ Oh ! how delightful it is," thought he, " to drop the shackles of roy- 
 alty, and to be a man ! Oh, beautiful sky, with livery of ' Kaiserblue,' 
 change thy hue, and hide me in a dark cloud that I may be safe from 
 the homage of courtiers and sycophants ! If they knew that I was here, 
 how soon would they pursue and imprison me again in my gilded cage 
 of imperial grandeur !^' 
 
 Just then, in the distance, was heard the sound of a hunting-horn, and 
 the Emperor's soliloquy was cut short. An expression of annoyance 
 was visible on his features, as he listened. But instead of advancing, 
 the sounds receded until finally they were lost in the sighing of the wind 
 among the forest trees. 
 
 , "They have passed by," exclaimed he joyfully, "This day is mine, 
 and I am free. What a charm is in that word/rccrfow / I feel it now ; 
 no Emperor am I, but a man, to whom the animals will turn their backs, 
 without suspecting that they refuse to look upon an annointed sove- 
 reign But still — what is that ? A doe — a timid doe — perhaps an 
 
 enchanted princess who can only resume her shape at the bidding of a 
 prince. Here am I sweet princess — ready, as soon as you become a 
 woman, to leap into your arms." 
 
 The Emperor grasped his fowling-piece that was leaning against the 
 beech. But the doe caught the sound, raised her graceful head, and her 
 mild eye sought the enemy that threatened her. She saw him and as 
 he raised the gun to take aim, she cleared the road with one wild bound, 
 and in a few moments was lost in a thicket. 
 
 The Emperor leaped on his horse exclaiming : " I must catch my en- 
 chanted princess" — and giving his steed the rein, away they flew on the^ 
 track of the doe; away they flew over fallen trunks and through briar 
 and copse until the panting steed would have recoiled before a wide 
 hedge — but the Emperor cried, "Over it! over it ! The princess is be- 
 yond !" and the foaming horse gathered up his fore-legs for the leap. 
 He made a spring, but mfssed, and with a loud crash, horse and rider 
 fell into the ditch on the farther side of the hedge. 
 
 The Emperor fell under the horse, who in his efforts to rise, inflicted 
 dreadful suffering upon his master. He felt that his senses were leaving 
 him, and thought that he was being crushed to death. The load upon 
 his breast was insufferable, and in his ears there came a sound like the 
 roaring of the ocean. He uttered one cry for help, commended himself 
 to heaven, and fainted. 
 
 How long he lay there, he never knew. When he opened his weary 
 eyes again he lay on the sward near the hedge, w ith his head resting 
 upon the lap of a beautiful girl, who was contemplating him with looks 
 of tenderest pity. By her side knelt another young girl and who was 
 bathing his temples with water. 
 
 . "■ 15' 
 
226 JOSEPH THE bliCOND 
 
 "Look, Marianne," exclaimed sho joyfully, "he begins to move. 
 Oh, dear sister, we have saved his life." 
 
 " Still Kathi," whispered the other. " He has not yet his senses. Ho 
 looks as if he were dreaming of angels. But he will soon awake." 
 
 "1 don't wonder that he dreams of angels, Marianne, when he 
 looks at you," said Kathi contemplating her beautiful sister. " But now 
 that he is safe, I will go and look after his horse. Poor animal ! he 
 trembles yet with fright, and I think he has lamed his leg. I will lead 
 him to the spring where he can drink and cool his foot. You know the 
 curate says that water is a great doctor for man and beast." 
 
 So. saying she took up the bridle, and coaxing the horse gently, he 
 followed her, although he shuddered with the pain of his limb. 
 
 She disappeared behind a little grove of trees, while her sister con- 
 templated her handsome patient. He lay perfectly quiet, his eyes open, 
 but feeling too weary for speech. He felt uncertain whether he waked 
 or dreamed, nor did he care ; for the present moment was unutterably 
 sweet. His pain was slight, and with his head pillowed upon the lap of 
 the lovely girl whose face was beautiful as that of Eve in the groves 
 of Eden, the Emperor gazed on in rapture. 
 
 Mafrianne became gradually aware that his glances spoke admiration, 
 for her color slowly deepened until it glowed like the petals of a newly- 
 opened rose. The Emperor smiled as he watched her blushes. " Do 
 angels then blush?" asked he softly. 
 
 " He still dreams," said Maiiaune, shaking her head. " I thought just 
 now that his senses were returnmg." 
 
 " No, child," replied Joseph, " I do not dream. I see before me the 
 loveliest vision that ever blessed the eyes of man, or else 1 have over- 
 taken the enchanced princess. Oh, princess ! it was cruel of you to lure 
 one over that treacherous hedge !" 
 
 Marianne looked alarmed. ■' Poor, poor young man !" murmured 
 she in a low voice, " he is delirious. I must moisten his head again." 
 
 She extended her hand to the little pail that held the water, but Jo- 
 seph caught it and pressed it warmly to his lips. 
 
 Marianne blushed still more, with painful embarrassment, and sought 
 to withdraw her hand. 
 
 The Emperor would not yield it. " Let me kiss the hand of the an- 
 gel that has rescued me from death," said he. " For 'tis you, Marianne, is 
 it not, who saved my life ?" 
 
 "My sister and I, sir, were coming through the wood," replied Marianne, 
 " when we saw your horse galloping directly toward the hedge. We 
 knew what must happen and ran with all our might towards you, but 
 before we reached you, the horse had made the leap. Oh, I shudder when 
 I think of it?" 
 
 And her face grew white again, while her lustrous eyes were dimmed 
 with tears. 
 
 " Go on, go on, my . No, I will not call you princess lest you 
 
KING OF HOME. -27 
 
 should think me delirious. I am not delirious, beautiful Mariamie ! but r 
 dream I dream of my boyhood and almost believe that I have come 
 upon'enchAted ground. Your sweet voice— your lovely face— this de- 
 licious wood ^it all seems like fairy land ! But speak on : where did 
 
 you find mel" 
 
 " Under the horse, sir ; and the first thmg vre did was to free you 
 from his weight. We took the rein, and after some eflbrts we got him 
 to his feet. Kathi led him away, and 1— I 
 
 — " >*ou, Marianne, tell mc, what did you do ?" 
 
 *' 1," said she, looking down, "J bore you as well as I was able to this 
 spot.' I do not know how 1 did it, but fright gives one very great 
 strength." 
 
 — " Go on, go on." 
 
 "We had been gathering mushrooms in the woods, when we saw you. 
 As soon as Kathi had tied the horse, she ran for her little pail, poured 
 out the mushrooms, and filling ib with water, we bathed your head until 
 you revived. This, sir, is the whole history, and now that you have 
 recovered, I will help you to rise." , , - 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, enchantress. I cannot raise my head^from its 
 
 delicious pillow. Let me dream for a few moments longer. Fairyland 
 is almof.t like heaven." 
 
 Marianne said no more, but her eyes sought the ground and her face 
 arew scarlet. The Emperor still gazed upon her wonderful beauty, and 
 he thought that nothing he had ever seen in gilded halls could approach 
 this pea^unt girl, whose red dress and black boddicc were more dazzling 
 to his eyes tuan the laces and diamonds of all Vienna assembled. 
 
 "Whored" asked he, observing that her snowy shoulders were bare, 
 " where did you get a kerchief to bathe my head ?" , 
 
 Marianne started and laid her hands upon her neck. *' Good heav- 
 ens !" murmured she to herself, "it was the kerchief from my own bo- 
 som!" Unconsciously she reached her hand to take it from the pail. 
 
 « What," said Joseph, stopping her, " would you wear that drip- 
 ping kerchief? No, no— let the sky, the birds and the wood-nymphs 
 look at those graceful shoulders, and if / may not look, [ will shut my 
 
 CVGS, 
 
 " Oh do not shut your eyes, they are blue as the sky itself," replied 
 Marianne. But as she spoke she drew forward the long braids that 
 trailed behind her on the ground, and quickly eutwisting them, her hair 
 fell in showers around her neck and shoulders, so that they were effectu- 
 ally concealed. ' 
 
 "You are right," said the Emperor. "Your hair is as beautiful as 
 the rest of your person. It surpasses the sables of a Russian princess. 
 You know perfectly well how to adorn yourself, you bewitching child." 
 " I did not mean to adorn myself, sir," said Marianne. 
 — " Why then did you cover yourself with that superb mantle 1' 
 — " Because, sir, I — I was cold." ^^ 
 
 — " Arc you so icy thtu that you freeze in raidsuinracr V 
 
228 JOSEPH THE SECOMD. 
 
 She said nothing, but bent her head in confusion. Luckily at that 
 moment, Kathi came in sight wiih tlie horse. 
 
 " Nov.-, sir," exclaimed Marianne, " you can rise, can you inot ?" 
 
 — " Not unless you help me, for my head is yet very light." 
 
 — " Well sir, if that be so, then stay where you are, and try to sleep, 
 while I pray to the Blessed Virgin to protect you," 
 
 I\Ieauwhile Kathi came forward, and when she saw the Emperor, 
 nodded her head. 
 
 " God be praised, sir," cried she, " you have your senses once more. 
 You have gotten off cheaply with only a black eye. — But, bles* me ! 
 how quiet you are Marianne ! Who would think that while the gentle- 
 man was out of his senses you were crying as if he had been your sweet- 
 heart. Why, sir, her tears fell upon your face and waked you." 
 
 " Pardon me," whispered Marianne, " I Aviped them away with the 
 kerchief." 
 
 " Why did you deprive me of those sweet tears V whispered the 
 Emperor. But Kathi was talking all the while. 
 
 " Now," continued she, '* try to get up. Put one arm around me, 
 and the other around Marianne, and we will set you upon your legs to 
 fmd out whether they are sound. Come — one — two — three — now !" 
 
 With the help of the strong peasant-girl, the Emperor arose and 
 stood erect. But he complained of dizziness, and would have Marianne 
 to sustain him. 
 
 She approached with a smile and he drew her gently to his side, and 
 looked ioto her eyes. The pooi" girl trembled, she knew not why, for 
 assuredly she was*not afraid. 
 
 Kathi, who had gone back for the horse, now came up, leading him 
 to his master. "Now," said she, "we are all ready to go. Your horse 
 is a little lame, and not yet able to bear you. Whither shall we lead 
 you, sir? Where is your home?" 
 
 " My home !" exclaimed the Emperor, with troubled mien. " I had 
 forgotten that I had a home." This question had awakened him from 
 his Idyl. 
 
 " Where is my home ?" echoed he sadly. " It is in Vienna. Can you 
 put me on my road thither?" 
 
 "That can we, sir; but it is a long way for such a gentleman as you 
 to travel on foot." 
 
 " Let us go then to the highway, and perhaps I will there find some 
 conveyance." 
 
 " Well then," cried the gleeful Kathi, " forward, march !" 
 
 — " Not yet, Kathi. Not until I have thanked you for the gfeat ser- 
 vice you have rendered me. Let me give you some testimony of my 
 gratitude. Before we part, let me gratify some wish of yours. Speak 
 first, Kathi." 
 
 "H'm," said Kathi, "I have many wishes. It is not so easy to say 
 what 1 want." 
 
 — " Wfll — take time, and think for a niomcut, child." 
 
KlNl. yjV li'.'i'Vii.. v^V 
 
 Kalhi lookod as If site were making a bold resolve. 
 
 ^"That ring upon your finger— iL is the prettiest thing I ever saw. 
 Will you cive it to ine?" y „■>, 
 
 "Kalhi 1" exclaimed Marianne, " how can you abk such a thing? 
 
 «'\Vhv uof?" returned Kathi, reddening, " did he uot tell me to say 
 what I wanted ?" , 
 
 " Yes," said I^tarianne, in a low voice, [' but it uvjy be a gift— perhaps 
 it is from his sweetheart!" 
 
 "No, Marianne," replied the Emperor, sadly, ''I have no sweetheart. 
 No one cares whether 1 give or keep the ring. Take it, Kathi." 
 
 Kathi held out her hand, and when it had been placed upon her finger 
 she turned it around to see it glisten, and laughed for joy. 
 
 "And you, Marianne," said Joseph, changing his tone, as head dressed 
 the beautiful creature who stood at his side, " tell me your wish.^ Let 
 it be something hard to perform, for then 1 shall be all the happier to 
 grant it." 
 
 But Marianne spoke not a word. 
 
 " Why, Marianne," cried Kathi impatiently, "do you not see that he 
 is a rich and great lord, who will give you anything you ask ? Why do 
 you stand so dumb 1" 
 
 " Come, dear Marianne," whispered the Emperor, " have you no wish 
 
 that I can gratify f 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Marianne, in a voice scarcely audible. 
 
 — "Speak it then, sweet one, and it shall be granted." 
 
 "Then, sir," said Marianne, her cheeks glowing, though her eyes were 
 still cast down, " my father's house is hard by. Come and rest awhile 
 under his roof, and let me give you a glass of milk, and to your horte 
 ' some fresh hay.' " i- i r 
 
 The Emperor seemed to grow very weak while Marianne spoke, for 
 he clung to her as though he had been afraid to fall. 
 
 " Yes, Marianne," replied he, " and God bless you for the kind sug- 
 gestion. Let me for once forget the world and imagine that I, too, am 
 ft peasant with no thought of earth beyond these enchanted woods. 
 Take me to the cottage where your father lives, and let me eat of his 
 bread. I am hungry." 
 
 And the Emperor, wllh his strange suite, set ofT for the cottag? of Con- 
 rad, the peasant. , 
 
i>30 joseVh the second. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVin. 
 
 THE JCDOMENT OF SOLOMON. 
 
 Old Conrad stood in his door-way, shading his old eyes from thfe sun- 
 heams, while he looked anxiously down the road that led to the village. 
 It was noon-day, and yet the hearth of the kitchen was empty and cold- 
 No kettle was on the hob, no platter npon the table. And yet, his 
 daughters had started early for the woods, and surely they must have 
 gathered their mushrooras hours ago. 
 
 The old peasant began to be anxious. If it had been Kathi alone, it 
 would have been easy enough to guess at the delay. She was gossiping 
 with Valentine, and forgetting that she had father or sister, hon-ue or din- 
 ner. But, Marianne, was along, and she never flirted or loitered. What 
 could be the matter ? — But — what was that coming up the road 1 Marl- 
 unne ! — Yes, truly, Marianne with a fine lord at her side, who seemed 
 closer to her than propriety seemed to allow. 
 
 " Gracious heaven !" thought the old man, " what. has come over my 
 bashful Marianne 1 What would the villagers say if they should sea 
 her now 1 — And what comes behind ? Kathi, with a horse. — Are the 
 maidens bewitched ?" 
 
 They came nearer ; and now Kathi, from- the top of her voice, bade 
 him good-day. 
 
 " Are we not fine, father," cried she with a loud laugh. But Mari- 
 anne, coming forward with the Emperor, bent gracefully before her old 
 father. 
 
 "See, dear father," said she in her soft, musical tones, "we bring you 
 a guest who to-day will share our humble dinner with us." 
 
 " A guest whose life has been saved by your daughters," added Jo- 
 seph, extending his hand. 
 
 "And a very rich somebody he must be, father," cried Kathi, " for 
 see how he has paid us for our help. Look at this brave ring how iii 
 glistens ! It is mine ; and Marianne might have had as much if she had 
 chosen. But what do you think shaasked him ! — to come homo and 
 get a glass of milk." 
 
 " That was well done of my Marianne," said the father proudly. "It 
 would have been a pity not to let me see the brave gentleman, if indeed 
 you have been so happy as to save his life. Come in, my lord, come 
 in. You are welcome. What we have, we give cordially." 
 
 " And, therefore, what you give, will be gratefully received," replied 
 the Emperor, entering and seating himself. 
 
 " Now, sir," said Marianne, '• I will go and prepare the dinner." So 
 saying, she passed into the cottage kitchen. 
 
Ai:- 
 
 "That is a beautit'iri maiaen." said Joseph lookinj; wi:*tfally afier tho 
 graceful figure as if. disappcarc'l. 
 
 "Thev arc mv heart's jov, both ol them," rep! ;cd Conrad. ihe.v 
 arc brisk as fawns and indukrious as bees. And }cL 1 am often sad 
 as 1 look at them." 
 
 " Because 1 ain old and poor. 1 have nothing to leave them, and M'hcn 
 I die, they will have to go to service. That frets me. It^is because 1 
 love 'the maidens so dearly that 1 am troubled about them.' 
 
 — " Let their povcrtv trouble you no longer, my friendi I will pro- 
 vide for them. 1 have it in my power to make them both comfortable, 
 ?Bnd that they shall be, I promise yon." 
 
 The old man spoke his thanks, and pfesently oamc Marianne to an- 
 nounce the dinner. It was served in an arbor covered wiih honeysuck- 
 les and red beans, and the 'Eraperor thought that he had never had a 
 better dinner in his imnerial palace. The shackles of his greatness had 
 fallen from him, and" he drank deeply of . the present hour, ^^•'^^JO"t '<' 
 thouMit for the morrow. :Marianne was at his side, and as he looked 
 into the lustrous depths of her dark eyes, he wi^ihed himself a peasant 
 that he might look into them forever. , . rru 
 
 Meanwhile Kathi and her father walked together m the garden. 1 hey 
 were both examining the diamond ring, and the hearts of both were tilled 
 with ambitious thoughts and hopes. _ ,,tt u rn^ 
 
 " He must be very rich," said Kathi in a low voice. '• lie has fallen 
 in love with Marianne, 'tis plain, and she has only to ask and have any- 
 thing she likes. Look father, he is kissing her ! But don t let them see 
 YOU The more he loves her, the more he will give us. But you 
 must speak to Marianne, father. She is as silly as a sheep, and does nt 
 care whether we are poor or rich. Call her here, and tell her that shomnsi 
 ask for a great sum of monev— enough for us to buy a fine form, ihen 
 Valentine will marry me at once, and I shall be able to give a weddmg 
 dress to all the other maidens in the village. „ , , r. i 
 
 "Bat suppose that the lord should want Marianne?' asked Conrad 
 
 turning pale. ., . 
 
 Kathi still held up her ring, and she turned towards the sun until it 
 seemed to be in a blaze. « Look, father," said she in a low tone, '' ook. 
 
 The eyes of the old man were fixed upon the jewel and strange hopes, 
 with which until now, he had been unacquainted, stirred h^s heart. J He 
 serpent had found its way to Eden, and it spoke to both, in the glitter 
 of this unhappy ring. ' , , , . ti.:, 
 
 " Father," said Kathi at length, » if Marianne had such a ring as thi> 
 on her linger she would find many hundred wooers who would forgive her 
 for having had one before them." ,• i i 
 
 "Silence," cried the old man. " If your mother were alive to Hear 
 these guilty words, she would think that yon were no longer innocent 
 yourself. How I wish she was here in this trying hour !^ Bat since you 
 have no parent but mo, I must protect you from shame.' 
 
2'Sil JO^KI'H IHE'SttUUND. 
 
 With these words the old man walked resolutely to the arbor, follow-' 
 ed by Kathi, who implored him not to ruin their fortunes. 
 
 " My lord," said Conrad, '• the day wanes. If you intend to reach 
 Vienna tu-night, you have no time to lose." 
 
 " Alas," thought Joseph, " my dream is over." 
 
 "You are right," said he to the peasant, " unless you will shelter me 
 to night." 
 
 '• i have but one bed in my house, -sir," replied Conrad, and that is in 
 the little room of my daughters." 
 
 "•Then let me sleep there," said Joseph with the arrogance of one ac- 
 customed to coiwmand. 
 
 " Oh," faltered Marianne, springing to her father's side, as though she 
 would seek protection from these ensnaring words. 
 
 But Kathi shook her sister's arm, and surveying her blushing face, 
 with a loud laugh, she exclaimed, '• You are a fool. What harm will it 
 do us, if the gentleman sleeps in our room? W^e can make ourselves a 
 bed of hay on the lloor, and give him the bedstead. No one will ever 
 think any the less of us." 
 
 " I think so, too," said Joseph, who was now resolved to see of what 
 stuft" the peasant was made. "Do not hesitate so. Let me sletep in 
 your daughter's room and I will give you a handful of gold for my 
 lodging." 
 
 Kathi gave a cry of delight, and going, close to her father, she whis- 
 pered, " Father, you will not refuse ! Think — a handful of gold ! We 
 will be the richest farmers in the village! There are two of us— there 
 can be no danger." 
 
 " Well !" asked Joseph impatiently, " have you decided? Did you 
 not tell me that you were poor, and is this not an opportunity I offer 
 you to enrich your daughters?" 
 
 "Sir," replied the old man solemnly, " I do not know whether this 
 opportunity may not be for evil, instead of good. I am a poor and sim- 
 ple farmer, and cannot decide for myself whether the mere fact of your 
 sleeping in the same room with my daughters is right or not. Our cu- 
 rate is a very holy man ; I will apply, to him for advice." 
 
 " Very well," said Joseph, " go and fetch hi.m ; he shall decide." 
 
 Old Conrad left the garden, followed again by Kathi, who was resolv- 
 ed to leave the great lord alone with her sister. Marianne, who before 
 had been so happy and unembarrassed, now started forwards with the 
 intention of going with her father. But the Emperor would not allow it. 
 He caught her by both hands and held her fast." Stay, frightened doe," 
 said he softly. " You are right, dear child, to tremble before men, for 
 they are full of deceit; but do not be afraid of me; I will not harm 
 you." . 
 
 Marianne raised her dark tearful eyes to his flice and gradually a smile 
 lit up her lovely features." 
 
 " 1 believe you, my lord," said she. "You have, perhaps, already 
 jseen that I would do anything on eartji for yOu, were it even to give up 
 
i 
 
 my life ; but for no one would J do that which iny mother would blame 
 if she were living— on no account would I do that which I might not tell 
 in prayer to my Heavenly Father."' 
 
 The Emperor looked once more at her lovely face. '• Oh, Marianne ! 
 why are you a peasant!" exclaimed he. Then raising his eyes to hea- 
 ven, " Almighty God," continued he, " shield her from harm. In Thy 
 presence I swear to protect her honur, even from myself." 
 
 At that moment, old Conrad appeared, in the road. At his side was 
 a little old man in a faded cassock, whose spare white hair scarcely cov- 
 ered his bald head. Joseph came forward, holding Marianne"^y the 
 hand. Kathi darted from the house, laughing vociferously. The Wiest 
 advanced, his eyes fixed upon tho face of the stranger. All at once, 
 pointing with his finger to Joseph, he cried out, " Conrad, a great honor 
 has befallen your house. Your guest is the Emperor !" 
 
 "The Emperor!" exclaimed three voices. Two in joyous tones, the 
 third, with the cry of despair. Conrad and Kathi were on their knees, 
 Marianne leaned.deathly pale against the arbor. 
 
 " Yes, father," replied Joseph, mastering his annoyance at the revela- 
 tion. *' Yes, I am tfte Emperor ; but, ray friends, do not oiler me such 
 homage as belongs to Ood alone. Rise, Conrad, old men should not 
 kneel before young ones. Kifee, Kathi — men should kneel before pretty 
 maidens — no matter whether they be princesses or peasants. And now, 
 father, hear my petition — 1 am tired and suffering — I have had a fall 
 from my horse, and I do not wish to go lo-night to Vienna. I have of- 
 fered this old man a handful of gold to give me his only bed — the one 
 in his daughtei-'s room. But he will not give his consent without your 
 approval. Decide between us, and remember who it is that asks for 
 lodging here." 
 
 The head of the old priest sank upon his breast. 
 
 « Oh !" thought Kathi, " I hop<? he will say yes !" 
 
 Marianne made not a movement, while her father looked anxiously 
 towards the priest. 
 
 "Well, father, well !" cried Joseph. "You say nothing; and yet I 
 have told you that the Emperor craves a uighi's lodging in the room of 
 these young girls. You see that I ask, where I might command. 1 
 should think that the lord of the whole land is also lord of the little room 
 of two peasant-girls !" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, you are lord of the room, but not of the honor 
 of these peasant-girls," replied the curate, raising his eyes and steadily 
 meeting those of Joseph,* 
 
 " Nobly answered, father," replied the Emperor, taking the old priest's 
 hand and pressing it between his own. " Had you decided otherwise, 1 
 would not have forgiven you. Before the servant of the Lord, the claims 
 of the sovereign are on an equality with those of his subject. Pardoa 
 me, Conrad, for testing your honor as I did, and accept my horse as a. 
 token of my re spect. If you should ever wish to sell him, bring him to 
 Llfeof Jospph II,. Kmperor of Ai^trm; vol, 3. page f-J. 
 
2;:{4 JOSKPK IHh SECOlN'b 
 
 the iniperml stables and he will be ransomed Liy me tor a thousand 
 florins/' • ' 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty," acAd Uif. happy old man, " I shall die content, 
 for my children are provided for." 
 
 '^ Now we are rich," arled Kathi, " the best match in the village will 
 be proudsjto marry either one of uS." 
 
 The Emperor meanwhile took out his pocket-book and tearing out a 
 leaf, wrote some words upon it. 
 
 Folding the paper, he advanced to Marianne, and handing it to her 
 said, " My dear child, when your fother presents this paper to the Mar- 
 shal of my jjousehold, Count Bosenberg, he will give him in return for 
 you, five hundred florins." 
 
 " Five hundred florins !" exclaimed Kathi, with envious looks. 
 
 " Take the paper, Marianne," pleaded the Emperor. " It is your 
 dowry." 
 
 Marianne raised her tearful eyes, but her hands did not move to take 
 the gift. She reflected for a moment, and then spoke. 
 
 " Five hundred florins," echoea she, "is not that a large sum?" 
 
 " It is, my child," replied Joseph. 
 
 *' More than the value of the ring you gave my sister, is it not ?" asked 
 she. 
 
 The Emperor looked disappointed. " Yes, Marianne," replied he with 
 a sigh ^" you have no reason to envy your sister. Kathi's ring is not 
 worth more than a hundred florins." 
 
 lie still held the paper in his hands. Suddenly Marianne took it 
 from him, and crossed over to her sister. 
 
 ' "You hear, Kathi," said she, "you hear what the Enaperor says. 
 "This paper is worth five times as much as your ring. Let us ex- 
 change." . 
 
 So saying she held out the paper, while Kathi with a scream of de- 
 light, snatched it from her hand and as quick as thought, drew the ring 
 from her own finger. 
 
 " If you repent your bargain, Marianne," said she, " so much the 
 worse for you. The dowry is mine, and mine, it shall remain," 
 
 Marianne did not listen. She placed the ring upon her own hand, 
 and contemplated it with a smile of satisfaction. Then going up to the 
 priest, she addressed him with a grace that would have been winning 
 in a countess. " Father," said she, " you have heard the exchange that 
 Kathi and I have made. The dowry is hers — the ring is mine. As long 
 as I live, I shall wear this token of my Emperor's condescending good- 
 ness. And when-*! die. Father, promise me that my ring shall go with 
 me to the grave." 
 
 The Emperor, all etiquette forgetting, made a step forward, with his 
 arms extended; but recovering himself, he stopped, his arms dropped 
 heavily to his side, and he heaved a deep, deep sigh. 
 
 Instead of approaching Marianne, he drew near to the priest. " Fa- 
 thtr," said he, "my mother will perhaplj feel some anxiety on my ac- 
 
KING Ob iioMt;. '23 Cj 
 
 count. Will you be- so kind as to accompany me to the post-house 
 ^vhe^e I will perhaps be able to procure some vehicle for Vienna." 
 
 "I am ready, your Majesty," replied the curate, "and if it please 
 you, we will set out at. once.' 
 
 '• So be it," sighed Joseph. " Farewell, Conrad," continued he, 
 " hearken to the counsels of your excellent, pastor, for he is a faithful 
 servant of God. — Farewell Kathi ; now that you have a dower, you 
 will speedily tind a husband. Lot mo be godfather to the ffrst baby." 
 Kathi blushed and laughed, while the Emperor turned to the pale 
 Marianne. He took her hand, and pressing it to his lips, he said to the 
 priest, who was looking on with anxious eyes, 
 
 "A man has the right to kiss the hand of a lovely and innocent girl 
 like this, evea though he have the misfortune to be born an Emperor. 
 Has he not. Father i" » 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, Joseph dropped the poor little cold 
 hand, and turned away. 
 
 The old priest followed, while Conrad and his daughters looked on, 
 scarcely crediting the evidence of their senses. 
 
 The Empc.or had reached the cottage-gate, when suddenly he lurned 
 and spoke again. 
 
 "Marianne, one last request. Will you give me the kerchief with 
 which you were bathing my head, to-day 1 The evening air is cool 
 about my throat. I am subject to hoarseness." 
 
 Marianne was trembling so that she could not answer. But 
 Kathi came forward, and taking the kerchief from a rose-bush where it 
 had been hung to dry, she ran forward and gave it into the Emperor's 
 hands. 
 
 He bowed, and continued his way. 
 
 Marianne gazed wistfully down the road at the tall and noble form 
 that was disappearing from her sight, perhaps, forever. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 TWO AFFIAKCED QUEENS. 
 
 There was great activity in the private apartments of the Empress, 
 Maria Theresa, whose foreno6ns were usually dedicated to business of 
 State, was now engaged in giving audience to jewellers, milliners, and 
 raantsamakers. 
 
 For whom were these preparations ? No one knew although every 
 one desired to know. The secret seemed especially to interest the two 
 
\ 
 
 young Archduchesses, Caroline and Marie Antoinette, These silks, sat- 
 ins, laces and jewels signified — marriage. Ol" that, there could be no 
 doubt, but who was to be the bride? — The Archduchess Elizabeth was 
 past thirty. Could it be that there was any truth in tlic rumor of a 
 projected marriage between herself and the old King of France? She 
 was tired of life at the Court of Austria, and would have welconaed the 
 change, had the negotiations which were pending on that subject ever 
 come to anything. But they did nott * 
 
 Caroline and Maria Antoinette were very incredulous when it was 
 hinted that their mother's preparations were intended for their eldest 
 sister. They laughed at the absurdity of Elizabeth's faded preten- 
 sions. 
 
 " It must be I that am about to be married,''' said Caroline, as she en- 
 tered her little sister's room one morning in full dress. " The Empress 
 has commanded my presence in her cabinet to-day, and that betokens 
 something unusual and important. — But bless me ! You too are in full 
 dress !" 
 
 " Yes," said Marie Antoinette laughing, and echoing her sister's 
 •words. " It must certainly be myself that is about to be married ; for 
 the Empress has commanded my presence in her cabinet, and of course 
 she has something of great importance to communicate." 
 > "How? You also?" exclaimed Caroline. " At what hour." 
 
 "At twelve exactly, your Highness," answered Marie Antoinette with 
 a deep curtsey. 
 
 — " The same hour. Then we must go together. I suppose that the 
 Empress intends to prop6se a husband for me, and a new tutor for you, 
 Antoinette." 
 
 " Pray, why not a husband ?" laughed Marie Antoinette. " Because, 
 you saucy child," replied her sister, " husbands are not dolls for little 
 girls to play with," , 
 
 Marie Antoinette tossed her pretty head, saying, " Let me tell you 
 Caroline, that little girls are sometimes as wise as their elders, and 1 shall 
 giv-e you a proof of my superior wisdom, by not returning irony for 
 irony. Perhaps it may be you, who is to be married — perhaps it may- 
 be both of us. There are more crowns in Europe than one. But hark ! 
 there sounds the clock. The Empress expects us." 
 
 She gave her hand to'her sister, and the two Princesses went laugh- 
 ing together, to their mother's room. 
 
 The Empress received them with an affectionate smile, and although 
 her daughters were accustomed to stand in her presence, to-day she 
 told them to sit on either side of her. 
 
 They were both beautiful, and their mother surveyed them with pride 
 and pleasure. " Come, dear children," said she, " we will banish etiquette 
 for awhile. To-day, I am no Empress, I am but a mother. — But why 
 
 * They were frustrated tiy the Countess Dubarry, who never loriiave the Duke of Choiseul for en- 
 tertaining the project. Dubarry prevailed upon the King to say that he was too old to marry, and 
 9he revenged herself on Choiseul bvbrnging about his iU3Rrai,e. Ak-x Dnmas'sIIijtorv of Louis 
 15 th. 
 
 V 
 
KING or ROME, 237 
 
 do you both smile so significantly at one another? Are you guessing 
 at what is to be the subject of our interview ?" 
 
 " What can it be, your Majesty, said Caroline gaily, " but the expla- 
 nation of the riddle that has been puzzling all the brains in the palace 
 for a moiitli past?" 
 
 "You have gaepsed," answered Maria Theresa, laughing, "It is of 
 your own marriage that I would speak. 1 have accepted a crown for 
 you, my Caroline, and the .Ambassador who will conduct you to your 
 kingdom is already on his way. Your iro7tsseau is mngnificent and wor- 
 thy of a queen. Your fair brow was made for a» royal diadem, and in 
 yonder room lies one that is made up of a <'onstcllation of diamonds." 
 
 " But the king — tfie man — who is he?" asked Caroline an.xiousiy. 
 "Tell mo, your Majesty, to whom I am affianced?" 
 
 The Empress brow grew ruffled. * 
 
 " My daughter," said she, " a princess marries not a king, but a king- 
 dom. It is given to few mortals wearing crowns, to add to their roy- 
 alty, domestic happiness. It becomes you more to ask whether von 
 are t6 bo a great and powerful queen, than what man is to place his 
 crown upon your head." 
 
 The Princess was silent, but she said to herself, " If she means to 
 hand me over to the horrid old king of France, I shall say emphatically 
 —No!' 
 
 The Empress went on. " Diplofnacy is the wooer of royal maidens, 
 and diplomacy has chosen you both. For you, too, my little Antoinette, 
 are promised to the heir of a crown." 
 
 Mario Antoinette nodded to Caroline. " I told you so," said she. 
 " Mama did not call me hither to propose a new tutor." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said the Empress laughing. " 1 did call you hither 
 for that object also. A little girl who is destined to reign over one of 
 the greatest nations in the world, must prepare herself conscientiously, 
 to fill her station worthily. You have s noble mission, my child ; 
 through your marriage the enmity so long subsisting between Austria 
 and France, shall be converted into amity and concoid." 
 
 "France !" screamed Antoinette. " Your Majesty would surely not 
 marry me to' the horrid old Louis XV. !" 
 
 " Oh no !" replied the Empress, heartily anmsed. " You are affian- 
 ced to his grandson, who one of these days will be called Louis XVI,'' 
 
 Marie Antoinette uttered a cry and started from her seat. " Oh, my 
 God !" exclaimed she. 
 
 " What— what is the matter ?" cried Maria Theresa. " Speak my 
 child, what ails you ?" 
 
 " Nothing," murmured Antoinette shaking her head sadly. " Your 
 Majesty would only laugh." 
 
 — " What is it ? I insist upon knowing why it is that you shudder at 
 the name of Louis XVI. ? Have you heard aught to his disadvan- 
 tage? lias your brother, the Emperor " 
 
 " No, no," interrupted Marie Antoinette quicltly, " the Emperor has 
 
238 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 never mentioned his name to me — No one has ever spoken disparaging- 
 ly of the Dauphin in my presence. What made me shudder at the inert- 
 tion of his title, is the recollection of a fearful prophecy which was rela- 
 ted to me yesterday, by my French teacher, as we were reading the his- 
 tory of Catherine de Mcdicis." 
 
 — " Tell it to me, then my daughter.*' 
 
 "Since your Majesty commands me, I obey," said the young girl, 
 gracefully inclining her head. " Catharine de Medicis, though she was 
 very learned, was a very superstitious woman. One of her astrologers 
 owned a magic looking-glass. He brought it before the Queen, and she 
 commanded him to show her in the mirror, the destiny of her royal 
 house. He obeyed, and drew back the curtain that covered the face of 
 the looking-glass." 
 
 " And what did she see there ?" asked the Empress, withinterest. 
 
 Marie Antoinette continued. "She saw the lily-decked throne of 
 France, and upon it appeared, one after another, her sons, Henry, Francis 
 and Charles. Then came her hated son-in-law, Henry of Navarre ; after 
 him, Louis XIII. — then his grandson, Loui§ XIV. — then Louis XV." 
 
 " And what then 1" 
 
 " Then she saw nothing. She waited a few moments after Louis XV. 
 hHd disappeared, and then she saw a figure with a crown upon his head, 
 but this figure soon was hidden by a cloud, and in his place, tlie throne 
 was filled with snakes and cats, who were tearing each other to pieces." 
 
 " Fearful sight !" said Maria Theresa, rising from her seat and walk- 
 ing about the room. 
 
 " It was fqarful to Catharine de Medicis, your Majesty, for she fainted. 
 Now you know why I dread to be the bride of the one who is to be 5Si- 
 ed, Louis XVI." 
 
 The Empress said nothing. For a while, she went to and fro through 
 the room, then she resumed her seat, and threw back her proud head 
 with a forced smile. 
 
 "These are silly fables," said she, "tales with which nurses might 
 frighten little children, but only fit to provoke laughter from rational 
 beings." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty," interposed Antoinette," but Louis XV. 
 is not too rational to be affected by them." 
 
 " How do you know that, child ?" 
 
 " I know it, your Majesty, because Monsieur Le Maitre, who publish- 
 ed this prophecy in his journal ^L'espion Ttirc^ was imprisoned for fif- 
 teen years in the Bastile, on account of it. He is still there, although 
 he has powerful fr^Ajads who have interceded for him in vain.* 
 
 — "And Aufresne told you all this ?" 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty." 
 
 — " He ought to go to the Bastile with LeMaitre, then. But I hope 
 that my little Antoinette has too much sense to be aflfected by Au- 
 fresne's nonsense, and that she will hold herself in readiness to accept 
 
 ♦ Swinburne. P. 60. 
 
KING OF ROME. 239 
 
 the husband whom her sovereign and mother has chosen for her. It is 
 a bright destiny, that of a Queen of France; and if snakes and cats 
 should come near your throne, you must tread them under foot. Look 
 up, my child, and have courage. In two years you will be the bride of 
 the Dauphin. Prepare yourself meanwhile to be a worthy representa- 
 tive of your native Austria. The Queen of France must, as far as she 
 is able, assLniilate herself to the customs and language of her people. 
 With that intention, Prince Kaunitz has commissioned the Duke of 
 Choiseul to select you a new teacher. He will be accompanied by two 
 French ladies of honor. These people, my dear, are to form your man- 
 ners according to the requirements ot court etiquette in Franco; but in 
 your heart, my child, I trust that you will always be an Austrian. That 
 you may not be too French, Gluck will continue to give you music les- 
 sons. I flatter myself that the French cannot compete with us in music. 
 Study well, and try to deserve the brilliant destiny in store for you." 
 
 She drew Antoinette close to her, and kissed her fondly. 
 
 "1 will obey your Majesty in all things," whispered the child", and 
 sadly she resumed her seat. 
 
 "Now, Caroline," continited the Empress, "a word with you. You 
 SCO with what modesty and submission yonr sisters has accepted her des- 
 tiny. Follow her example, and prepare yourself to receive your affian- 
 ced husband, Ferdinand of Naples." 
 
 It was Caroline, now, who turned pale and shuddered. She uttered a 
 cry of horror, and raised her hands in abhorence. " Never. Never, your 
 Majesty," cried she, " I cannot do it. You would not be so unnatural as 
 
 tn— 1— '■' 
 
 — "And why not?" asked the Empress, coldly. 
 
 — " Because God himself has declared against our alliance with tho 
 King of Naples. lie it is who interposed to save my sisters from this 
 marriage. In mercy, my mother, do not sentence 7ne also, to death !" 
 
 The Empress grew pale, and her lip quivered. But Maria Theresa 
 was forever warring with her own emotions, so that nothing was gained 
 for Caroline by this appeal to her maternal love. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed she, recovering her self-possession, " do you also 
 seek to frighten me ! I am not the cowardly simpleton for which you 
 mistake me. As if the King of Naples were a vampire to murder his 
 wives at dead of night ! No, Caroline, no ! If it has pleased the Al- 
 mighty to adlict me, by taking to himself the two dear children who 
 were to have been the Queens of Naples, it is a sad coincidence — noth- 
 ing more-" 
 
 " But I cannot marry him !" cried Caroline, wringing her hands, " I 
 should be forever seeing at his side, the spectral figures of my dead sis- 
 ters. Mother, dear, mother, have pity on me !" 
 
 " Have pity on her !" echoed Antoinette, kneeling at the Empress's 
 feet. 
 
 " Enough !" exclaimed RIari.a Theresa, in a commanding ^voice. "I 
 !ift\ r 'ipokcn, it is for you to obey ; foi my word has been g'ven, and f 
 
240 JOSEPH IHE SECOND. 
 
 cannot retract. If -as your mother, I feel ni}' heart grow weak with 
 sympathy for yo'icr weakness, as your Empress I spurn its cowardly 
 proaiptings; for my inaperiai word shall be held sacred, if it cost me 
 my life. Rise, both of you — ft ill becomes the Queens of France and 
 Naples to bow their knees like beggars. Obedience is more praisewor- 
 thy than humiliation — Go to your apartments, pray for courage io bear 
 your crosses, and God's blessing will shield you from all evil." 
 
 " I will pray God to give me grace to die in IJis favor," faltered 
 Caroline, 
 
 "^I will pray Him to take my life at once, rather than I should live to 
 share the destiny of Louis XVI !" whispered Antoinette, while the 
 two imperial martyrs bowed low before their mother, and retired each 
 to her room. 
 
 Maria Theresa looked after their sweet, childish figures, and when the 
 door had closed upon thera, she buried her face in the cushions of the 
 sofa»where they had been sitting together, and wept. 
 
 " My children ! my children ! Each a Queen, and both in tears! Oh, 
 Heavenly Father, grant that I may not have erred, in forcing this weight 
 of royalty upon their tender heads. Mother of God, thou hast loved a 
 child ! By that holy love, pray for those who would faint if their crowns 
 should be of thorns !" 
 
 Entered accoi'ding to Act of Congress, in the year 1S64, by 
 
 S. H. GOETZEL, 
 
 la the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Alabama, 
 
 for the Confederate States of America. 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
yy 
 
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 1 Ifl 
 
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 «!l^'B«5« 
 
 
 OF 
 
 _Jj.r 
 
 
 ITI 
 
 
 
 
 
 HARDEE'S liNFANTRY TACTICS. 9th Editioiv. 
 II WHEELER'S CAVALRY TACTICS. 
 ^ LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET. • 
 
 8- SILAS MARNER. 
 
 RAIDS AND ROMANCi^:S OF MORGAN AND HIS 
 MEN. 2nd Edition, 
 
 TANNHAiJSER. . • , 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE. 
 CHAUDRON'S SPELLING BOOK. 
 
 do . FIRST READER. 
 
 do . ' SECOND, RE ADM. 
 
V 
 
 ^AS^ Q-. ni 
 
 Copyrighi Secured. " <^^y^@ 
 
 JOSEPH II. 
 
 ASTD HIS COURT. 
 
 Z%i 
 
 T-VJ 
 
 ,t 
 
 BY L. MUIILBACH. 
 
 ffxom tiJe CrrntBii, 
 
 BY ADELAIDE DeV. CHAUDRON 
 
 VOLUME IT. 
 
 MOBILE: 
 
 S. H. GOETZEL, PUBLISHER 
 
 1864 
 
 J) Farrow i. Dennett, Prlnttri, MobiU. 
 

 
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 :l^'!^'',! 
 
 
JOSEPH II. 
 
 AND HIS COURT. 
 
 ^n Ptstfliital |lo(jc(, 
 
 BY L. MUHLBACH. 
 
 ffvottt tfjc ®crinniH, 
 
 BY ADELAIDE Do V. CHAUDRON. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 MOBILE: 
 
 3. H. GOETZEL, PUBLISHER, 
 1864 
 
Entered according tor Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 S. H. GOETZEL, 
 
 In the Clerk's OfSce of the District Court of Alabama, 
 
 for the Confederate States of America. 
 
 Farrow ds Dennett, printers. 
 
JOSEPH 11. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE DIN^JPR AT THE FRENCH AMDASSADOr's. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz eat lazily reclining in his arm chair, playing with hia 
 jewelled snufi-box and listening with an appearance of unconcern to a 
 .man who, in an attitude of profoundest respect, stood before the Prince 
 and related to him a remarkable story of a young Emperor and beauti- 
 ful peasant-girl, in which there was much talk of woods, diamonds, milk 
 and an A'rabian steed. 
 
 The smilo that was upon the face of the Minister might rather betoken 
 amusement or incredulity. • 
 
 The detective was at that period of his story where the Emperor par- 
 ted from old Conrad and his daughters. lie now paused to see the ef- 
 fect of his narration. 
 
 "Very pretty, indeed," said the Prijico, nodding his head, "but ro- 
 mances are out of fashion. In these days, \re prefer truth." 
 
 " Does your Highness suppose that 1 am not speaking truth ?" said 
 the man. 
 
 Kaunitz took a pinch of snuff, and replied coldly, "I suppose nothing 
 about it. Somebody, I know, has been playing upon your love of the 
 marvellous — I know that you are not telling me the truth." 
 
 "Your Highness !" exclaimed Ebcrhard, with the air of an injored 
 man, "no one can impose upon my credulity, for I believe nothing but 
 that which I see. I had this adventure from' old Conrad himself, and I 
 saw him receive a thousand ducats for the horse. In the joy of his fool- 
 ish old heart, he told me the whole story, and as he saw the deep interest 
 ■vv'hich I felt in the tale, he invited me to his house, where I saw the 
 beautiful Marianne with her diamond on her finger." 
 
 — "Then you acted like a fool, for the Emperor knows you as well as 
 all Vienna does, and he will be furious when he discovers that we have 
 been watching his pastoral amours." 
 
 "Indeed, your Highness is right, I would be a poor fool to go there 
 "without great precaution; for, as you very justly remarked, I am well 
 known in Vienna. But when I made the old peasant's acquaintance I 
 was disguised, and I defy anybody to know me when f choo'5e to play 
 
4 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 iyicognito. I wore a gray wig and a black patch over one eye. In this 
 dress I visited them, and hud the story all over again, with variations, 
 from that coquettish village beauty, Kathi." 
 
 — '' How loner ajjo V 
 
 — "Three weeks, your Highness,"' 
 
 — " How many times since then has tlie Emperor visited his inamo- 
 rata f 
 
 " Six times, your Highness. Old Conrad has bought a farm, where he 
 lives in a handsome house, in which each of his daughters now has a room 
 of her own. Marianne's room opens on the garden, where the Emperor 
 drinks his' milk and enjoys the privilege of her society." 
 
 — " Have the girls any lovers 1" 
 
 — " Of course, your Highness, but they have grown so proud that Kathi 
 will have nothing to say to her svveetheart, Valentine ; wlaile Marianne, 
 it is said, has never encouraged any of the young men in the village — 
 Indeed, they are all afraid of her." "^ 
 
 — " Because they know that the Emperor honors her with his presence." 
 
 " No, your Highness, the Emperor has not allowed the family to 
 whisper a word of his agency in their newly-gotten wealth. They give 
 out that it is a legacy." 
 
 " Do the Emperor and Marianne see one another in secret, without 
 the curate and the father's knowledge?" 
 
 Eberh»rd shrugged his shoulders. "Day before yesterday, Marianne 
 went alone to the woods to gather mushrooms, and never came home 
 until dusk. She had been lost in the woods. It was the day on which 
 the Emperor was to visit the flirm, but he did not come. Perhaps he 
 got lost, too. To-morrow, Marianne is again to gather mushrooms-*-!, 
 too, shall go to cut wood," 
 
 "Is that ain" asked Kaunitz. 
 
 " That is all, for to-day, your Highness." 
 
 " Very well. Go home and invent a continuation of your story. Let 
 no one know of it meanwhile except myself. You can boast of more 
 than some poets and literati can say, for you have amused me, and I 
 will reward you. Here are two gold ducats for you." 
 
 Eberhard bowed low as he received them, but when he had left the 
 room, and was out of sight of Kaunitz, h^ turned towards the door mut- 
 tewng, " As if J were such a fool as to sell my precious secret to you 
 for two paltry ducats ! I know of others who will pay me for my news, 
 and^hey shall have it." 
 
 Meanwhile, Kaunitz, buried in his arm-chair, was revolving the story 
 in his mind. 
 
 " An Emperor, a widower of two wives," said he to himself, " and ho 
 treats us to an idyl of the genuine Gessner stamp ! . An imperial Da- 
 mon who spends his time turning wreaths of roses with his Phillis ! 
 Well — he had better be left to play the fool in peace: his Pastoral will 
 keep him from meddling in state affairs. Men call me the" coachman of 
 European politics ; so be it, and let no on^ meddle with my reins. 
 
That noble Empress is of one mind with me, Imt ihie Emperor would 
 like to snatch the reins, and go carccrinj; over the heavens /or hiniiself. 
 So much ihe better if he Hirts and dnnks'nulU with a dairy-niaid. But 
 how long will it last ?* Ebci hard, of course, has gone to J'lThamnier, 
 who being piously disinclined to such little, pastimes, v'll go straijrht to 
 ihe Empress; and then Damon will be reproved and 1 — 1 may tail un- 
 der her displeasure f«>r having known and concealed her son's intrigue. 
 What shall I do? Shall 1 warn the Emperor so that he can carrv oft' 
 
 his Semele, and go on with his amours '? Or slmll I Bah ! Let things 
 
 shape themselves. What do I care for them all I I am the coachman 
 of Europe — and they arc my passengers." 
 
 So .«;aying, Knunitz threvkf back his head, and being alone, he indulged 
 himself in a chuckle. It was speedily smothered however, for three taps 
 at the dour announced the approach of the Minister's valet. 
 
 "Thj fool intends to remind me that it is time to dress," said he to 
 himself, " There must be some important engagement on hand to n)ake 
 him so audacious. Come in, Hippolyte !" 
 
 " Airy- engagement for dinner!" asked he, as Hippolyte made his ap- 
 pearance, 
 
 — "So, please your Highness, you dine today with the French Am- 
 liassador,"' ' • 
 
 —"What o'clock 13 it?" 
 
 — "Three o'clock, your Highness," 
 
 — "It Is time. Tell the cook to send my dinner to the palace of the 
 French Ambassador, His P^xeellency knows the terms on which I dine 
 out of my own house?" 
 
 " I haii the honor to explain them fully, your Highness." 
 
 "And h(^ acceded to them?"' 
 
 '■ He. did, Tour Highness. Yonr Highness, he said, was welcome to 
 bring your dinner, if you preferred it to his. , He had one request, how- 
 ever, to make, which was that you would not bring your post-dessert, a 
 request whit-h I did not nnderstand." 
 
 *' I understand it perfectly. The Count de Breteuil means that he 
 would like me to leave my mouth-cleaning apparatus at home. Come, 
 since it is time, let us begin to dress." 
 
 So saying, he rose, and presently he wis walking to and fro in the* 
 powder-room, buried in his white mantle, while the servants waved their 
 povpder-brushes, and the air was dense with white clouds, 
 
 " Order the carriage," said the Prince, when Hippolyte had presented 
 the snuff-box and the handkerchief of cobweb cambric and lace, "Three 
 footmen to stand behind my chair," 
 
 Hippolyte went to order the footmen to the hotel of the Count de 
 Breteuil, while his master slowly made his way to the ante-room where 
 six lackeys awaited him, each one bearing aloft a long silk cloak, 
 
 "What says the thermometer today?" asked he. 
 
 The lackey with the first cloak stepped to a window and examined the 
 thermometer that was fastened outside. 
 
O ■ ■ JOSfJ'ii iiili.-f'ECONL*. 
 
 '* Twelve degrees, your Higline^s — temperate,'' said the man, 
 
 '•Cold! Four cloaks,'" saiii Knunitz; and stepping through the row 
 or>-8rvaiUs, one after the other laid doak upon cloak over his shoulders. 
 When the fourth one had been wrapped around him, he ordered a fifth 
 fnf his return, and putting his handkerchief to his mouth for fear he 
 might swallow a breath of air, the coachman of Europe proceeded to his 
 carriage, where Ilippolyte was ready to help him in. 
 
 " Is my mouth-cleaning apparatus in the rumble'?" asked the Prince, 
 as he sank back in the soft cushions. 
 
 "Your Highness said that his Excellency had requested '' 
 
 "Yes, but i did not say that I should heed his Exceliency's requests. 
 Quick and bring it hither ! Cups, brushes, essences, and everything !" 
 
 Off started Hippolyte, and Kaunitz drew his four cloaks around his 
 precious person while he muttered to himself, "I shall show my lord, 
 Count de Breteuil, that the man who has the honor of receiving Kaunitz 
 at ihis table, makes no conditions with such a guest. The French Am- 
 bassador grows arrogant, and I must teach him' that rules of etiquette 
 and customs of society are for him and his compeers, but not for me. 
 Whatever Kaunitz does is becoming and en regie — Voila tout — = — For* 
 wards !" 
 
 Meanwhile th« Count de Breteuil was receiving his distinguished 
 guests. After the topics of the day had been discussed, he infornbed 
 them that he was glad to be able to promise that Prince Kaunitz would 
 come to dinner without his abominable apparatus. 
 
 " impossible !" exclaimed the ladies. 
 
 " Not at all," replied the Count. "I have complied with one of his 
 absurd conditions — he brings his dinner; but 1 made it my especial re- 
 quest that. he would omit his usual post-dessert." 
 
 " And he agreed ?" 
 
 " It would appear so, since he has accepted. It must be so, for see, 
 he is here." 
 
 The Count went forward to meet the Prince, who deigned not^ the 
 smallest apolopy for having kept the guests waiting a whole hour. 
 
 They repaired to the dining-room, where a costly and luxurious din- 
 - ner made amends to the company for their protracted fast. 
 
 Kaunitz, however, took no notice of these delicate viands. lie ate 
 his own dinner, and was .served by his own lackeys. 
 
 "Your Highness," said his neighbor, the Princess Esterhazy, " yoa 
 should taste this Fdle d la Soubis, it is delicious." 
 
 " Who knows what abotninable ingredients may not have gone into 
 its composition," said Kaunitz. " I might poison myself if I tasted the 
 villainous .compouwd. It is all very well for ordinary people to eat from 
 other men's kitchens; if ihey die, the ranks close up and nobody misses 
 'them ; but I owe my life to Austria and to Europe. Eat your pdte a la 
 Soubise if it suit you, /eat nothing but viands a la Kaunitz, and 1 trust 
 .to no cook but my own." 
 
 It was the same with the Tokay, the Jdfeannisberg and the Champagne. 
 
Kaunitz affected not to see them, while ono of his l.ickevs reached him 
 a^lasaof water on a golden salver. K.nw.Ay. held it. unto the li'-ti- 
 " IJow dare >ou bring me water from the Count's fountain," saidV 
 with a threatening look. - ' 
 
 _ "Ind-ed. your Hijzhness,'' stammered the frightened servant '-Idrevv 
 it myself from your IJifrhncss's own fountain." ' 
 
 " How," laughed thp Princess Estcrhazy, " yon bring vour water, too''^ 
 \es, madam, do, for it is the purest waterin ViJnna, and I h^ve 
 already told you that my health isof the first importance to Austria 
 Joread, Baptiste ! 
 
 I5aptiste was behind the chair, with a golden plate, on which lay two 
 or three {^lices of bread, which he presented. 
 
 "And bread, too, from his house,", cried the Princess, lau-rhin- im- 
 moderately. ' o o " 
 
 "Yes, madam, replied Kaunitz gravely, "I eat no bread but that of 
 my own baker. 
 
 'iOh," replied the gay young Princess, «'I am not surprised at your 
 takmg such wondrous good care of yourself; what astonishes me is/that 
 you should be allowed to enjoy such privile^res in a house that is not 
 your own. Why Lmus XIV. could not have been more exacting when 
 he condescended to dine with a subjr.'ct! " ^ 
 
 Kaunitz raised his cold blue eyes so as to meet the look of the bold 
 speaker. " ^ladam," said he, " Louis XIV. was Louis XIV. and 1 am 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 So saying, he took a glass of water from his fountain, and ate a piece 
 of bread from hs baker. He then leaned back in his chair and to..k an 
 animated part in the conversation. This was onlv because thereby no 
 knew that he would dazzle his hearers .by speaking English, French, 'Ital- 
 ian, or bpanish, as occasion required. 
 
 •The dinner was at an end, and dessert came on the table. Of course 
 Kaunitz refused to partake of it ; l,ut while the bt "er guests were enjoy, 
 ing their confections, he took advantage of a pause in the conversation 
 to say to his pretty neighbor, ' 
 
 foi"^r^'-u^'"'"''^'i' ^^^^ ^'''^ c^'^P^'iy have enjoyed their dessert, I will 
 take the liberty of ordering mine.'''' r 
 
 —"Ah! you have your own dessert?" asked the Princess, while the 
 guests listened to hear what was coining. . 
 
 Finlni'''?'" '''''!, ^^fr*^'- "^ ^^^•^ "^•■^"g'^t my dessert of cour.c. 
 -nippolyte, my etuiy 
 
 wh^flT^V^^'"''""^^ ^^^ offensive ctid and laid it' ou the dinner-tnble, 
 case wTf l^ ^''^^I-r^''^ ''''^ '"" -'^'-^ ^^ "■^^^'•- ^^'^"""^ opened th; 
 ^ever! i?'ll J"^'^^''^"?^ ^"d examined its contents. There were 
 
 stone an^fn!l'"'Tf- TT' '''"^r/'*' ^'"^'^^^' ^^'^^''^«' '^"'^««. ^ ^'het 
 VVhM T^ ^ "^" napkins.^' : 
 
 Ihp Inrlil \T'T ^^*™'"^d ^"-^ took out his disgusting little UtCUsils, 
 
 the lad.e. looked a t CoMPt Bvoteuil. who conld sca>oelv credit, fh-- ovi- 
 ♦Swinburne Vol. 1, pagp 858. 
 
(lencp of his sensoa. Cut as Ivauniiz set a looking glass before him, 
 he raised his upper lip, and closed his teeth, preparatory to a. cleaning, 
 the Count rose indignant from his seat. 
 
 " Ladies and jrentlemcn," said he, " we will return to the drawing 
 room for coffee, Prince Kaunitz desires this room to himself." 
 
 The company depaited, leaving Kaunitz alone. He did not look as 
 if he had heard or seen anything. He went on grinning, brushing his 
 teeth, drying them in and out with his napkins, and finished oft' with 
 washingjiis hands and cleaning his nails. This done, he walked delib- 
 erately back to the drawing-room, and, going imm^jdiately towards the 
 host, he said, \ 
 
 " Count, 1 am about to return home. You have taken very .great 
 pains to prepare a dinner for me, and 1 shall make you. a princely reiurn. 
 Prom this day forward, I dine no more from home ; your dinner, there- 
 fore, will be immortal, for history will relate that the last time Prince 
 Kaunitz dined away from his own palace, he dined at that of the French 
 Ambassador." 
 
 With this he bowed, and slowly left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MARIAN>fE's DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 Kaunitz remained true to bis policy, in the dri^ma of " The Emperor 
 and the Dairy-Maid." He allowed things to run their course. Twice 
 n week Eberhard came with additional information, to which the Minis- 
 ter listened with deep interest, but his interest never took the shape of 
 action. What did he cama^ 
 
 . " This imperial idyl is a disease." thought he. " It will have its crises 
 hy and by, like a cutaneous eruption. Let it come. Why should 1 
 help the patient when I have not been called in ?" 
 
 Not long after, however, he was called in. One morning he was lay- 
 ing, in his dressing-gown, on a divan, his head bound up in half a dozen 
 silk handkerchiefs, and his whole person in the primeval disorder of a 
 slovenly neglige, when his valet announced — the Emperor Joseph. 
 
 Kaunitz half rose, saying with a yawn, "Show his Majesty to the 
 State Reception-Room, and beg him to await me there." 
 
 " 1 have no time to wait, my dear Prince," said a soft and melancholy 
 voice behind him ; 'and, as Kaunitz turned around, he saw the Emperor 
 who was already at his side. 
 
 The Prince motioned to Ilippolyte to leave the room'. He went out 
 
■It- -~i i: 1.. 
 
 on tip.toe, a<id,as he reached the threshold, [he. EmppiorMiim-^eif closed 
 the door and locked it. linuuh/., who h;ul ribch, stood in ihe middle of 
 the room, looking as indilFerenL to the vi^it of an Emperor as to that of 
 a taiJor. 
 
 " Prince," 8aid Joseph, retnrniii- and (.iTering his hand, *' we have not 
 liithetto been good friends, but you sec that I hold vou in esteem foi- 
 <'urae to claim } our assistance." ' ' 
 
 " I expected vonr Majesty," replied Kuunitz. 
 
 The Eniperor cast his eyes over the velvet dresslnrr-gown and thehalf 
 dozen head-hand.;erchiefs, and looked his astonishment. The Prince un 
 derslood the glance and replied to it. 
 
 " I did fiot expect your Majesty quite so soon. A l>w hours later I 
 jvould have been. ready to receive you. Will you permit me to retire 
 for a few moments, that I wav at least make my head, if not the rest 
 of my person, presentable ?" 
 
 The i^mperor took the hand of the Prince and led him b^cJ< to the 
 d.van. My dear Ivaunitz," said he, " when a man's head is in such -i 
 maze as mine to-day, he concerns himself very little about the looks of 
 other men. Sit down again, and I will take this arm-chair by vou " 
 
 :%J-^''' r.^""V'' V^^ S''"^^*' '^^'^^' *^'^^^" "PO" the divan and then 
 seated himseU at his side. 
 
 ;• Do you know ulint brings me to you," said Joseph, blnshinff 
 i-behevethatl do, your Majesty. It i. no State affair, for on 
 btate alfairs, unhappily, we are ever at variance. 
 
 The Emperor laughed a sardonic laugh. " What need have I of a 
 Mate Counsellor ], who am but a puppet in the handsof mv mother ' 
 i, who must stand, with shackled arms, and look on, while she reicm.i 
 liut It IS vain to murmur. I watch and wait; and while J wait, I^find 
 ^ yself inclimng fast (o your policy. I believe you to be an honorable 
 statesman, and I believe also, that the course you have pursued you 
 iiave chosen because you are convinced that it is wise." 
 
 "Your Majesty means the French alliance," said Kaunitz 
 
 V\ou, like your deceased father, have always opposed it,"and but for 
 the hrmness and wisdom of the Empress, it would have liiilod Bat 
 we need not discuss this matter to-day ; 1 owe the honor conferred upon 
 me to another question." ^ 
 
 *' Then you know why I am here ?" 
 
 of 'l^^^'^''^ ^^'^^ ^ know," replied Kaunitz, playing with the silk tassel.s 
 of his dressing-gowTi. - I have lately heard a tala about an Emperor 
 
 was Jr^t f''? '" '' ^^''"'^ ^'f ''''"'^ ^^ '^ ^^*^^"t S''^- 'T^he Sovireign 
 2lfZui1n^"\T'"-fT-^^^ ^*'^^*^1 ^^--^hwith melted 
 
 away with love at the sight of him, as Semele did for Jupiter— that too 
 
 thccommi.tee on morals do not approve of such pastorals, and the Em- 
 
 ered?tlT^f^'°T";''''^''''''^?•^^^'I^^■^• " ^^ '^ '^'^y ^vho disoov- 
 erea u, and you who betraved me." 
 
> 
 
 Kaunitz siiglftljo.leva.ted, his shoulders, and his eyes restt-cl, unmoved, 
 upon the Emperor's r^lowing face. "1 have never yet," said lie, " de- 
 scended to the office of an informer. Had your M:\jesty addressed me on 
 this r,ubject some v;ee!vs ego, i should, have said to your.Iviujesty, 'you 
 are dreaming a very pretty dreann of innocence, moonshine, and child- 
 ishness. If j'ou do not wish to be roughly awakened go and dream at 
 a distance from Vienna, for here there are certainly some people who 
 will think it their duty to disturb you !'" . 
 ' — " Why did you not warn me, Kaunitz?'' 
 
 — " I did not wish to have the appearance of forcing myself into your 
 Majesty's confidence — T had not been entrusted with your secret, and 
 had no right to warn you." 
 
 "No, you warned the Empress instead," said Joseph, bitterly. 
 
 . — "I warned nobody, your Majesty. I said to myself, 'He is an en- 
 viable man, to be able, in the midst of an artificial life, to enjoy the 
 sweets of rural intercourse.' I foresaw what must inevitably happen, 
 and pitied theinnocent Eve, who will, ere long, be exiled from paradise." 
 
 " She is exiled !" cried the Emperor. "She has been removed — I 
 know not where. She has disappeared, and no trace. of her can I find." 
 
 *' Disappeared," 'exclaimed Kaunitz, astonished. " Then I, have not 
 heard the whole truth. I did not even know that she was to be removed. 
 I only suspected it." 
 
 "Tell me truth!" cried the Emperor, sharply. 
 
 " Sire," said Kaunitz, proudly, " there may be circumstances when it 
 is the part of wisdom to be silent, but it is never permitted to a man of 
 honor to be untruthful. I know nothing of this girJ's disappearance. — ■ 
 The most that I anticipated was a forced marriage. This, I knew, would" 
 occasion new differences between the Empress and your Majesty, and, I 
 had supposed, th:\t you were coming to me to call for my mediation." 
 
 " I must believe you," sighed the Emperor. " But prove your integ- 
 rity by helping me to find hef. Oh! Kaunitz, I beseech of you help me, 
 and earn thereby my gratitude and my undying regard !" 
 
 " Have ! waited so long for your Majesty's regard to earn it on ac- 
 countof a silly peasant?" said Kaunitz with a bitter smile. "I hope that 
 I shall have a niche in the temple of the world's esteem, even if I do 
 fail in finding the daughter of Conrad, the boor. If your Majesty has 
 never esteemed me before you will not begin to do so to-day, and ns 
 regards your promised gratitude, the whole world knows, and your 
 Majesty, also, knows, that I am not to be bribed ; but I am ready, from 
 the depths of my own attachment to you, to do all that I can to help 
 
 " Kaunitz," said the Emperor, offering him his hand, " I see that you 
 intend to force me to love you." 
 
 " If I ever did force your Majesty to love me," replied Kaunitz, with 
 animation, "I should count it the happiest day of my life. If I ever 
 succeed in winnincr your confidence, then I may hope to con:iplete 
 Jh?' work I have begun — that of uniting your Majesty's dominions into 
 
-MlUkV.'.;. ui AlSSivLi I , 
 
 one great wtioie, u^uoro which all Earupe shall b .^v In re-c.rencr " 
 
 " Lefc us spe.-.k of. other things," interrnpted the L'.nnrVnr ''• TleJn 
 Tiie to I:nci Manannp." ' ' ^^'P 
 
 —"Allow me one question then,— am I the onlv te- 
 joiir Majesty has spoken on this subject ""' ■ "" "* ^^"^^^ 
 -No,— I have spoken to one other man. I have vov.y^U^A *h^ 
 shrewdest detcct.ve iu all Vienna, and have promised hi fero 
 ward .f he -.. servo me. He came to me this rr^ortut" H." had 
 ojscovered noth.ng, but jrave me to understand that it was ^uu who hJd 
 betrayed mo to the Empress." ' "^ ^^^ 
 "What is his name, your Majesty '"'* 
 
 to the Empress. 1, too, have been giviiic him aold ■ wiihVli ,^ iji' ■ 
 
 nulr:,f3™:7vt^r^To'"J:.:-rhir '■»--^'--''«°^- 1-. 
 
 " I must jTo,'' cried Joseph impatientlv " I mu^t fr..^^ vi. u i 
 1611 me ^^hat has been done with Marianne" ^^"'^"'"'^ '^ 
 
 -" > ou will not find him. He, too, has disappeared." 
 « "" VM u""'"'^ ?:.' ^"^ '^^' Empress to beg her to be merciful to that 
 poor ch, d who ,s suffering on my account. 1 will e.xactTof her " 
 
 " That will only make the matter worse " 
 
 Joseph stamped his foot, and uttered a cry of furv 
 
 ~~u D • ^'^^^ ' ''^°' ^^^"'" exclaimed he. * 
 
 —-'Be silent and affect indilference. When the Fmnr«« k.t 
 . that you have grown careless on the girl's acclnr shTPI',\ •''''' 
 think that she has token the n.atter t'oo s^ri^ " 'to Lnr %Zll 
 must sell h.sfarm and remove fcr away from Vienna On^e 2 i f 
 
 :t Hd oTh "^^ n^"i''-^ 'f^'''^'^ ^"^^h« En^;rcsrwiiit : ";ifi 
 
 to be nd of her. Do this, and all will be right " ^ "^ 
 
 Joseph frowned and seemed reluctant to follow this advice Kaunitz 
 
 «*^ ms unwillmgness and continued, tvaumtz 
 
 "This is the only means to restore thp n-lil tn. r^^o^ c ■ ■, 
 
 your Majesty owes' her this repam io f. Tl« pio niriXt f """''• j'"'' 
 
 precipitated from the clomis. and as tl^e comodvls o> r h T '"f-'^' 
 
 fcaTa:l~ -- r- '^^^^^^'^^1^^: Mat 
 
will do anything for her ha|)pinei55>, provided it do not corn]>roraise the 
 honor of hei' imperial' huu.->e. And she is right. ' But, you must go — 
 and once gone, Marianne shall be free." 
 
 " Free not only from others,' but from me also," said the Emperor, 
 deeply aflected. " I feel ihat I liave erred towards this innocent young 
 wirl. I have deeply siniK^i, for regardless uf her peace of mind, ] have • 
 allowed myself lo dream ofalovfethat could bring naught hut misery 
 to both. For i will not conceal from you, my friend, how much it costs 
 me to renounce this sweet creature, and to promise that I will see her 
 no more. My intercourse wit h.v Iter was the last dying sigh of a love 
 which has gone from my heart forevermore. But — It must be sacrificed ; 
 rescue her, and try to make her happy, Kaunitz ; try to efface from her 
 heart the memory of ray blasting love." 
 
 — -" 1 promise to free her, but 1 cannot promise to rescue her from 
 the memory of your Majesty's love. Who knows that from the ring 
 which she has sworn to wear forever, she may not have inhaled a poison 
 that will shorten her young life'? To rescue her from such a fate lies 
 not in the power of man. Time — the great comforter, may heal her 
 wounds, but your Majesty must promise never to ask whither she has 
 gone. For you, she must be dead. 
 
 " I promise, on my imperial honor, never to see her again," said 
 .foseph in a faltering voice. "I will start to-morrow. Thank God, the 
 world is wide ; and far away from Vienna I, too, can seek for oblivion, 
 and, perchance, for another ray of earthly happiness." 
 
 And so ended the pastoral of the Emperor and the village-maid. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 COUNT FALKENSTEIN. 
 
 " Away with care and sorrow ! Away with royalty and state !" cried 
 the Emperor, as the long train of wagons, which had accompanied him 
 from Vienna, were disappearing in the distance. ^, 
 
 The Empress had caused the preparation tor her son's journey to be 
 made with imperial pomp. A brilliant cortege of nobles and gentlemen 
 had followed the Emperor's caleche, and behind them came 'twelve 
 ■wagons with' beds, cooking untensiis, and provisions — the whole gotten 
 up with true princely magnificence. 
 
 The Emperor had said nothing, and had left Vienna amid the chiming 
 of bells and the loud greetings of the people. For two days he sub- 
 mitted to the tedious pageants of public receptions, stiipid addresses, 
 
K.MPEROK OF AUSTRIA. |3 
 
 girls in xrhite, ar.d flower-decked arches ; but, on the inornimj of the 
 third day, two couriers announced not only to the discomfiited eentle- 
 men composing his suite, but to the conductors of the provisioti-train 
 that the Emperor would excuse them from further attendance. ' 
 
 Everybody was astonished, and everybody disappointed. * The Em- 
 peror, meanwhile, stoqd by laughing until the last wagon was out of 
 sight. 
 
 " Away with sorrow and care!" cried he, approaching his two carriaffe 
 companions, Counts Rosenberg and Coronini. " Now, mr friond-f" 
 exclaimed he, putting a hand upon the shoulder of each'one' "now the 
 world is ours. Let us enjoy our rich inhe-itance. But— bless me how 
 forlorn you both look ! What is the matter ? Ilave I l,een mistaken 
 in supposing that you would relish my plan of travel ?" 
 
 "No, your Majesty," replied Rosei.betg, with a forced smiJe "but I 
 am afraid you will scarcely relish it yourself. You have parted with 
 every convenience that makes travelling endurable." 
 
 "Your Majesty will have to put up with many a sorrv dinner and 
 many an uncomfortable bed," sighed Coronini. 
 
 "iam tired of comforts and conveniences," rejoined the Emperor 
 laughing, "and I long for the variety of privatTion. ' But, in my thourrht' 
 lessness, I had taken it for granted that you, too, were wearv of grandeur 
 and would like to get a taste of ordinary life. If [• am mistaken vou' 
 are free to reti'rn with Diy discharged cort6ge; I force no one to ^iVire 
 my hardships. Speak quickly, for there is vet time for me to select 
 other fcllu\v-!r:ivelors." 
 
 "No, no >uur Majesty," said Rosenberg, gaily, '• 1 will go whither 
 you go, and share your privations." 
 
 " Here I stay, to live and die at your Majesty's side !" cried Coronini 
 with comic fervor. ' 
 
 The Emperor nodd^ " Thank you both, my friends, I Imd counted 
 upon you, and would Imve regretted your refusal to fto with me. Thank 
 heaven, we are no longer under the necessity of paradin^r our rank 
 about the world. I cannot express to you the joy I feel at the prospect 
 of going about unnoticed, like any other man." 
 
 "That joy will be denied your Majesty," said Rosenbor<r with a 
 slight mchnation. "The Emperor Joseph can never go unnoticed like 
 ordinary men." ' 
 
 " Do not hope it, your Majesty !" cried Coronini. " Your Ifaie^'tv's 
 rank is stamped upon your brow, and you cannot hide it." ^ 
 
 The Emperor looked down at the sandy hillock, on which thev stood 
 then upwards at the bright, blue sky above their heads. * ' 
 
 " Are we then under the gilded dome of my mother's palace," said 
 he, after a pause, "that I should still hear the language of court! v false- 
 hood? Awake my friends, for this is not Austria's imperial capitol. 
 it IS the world, which God created, and here upon our mother earth we 
 stand as man toman. A little shining beetle is creeping on my boot 
 as lamilinrly as it would upou the sabot of a base born laborer, [f uiv 
 
14 JOSfiPH THE SECOXD. 
 
 •-livinc right were written upon my brow, would not the insects ac- 
 knowledge my sovereignty, as in Eden they acknowledged that of Adam ? 
 But no !^— The little creature spreads its golden wings and leaves nio 
 ^Fithout a sign. Happy beetle! Would that I too had wings, that I 
 might flee away and be at rest!" The Emperor heaved a sigh, and his 
 thoughts evidently wandered far away from the scene before him. But 
 pi-psenily recalling himself, he spoke again. Pointing to the sky hft 
 said: 
 
 "• And now, friends, look above you wher^ the heavens enthrone 
 it Jehovah, in whose sight all men are equal, and so long as we dwell 
 Together under the open sky, remember Him who has said ' Thou shalt 
 have no other Gods before me !' " 
 
 — *' But, your Majesty " 
 
 — "Majesty! Where is any majesty here? If I were a lion to 
 shake the forests with my roar, 1 might pretend to majesty among the 
 brutes, bjiit you see that I am, in all things, like yourSelf — neither nobler 
 nor greater than you. In Vienna. I am your Sovereign: so be it-, but 
 v»-hile we travel, I am simply Count Ealkenstein. I beg you to respect 
 tiiis name and title, for the Falkensteins are an older race of nobles than 
 the Hapsburgs, and the turreted castle of my ancestors, the Count's, is 
 one of the oldest in Jtrermany. Away, then, with royalty 1 I ask for ad- 
 mittance into your own rank. Will you accept me, and promise that 
 we shall be on terms of equality ?" ^ 
 
 He offered a hand to each of his friends, and would not permit them 
 to do otherwise than press it, in token of assent. 
 
 " Now let me tell you my 'plans. We travel like three happy fellows, 
 bent upon recreation alone. We go and stay as it best suits us : when 
 we are hungry, we will dine: when we are tired, we will jsleep. A 
 little straw will make our beds, and our cloaks shall* keep tts warm.* 
 In Florence 1 shall be forced to play the Emperdl, as the r^igtiing Dulce 
 is my brother ;, but he, too, will join us,, and then we shall all go on 
 traveling' incognito. First we visit Kome, then Naples. We must, 
 find out whether our sister Caroline has taught her Lazzaroni.King to 
 read and write; and when we have learned something of her domestic 
 life, we will tumour faces homewards. In Milan, I must again play tho 
 Emperor, for Lombardy needs my protection, and I must give it. 
 From Lombardy I return to Vienna. Does the route please you 1" 
 
 "Exceedingly, Count," replied Rosenberg." 
 
 " It does indeed, your Highness," added Coronini. 
 
 " And why my Highness?" asked Joseph, laughing. 
 
 " Because the Counts of Falkenstein were Princes, and the title being 
 appropriate, I hope your Majesty will allow me to use it." 
 
 " I regret, very much, most worthy master-of-ceremonies itinerant, 
 that I cannot do so. 1?ack up your court-manners, Coronini, and carry 
 . them in your trunk until we get back to Vienna." 
 
 *The Emperor, during his tour as Count Falkenstein, repeatedly slept on straw, o\'er wbich a 
 If Rther coTcr w^s «pread. Rubner 1, r»g« 48. 
 
EMPEBOFw OF AUBTKIA. 15 
 
 " So be it then," sighed Coronini, " since your M , I mean mj 
 
 lord Count, will have it so, wo must be contRut to have you hidden 
 under a cloud, like Jupiter, when he made acquaintance with Jo." ■'• 
 
 " By Jupiter, Coronini, you are ambitious in your similes," replied 
 the Emperor, laughing. " You look very much like Jo, do you not?" 
 
 *' I hope we may be as lucky as the gods," interrupted Rosenberg, 
 "for every time they visited the earth, they were sure to fall in with 
 all the pretty women." 
 
 "True ; but Mythology teaches that the women who aspired to love 
 gods, forfeited both happiness and -life," replied the Emperor, with a 
 touch of sadness in his voice. " But pshaw !" continue^ he, suddenly, 
 " what do I say? Away with retrospection! Let us come out of 
 the cfouds, and approach, both of you, while I entrust you with a great 
 secret 1 am hungry." 
 
 The two Counts started in breathless haste for the carria^i^e, near which 
 the Emperor's valet and the postillion were in earnest conversation, but 
 they returned with very long faces. 
 
 "Count," said Rosenberg, sadly, " we have nothing to eat." 
 
 "The valet says that Count Falkenstein ordered everything to be sent 
 back to Vienna except our trunks," sighed Coronini. "All the wine,, 
 bread, game and delicacies, remained in the wagons." 
 
 " Very well," cried the Emperor, laughing heartily at the coniretetnps, 
 " let us go and ask for dinner in yonder village behind the wood." 
 
 " The postillion says that there is not a public house anywhere 
 about," continued Coronini, in great distress. "He says that we will 
 find nothing to eat in the village." 
 
 Instead of making a reply, the Emperor walked to the hillock and 
 questioned the postillion himself. 
 
 " What is the name of the village beyond the forest ?" asked. he. 
 
 " Wichern, your Majesty." 
 
 "Do we change horses there?" 
 
 " No, your Majesty, we harness up at Unterbergen/' 
 
 " Can we get any breakfast at Wichern, think you ?" 
 
 "No, no, your Majesty, not a morsel of anything — none but peasants 
 live in the village." 
 
 " Well, my friend, do the peasants live without eating?" 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty, they eat anything ! They live on bread, bacon, 
 eggs and milk, with sometimes a mess of cabbage or beans." 
 
 " And you call that having nothing to eat ?" exclaimed Joseph, has- 
 tening joyfully back to his friends. "Come, come; we shall find 
 dinner at Wichern, and if nobody will cook for us, we will cook for 
 ourselves." 
 
 Coronini opened his eyes like full moons. 
 
 " Why dp you stare so, Coronini ? Are not all soldiers cooks ? I, at 
 least, am resolved to learn, and I feel beforehand that I shall do honor 
 to myself. Cook and butler, I shall fill both offices. Come, we are go- 
 
16 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 ing to enjoy our?eIvcs. Thomas, tell the postillion to drive as far as 
 the entrance of the village. We will forage on foot." 
 
 The Emperor bounded into the carriage, the two noblemen followed, 
 the postillion cra< ked his whip, and they were soon at Wiohern. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WUAT THEY FOUND AT W1CHER^^ 
 
 The carriage stopped, and before the valet had had time to open the 
 door, the Emperor leaped to the ground. 
 
 " Come," said he merrily, " come and seek your fortunes. Thomas, 
 you remain with the carriage. Drive under the shade of that tree and 
 wait for our return. Before all things I forbid you to tell anybody who 
 we are. From this day forward, my name is Count Falkenstein. 
 Mark me ! I expect you to preserve ray incognito.'''' 
 
 " I will obey you, my lord Cbunt," said the valet with a bow. 
 
 The Emperor with his two companions walked towards the village. 
 Nothing very hopeful was to be seen as they looked up the dirty liitie 
 streets. The wretched mud cottages stood each one aj^art, their yards 
 separated by scraggy willow hedges, upon which ragged old garments 
 were hanging in the sun to dry. Between the hedges were muddy pools 
 over which the ducks were wrangling for the bits of weed that floated 
 on the surface of the foul waters. ' On their borders, in the very midst 
 of the rubbish and kitchen-oftal that lay about in heaps, dirty half-naked 
 children, with straw-colored hair, tumbled over one another, or paddled 
 in the water. In the farm-yards around the dung-heaps, the youngest 
 children of the cottagers kept company with th'e .sow and her grunting 
 pigs. Before the slovenly entrances of the huts, here and there, sat dirty 
 unseemly old men and women, who stared at the three straugei's as they 
 surveyed the uninviting pictiire before them. 
 
 " I congratulate the Emperor that he is not obliged to look upon this 
 shocking scene," said Joseph. " I am glad that his people cannot cry 
 out to him for help, since help for such squalor as this, there is none on 
 earth." 
 
 " They are not as wretched as you suppose," said Rosenberg. "These 
 people are scarcely above the brute creation ; and they know of nothing 
 better than the existence which is so shocking to you. They were born 
 and bred in squalor, and provided their pastures yield forage, their hens 
 ffty eggs, and their cows give milk, they live nnd die contented." 
 
EMPEROK OF AUSTKIA. 17 
 
 " If so, they are an enviable set of mortals," repliecl Joseph laughing, 
 "and we, who require so much for our comfort, are poorer than they. 
 But as there is no help for our poverty, let us think of dinner. Here 
 are three streets; the village seems to have been divided for our .espe- 
 cial accommodation. Each one shall take a street, and in one hour from 
 now we meet at the carriage, each man with a dish of contribution. En 
 avanti I take the street before me; you do the same. Look al your 
 watches, and be punctual." ' 
 
 » So saying, he waved his hand, and hastened forwards. The same sol- 
 itude and misery met his view as he walked on ; the same ducks, hens, 
 sows and tumbling chil(j[ren, with now and then the sound of a scolding 
 woman's shrill treble, or the melancholy lowing of a sick cow. 
 
 "I am curious now," thought the Emperor, " to know how and where 
 I am to find my dinner. But stay — here is a cottage less slovenly than 
 its neighbors, I will tempt my fortunes there." 
 
 He opened the wicker gate and entered the yard. The lazy sow that 
 lay on the dunghill, grunted, but took no further notice of the imperial 
 intruder. He stopped before the low cottage door and knocked, but no 
 one came. The place seemed silent and deserted — not the faintest hum 
 of life was to be heard from within. 
 
 " I shall take the liberty of going in without awaiting an invitation," 
 said the Emperor, pushing open the door and entering the cottage. But 
 he started at the unexpected sight that met his view as he looked around 
 the room. II was a miserable place, cold and bare ; not a chair or any 
 other article of household furniture was to t»e seen ; but in the centre of 
 the room stood a small deal coffin, and in the coffin was the corpse of a 
 child. Still and cold, beautiful and tranquil, lay tlie babe, a smile still 
 lingering around its mouth, while its half open eyes seemed fixed upon 
 the whi*;e roses that were clasped in its littfe diriipled hands. The coffin 
 lay in the midst of flowers, and within, slept the dead child, transfigured 
 and glorffied. 
 
 The Emperor advanced softly and bent over it. He looked, with 
 tender sympathy, at the little marble image, that yesterday was a poor, 
 ragged peasant: to-day, was a bright and winged angel. His thoughts 
 flew back to the imperial palace, where his little motherless daughter 
 was fading away from earth» and the father priayed for his only child. 
 He took from the passive hands a rose, and, softly as he came, he left 
 the solitary cottage, where an angel was keeping watch. 
 
 He passed over to the neighboring yard. Here, too, 'everything 
 seemed to be at rest ; but a savory odor saluted the nostrils of the 
 noble adventurer that at last betokened the presence of beings who 
 hungered and thirsted, and had some regard Yor the creature comforts 
 of life. 
 
 '* Ah ! said the Emperor," drawing in the fragrant smell, " That 
 savors of meat and greens," and he hurried through the house to the 
 kitchen» Sure enough, there blazed a roaring fire, and from the chim- 
 ney-crane there hung the steaming pot, whence issued the delightful 
 
is .lO^ilFH THE SECOND. 
 
 siroma of budding dinner. On the hearth stood a young vroman of 
 oleanly appearance, who was sthriug the contents of the pot with a 
 great wooden spoon. 
 
 /• Good morning, madaro," said the Emperor, in a loud, cheerful 
 voice. The woman started, gave a scream, and turned her glowing face 
 to the door. ^ 
 
 '• What do you mean by coming into strange people's houses and fright- 
 ening them so f cried she, angrily. " Nobody asked you in, I am sure " 
 
 "Pardon me, madam," said the Emperor. "I was urgently invited." 
 
 ''' I should like to know who invited you, for nobody is here but my- 
 self, and / dou't want you." 
 
 " Yes, madam ; but your steaming kettle, I do assure you, has given 
 me a pressing invitation to dine here." 
 
 *' Oh ! you are witty, are you 1 Well, carry your wits elsewhere. 
 They won't serve you here." 
 
 "My kettle calls nobody but those who are to eat of my dinner." 
 
 " That is the very thing I want, madam. I want to eat of your din- 
 ner." As he spoke, the Emperor kept advancing, until he came close 
 upon the kettle and its tempting contents ; but the peasant woman 
 pushed him rudely back, and, thrusting her broad person between him- 
 self and the coveted ppt, she looked defiance at him, and broke out 
 into a torrent of abuse. 
 
 The Emperor laughed aloud. " I don't wish to rob you," said he. " I 
 will pay you handsomely if you will only let me have your dinner. 
 What have you in that pot?" 
 
 "That is none of your business. With my bacon and beans you 
 have no concern." 
 
 " Bacon and beans ! Oh ! my craving stomach ! Here, take this 
 piece of gold, and give me some directly." 
 
 " Do .you take me for a fool, to sell my dinner just as the men will 
 be coming from ^e field ?" 
 
 " By no means for a fool," said the Ei-rtperor, soothingly, "but if you 
 show the men that golden ducat, they will wait patiently until you cook 
 them another diimer. Your husband can buy himself a fine holiday- 
 suit with this." 
 
 " He has one, and don't want two. \Go your way, you shall not have 
 A morsel of my dinner." 
 
 " Not if 1 ^iveyou /m;o gold pieces ? Come, do be accommodating, 
 and give me tne bacon and beans." 
 
 " 1 tell you, you shall not have them," screamed the termagant. *' I 
 have no use for your gold, but I want my dinner. So be off with you ; 
 you will get nothing from me, if you beg all day long." 
 
 " Very well, madam,! bid you good morning," said Joseph, laughing, 
 but inwardly chagrined at his ^asco. "I must go on, however,?' thought 
 he; and he entered the yard of the next house. Before the door sat a 
 pale young wonian, with a new-born infant in her arms. She looked up 
 with a languid emilc. 
 
EMPKROR OF AUSTRIA. 19 
 
 " I am hungry^" said Joseph, after greeting her with uncovered fiead. 
 " Have you anytJiing good in your kitchen." 
 
 She shook her head sadly. "I am a poor weak creature, sir, and 
 cannot get a meal for my husband," replied she ; he will have to cook 
 his own dinner when he comes home." 
 
 — " And what will he cook to-day for instance 1"' 
 
 ♦'I suppose he will make an dmelet; for the hens have been cackling 
 a great deal this inorning, and an omelet is made in a few niiinitcs." 
 
 " Is it ? So much the better then, you can show me how to make one, 
 and I will pay you well," 
 
 "Go jn the hen-coops, sir, and see if you find any eggs. My husband 
 will want three of them; the rest are at your service." 
 
 " Where is the hen-coops ?" asked Joseph much pleased. 
 
 "Go through the kitchen out into the yard, and you will see a little 
 room with a wooden bolt ; that is the hen-coop." 
 
 " I go," cried Joseph mcrril3\ Presently great commotion was heard 
 among the hens, and the Emperor returned with a glowing flice, his hair 
 and coat well sprinkled with straw. He came forward with both hands 
 full of eggs. 
 
 " Here are eight," said he. Three for your husband, and five for me. 
 Now tell me how I must cook them." 
 
 " You will have to go to the kitchen, sir. There you will find a flitch 
 of bacon. Cut off some slices, put them in a pan you will see there, 
 and set it ou the fire. My neighbor has just now made some for poor John 
 Then'look on the dresser and take some milk and a little flour. Make 
 a batter of them with the eggs, pour it upon your bacon, and when the 
 eggs are done, the omelet is made. It is the easiest thing in the world." 
 
 " My dear good woman, it will be a desperately hard task for me," 
 said the Emperor with a sigh. "I'm afraid I shall make a very poor 
 omelet. Won't you come into the kitchen and make it for me ? Do, 
 I will pay you well." 
 
 "Dear gentleman," said the young woman, blushing, "do you think 
 I am so idle as to sit here, if I could get up and help you ? I was 
 brought to bed yesterday of this baby ; and I am such a poor, sicklj 
 thing that I shall not be able to get up before two days. As the day 
 was bright, dear John brought me and the baby out here, because it 
 was more cheerful on the door-sill than within. I am a weak, useless, 
 creature, sir.". 
 
 " Weak ! useless !" cried the Emperor, astounded ; " and you expect 
 to be up in three days after your confinement. Poor little thing ! Have 
 you no physician and no medicine?" 
 
 "The Lord is my physician, sir," said the simple creature, ■*• and my 
 medicine is the fresh air. But let me think of your omelet, sir. If you 
 cannot make it yourself, just step to the cottage on the left and call my 
 neighbpr. She is very good to me, and she will make your omelet for 
 you with pleasure." 
 
 " A thousand thanks," said the Emperor, hastening to follow the di- 
 
20 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 rection5. He retarned in a few moments with a good-humored, healthy 
 young woraian, who went to work cheerfully and the omelet was soon 
 made. 
 
 One hour after ho had parted from his friends, the Emperor was seen 
 coming along the street with a platter in his hand and a little bucket on 
 his arm. He walked carefully, his eyes fixed upon his precious dish, 
 all anxiety lest it should fall from his hands. 
 
 Thomas was thunderstruck. An Emperor carrying an earthen platter 
 in his hand ! He darted forward to receive it, but Joseph motioned 
 him away, 
 
 " Don't touch me, Thomas," said \te, " or I shall let it fall. I intend 
 to place it with my own hands. Go, now, and set the table. Pile up " 
 some of those fiat stones, and bring the carriage Cushions. We will 
 dine under that wide-spreading oak. Make haste, I am very hungry." 
 
 Off went Thomas, obedient, though bewildered ; apd he had soon 
 improvised a table, over which he laid a shining damask cloth. Luckily, 
 the Emperor's camp-chest had not been put in the baggagerwagon, or 
 his Majesty would have had to eat with his fingers. But the golden 
 service was soon forthcoming, with goblets of sparkling crystal, and 
 three bottles of fine old Hungarian wine. 
 
 " Now," said Joseph, triumphantly. " Let me place my dishes." 
 With these words he put on his platter and basket with great ceremony 
 and undisguised satisfaction. 
 
 A curious medley of wealth and poverty were these golden plates and 
 forks with the coarse red platter, that contained the hard-earned omelet. 
 But the omelet was smoking and sayory, and the strawberries were 
 splendid. 
 
 While the Emperor was enjoying the result of his foraging expedi- 
 tion, Rosenberg and Coronini were seen approaching, each with his 
 earthen plf^tter in his hand. 
 
 . " The hour is up and we are here," said Coronini. " I have the honor 
 of laying my dish at your M feet, Count." 
 
 " Potatoes ! beautiful, roasted potatoes," cried Joseph. " Why Count, 
 , you have brought us a treat." 
 
 " I rejoice to hear it, my lord Count, for I was threatened with a broorh 
 stick when I tore it from the hands of the woman who vowed 1 should 
 not have a single potatoe. I dashed two ducats at her fee^ and made 
 off with all speed; for the hour was almost up, and I had exhausted all 
 my manners in the ten houses, which I had visited in vain, before; my 
 successful raid upon her's." 
 
 " And will not my lord Count cast an eye upon my dish ?" asked 
 Kosenberg. 
 
 " He has obtained that for which I sued in vain !" cried Joseph. " Ho 
 has actually brought bacon and beans." 
 
 " But 1 did not sue ; I stormed and threatened. Neither did I waste my 
 gold to obtain my end. I threw the woman a silver dollar and plenty 
 of ftbuse in ihe bargain'" 
 
tlAlPKKuH Ol AUSTKIA 'J 1 
 
 < 
 
 " Lot us be seated !" said the Emperor, "and pray admire my omelet 
 and strawberries. Now, Coronini, the strawberries are tempting, but 
 before you taste them 1 must tell you that they are tainted with treason : 
 treason towards my own sacred person. Reflect well before you decide 
 to eat of thena. What I am going to relate is as terrible as it is true. 
 While my omelet was cooking, I strolled out into the road to see if 
 there was anything else in Wichern besides poultry, pigs and dirty 
 children. Coming towards me I perceived a pretty little bare-foot boy, 
 with a basket full of red, luscious strawberries. 1 asked where hw was 
 going. He said, to the neighboring village to sell his strawberries to 
 the farmer's wife, who had ordered them. I offered to buy them but 
 my gold could not tempt the child — he refused peremptorily to sell 
 them to me at any price. I argued, I pleaded, I threatened all to no 
 purpose. At length, seeing there was no other alternative, I snatched 
 his strawberries away, threw him a ducat, and walked oft' with the prize. 
 He picked up the gold, but as he did so, he saluted my imperial ears 
 with an epithet — such an epithet! Ob, you will shudder when you 
 hear what language the little rascal used to his sovereign ■ You never 
 will be able to bear it, Coronini, you, whose loyalty is offended every 
 time you address me as Count Falkenstein. I only wonder that the 
 sun did not hide its head, and the earth tremble at the sacrilege! What 
 <\o you suppose he called mel An ass ! He did, 1 assure you. That 
 little bare-legged boy called his Emperor an ass ! Now, Coronini, do 
 you think you can taste>of the strawberries that were gathered by those 
 treacherous little hands 1" ■ 
 
 " If my lord Count allows itj I •will venture to eat," replied Coronini, 
 " for I really think there was no treasoi;i committed." 
 
 " What! not when he called me an " 
 
 " Pray do not say it again," entreated Coronini, raising his hands dep- 
 recatingly ; " it cuts me to the heart. But Count Falkenstein had al- 
 ready proclaimed that no majesty was by, and when no majesty was 
 there, no majesty could be insulted." 
 
 " Oh, you sophist ! Did you not say that I wore my title upon my 
 brow 1 Did you not tell rae that I could not hide my majesty from the 
 sons of men? But I forgive you and the boy also. Let us drink his 
 health while we enjoy his strawberries. Fill your glasses to the brim, 
 and having done honor to those who furnished our" repast, allow me to 
 propose — ourselves : ' To the health of those who are about to, eat a 
 dinner which they have earned by the sweat of their brow.'"' 
 
 So saying, the Emperor touched the glasses of his friends. 
 
 "Now, postillion," cried he, before they drank, "bl(>w us a blast ou 
 your horn — a right merry blast !" 
 
 The postillion put the horn to his lips, and while he hle\y the glasses 
 clinked gaily, and the 4>iends laughed, jested and ate their dinner with 
 a relish they had se ldom known before.* 
 
 * Hubner ; ^^ife of Joteph II. Vol, 1, page 40. 
 
•2'2 JOSEPH THE BKCONIV 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SO>fNA!JBULIST. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 The policy, instituted by Kaunitz, when he became sole minister of the 
 Empress, had now culminated' in the alliance of Austria with France, 
 through the solemn betrothal of the childish Maria Antoinette with the 
 Dauphin. The union was complete — it was to be qemented by the 
 strong tie of inter-marriage, and now, that sijccess had crowned the 
 schemes to which she had yielded such hearty consent, Maria Theresa 
 was anxious, restless and unhappy. Vainly she strove to thrust from 
 her memory the prophecy which had been foretold in relation to the 
 destinies of France. With anguish she remembered the cry of Marie 
 Antoinette ; with horror she recurred to the vision which had overcome 
 Catharinfe de Medecis. 
 
 "It is sinful in me," thought the Empress, as one morning she left 
 her pillow from inability to sleep. "God, alone, is Lord of futurity, 
 and no human hand dare lift it^. black curtain! '' But stay! cried she, 
 suddenly springing up, and in her eager haste, beglnnilig to dress with- 
 out assistance. " There is in Vienna a holy nun,, w*ho is said to be a 
 prophetess, and Father Gassner, to whom I have extended protection, ho 
 too, is said at times to enjoy the privilege of God's prophets of old. 
 Perhaps they have been sent in mercy to warn us, lest in our ignorance 
 of consequences, we stumble and sin." 
 
 For some time the EmpressT walked up and down her room, undecided 
 whether to turn the Sybilline leaves or not. It might be sinful to ques- 
 tion, it might be fatal to remain ignorant. Was it, or was it not the will 
 of God, that she should pry into the great mysteries of futurity ? Surely 
 it could not be sinful, else why should He have given to His servants 
 the gift of prophecy. 
 
 " I will go to the Ursuline nun," concluded she,' "and "Father Gassner 
 shall come to me." 
 
 She rang and ordered a carriage with no attendant but her Urst lady of 
 honor. No footmen, no out-riders, but a simple court equipage ; " and 
 inform Father Gassner that in one hour I shall await him in the 
 palace," 
 
 In less than half an hour the carriage of the Empress was at the gate 
 of the Ursuline Convent. Completely disguised in a long black cloak, 
 with her face hidden under a thick veil, Maria Theresa leaped eagerly to 
 the ground. 
 
 Her attendant was about to follow, but the Empress motioned her to 
 remain. " Await me )iere," said she, " I do not wish to be' known in 
 
the convent. I ann about to imitate my son, and visit ray silljecis 
 incognito^ 
 
 The porteress, who had recrgnizeJ (be imperial liveries, ma-ie no op- 
 position to the entrance cf the tall, veiled figure. She supposed her tr» 
 be some lady of the Empress's household, and allowed her to pass at 
 once into the hall, following her steps with uodi.^guised curiosity. 
 
 She had already ascended the stair-case, when she turned to the por- 
 teress. 
 
 "In which cell is the invalid nun?" asked she. 
 
 ** Your Highness means, sister Margaret, the somnambulist?" asked 
 the porteress. "She has been taken to the parlor of the Abbess, for 
 the convenience of the many who visit her now." 
 
 " Docs she pretend to reveal the future?" 
 
 " It would make your Highness's hair stand on end to hear her ! She 
 has been asleep this morning, and do you know what she said in her sleep ? 
 She prophecied that the convent would be honored by a visit from the 
 Empress on this very day." 
 
 "Did she, indeed ?" faltered Maria Theresa. "When?* ITow Ion"- 
 ago?" . ■ " 
 
 " About two hours ago, your. Highness. And as she ia never mis- 
 taken, the Abbess has prepared all things for her Majesty's reception. 
 Doubtless your ladyship has been sent to announce her V 
 
 "You really feel sure that she will come?" 
 
 " Certainly. Sister iMargaret's visions are prophetic — we cannot doubt 
 them." 
 
 The Empresj shuddered and drew her cloak close around her. " Gra- 
 cious heaven," thought she. " What if she should prophecy evil for 
 my child ?" " It is well," added she, aloud, " where shall I find her J" 
 
 " Your Highness has only to turn to the left ; the last door leads into 
 the parlor of the Abbess." 
 
 A deep silence reigned throughout the convent. . The Empress went 
 ou through the dim^ long corridor, pow with hurried step and wildly 
 beatiug heart, now suddenly pausing, fiintand irresolute, to lean against 
 a pillar, and gather courage for the interview. As she turned the corner 
 of the corridor, a flood of light, streaming through an oriel window, re- 
 vived and cheered her. She stepped forward and looked. The window, 
 opened upon the chapel, where the lights were burning upon the altar 
 and high mass was about to begin, for sister Margaret had said that the 
 Empress was very near. i ■'"■' 
 
 " 'Tis true. They are waiting for me. Oh, she must be a prophetess, 
 for, two hours ago, I had not dreamed of coming hither ! I feel my 
 courage fail me. I will go back. I dare not hear, for it is too late." 
 
 The Empress turned and retraced her steps ; then once more calling 
 up all her fortitude, she returned. " For," thoun;ht she, " if God per- 
 mits me. to sec, why should I remain blind? lie it is, who has sent 
 me to this holy propl^etess. I must listen for my Antoinette's sake." 
 
 A second time she went forward, reached, the parlor, and opened th(? 
 
2i J0,SEP1I TliK SECONJI. 
 
 'loor. She had scarcely appeared on the threshold, cloaked and screened 
 by her thick black veil, when a clear voice, whose tones were preter- 
 human in their melody, addressed her. " Hail, Empress of Austria ! 
 All hail to her, who cometh hither !" 
 
 " She is indeed a prophetess !'' murmured the Empress. " She kftows 
 
 • me through my disguise." 
 
 She approached the bed and bent over it. The nun lay with closed 
 eyes ; but a heavenly smile was upon her lips, and a holy light seemed 
 to play around her pale but beautiful face. Not the least tinge of color 
 was on her cheeks; and but for the tint of carmine upon her lips, she 
 might have been mistaken for a sculptor's dream of Azrael, the pale an- 
 gel of death, so unearthly, 59 seraphic M^as her beauty. 
 
 While the Empress gazed awe-stricken, the Abbess and the nuns who 
 had been kneeling around the bed arose to greet their Sovereign. 
 
 " Is it indeed our gracious Empress ?" asked the Abbess. Maria The- 
 
 • resa withdrew her hood and veil and revealed her pale, agitated face. 
 •' I am the Empress,"' said she, " but I implore you let there be no more 
 ceremony because of my visit. In this sacred habitation, God alone is 
 great, and }iis creatures are all equal before him. We are in the pre- 
 sence of the servant to whom He has condescended to speak, while to 
 the sovereigns of earth he is silent. To Him alone belongs homage." 
 
 ■ — "Gracious Empress, sister Margaret had announced your Majesty's 
 visit, and we were to have greeted you as becomes Christian subjects. 
 The chapel is prepared, the altar is decked." 
 
 " I will repair later to the church, mother. At present^ my visit is to 
 sister Margaret." 
 
 '• If so, your Majesty must not dela3\ She sleeps but three hours at 
 a time, and she will soon awake. She has the gift of prophecy in her 
 sleep alone." ♦ * 
 
 " Then go, holy mother, and leave me alone with her. Go and await 
 rae in the church." 
 
 The Abbess glanced at the clock on the wall. "" She will awake in ten 
 minutes," said she, and with noiseless steps the nuns all left the room. 
 
 The Empress waited until the door was closed and the sound of their 
 light foot-fall had died away, then again approaching the bed, she called, 
 " sister Margaret." . , 
 
 , The nun trembled and her brow grew troubled. " Oh !" said she, 
 " the angels have flown ! Why have you come with your* sad notes of 
 sorrow to silence the harmony of my heavenly dreams?" 
 
 " You know then that I am sad ?" asked the Empress. 
 
 "Yes — your heart is open to me. I see your anguish. The mother 
 comes to me, not the Empress." 
 
 Maria Theresa feeling herself in the presence of a supernatural being, 
 glided down upon her knees. "You are right," said she, " it is indeed & 
 sorrowing mother who kneels before you, imploring you in the humility 
 *;Of her heart to say what God hath revealed of her daughter's fate !" 
 
 '* Oh !" cried the nun, in a voice of anguish. 
 
tryiPERCiK (A- AUSTRIA. 'Jj 
 
 But the Empress went on. "My soul trembles for Marie Antoin- 
 ette. Something seems to warn me not to trust my child to the foul 
 atmosphere of that court of France, where Dubarry sits by the side of 
 the King, and the nobles pay her homage as though she were a virtuous 
 queefl. Oh, tell me, holy sister, what will become of my Antoinette in 
 iprance ?" 
 
 " Oh ! oh !" wailed the nun, and she writhed upon her bed. " 
 
 " She is so sweet, so pure, so innocent." continued the Empress. "My 
 spotless dove ! Will she soil her wings 1 Oh, sister, speak to me !" 
 
 "Oh!" cried the nun for the third time, and the Empress trembled, 
 while her face grew white as that of the prophetess. 
 
 "I am on my knees," inurmured she, "and lawait your answer. Sis- 
 ter Margaret ! sister Margaret ! In the name of God, who has endowed 
 you with superhuman wisdom, tell me what is to be the fate of Marie 
 Antoinette ?" 
 
 . "Thou hast called on the name of God," said the nun in a strange, 
 clear voice, "and I am forced to answer thee. Thou wilt know the fate 
 of Marie Antoinette? Hear it: '■She will live through much evil, but 
 she will return to virtue.^ "* 
 
 "She will then cease to be virtuous," cried the Empress, bursting in- 
 to tears. 
 
 "She will learn much evil." repeated the nun, turning uneasily on her 
 
 bed. She will endure Poor Marie Antoinette ! Unhappy Queen of 
 
 France ! Woe ! Woe !"' 
 
 "Woe unto me!" cried the wretched mother. "Woe unto her who 
 leadeth her children into temptation !" 
 
 " She will return to virtue !" murmured the nun indistinctly. " Poor 
 Queen — of — France !" ' 
 
 With a loud cry she threw out her arms and sat upright in the bed. 
 Her eyes opened, and she looked around the room. 
 
 " Where is the reverend mother?" cried she. " Where are the sis- 
 ters ?" 
 
 Suddenly her eyes rested upon the black and veiled figUre of the Em- 
 press. 
 
 " Who are you !" exclaimed she.- " Away with you, black shadow ! 
 I am not yet dead ! Not yet I Oh, this pain, this pain !" And the 
 nun fell back upon her pillow. 
 
 Maria Theresa rose from her knees, and, wild with terror, fled from 
 the room. Away she sped through the long, dark corridor to the win- 
 <3ow that overlooked t+ie chapel, where the nuns were awaiting her re- 
 turn — away down the wide stone staircase, through the hall, out into the 
 open air. She hurried into the carriage and, once seated, fell back upon 
 the cushions and wept aloud. 
 
 ♦ SflTinbume; vol. 1, page 851. 
 
2tj JO^iEPH THE a£GOi\i/. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PKOPHECy. 
 
 The Empress spoke not a word during the drive to the palace. She 
 <was so absorbed hi her sorrow as to be unconscious of the presence of 
 another person, and she wept without restraint until the carriage stopped. 
 Then, stifling her sobs and hastily drying her tears, she dropped her 
 veil and wall^ed with her usual majestic gait through the palace halls 
 In her ante-roorn she met a gentleman in waiting, coming towards her. 
 
 " Father Gassner, your Majesty." 
 
 " Where is he ?" 
 
 " Here, so please your Majesty." 
 
 " Let him follow me in my cabinet," said the Empress, going forward, 
 while the courtier and the priest came behind. When she reached the 
 door of her cabinet she turned. " Wait here," said she. " When I ring, 
 I beg of you to enter, Father. The Count will await your return in 
 this room. 
 
 She entered her cabinet and closed- the door. Once more alone, she 
 gave vent to her sorrow. She wept aloud and in her ears she seemed 
 to hear the clear metallic voice of the sick nun pealing out those dread- 
 ful words : " She ivill live throuyh much evil^ but will return to virtue P^ 
 
 But Maria Theresa was no coward. She was determined to master 
 her credulity. 
 
 " I am a simpleton," thought she. "I must forget the dreams of a 
 delirious nun. How could I be so weak as to imagine that God would 
 permit a hysterical invalid to prophecy to a sound apd strong woman 
 like mysein Twill speak with Father Gassner. Perhaps he may see 
 the future differently. If he does, I shall know that they are both false 
 prophets, and their prophecies, I shall throw to the winds." 
 
 Strengthened by these reflections, the Empress touched her bell. The 
 <3oor opened, and Father Gassner entered the room. He bowed, and 
 then drawing his tall, majestic figure to its full height, he remained 
 standing by the door, with his large, d*rk-blue eyes fixed upon the face 
 •of the Empress. She returned the glance. There seemed to be a strife 
 between the eyes of the sovereign, who was accustomed to see others 
 bend before her, {ind those of the inspired man, whose intercourse was 
 with the Lord of lords and the King of kings. Each met the other with 
 dignity and composure. 
 
 Suddenly the Empress strode haughtily up to the priest and said, in a 
 tone that sounded almost defiant. 
 
 " Father Gassner, have you the courage to look me in the face and 
 assert yourself to be a prophet?" ^ 
 
'* It requires no courage to avow a gift, which Gou, in the superabun- 
 dance of His goodnoss, has bestowed upon one who does not deserve it," 
 replied the Father, gently. " If my eyes are opened to see, or my hand 
 to beal, glory be to God, Who has blessed them. The light, the grace, 
 are not mine, why should [ deny my Lord.* 
 
 "Then if I question you, as to the. future, you will answer ?" 
 
 " If it is given to me to do so, 1 will answer." 
 
 "Tell me, then, whether Antoinette will be happy in her marriagel '' 
 
 The priest turned pale, but he said nothing. 
 
 •'Speak, Bpeak, or I will denounce you as a false prophet." 
 
 " Is this the only thing your Majesty has to ask of mef 
 
 "The only one." 
 
 "Then denounce me, for I cannot answer your Majesty." 
 
 Gassner turned, and his hand was upon the lock, of the door. 
 
 "Stay!" cried the Empress, haughtily, i' I command you, as your 
 sovereign, to speak the truth." 
 
 " The truth I" cried Gassner, in a voice of atiguish, and his large eyes 
 opened with an expression of horror. What did he see with those eves 
 that seemed to look fiw out into the dim aisles of the terrible /uture 1 
 
 "The truth!" echoed the unhappy mother. "Tell me, will my An- 
 toinette be happy ?" 
 
 Deep sighs convulsed the breast of the priest, and with a look of in- 
 expressible agony, he answered, solemnly, " Empress of Austria, we 
 
 HAVE ALL OUK CROSS TO BEAK."f 
 
 The Empress started back with a cry. 
 
 "Again! again!" murmured she, burying her face' in her hands. 
 But suddenly coming forward, her eyes flaming like those of an angry 
 lioness, she said, "what mean these riddles'? Speak out at once, and tell 
 me without equivocation, what is to be the fate of Antoinette!" 
 
 " We have all our cross to bear," repeated the priest, " and the 
 Queen of France will surely have hers." VVith these words the priest 
 turned and left the room. 
 
 Pale and rigid, the Empress stood in the middle of the room, mur- 
 muring to herself the two fearful prophecies. " She will live through 
 much evil, but will return to virtue." " We have all our cross to bear, 
 and the Queen of France will surely bear hers." 
 
 For awhile Maria Theresa was overwhelmed by the double blow she 
 had received. But it was not in her nature to succumb to circumstances. 
 She must overrule them. 
 
 She rang her bell, and a page entered the room. "Let a messenger 
 be dispatched to Prince Kaunitz, I wish to see jifs Highness. He can. 
 come to me unannounced." 
 
 * Father Gassner was one of thn mo?t remarlcable thaumaturpists of the eighteenth century. He 
 healed nil sorts of diseases by the touch of his hand, and multitudes flocked to him for cure. Hit 
 extraordinary powers displeased tl\e Bishop of his Diocese, and, to avoid censure, Fnther Gnssnpr. 
 aousrht protection from the Empress, who luld him in great reverence Hi.'- prediction coMccrniiie 
 the. faie of Marie Antoinptte, was generatlv known long before its nccoinplisUment. It was rclaiea, 
 to Madam Campan, by a sou of Kaunitz, years before tho fiovolulion. 
 
 t Mtmoire* ae Madame Campan : Vol, ?, psf^* 14. 
 
26 JOSEPH JML ShOuMk 
 
 Not long after, the Prince made his appe&raiice. A short, sharp 
 glance at the agitated mien of the Empress, showed J;o the experienced 
 diplomatist that to-day, as so often before, he must oppose the shield of 
 indifference' to the storm of passion with which he was about to contend. 
 
 " Your Majesty," said lie, " has sent for me just as I was about to re- 
 quest an audience. I am in receipt of letters from the 'Emperor. He 
 has spent a day with the King of Prussia." 
 ' He attempted to give the letters into the hands of the Empress, but 
 she put them back with a gesture of impatience. " Prince Kaunitz," said 
 sshe, "it is you who have done this — you must undo it. It cannot, 
 shall not be." 
 
 " What does your Majesty mean?" asked Kaunitz, astonished. 
 
 " I speak of that which lies nearest my heart," said the Empress, 
 •warmly. 
 
 " Of the meeting of the Emperor with the King of Prussia,'' returned 
 Kaunitz, quietly. '• Yesterday they met at Neisse. It was a glorious in- 
 terview. The two monarchs embraced, and the iimperor remarked " 
 
 " Enough, enough,'' cried Maria Theresa, impatientiy. You affect to 
 misunderstand me. I speak of Ant'>inette's engagement to the Dau- 
 phin. It must be broken. My daughter shall not go to France." 
 
 Kaunitz was so completely astounded, so sincereli/ astounded, that he 
 was speechless. . The paint upon his face could not conceal the angry 
 flush that colored it, nor his pet locks cover the wrinkles that rose up to 
 disfigure his forehead. 
 
 " Do not stare at me as if you thought I was parting with my senses," 
 cried the Empress. " I know very well what I say. I will not turn my 
 innocent Antoinette into that den of corruption. She shall not bear a 
 cross from which it is in my power to save her." 
 
 i " Who speaks of crosses'?" asked Kaunitz, bewildered. "The only 
 thing of which I have heard, is a royal crown wherewith her brow is to 
 be decked." 
 
 "She shall not wear that crown !" exclaimed Maria Theresa. " God, 
 himself, has warned me through the lips of His prophets, and not un- 
 heeded shall the warning fall." 
 
 Kaunitz breathed more freely, and his features resumed their wonted 
 calmness. " If that is all," thought he, gaily, "I shall be victorious. 
 An ebullition of superstition is easily quieted by»a little good news. 
 "Your Majesty has been following the new fashion," said he aloud, "you 
 have been consulting the fortune-tellers. I presume you have visited 
 the nun who is subject to pious hysterics, and Father Gassner, I see, has 
 been visiting your Majesty ; for I met him as I was coming to the 
 palace. I could not help laughing as I saw his absurd length of visage." 
 
 Maria Theresa, in reply to this irony, related the answers which had 
 been made to her questions. Kaunitz listened with sublime indifference, 
 and evinced not a spark of sympathy. When the Empress had con- 
 cluded her story, he merely said, " what else, your Majesty *?" 
 
 " What«lse," echoed the Emprs-^s, surprised. 
 
EMPKllOR OF AUSTMIA. *29 
 
 *' Yes, your Majesty. Surely there must be something more than a 
 pair of vague sentences, a pair of ' ohs ' and ' ahs,' and asick niin and a 
 silly priest. These insignificant nothings are certainly not enough to 
 overturn the structure, which for ten years, we have employed all our 
 skill to build up," 
 
 "1 well know that you are an infidel and an unbeliever, Kaunitz," 
 cried the Empress, vexed at the quiet sneers of her minister. "I know 
 you believe that only which you can uiiderstand and explain." , 
 
 "No, your Majesty, 1 believe all that is reasonable. What I cannot 
 comprehend is unreasonable."' 
 
 The Empress glanced angrily at his stony countenance. *' God, 
 sometimes, speaks to us through the mouths of his chosen ones," cried 
 she, "and, as I believe in the inspiration of sist(^Maigaret and Father 
 Gassner, my daughter shall not go to France." ^ 
 
 — " Is that your Majesty's unalterable resolution ?" 
 
 — "It is." 
 
 " Then," returned Kaunitz, bowing, " allow me to make a request for 
 EQyseH." 
 
 — " Speak on." 
 
 " Allow me at once to retire from your Majesty's service." 
 
 " Kaunitz !" exclaimed Maria Theresa, " is it possible that you would 
 forsake me ]" 
 
 " No, your Majesty ; it is you who forsakes me. You are willing, 
 for the sake of two crazy seers, to destroy the fabric, which it has been 
 the work of my life to construct. Your Majesty desires that /should 
 remain your minister, and with my own hand should undo the web that 
 I have woven with such trouble to myself? All Europe knows that 
 the French alliance is my work. To this end I have labored by day 
 and lain awake by night — to this end I have flattered and bribed — to 
 this end I have seen my friend, De Choiseul, disgraced, while I bowed 
 low before his miserable successor, that I might win him and that 
 •wretched Dubarry to my purpose !" 
 
 "You ari irretrievably bent upon this alliance?" asked the Empress 
 thoughtfully. " It was then not to gratify me that you sought to place 
 a crown upon my dear child's head ?" 
 
 — "Your Majesty's wishes have always been sacred to me, but I 
 should never have sought to gratify them had they not been in accordance 
 ■with my, sense of duty to Austria. I have not sought to make a Queen 
 of the Archduchess Maria Antoinette. I have sought to unite Austria 
 with France, and to strengthen the south-western powers of Europe 
 against the infidelity and barbarism of Prussia and Russia. In spite 
 of all that is taking place at Neisse, Austria and Prussia are, and 
 ever will be, enemies. The King and the Emperor may flatter and 
 smile but neither believes what the other says. Frederic will never lose 
 an opportunity of robbing. He ogles Russia, and would gladly see her 
 our ' neighbor ' if by so doing, he were to gain an insignificant province 
 for Prussia. It is to ward off these dangoroua accomplices that wo seek 
 
30 JOSEPH TEE SECOND. 
 
 alliance wltb France, and through France, with Spain, Portugal and 
 Italy. And now, when (he goal is won and ihe prize is ours, your 
 Majesty retracts/her imperial word I You are the sovereign, and your 
 will must be done. But I cannot lend my hand to that which my reason 
 condemns as unwise, and ray conscience as dishonorable. I beg of your 
 Majesty td^ay and forever, to dismiss me from your service!" 
 
 The Empress did nob make any reply. She had risen and was walk- 
 iHg hastily up and down, murmuring low, inartieiilate words, and heaving 
 deep, convulsive sighs. Kautiitz followed her with the eye of a cool 
 ph}sician, who watches the crisis of a brain-fever. He looked down, 
 however, as' the Empress, stopping, raised her dark, glowing eyes to his. 
 When he met her glance his expression had changed, it had become as 
 •usual. ^ 
 
 " You have heard The pleadings of the mother," said she, breathing 
 hard, '-and you have silenced them with your cold arguments. The 
 Empress has heard, and she it is, who must decide against herself. She 
 has no right to sacrifice her empire to her maternity. May God forgive 
 me," continued she, solemnly clasping her hands, " if I err in quelling 
 the voice of my love which cries so loudly fagainst this union. Let it 
 be accomplished, Maria Antoinette shall be the bride of Louis XVI." 
 
 " Spoken like the noble Empress of Austria,!' cried Kaunitz triumph- 
 antly. • 
 
 " Do not praise me," returned Maria Theresa, sadly; " but hear what 
 I have to say. You have spoken words so bold that it would seem 
 you fancy yourself ^to be Emperor of Austria. It was not you \\'ho 
 sought alliance with France, but myself You di,d nothing but follow 
 out my intentions and obey my commands. The sin of my refusal, 
 therefore, was nothing to you or your conscience — it rested on my head 
 alone." 
 
 " May God preserve your Majesty to your country and your subjects. 
 
 May you long be Austiia's head, and I your ri^ht hand," exclaimed 
 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 " You do not then wish to retire ?" asked she with a languid smile. 
 
 " I beg of your Majesty to forgive and retain jne." 
 
 "So be it, then," returned the Empress, with a light inclination of 
 the head. " But I cannot hear any more to-day. You have no sympa- 
 thy with my trials as a mother. I have sacrificed my child to Austria, 
 but my heart is pierced with sorrOw and apprehension. Leave me to my- 
 tears. I cannot feel for any one except my child — my poor, innocent 
 child." 
 
 She turned hastily away that he might not see the tears which were 
 already streaming down her face. Kaunitz bowed, and left the cabinet; 
 with his usual cold, proud step. 
 
 The minister o^ce gone, Maria Theresa gave herself up to the wildest 
 grief. No one saw her anguish but God — no one ever knew how the 
 powerful Empress wrkhed and wrung her hands in her powerless agony. 
 No one but God and the Emperor, whose mild eyes beamed compassion, 
 
EMPEROR or AUSTRIA. 3t 
 
 from the gilt fr.Tme in which his picture hung, vpon the wall. To this 
 picture, Maria Theresa at last raised h^r eyes, and it seemed, to her ev- 
 citt'd imagination, that her husband smiled and whispered words of con- 
 solation. 
 
 " Yes, dear Franz, I hear you," said she. "Ycu would remind me 
 that this is our wedding-day. Alas, I know it I Once, a davofjov 
 , and from this moment the anniversary of a great sorrow ! Franz, it is 
 our child that is iho victim ! The sweet Antoinette, whose eves are so 
 like her father's! Oh, dear husband, my he«it is heavy with griefs 
 Why may 1 not go to rest tool But thou will not love me if my cour- 
 age fiiil. I will be brave Franz ; I will work, and try to do.mv duly." 
 She approached her writing table, and began to overlook the heaps of 
 papers that awaited her inspection and signatnre, Grndually her brow 
 cleared and her face resumed its usual expression of deep thought and 
 high resolve. The mother forgot her g^ief, and the Empress was ab- 
 sorbed in the cares of State. 
 
 She felt so strongly the comfort and sustenance derived from labor, 
 that on that day she dined alone, and returned immediately to her writ- 
 ing-desk. Twilight came on, and still the Empress was al work. F'inallv 
 the rolling of carriages towards tlie imperial theatre was heard, and 
 presently, the shouts of the applauding audience. The Empress heard 
 nothing. She had never attended the theatre since her husband's death, 
 and it \vas nothing to her tkat to-night Lessing's beautiful drama, 
 " Emilia Galotti," was being represented for the fhst time in Vienna. 
 
 Twilight deepened into night and the Empre^^s rang for lights. Then 
 retiring to her dressing-room, she threw off her heiivy court costume, 
 and exchanged it for a simple j^eignoir^ in which she returned to her 
 cabinet and still wrote on. 
 
 Suddenly the stillness was broken by a knoQk, and a page entered with 
 a golden salver, on which lay a letter. 
 
 " A courier from Florence, your Majesty," said he. 
 Maria Theresa took the letter and dismissed the page. "From my 
 Leopold," said she, while she opened it. "It is an extra-courier. It 
 must announce the accouchement of his wife. Oh, my heart, how it 
 beats!" 
 
 With trembling hands she held the missive and read it. But at once 
 her face was lighted up with joy, and throwing herself upon her knees 
 befgre the portrait of the Emperor, she said, "Franz, Leopold has given 
 us a grand-son. Do you hear"?" 
 
 No answer came in response to the joyful cry of the Empress, and 
 she could not bear the burthen of her joy alooe. Some one must rejoice 
 with her. She craved sympathy, and she must»go out to seek it. 
 
 She left her cabinet. Unmindful of her dress, she sped through the 
 long corridors, farther and still farther, down the staircase and away to 
 the extremest end of the palace, until she reached the imperial thoitre. 
 That night it was crowrled. The interest of the spectators had deep- 
 ened as tho play wont on. They were absorb«cd in the scene between 
 
32 JOaEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Emilia and her father, -when a door was heard to open and to shut. 
 
 Suddenly in the iniperidl box, which had so long been empty, a tall 
 and noble Hgure bent Ibrward, lur over the railing, and a clear, musical 
 voice cried out : 
 
 " Leopold has a son !" 
 
 The audience, as if electrified, rose with one accord, from their seats. 
 All turned towards the imperial box. Each one had recognized the 
 voice of the adored Maria Theresa, and every, heart overflowed with the 
 joy of the moment. >, 
 
 The Empress repeated her. words : 
 
 " Leopold has a son, and it is born on my wedding-day. Wish me 
 joy, dear friends, of my grand-son !" 
 
 Then arose such a storm of congratulations as never before had been 
 heard within those theatre walls. The women wept, and the men waived 
 their hats and cheered, while all, with one voice, cried out, " Long live 
 Maiia Theresa! Long live the imperial grand-mother !" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE GIFT. 
 
 y 
 
 All prophecies defying, Maria Theresa had given her daughter to 
 France. In the month of ^lay 1770, the Archduchess, Maria Antoinette, 
 vras married by proxy in Vienna; and amid the ringing of bells, the 
 booming of cannon, and the shouts of the populace, the beautiful young 
 Dauphiness left Austria to meet her inevitable fate. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the imperial palace too, one room was darkening under 
 the shadow of approaching death. It was that in which Isabella's 
 •daughter was passing from earth to heaven. 
 
 The Emperor knew that his child was dying ; and many an hour he 
 spent at her solitary bedside, where tranquil and smiling, she murmured 
 words which her father knew were whispered to the angels. 
 
 The Emperor sorrowed deeply for the severance of the last ticthat 
 bound him to the bright and beautiful dream of his early married life. 
 But he was so accustomed to sorrow, that on the occasion of his sister's 
 marriage, he had gone through the forms required by etiquette, without 
 any visible emotion. 
 
 But the festivities were at an end. ,The future Queen of France had 
 bidden farewell to her native Vienna, and the marriage-guests had de- 
 parted ; while darker and darker grew the chaniber of the dying child, 
 and sadder the fate of the widowed father. The Eoiperor kissed his 
 
EJIPEROJl OF AUSTRIA, :V,l 
 
 daughter's burning forehead, and held her little transparent hand in his. 
 "Farewell, my angcl," whispered he, "since thymother calls thee, go, 
 my little Theresa. Tell her that she was my only love — rny first and 
 last. Go, beloved, and pray for thy unhappy father." 
 
 Once more he kissed her, and when he raised his head, her face was 
 moistened with his tears. He turned hastily away and left the room. 
 
 " And now," thought he, " to my duty. I must forget my own sor- 
 rows that "I may wipe away the tears of my sorrowing peoph. There , 
 is so much grief and want in Austria! Oh, my child, my little one ! 
 Araid the blessings of the suffering poor, shalt thou stretch forth thy 
 wings and take thy flight to heaven !" 
 
 He was on his way to seek an audience of his mother. Maria Theresa 
 was ia her cabinet, and was somewhat surprised to see her son at this 
 unusual hour of the day. 
 
 "I come to your Majesty to beg a boon," said Joseph, with a.sad 
 smile. " Yesterday you were distributing Antoirette/s wedding- 
 gifts to your children ; I alone received nothing. Is thei'e nothing 
 for me ?" 
 
 " Nothing for you, my son !" exclaimed Maria Theresa, astonished. 
 " Why, everything is yours, and therefore, I have nothing to give. 
 Where your right is indisputable, my presents are superfluous." 
 
 " Yes, mother ; but it does not become one so generous as you, to let 
 her eldest son wait for an inheritance, when she might make him a hand- 
 some present of her own free will. Be generous, then, and give me 
 fjomething, too. I wish to be on an equality with the other children." 
 
 " Well, then, you grown-up child, what will you have?" asked tho 
 Empress, laughing. " Of course you have already ohosen your gift, 
 and it is mere gallantry on your part to beg for what you might take 
 without leave. But let us hear. What is it? You have only to ask 
 and have." 
 
 — " Indeed ! May I choosehny wedding-gifr "." 
 
 — "Yes, you imperial beggar, you may." 
 
 " Well, then, give me the government claims upon the four lower 
 classes." 
 
 Tlie Empress looked aghast. "Is it money you elesire?" said slie. 
 " Say how much, and you shall have it from my private purse. But do 
 not rob the poor ! The claim that you covet is the tax levied upon all 
 the working classes, and you know how numerous they are." 
 
 " For that very reason, I want it. It is a princely gift. Shall I have 
 it?" 
 
 The Empress reflected for a few moments. *' I know," said she, look 
 ing up with one of her sweetest smiles, '' I know that you will not nii« 
 use your power; for I remember the fate of your father's legacy, the 
 three millions of coupons. You shall have the claim, my son. It is 
 yours." 
 
 " Will your Majesty draw out the deed of gift ?' 
 
 " I will, my sou. It is yotir wedding-gifl from our darling AnLoinetto, 
 
S 4 J OSEPLlr. TH^ ti£COiS' D. 
 
 But you will acquaint me,- from time to time, with the use ypu are 
 making Of your power over the poor classes 1" 
 
 •'1 will render my account to }our Aiajesty. But first draw out the 
 deed." 
 
 The Empress stepped to her escritoire and wrote a few lines, to which 
 s!ie affixed the imperial signature and seal. 
 
 '•There it is," said she. "I bestow upon my son, the Empe,ror, all 
 the government-claims to the impost levied upon the four lower classes. 
 "Will that do r' , 
 
 — " It will, and from my heart I thank my dear mother for the gra- 
 clous 'gift." 
 
 He took the hand of the Empress to kiss it, but she held his, fiist in 
 her gra?pj and looked at him with im expression of tenderness and anx- 
 iety., 
 
 "You are pale, my son," said she, affectionately. "I see that your 
 heart is sad." 
 
 " kxxdi yet !" "replied Joseph, with quivering lip, " I should rejoice, for 
 lam about to have an angel in heaven.". 
 
 "Poor little Theresa," murmured the Empress, while the tears rose 
 to her eyes. " She has never been a healtiiy child. Isabella calls her 
 hence." 
 
 "Yes," replied ^Joseph, bitterly; "She calls my child awa.y, that she 
 may break the last link that bound her to me," 
 
 " We must believe, my child, that it is for the bpst. The will of God, 
 however painful its manifestations, is holy, wise, and merciful. Isabella 
 declared to us that she would call the child when it had reached its 
 seventh year. She .goes to her mother, and now this bitter dream, of 
 your early love, is past. Perhaps your heart may awaken once more to 
 iove. There are many beautiful princesses in Europe, and not one of 
 them would refuse the hand of the Emperor of Austria. It is for you 
 to choose, aiid no one shall dictate your choice." 
 
 '• Would your Majesty convert me into a Bluebeard?" cried Joseph, 
 coloring. '• Do you not see that I murder my wives'? Enough, that 
 two of them are buried in the Chapel of the Capuchins, and that to-mor- 
 row, perhaps, my child will join them. Leopold has given an heir to 
 my throne, and I am sati^^lied." 
 
 " Why do you talk of ri successor, my son 1" said the Empress, " you 
 who ave so young V 
 
 •• Your Majesty, I am old," replied Joseph, mournfully. " So old that 
 I have no hope of happiness on earth. You see that to-day, when you 
 have been so gracious, I am too wretched to do ought but t..ank you for 
 your splendid gift. Let me retire then to my unhappy soliiud*^, I am 
 not fit to look upon your sweet and honored countenance. I must exile 
 myself until my trial is past." 
 
 He left the room, and hastening to his cabinet, " now," exclaimed he, 
 "now .for my mother's gift." 
 
 lie sat down and wrote as follo^^? : 
 
EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 35 
 
 "Mv Dear Prince Kaunitz-Bj the enclosed vou will see that the 
 Empress, my mother, has presented me %vith all the covernrrtent claims 
 upon Ll,e working classes. Will you make immediate arranTemcn "o 
 acquaint the collectors with the following • 'Arrangements to 
 
 ' No tax shall be collected from the working-classes during the remain- 
 dor of my life. -r , ,!!l 
 
 ■^ JosEPn. "* 
 
 « Now," thonght ho, as he laid aside his pen, -this document will 
 gladden many a heart, and it will, perchance, w n forgiveness for mv 
 own weakness. But why should monarchs have hearfs of fl-h l^kl 
 other men, smce they have no right to feel, to love, or to grieve? Be 
 
 I wiM—" ' ^ ^^"^J^«t«-'"y children-J will makeyou happy ! 
 
 A ^^t'^"^^' <", ^'P^L ^-'P ""^ ^^^ '^oo'*' a"<3 the governess of the little 
 Archduchess, Maria Theresa, entered the room 
 
 MaiLJrtlnMh;p'-^ ''^\'"J ^'''L'""^ voice, -to announce to your 
 Sr ^; Princess has breathed her last " ^ 
 
 Ihe Emperor made no reply. He motioned the lady to retire and 
 bowmg h.s head, gave way to one long burst of grief ^ ' ' 
 
 tor hours he sat there, solitary and broken -hearted Af inn^fi, .1, 
 ^^r "" "'"• "^ '^'^^ "'= '-^. and hi':;:: were 'teSa'd 
 
 "It is over!" exclaimed he, in clear and unfaltering tones "Th*. 
 pnstisbur,ed; and I am born ane>,' to a life whereoAL ai^shall be 
 Austria's greatness and her people's welfare I am no mnr!T»,.?K a 
 no more a father. Austria ^shafl be my bHdollXveTlu^Sf;^^^ 
 
 CHAPTEP. Vli:. 
 
 THE CONFERE>^CE. 
 
 Wt excitement prevailed at-Neustadt. All work was susnended 
 their hotr T;' ''"^' '"' ^'^^^"g'^ '^ -^^ "«^' Sundt; the p rp^ in 
 
 ■p \ J . ^"^ occupations of every day life 
 Neust'adt srn'!?\l^.'''' not Sunday, it was a holiday. A holiday for 
 
 2Ll!!!lih e_l'ttle village had existed in profound obscurity, it s 
 
 HWDrical. Hubner II, page ?5, ' 
 
3G « JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 simple inhabitants dreauiingaway their lives far from the clamor of the 
 •worJd and its vicissitudes. Their slumbers bad been disturbed by the 
 seven year's war, when many a father, sou, husband and lover had fought 
 nndfallen on its blood-thirsty battle-field. But with the return of peace 
 came insignificance, and villagers of Neustadt went on, dreaming as be- 
 fore. 
 
 To-day, however, on the 3d of September, in the year 1770, they were 
 awakened by an event which gave to Ndustadt a place in history. The* 
 two greatest Potentates in Germany were to rneet there, to bury their 
 past enmity, and pledge to each other the right-hand of fellowship. 
 
 These two Potentates were the Emperor of Austria and the King of 
 Prussia. It was, therefore, not surprising that all Neustadt should be 
 out of doors to witness the baptism of Neustadt's celebrity. 
 
 The streets were thronged with well-dressed people, the houses were 
 hung with garlands and wreathes, the qjiurch-bells were ringing, and all 
 the dignitaries of the town had turned out to witness the pageant. 
 
 And now the moment had arrived. The thunder of cannon, the 
 shouts of the people, who thronged the avenue that led .to the palace, 
 and the clang of martial music announced the approach of the Emperor, 
 whom his people were frantic to welcome. 
 
 JHe came — this young -man, upon the jet-black Arabian, who rode 
 aHead of those glittering nobles — this was the Emperor Joseph, the 
 ■ hope of Austria. 
 
 A thousand voices rent the air; with shouts, whil^ Joseph smiled and 
 bowed and raised his eyes to the balconies, whence showers of boquets 
 were falling around him. 
 
 He was inclining his head when a wreath of red roses and orange 
 flowers, aimed by some skilful hand, fell directly upon his saddle-bow. 
 He smiled, and taking up the wreath, looked around to see whence it 
 ca;ne. Suddenly bis eye brightened and his countenance expressed in- 
 creased interest, while he reined iahis horse that he might look again at, 
 a. lady who was learnng over a balcony just above him. Her tall and 
 elegant figure was clothed in a dress of black velvet, closed from her 
 white throat to her round waist, by buttons of large and magnificent 
 diamonds, whose brilliancy was almost dazzling. Her youthful and 
 beautiful face was colorless with that exquisite and delicate pallor which 
 has no affinity to ill health, but resembles the spiritual beauty of a mar- 
 ble statue. Her glossy, black hair defined the exquisite oval of that fair 
 face as a rich frame sets off a fine painting. On her head she wore a 
 diadem of brilliants, which confined a rich black lace veil, that fluttered 
 like a dark cloud around her graceful figure. Her countenanca wore an 
 expression of profound sadness, and her large, lustrous eyes were riveted 
 with an earnest gaze, upon the Emperor. • 
 
 He bowed to his saddle-bow, but she did not seem to recognise the 
 compliment, for her glance and her sadness were unchanged. 
 
 "The wreath is not from her," thought Joseph, with a feeling of dls- 
 ^ppo'ulmenjb, but a:: he turned for one more look at her lovely face, he 
 
rJAlhl^ki.'i; i>l Al. >M;in. 37- 
 
 reinatked a hoquet, wliicli she wore in her hopoiii. ll was similar to llu'. 
 wreath which he held. The same while orange-blossoms and red roses, 
 fastened together by the same white and red ribbon,' whuse lon^'stream- 
 crs were now fluttering in the wind. 
 
 A triumphant smile overspread the featuresof the Emperor, as blush- 
 ing, he bowed again and passed on. Bift his face no longer wore its ex 
 pressiou of careless gratilicjtion. He grew absent and thoughtful ; lie 
 forgot to return the greetings of the people, and vainly the ladies, who 
 crowded window and balcony, throw flowers in his way or waved their 
 ^handkerchiefs in greeting. He saw nothing but the beautiful vision in 
 the black veil, and wondered whence she came and what oould be the 
 hidden meaning of the red and white flowers which she wore and gave 
 to him. 
 
 He was glad when the pageant of his entry into Neustadt was over, 
 and dismounting quickly, he entered the palace, followed by Fieldmar- 
 shal Lacy and Count Kosenberg. 
 
 The people looked after tbeni and shouted anew. But their attention 
 was directed from the Emperor to a carriage, driven by four horses, 
 which, advancing in the very centre of the briiliaut cortege, seemed to 
 contain some imperial personage, for the staflT were around it, as though 
 forming its escort. The curtains of the carriage were all drawn so that 
 nothing could be seen of its occupant. 
 
 Who could it be? A woman, of course ; since no man wopld dare 
 to be driven while the Emperor of Austria rode. It could be no other 
 than the Empress Maria Theresa, who had taken the journey to Neus- 
 tadt, that she might look, face to face, upon her celebrated opponettit, and 
 ofl^er him her own hand in pledge of future good understanding. 
 
 While the populace hoped and speculated, the mysterious equipage 
 arrived before the palace gates. The rich-liveried footmen sprang ironi 
 the rumble, and stationed themselves at the door of the coach. The 
 two others, who were seated on the box, did likewise^ brmging with 
 them as they alighted on the ground, a roll of rich Turkey carjieting 
 which they laid, with great precision, from the carriage to the palace 
 steps. 
 
 Then the people were convinced that it was the Empre&n. Who but 
 tire sovereign lady of Austria and Hungary would walk the stroets upon 
 a carpet of such magnificence ? And they thronged nearer, eager. To 
 cj^tch the first glance of tlieir beloved and honored Empress. 
 
 The carpet was laid without a v/rinkle. One of the footmen opened 
 the carriage door, while another approached the fore-wheel. 
 
 "She comes! she comes!" cried the populace, and tliey crowded 
 around in eager delight. 
 
 One foot was put forward. Not a foot encased in u satin slipper, but 
 a foot in a buckled shoe, which glistening, though it was, with diamonds, 
 was not that of an Empress. The occupant of the carriage was a man. 
 
 *' A man !" e.\claimed the bystanders, astounded. Y.es. Here he 
 came, wrapped «p in a bear-skin, which, on this warm summor day, was 
 
38 J OSEl'H THE SECOND. 
 
 enough to dissolve an ordinary human being into vapor. Not content 
 with hi.s wrapping, his hands- were encased in a huge muff, v,'hich he Held' 
 close to his face, that he might not inhale one single breath of the air 
 that was refreshing everybody else. His head was covered by a hood 
 which concealed his tace, of which nothing was visible save a pair of 
 light blue eyes. » * 
 
 When he had disappeared within the palace doors, the footmen rolled 
 up the carpet and replaced it on the coach-box. 
 
 The populace, who had been looking on in speechless v.'onder, now be- 
 gan to laugh and whisper. Some said it was the King of the North 
 Pole ; others declared it was an Arctic bear ; others again thought the 
 gentleman had started for Siberia and had lost his way. Finally the 
 desir'e to know who he wa» grew uncontrolable, and thronging around 
 his lackeys the people shouXed out, 
 
 " Who is he ? Tell us, who is he V 
 
 The lackeys, with the gravity of heralds-at-arms, shouted out in return, 
 
 "Tnis is his Highness Prince Kaunitz, Prime Minister of their Maj- 
 esties, the Empress Maria Theresa and the Emperor Joseph of Austria !" 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 '^What an abominable idea!" exclaimed prince Kaunitz, as perfectly 
 exhausted from his journey he fell into an arm-chair in his own room. 
 " What an abominable idea, to undertake this journey ! These German 
 roads are as rough and uncouth as the Germans themselves, and I only 
 wonder that we have arrived without breaking our ribs !" 
 
 " It would certainly have been more convenient," said Baron Binder, 
 " if the King of Prussia had visited us in Vie^ma." 
 
 Kaunitz turned his large eyes full upon his friend. 
 
 "1 suppose," said he, "that you jest Binder; for you must know that 
 it is never safe to have your enemy under your own roof." 
 
 " Your Highness, then, has no confidence in the protestations of love 
 that are going on between the Emperor and the King'?" 
 
 The Prince made no reply. He was looking at himself in a mirror, 
 criticising his toilet which had ji^^t been 'completed by the expert Hipo- 
 lyte. Apparently it was satis'fictory, for he looked up and spoke. 
 
 "Yon are a grown-up child, Binder; you stare and believe everything. 
 Have you not yet learned thiit statesmanship rpcognises nothing but in-- 
 terest'^ Tojday it is to the interest of Frederic to squeeze our hands 
 
and protest that ho loves us; to-morrow, (ifho can,) he will put it: 
 Silesia in his royal pocket. We, too, have found it convenient to v.uU' 
 him a love-letter or two; but to-day. if we could, we would plod: ou' 
 hiscrown, atid make him a liltlo. Marquis again ! Onr intimacy reroircis 
 me of 41 sight I once saw. while we were in Pari*;. It was'a cage^ iu 
 which animals, naturally antagonistic, wove living in a state of perfect 
 concord. A dog and cat were dining sotlably together fiom one plate, 
 and not far ofT, a tnrkey-hcn was comfortably perched upon the back of 
 a fox, who, so far from betraying any symptom of appetite for the tur- 
 key, looked quite'oblivious T)f her proximity, 1 gave ^he keeper a 
 louis d'or, and he told me his secret. The dog's teeth were drawn, and 
 the cat's claws were pared ofT; this, of course, forced both to keep the 
 peace. As for the turkey hen, she was fastened to the back of the fox 
 with fine wire, and this was the secret of her security. 
 
 " Ah !" cried Binder, laughii]g, " this is the history of many a human 
 alliance. How many foxes I have Icnown who carried their hens upon 
 their backs, and made believe to love them, because they dared not do 
 otherwise." 
 
 " Peace, Binder, my story is not yet ended. One r^iorning the dog 
 and the cat were found dead in thdr corner ; a»d in the other, the fox 
 lay bleedinji and moaninir. while of the hen, nothing remained save her 
 f'atheis. Tirrie — the despot that rules us all, had outwitted the keeper 
 and asserted the laws of nature. The cat's claws had grown out and so 
 had {he iJng's teeth. The fux, after much pondering over his misf(>r- 
 tunes, had discovered the reason why he couid not reach the hen ; and 
 this dene, he worked at the wires until they broke. Of course he re- 
 venged himself on (he spot by gobbliiig her up ; but in his wrath at the 
 wires, he had th;ust them so deeply into his own flesh that the wounds 
 they made upon his body caused his death. And so ended the compul- 
 sory alliance of four natural enemies." 
 
 " Does your Highness apply that anecdote to us 1" asked Binder. — 
 " Are we to end like the cat and the dog 1" 
 
 " For the present," said Kaunitz, thoughtfully, '• our teeth and claws 
 are harmless. We must wait until they have grown out again !" 
 '' Your Highness, then, assigns us the role of the dog?" 
 "Certainly. I leave it to Prussia to play the cat — she has ."scratched 
 us more than once, and even to-day when she covers her paws with vel- 
 vet, I feel the claws underneath. I came hither to watch her. 1 am cu- 
 rious to know what it is in Frederic that has so bewitched the voung 
 Emperor of Austria." 
 
 "It would appear that his Majesty of Prussia has extraordinary pow- 
 ers of fi^scination. No one can resist him." 
 
 '•/shall resist him," said Kaunitz, "for against his fascinations T am. 
 defended by the talisman of our mutual hate." 
 
 " Do not say so, your Highness. The King of Prussia m.ay fenr, but 
 he cannot hate you. And did he not make it a .special Tcquest that you 
 should accompany the'Emperor?" 
 
.lOrtKi' '.'I'M 
 
 "lie did'; and hov/ever disiucllDed 1 might ha to accept his invita- 
 tion, I have come lest he rshould suppose that I am afraid to encounter 
 Lis eagle eyes.* I feai- Ifiin/ He intimidate me! — It is expedient for 
 the present that Austria and Prussia should be quasi-nXWes, for in this'* 
 ■'^vay pea<ie has been secured to Europe. But my system of diplomacy^ 
 which the Empress has made her own, forbids me to make any perma- 
 nent alHanc-p ^nih a Priiioe who hvt.'.> politically from hand to mouth, 
 and has no firied line ol' policy.} No — I do tiot fear him, for I seo 
 through his hypocritical professions, and in spite oHns usurped crown, I 
 feel myself to be more than his equal. If he has won thirteen victories • 
 on the battle-field, I have fought twice as many in the cabinet, where 
 the fight is hand to hand, and the victor conquers without an army. On 
 this field he will scarcely dare to encounter me. If he does, he will find 
 his master for once !"• 
 
 " Yes," repeated Kaunitz emphatically, "he will find his master in 
 mc. I have never failed to make other men subservient to my schemes, 
 and the King of Prussia shall grace my triumph with the rest. He is 
 the vassal of Austria, and I will be the one to force him back to his al- 
 legiance. It is scandalous that this petty King should have been suffer- 
 ed to play an important part in European affairs. I will drive him 
 from his accidental grandeur, and he shall return to his duty. I will 
 humble him if I can, for this King of Pl-ussia is the only man in Europe 
 who has denied me the honors and consideration due rae as a politician 
 and a Prince. "| 
 
 While Kaunitx spoke, his marble face grew animated, and his eyes 
 glowed with the fire of hate. 
 
 '' Nay, Prince !" exclaimed Binder, anxious to subdue the fiend that 
 was rising in his friend's heart, "' everybody knows that you are the 
 coachman of Europe, and that it is in the power of no man to wrest the 
 reins from your hand?." 
 
 " May this Prussian ride behind as my footman !" cried Kauuitz, 
 gnashing his teeth. " Oh, I know him ! 1 know why he pays a mil- 
 lion of subsidy annually to his accomplice, the virtuous Catharine, 
 that she rnay continue her assaults upon Poland and Turkey ! I know 
 whither his longings travel ; but when he stretches his hand out for the 
 booty, we too will be there to claim our share, and he shall yield it.'' 
 
 "Your Highness speaks in riddles," said Binder, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders. "I am accustomed, as you know, to look through your political 
 spectacles ; and I beg you to explain, for I am perfectly at a loss to un- 
 derstand you.*' V 
 
 The countenance of Kaunitz had resumed its impassable look. He 
 threw back his head, and fixed his cold heartless blue eyes upon the, 
 Baron. 
 
 " Do you know," said he, " what'Wjlliam the Silent once said of him- 
 
 * Ferrand's History of Dismemberment of Poland ; vol. 1, page 108, 
 t KauaiUt's own words. See Ferrand, vol. 1, page 69. 
 , i KauDit/'s own words, Fflrrarc). vol. 1, page 104. 
 
neir^ ' If 1 knew that jay uight-CJip had louud out my tlioiiglita, I would 
 throw it in tljo fire.' — Now, Binder, do not aim to be my night-cap, or 
 
 J shall burn you to a cinder, But enough of this. It would seem 
 
 that the Emperor Joseph expects mo to wait upon him. Well— if it 
 please him that I should make the first visit, I will humor him. When 
 a man feels that he is loid and master of another, ho can afford to be 
 condescending! I w,ill indulge the Emperor's whim." , 
 
 He rang, and one of his valets entered thu room. 
 
 " Is his Majesty in the castle V 
 
 "yes, your Highness. His Majesty has been reviewing the troops." 
 
 " Where is his Majesty now ?" 
 
 "He is with his suite in the parlor that overlooks the square." 
 
 *' Is it far from this room '{" 
 
 " No, your Highness. It is close by." 
 
 " Then reach me a cloak and muff, and woe to you if I encounter a 
 draught on my' way !" 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SOUVENIR d'ePERIES. 
 
 The Emperor stood in the centre of the room, in lively conversation 
 •with the gentlemen of his suite. As Kaunitz entered, he stopped at 
 once and, coming forward, received the Prince with a cordial welcome. 
 
 Kaunitz replied by a low bow, and nodded slightly to Prince de 
 , Ligne and General Lacy. 
 
 "Your Highness is just in time," said the Emperor. "These gentle- 
 men need encouragement. They have been blushing and trembling like 
 two young debutantes." 
 
 "Before whom, your Majesty ?" 
 
 " Oh ! — before the great Frederic, of course. And de Ligne, who is 
 considered the most elegant man in Vienna, actually trembled more 
 than anybody else." 
 
 " Oh, actors trembling before their manager !" said Kaunitz with a 
 slight shrug. " Compose yourselves, gentlemen ; the King of Prussia 
 is too much absorbed in his\wn rdle to takife any notice of you." 
 
 "That is riwht," cried the Emperor. "Encourage the debutantes, 
 Prince J" 
 
 " I scarcely think that the Prince will succeed where your Majesty 
 has failed," said General Von Lacy proudly. 
 
 " And his Highness will hardly have any time to devote to us, for 
 
42 JOSEPH THL SEOUMf 
 
 doubtless he too is practising the ?-oZe which he must play before the 
 King of Prussia," added de Ligne, 
 
 " I beg to impress upon the Prince de Ligne," interrupted. Kaunitz, 
 " that the verb ' must' is one which I am well accustomed to conjugate 
 for others, but never allow others to conjugate for me." 
 
 " I for one have had it conjugated for me by your Highness," said the 
 Emperor laughing. " Nobody in Austria knows it in all its moods and 
 tenses better than I. But I have always recognised you as my teacher, 
 and hope always to remain your faithful pupil." 
 
 The clouds which were gathering on Kaunitz's brow now shifted to 
 the faces of Lacy and de Ligne. 
 
 " I have nothing to teach your Majesty," replied Kaunitz, almost smi- 
 ling; "but allow me as a faithful servant to offer you a suggestion. 
 Present to the King of Prussia that beautiful wreath which you hold in 
 your hand, as an emblem of the friendship which to day we pledge to 
 Prussia." ' 
 
 '■ Not I," cried Joseph, while he held up his wreath and admired its 
 white and red roses. "I shall keep my boquet were it only for the 
 sake of the beautiful donor. You, Prince, who penetrate all things, 
 have pity on me, and find out her name." 
 
 "Your Majesty saw her then V 
 
 <' Saw her?" Yes, by Aphrodite, I did, and never in my life di I 
 see a lovelier woman. She stood there in her velvet dress and veil, 
 looking for all the world like the queen of night, of starry night. You 
 see how she has impressed me, since I, who am so prosaic, launch out 
 into extravagance of speech to describe her." 
 
 "She was in mourning'?" asked Kaunitz thoughtfully. 
 
 " Clothed in black, except the diamonds that sparkled on her boddice, 
 and the boquet (a match to mine) which she wore in her bosom. Ah, 
 your Highness, how you look at my poor flowers as if treason were 
 lurking among their leaves 1" 
 
 "It is a beautiful boquet," said Kaunitz, eyeing it critically, "and 
 very peculiar. Will your Majesty allow me to examine it?" 
 
 The Emperor handed over the wreath. " Take it," said he, " but be 
 merciful to my pretty delinquents." 
 
 Kaunitz took the flowers and looked at them as he would have done 
 at any other thing that might be the links in a chain of evidence, and 
 passed his slender, white fingers through the long ribbons that fastened 
 them together. 
 
 • " The lady who threw these flowers is a Pole," said he after a 
 pause. 
 
 " How do you know that ?" cried the Emperor. 
 
 "It is certainly not accidental that the wreath should be composed of 
 white and red roses, and tied with a knot of v.'hite and red ribbons. 
 White and red, you remember, are the colors of the so-called Republic 
 of Poland." 
 
 " You are right !" exclaimed Joseph, " and she wears mourning be- 
 
cause a noble woman must necessarily grieve for the sufferings of her 
 bleeding countrj-." 
 
 '• Look," said, Kaunitz, who meanwhile was opening the leaves and 
 searching among ihem, "here is a paper. Does }our Majesty permit 
 me to draw it out ?" 
 
 " Certainly. I gave you the wreath to examine, and you shall have 
 the benefit of all that you discover." 
 
 Kaunitz bowed his thanks and began to untwist the stems of the 
 flowers. The Emperor and his two eourtiers looked on with interest. 
 
 The Prince drew forth a little folded paper and reached it over to the 
 Emperor. 
 
 " Have the goodness, your Mnjesty, to read it yourself. A declara- 
 tion of love fiurn a lady is not intended for my profane eyes." 
 
 The Emperor sighed. " No," said he, "it is no declaration for me ; 
 I am not so happy. Read it, your Highness, read it aloud." 
 
 Kaunitz unfolded the paper and read : " Souvenir d' Epkties.''^ 
 
 " Nothing more V asked Joseph. 
 
 Kaunitz replied by handing him the note. 
 
 " How strange ! Only these words, and no explanation ! I cannot 
 understand it."- 
 
 '• These words prove my supposition, your .Majesty, The donor is a 
 Polish lady and one of the Confederates." 
 
 '■ You think so?" 
 
 " 1 am convinced of it. When your Majesty was travelling in Hun- 
 gary, did you not spend a day at Eperies, and honor the Confederates 
 by receiving them both publicly and privately "?" 
 
 "I did," replied Joseph warmly, "and it gladdened my heart to as- 
 sure these brave struggling patriots of my sympathy." 
 
 " Did not your Majesty go so far as to promise them mediation with 
 Prussia and Russia?"* 
 
 *' I did," replied the Emperor with a faint blush, 
 
 "Well, then, this female Confederate meant to remind you of your 
 promise on the day when you ore to hold a conference with Frederic," 
 said Kaunitz, allowing the wreath to slip through his fingers to the floor. 
 "There, your Majesty," continued he, "your beautiful Pole is at your 
 feet. Will you rescue her or unite in crushing her to the earth ?" 
 
 "Oh, I will rescue her," replied Joseph, "that she may not fall into 
 the hands of ambitious Catharine. It would give her great pleasure' to 
 deck her Muscovite head with these sweet Polish roses, but she shall 
 not have them." 
 
 With these words, and before his courtiers could anticipate his action 
 the Emperor stooped and picked up the wreath. 
 
 " Have a care, your Majesty," said the wary Kaunitz, " how you 
 espouse Polish quarrels. The Poles are unlucky. They can die like 
 men, but they do not live like men. Beware of Polish roses, for their 
 perfume is not wholesome." 
 
 * Ferrand ; vol. 1 , page 79, 
 
44 .Kj-sKru rHK .Shoo.\u 
 
 Just then, a shout was heard in the distance, and the Emperor has- 
 tened to the window, 
 
 " It is the King of Prussia !" cried he joyfully, and he walked towards 
 the door. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz took the liberty of going immediately up and inter- 
 posing his tall person between Joseph and the doorway. 
 
 " Your Majesty," said he reproachfully, " what are you about to do ?" 
 
 "I am about to go forward to meet the King of Prussia. He is just 
 descending from his carriage — do not detain ms," replied Joseph hastily. 
 
 " But has your Majesty forgotten that at Neisse, when the King of 
 Prussia was the host, he came no further than the stairway to meet you? 
 It is not seemly that Austria should condescend to Prussia. 
 
 " My dear Prince," said the Emperor with a peculiar laugh, "it is 
 your business to respect these conventions. It is mine to regulate them. 
 As the Utile Sovereign of Austria, I hasten to do homage t9 the great 
 King of Prussia." And gently putting the Minister aside, the Emperor 
 walked rapidly out, followed by his suite. 
 
 Kaunitz looked after him with stormy brow. " Incorrigible fanatic !" 
 said he to himself. " Will you never cease to butt your empty head 
 against the wall ! You will butt in vain as long as / have power and 
 
 life t Go — it befits such a little Emperor as you to humble yourself 
 
 before your great King ; but Austria is represented in my person, and I 
 remain here !" 
 
 He looked around the room, and his eyes fell upon the wreath which 
 the Emperor had laid by the side of his hat on the table. A sneer over- 
 spread his countenance as he went towards it and shook off some of the 
 leaves, which were already fading. 
 
 " How soon they fall !" said he. " I think that the glorious Republic 
 will be quite as short-lived as they. Meanwhile I shall see that the 
 ' Souvenir d^Ujjeries ' lives no longer than roses have a right to live." 
 
 He left the room resolved to find out who it was that had bestowed 
 the wreath; "for," thought he, "she may prove a useful instrument 
 with which to operate on either side." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 
 
 With youthful ardor, unconscious that his head was uncovered, the 
 Emperor hurried dow.n the staircase into the street. Looking neither to 
 the right nor to the left, his eyes fixed upon the spot whence the King 
 
EMPEROR Of AUSTRIA. 4,) 
 
 was advancing, the Emperor rushed onwards, for the first time in his 
 life slighting the people who thronged aruund, full of joy at sight of his 
 elegant and handsome person. 
 
 Frederic was coming with equal rapidity, and now in the very centre 
 of the square the Monarchs met. 
 
 At this moment all was quiet. The military, ranged in lines around 
 the square, were glistening with gold lace and brightened arms. Behind 
 them came the people, who far and near were seen flowing in one great 
 stream towards the square, while on the balconies and through the open 
 windows of the houses around richly-dressed matrons and beautiful mai- 
 dens enclosed the scene, like one long wreath of variegated flowers. 
 
 They met, and in the joy of his youthful Enthusiasm the Emperor 
 threw himself into the arms of the King of Prussia and embraced him 
 with a tenderness that was almost filial. The King returned the caress, 
 and pressed the young monarch to his heart. 
 
 While the King of Prussia had been advancing, the people in silence 
 were revolving in their minds the blood, the treasure, the long years of 
 struggle which Austrians had owed to this warlike Frederic. But when 
 they saw how Joseph greeted him, they forgot everything, and he now 
 seemed to their excited imaginations to come like a resplendent sun of 
 Peace, whoso rays streamed far into the distance of a happy and pros- 
 perous futurity. 
 
 It was Peace ! Peace ! The hope of Peace that filled every eye with 
 tears, and bowed every unconscious knee in prayer to Almighty God. 
 
 From the midst of the kneeling multitude, a voice was heard to cry 
 out, " Long live Peace!"' A thousand other voices echoed the words, 
 "Long live Peace!" 
 
 "Long live the Emperor and the King!'* cried the same voice; and 
 now the air was rent with shouts, while from street and square ana from 
 every house, the cry went up to heaven, " Long live the Emperor ! 
 Long live the King !" 
 
 Frederic withdrew from Joseph's embrace, and bowed to the multi- 
 tude with that bright and fascinating smile which no one was ever known 
 to resist. 
 
 He then turned to the Emperor, and presenting the young Prince of 
 Prussia and the two Princes of Brunswick, he pointed to the white uni- 
 forms which they wore and said : " Sire, I bring you some new recruits.* 
 We are all desirous of serving under your banner. And we feci that it 
 would be an honor, continued he, looking around the square, " to be the 
 companions-in-arms of your Majesty's soldiers, for each man looks like 
 a true son of Mars." 
 
 " If so," replied the Emperor, "they have reason to-rejoice. since to- 
 day they are permitted, for the first time, to do homage to their father." 
 
 Frederic smiled, and taking Joseph's arm, they walked together to 
 the palace. The King was conducted at once to the apartments prepared 
 
 *The King wore the Aastrian uniform, embroklereil With silver. The Princes and tho King's 
 mite al80 wore it, 
 
46 JuyEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 for his occiipatioh, whence he shortly after emerged to join the noble 
 company assembled in the hall that led into the dinitig-rooin. 
 
 The brilliant suite of the Emperor were awaiting the princety pair, 
 and when thty entered the hall together, followed by the cortege, of Prus- 
 sia, eveiy head bowed with deferential awe, and every eye sought the 
 ground. One head only bent slightly, and one pair of eyes looked boldly 
 into the face oi" Frederic the Great. 
 
 The eagle eye of the King remarked him at once, and with an affable 
 smile, he approached the haughty Minister. 
 
 " 1 rejoice, at last, to meet Prince Kaunitz face to face," said he, in 
 his soft and musical voice. " We need no introduction to one another. 
 I am not such a barbarian as to require that he should be pointed out to 
 me whom ail Europe knows, admires and respects." 
 
 ^Something happened to which Kaunitz was totally unaccustomed — he 
 blushed. In spite of himself he smiled and bowed very, very low ; but 
 he found no words wherewith to reply to Frederic's flattering address. 
 
 " Sire," said the Emperor, coming to the rescue, " you are making 
 the most self possessed men in Austria grow speechless with ecstacy. 
 Even Kaunitz is at a loss to answer you, and as for poor De Ligne, he is 
 completely dazzled. But, by and by,, he will get accustomed to the 
 sun's splendor, and then he will recover his accustomed address."* 
 
 '1 know him well," said Frederic, with another bewitching smile. "I 
 have read your letter to .Jean Jacques Rosseau, Prince ; and 1 know it to 
 be genuine, for it is too beautiful to be a forgery." 
 
 " Ah, Sire !" replied De Ligne, " I am not of such ;-enown that obscure 
 writers should seek to forge my name."f 
 
 The King bowed, and turned to Fieldmarshal Von Lacy. 
 
 " Your Majesty need not present this man either," said he, laying his 
 hand upon Lacy'^ shoulder, '' he has given rae entirely too much trouble 
 for rae not to be familiar with his features. I have good reason to re- 
 member Von Lacy and to rejoice that he is not Quartermaster-General 
 to-day ; fpr in that capacity, 1 and my soldiers have suffered enough fronr 
 him.' , 
 
 " But where is Loudon ?" asked the Emperor, " He is very late to- 
 day." 
 
 "That is not hi.s habit," replied .Frederic, quickly, " I have seldom 
 been able to come upon the field as soon as he. But, sire, we have 
 done him injustice, for he is^ here, punctual as though he awaited his ene- 
 mies, not his friends." 
 
 Crossing over to Loudon, and disregarding his stiff demeanor, Frederic 
 took his hand, and greeted him with the most cordial expressions of re- 
 gard. 
 
 " If it be agreeable to your Majesty," said the Emperor, as the doors 
 were flung open, " we will proceed to dinner." And he offered his arm, 
 
 *The Emperor's words. Conversations with Frederic the Great by Prince de Ligne, page 11, 
 t Not long before this, a letter had been written to Jean Jacoueg, and signed with the king's 
 name. Tho writer of this letter was Horace Walpole. 
 
OIPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 47 
 
 Frederic took it but he still kept his eyes upon Loudon. "Sire," said 
 he 1<) Joseph, "if I am to have the honor of setting beside y^iir Majc-ty 
 at th>- t.ible, pray let me have Loudon on the other side. 1 would much 
 rallicr have him there than opposite I feel safer." 
 
 tSo saying, ihe King walked on, and the company passed into the diu- 
 ing-rooni. 
 
 "if he turns the heads of all the court with his flattery," muttered 
 Kaunitz, following just after the princely pair, "he shall not succeed 
 Avithme. What fine things to be sure ! But flattery indiscriminately 
 liestowed leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. lie wishes Loudon for his 
 Qcighbor, forsooth, as if a man could have any rational intercourse with 
 such an ignorant, ill-bred, awkward dolt as he is I" v 
 
 And Kaunitz, who was secretly chagrined at the choice of the King, 
 took the seat which had been as^"gned to him by the Emperor. It was 
 at Joseph's own table, directly opposite the two Sovereigns. 
 
 " Ahl' exclaimed Frederic, laughing and nodding to Kaunitz, " now 
 I am satisfied. If I would rather have Loudon beside me, I would rather 
 have the greatest statesman in Europe before me, for it is only when I 
 can see him that I feel quite safe from his diplomatic grasp — I lake shel- 
 ter under your Highness's eye. Be indulgent to an "old soldier, whos6 
 sword has so often been struck from his hands by your magic pen." 
 
 " Your Majesty's pen is as sharp as your sword," replied Kaunitz, "and 
 the world has learned to fe'ar and admire, the one as mu(;h as the other. 
 We offer resistance to neither; but pay willing homage to the Prince 
 who is at once a statesman, an author and. a warrior." 
 
 The Emperor whispered to Frederic. " Sire, a compliment from 
 Kaunitz, is like the flower upon the aloe. It blooms once in a century." 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE PRIMA DOKNA. 
 
 The festivities of th6 first day were concluded Ti'ith a ballet. Great 
 preparations had been' made for the reception of the King of Prussia. 
 Noverre, withjhis dancers, and Floriau Gassman, with his opera corps, 
 had been summoned to Neustadt. They came with twenty wagons 
 laden with scenery, coulisses, machinery and costumes, all of which was 
 intended to prove to Frederic, that although the court of Berlin was the 
 acknowledged seat of literature and the firie arts, Vienna was not alto- 
 gether forsaken by the Muses. 
 
 ''Your Mfljesty mu$t bo indulgent to our theatrical eHbrte," said the 
 
48 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Emperor, as they took their seats m the box which had bfeen prepared 
 for iheir occupation. " We all know that in Berlin, the Muses and Graces 
 have their home ; they seldom visit Vienna, for they are loyal, and love 
 to sit at the feet of their master."' 
 
 " Ah, sire, you speak of the past. Time was, when the Muses were 
 not unpropitious, but now that I am an old man, they have proved in- 
 constant, and have fled from Sans-Souci forever. The Muses, them- 
 selves, are young, and it is but natural that they should seek your 
 Majesty's protection. I am thankful, through your intervention, to be 
 admitted once more to Parnassus. 
 
 Just as the King was about to seat himself, he remarked Kaunitz, who 
 with his usual grave indifference, was advancing; to a chair not far off. 
 
 Frederic turned smilingly to Joseph, " Your Majesty and I," said 
 he, " might stand to night as representatives of youthful and aged sov- 
 ereignty. We both need wisdom in our councils. Let us invite Prince 
 Kaunitz to sit between us." 
 
 The Emperor bowed, and beckoned to the Prince, who having heard^ 
 distinctly what ha(;l been intent led for bis ears,.could not suppress a mo- 
 mentary expression of exultation. Never in his life had he made a 
 bow so profound as that with which he took the seat which a King had 
 resigned to him. He was so exultant that in the course of the evening 
 he was actually heard to laugh ! 
 
 The ballet began. Gods and goddesses fluttered about "the stage, 
 Muses and Graces grouped themselves together in attitudes of surpass- 
 ing beauty, and finally, with one grand tableau, compos6d of all the 
 dancers, the curtain fell. 
 
 After the ballet came a concert. It was to open with an air from 
 G luck's opera, of Alceste, sung in costume, by the celebrated Bernas- 
 coni. 
 
 The orchestra played the introduction^ and the curtain rose, but .the 
 Prima Dona did not appear. The leader looked towards the coulisses, 
 but in vain, and the audience began to express their impatience in audi- 
 ble murmurs. The curtain fell slowly, and the Marshal of the Enperor'3 
 household, coming forward, spoke a few words to Joseph in a lo>v voice. 
 
 He turned to the King. '' Sire, 1 have to apologise to you for this 
 unlucky contretems. Signora Bernasconi has been taken suddenly sick." 
 
 " Oh," replied Frederic, laughing, " I am quite au fait to the sudden 
 illness of prima donnas. But since I have ordered a half month's salary 
 to be withdrawn from every singer who falls sick on a night of represen- 
 tation, my caniatrices at Berlin enjoy unprecedented health." 
 
 "Bernasconi must have been made sick by her anxiety to appear well 
 in your Majesty's critical eyes." 
 
 " Do not believe it. These princesses of the stage are more ca- 
 pricious thxn veritable princesses. Above all the Italians." 
 
 " But Bernasconi," said Ka&nitz, "is not an Italian. She belongs to 
 a noble Polish fiimily." 
 
 " So much the worse," laughed Frederic. " That Polish blood is for- 
 
F.Ml'EUOR OF AUSTRU. 49 
 
 ever boiling over, f am surprised th^l your Highness should permit 
 yoiir director to give lo a Polish woman a role of iinportanoe. Wher- 
 ever the Poles go, they bring trouble and strife." 
 
 " Perhaps so, sire," replied Kauiiitz ; " but they are excellent actorfi, 
 and nft people understand better how to represent heroes." As he said 
 this, Kaunitz drew out his jevi-elled snuff-box, euriched with a medalUori 
 portrait'of his imperial mistress. Maria Theresa. 
 
 "To represent heroes, I grant you ; but just as we are beginning to 
 feel an interest in the spectacle of their heroism, lo ! the strige-arrnor 
 falls off, the tin .<?word rattles, and we find that we were wasting bur ^^ym- 
 pathies upon a band of play-actors." 
 
 "Perhaps," said K;iuniiz, as he dipped his long white fingers into the 
 snuff-box, "perhaps we may live to see the .stage break under theru, 
 and then they may cease to be actors, and become lunatics." 
 
 Frederic's eagle e^^s were fixed upon Kaunitz while be spoke, but 
 the Minister still continued to play with his snuff-bo.\. 
 
 " Prince," said he, laughing, " we have been antagonists for so many 
 years that we must celebrate our first meeting by a pledge of future 
 good-will. The Indians are accustomed at such times to smoke the cal- 
 umet of peace. Here we have tobacco under another form. Will you 
 allow me a pinch front your snuff-box ■?" 
 
 This was a token of such great condescension that even the haughty 
 Kaunitz was seen to blush with gratified vanity. With unusual ea^vr- 
 ness, he presented his snuff-box to the King. 
 
 The King took the snuff, and as he did so, remarked, '• This is the firtt 
 time I have e\er taken snuff from another man's box!" 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty," replied Kaunitz, quickly. "Sneaia-was 
 a pinch from our snuffbox." 
 
 " True," said Frederic, laughing, " but the tobacco was so strong that 
 it has cost me many an uncomfortable sneeze; and nobody has ever 
 been civil enough to say ' Heaven bless you.' " 
 
 While the King and Kaunitz jested together, Signor Tobaldi had beea 
 singing his Aria ; and now that he ceased, Frederic, for the first time, 
 became aware that any music had been gomg on. 
 
 "Your Majesty," said the Emperor, " has done injustice, for once, to 
 a Prima Donna. Bernasconi is really sick, but she has sent a sub'sti- 
 tute." 
 
 "These substitutes," said Frederic, " are always on the look-out for 
 such opportunities of sliding into notice, but unhappily they are not of- 
 ten equal to the tasks they are so eager to perform." 
 
 " This substitute," said Joseph, " is no rival opera'singcr. She is a 
 dear friend of Bernasconi's, who speaks of her singing with enthusi- 
 asm." '"T' 
 
 " Is that pos'sible? Does one singer go into raptures over another 1 
 By all means let us hear the Phoenix." 
 
 The King looked towards the stage, and his countenance assumed, at 
 once, an expression of genuine interest. 
 
50 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 The orchestra once more began the introduction to Gluck's beautiful 
 x\ria. Meanwhile a tall and elegant person was seen to advance towards- 
 the foot-lights. She wore a pure Grecian robe, half covered with a man- 
 tle of purple velvet, richly embroidered in gold, which fell in graceful 
 folds from her snowy shoulders. Her dark hair, worn io the Grecian 
 style, was confined by a diadem of brilliants, and the short, white tunic 
 which she wore under her mantle, was fastened by a girdle that was 
 blazing with jewels. 
 
 She was so transcendantly beautiful that Frederic could not resist the 
 temptation of joining in the applause which greeted her entrance. She 
 seemed unconscious of the effect she produced, so earnestly and anxiously 
 were her large, lustrous eyes fixed upon the spot where Ed'ederic and 
 Joseph were sitting together. She raised her graceful arms as she be- 
 gan the prayer of Alceste ; but her looks were riveted upon the Sover- 
 eigns, who represent divinity on earth. When she sang, the tones of 
 had" glorious voice sank deep into the hearts of all who listened. Now 
 it was clear, pure, and vibrating, wooing the air like a clarionet — now it 
 caressed the ear like a speaking violin — and anon it poured forth vol- 
 umes of harmony, that filled all space as the booming organ fills the 
 ais^es of a vast and lofty cathedral. Gluek, the hypercritical Gluck, 
 would have been ravished to hear his music as she sang it ; and Fred- 
 eric, who, up to this hour, had refused to acknowledge the genius of the 
 great German, now sat breathless with rapture, as he listened to such 
 music and such interpretation of music as never had been heard be- 
 fore. 
 
 The Emperor Joseph was unmindful of it all. He had a vague idea 
 of celestial sounds that seemed to drown him in an ocean of melody, 
 but he heard not a note of Alceste's prayer. Every sense was stunned 
 save one — and that one was sight. 
 
 "It is she," murmured he, as the syren ceased to sing; " it is she, 
 the beautiful Pole. How resplendent she is in her beauty to-night l" 
 Then turning to Kaunitz, whose observing eyes had been watching his 
 face and whose sharp ears had caught his words, he whispered. 
 
 " Do you remember the boquet that was thrown to me this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I forget nothing your Majesty deigns to communicate to me," replied 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 " This is she. Who can she be ?" 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Kaunitz, slightly elevating his eye-brows. " The 
 ' Souvenir (TEperies ' — Now I comprehend Bernasconi's illness. She 
 fell ill through patriotism, that t.his adroit country woman of hers might 
 have the opportunity of being remarked by your Majesty. I would 
 not be at all surprised if she went out of the way of Prima Donnas to 
 attract your Majesty's attention. These Polish women are fanatics m 
 their love of country." 
 
 The Emperor said nothing in reply. He scarcely listened. His eyes 
 were still upon the descending curtain that hid the mysterious beauty 
 
EMPEROU OF AUSTRIA. 51 
 
 from his sight. l£ her object had beeu to attract hiin, she had certainly 
 succeeded. 
 
 The audience were waiting for some signal from either Joseph or 
 Frederic that they might give vent to their admir.ation. The K<ng un- 
 derstood the gener.-il feeling, and began to applaud with his hands. In 
 a moment, the applause became vociferous, and it did not cease until the 
 curtain drew up a second time, and the Prima Donna came forward to 
 receive her ovation. 
 
 For one moment they surveyed the enchanting singer, and tl>en they 
 broke out into another wild storm, in which the Emperor joined so 
 heartily that his voice was heard above the din, crying out ^^ Bravo/ 
 Bravissima V 
 
 The singer sought his glance, and meeting it, blushed deeply. Then 
 coming forward a few steps, she began once more to sing. 
 
 Her song was a passionate appeal lo the two Princes, whom, she ad- 
 dressed openly, in behalf of Poland. 
 
 It was over, and not a sound was heard in the theatre. The audience 
 hung, in breathless anxiety, upon the verdict that must come from those 
 who had been addressed. They were so intent upon Frederic and Jo- 
 seph that they did not see the singer le'ave the stage. They were not 
 destined, however, to be enlightened or relieved, for no demonstration 
 was made in the imperial box. 
 
 But Joseph, rising from his seat, signed to the Marshal of the house- 
 hold to approach. 
 
 " Go, Count," said he, " go quickly, and ask her natne. Tell her it is 
 the Emperor who desires to know her." 
 
 *' Her name is Poland," said Kaunitz, in an absent tone. Then ad- 
 dressing Joseph, he continued. " Did 1 not tell your Majesty that your 
 adventure was not to end with the throwing of a boquet ? I know these 
 Polish women, they coquette with everything — above all, with the throes 
 of their dying fatherland." 
 
 r The Emperor Smiled, but said nothing. Ho was watching the return 
 of the Marshal of the household. . 
 
 " Well, Count, what is her name ?" cried he earnestly. 
 
 " Sire, I am unable to find it out. The lady has left the theatre, and 
 no one here, not even the director, knows her name." 
 
 " Strange," said the Emperor. " Let a messenger, then, be sent to 
 Bernasconi : she, of course, must know." 
 
 "Pardon me, your Majesty, I have been to Bernasconi. She is here, 
 preparing to sing her second air. She has suddenly recovered, and will 
 have the honor of appearing before your Majesties in a few moments." 
 
 " But what said Bernasconi of the Polish singer ?" 
 
 " She does not know her name, your Majesty. She showed me a. let- 
 ter froni Colonel Dumourriez, the French Plenipotentiary to the Polish 
 Republic. He designates her only as a Polish lady of noble birth, 
 whose remarkable vocal powers were worthy of your Majesty's admira- 
 tion." 
 
ov; 
 
 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " Do you hear that V* said Frederic to Kaunitz. " Do fo\i hear that? 
 The French Plenipotentiary sends this Prima Donna to sing before the 
 Emperor. Vraiment, it seems that France is disgusted with war, ar^d 
 intends' to try her hand at sentiment. Petticoat-government is so se- 
 curely established there, that I suppose the French are about to throw 
 the petticoat over the heads of their allies. FranxJe and Poland are two 
 femmes galantes.'''' 
 
 "Yes, sire," replied Kaunitz, "but one of them is old and iigTy. 
 Madame La Pologne is an old coquette who puts on youthful airs, and 
 thinks she hides her wrinkles with paint." 
 
 *' Does your Highness then believe that her youth is forever past ? 
 Can she never be rejuvenated V asked Frederic, with a searching look at 
 Kaunitz's marble feature?. 
 
 " Sire, people who waste their youth in dissipation and rioting have 
 no strength when the day of real warfare dawns." 
 
 " And it would seem that the Empress of Russia has some intientioa 
 of making a serious attack upon the poor old lady," said Frederic, while 
 for' the second time, he took a pinch frosa the snufT-box of the crafty 
 Austrian. 
 
 Meanwhile the concert was going on. Bernasconi, completely restor- 
 ed, sang the beautiful air from Orpheus aiid Eurydice, and Frederic ap- 
 plauded as before. But the Emperor gat silent and abstracted. His 
 thoughts were with that Polish woman whose love of country had brought 
 her to Neustadt to remind him of the promises he had made to the Coti- 
 federatcs at Eperies. 
 
 " How enthusiastically she loves Poland P' said he to himself. " She 
 will of course find means to cross my path again, for she seeks to inter- 
 est me in the fate of her Fatherland, The next lime she comes I will 
 do. like the prince in the fairy tale, I will strew pitch upon the thresh, 
 hold, that she may not be able to escape from me again." 
 
 Kaunitz, too, was pre-oc<;upied with thoughts of the bewitching Con- 
 federate, but the fact that she would be sure to come again was hot quite 
 so consoling to him as to Joseph. 
 
 As soon as he returned home, he called for his private secretary, who 
 was one of the most dexterous detectives in Vienna. 
 
 "You will make enquiries at once as to the whereabout of the prima 
 donna who sang before me and their Majesties to-night. To-morrow at 
 nine o'clock I must know who she is, where she lodges, and what is her 
 bvjginees here." 
 
--.WPLKoh .-!■ L-Ji'. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FREDEUIC THE GREAT AND rtXINTK K.AIMTZ:. 
 
 Tun great revieh', which had been gotten up in honor of the Kingiof 
 Prussia, was over. In this review Frederic had become acquainted with 
 the strength of the Austrian acmy, the superiority of its cavalry, and 
 the military capacity of the Emperor who was its commander-in-chief. 
 
 The King liad been loud in his praises of all three, and had embraced 
 the Emperor in presence of the whole army. 
 
 Immediately after the review, Frederic sent a page to announce to 
 Prince Kauuii7, that he would be glad to see him in his own private 
 apartments. 
 
 Kaunitz at once declared his readiness to wait upon the King, and to 
 the unspeakable astonishment of his valet, had actually shortened his 
 toilet and had betrayed t<-ome indilforcnce to the arrangement of his /)pr- 
 ruque. As he left the room, his gait was elastic and active, and his 
 coy,ntenanc<? bore visible marks of the excitement with which he waa 
 looking for.ward to the .coming interview. 
 
 But Kaunitz himself became suddenly aware of all this, and hg^«et to 
 work to force back his-^ emotion. The nearer he came to the Ring's 
 suite of rooms, the slower became his step and the calmer his mien. 
 At last it was tranquilized, and the Minister looked almost as cold and 
 indill'erent as ever. 
 
 Arrived at the door of the ante-chamber, he looked around, and hav- 
 ing convinced himself that no one was in sight, he drew from his breast- 
 pocket a small mirror which he always wore about his person. Sharply 
 he viewed himself therein, until graduall3% as he looked, his face re- 
 sumed the stony aspect which like a thickening haze concealed his emo- 
 tions from other men's eyes. 
 
 " It is really not worth my while," thought he, " to get up an excite- 
 ment because I am about to have a conference with that sniall bit of 
 royalty, Frederic. If he should discover it, he might suppose that I, 
 like the rest of the world, am abashed in the presence of a King because 
 he has some military ftime. No — no — what excites me is the fact thnt 
 I am about to write a bit of history ; for this interview between Prus- 
 sia and Austria will be historical. It is the fate of Europe — that fstc 
 which 1 hold in my hands, that stirs me with such unwonted emotion. 
 This King of Prussia has nothing to do with it. No doubt he hopes to 
 hoodwink me with flattery, but J shall work him to ,mij ends, and force 
 him to that line of policy which I have long ago laid down for Austria's 
 ^welfare." '. .j,,, 
 
54 .loSKFli IHK ;5£(.;uM*. 
 
 Here the mirror was returned to his pocket, and he opened the door, 
 of the ante-roona. The sweet sounds of a flute broke in upon his ear as 
 he entered. The King's Aid-de-Camp came up and whispered that his 
 sovereign was accustomed to play on the flute daily, and that he never 
 Ikiled even when in camp to solace his solitude with music. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz answered with a shrug, and pointing to the door, said, 
 '•Annoiyice me to his Mnjesty." 
 
 The Aid-de-Camp opened the door and announced his Highness, 
 Prince Kaunitz. 
 
 The flute ceased, and the rich, musical voice of Frederic was heard to 
 say, " He can enter." 
 
 Kaunitz was i^ot much pleased to receive a permission where he fan- 
 cied himself entitled to an invitation, but he had no alternative, so he 
 walked languidly forward while the officer held the door open, 
 
 " Shut the door and admit no one during the visit of Prince Kaunitz," 
 said the King. Then turning to the Prince, he pointed to his flute. " I 
 suspect you arc amused to see such an old fellow as I coquetting with 
 the fine arts, but I assure you that my flute is one of my trustiest friends. 
 She has never deceived me, and keeps my secrets faithfully. My al- 
 liance with her is for life. Ask her and she will tell you that we live 
 on terms of truest friendship." 
 
 — "Unhappily I do not understand the language of your lady-love. 
 Your Majesty will perhaps allow me to turn my attention to another 
 one of your feminine allies, towards whom I shall venture to question 
 your Miajesty's good faith." 
 
 "Of what lady do you speak?" cried Frederic' eagerly. 
 
 " Of the Empress Catharine," replied Kaunitz, slightly inclining his 
 head. 
 
 " Oh !" said the King, laughing, " you dart like an arrow to the point, 
 and transfix me at once upon the barb of politics. Let us sit down then. 
 The arm-chair which you are taking now may boast hereafter that it is 
 the courser which has carried the greatest statesman in Europe to a field 
 where he is sure to win new victories." 
 
 Kaunitz was careful to seat himself at the same time as the Kiag, and 
 they both sat before a table covered with charts, papers and books. 
 
 A short pause ensued. Both were collecting their energies for the 
 strife. The King, with his eagle-eye, gazed upon the face of the astute 
 diplomatist, while he, pretending not to see it, looked perfectly oblivious 
 of Kings or Emperors. 
 
 " So you will ask of Catherine whether I am 3; loykl ally or pot ?" as- 
 ked the King at last. 
 
 "Yes, sire, for unluckily the Empress of Russia is the one who can 
 give me information." 
 
 " Why unluckily ?" 
 
 "Because I grieve to see that a German Prhice is willing to form al- 
 liances with her. who, if she could, would bring all Europe under her 
 yoke, and make every European Sovereign her vassal, Russia grows 
 
iiMPiiliOR **F ALSTKIA 
 
 hourly more dangerous and more grasping. She foments discord and 
 jncites wars, for she finds her fortune in the dissentious of other nalfons, 
 and at ©very misunderstanding between other powers she makes a step 
 towards the goal whither she travels." 
 
 "And what is that goal ?" 
 
 "The subjugation of all Europe," cried Kaunitz, with unusual warmth. 
 " Russia's policy is that of unprincipled ambition ; and if so flir she has 
 not progressed in her lust of dominion, it is Austria, or rather the poli- 
 cy which I dictate to Austria, that has checked her advance. It is I who 
 have restored the balance of power, by conquering Austria's aniipathy 
 to France, by isolating haughty England, and uniting all Europe against 
 rapacious Russia. But Russia never loses sight of the policy initiated 
 by Peter the Great, and as I have stemmed the tide of her aggression 
 towards the west, it is overflowing towards the south and the east. All 
 justice disregarding, Russian armies occupy Poland, and before long tho 
 ships of Rus'sia will swarm in the Black Sea and threaten Constaniino- 
 ple. Russia is per force a robber, for she is internally exhausted, and 
 unless she seeks new ports for her commerce, and new sources of reve- 
 nue, she is ruined." 
 
 "You err, I assure you," cried Frederic, eagerly, "Russia is in a con- 
 dition to sustain any burthen ; her revenues this year show an increase 
 over the last of five hundreci thousand rubles." 
 
 "Then this increase comes probably from the million of subsidy 
 which your Majesty has agreed to pay to Russia," said Kaunitz, bow- 
 ing.* Such rich tribute may well give her strength to attempt anything ; 
 but every thaler which your Majesty pays into her treasury is a fire- 
 brand which will one day consume all Europe. If indeed, as you say, 
 Russia is strong and formidable, it is for your Majesty to hold her iti 
 check ; if she is exhausted, her alliance is not worth having."| 
 
 "Your Highness seems *ager to have me break off my connection 
 with Russia," said the King, while a cloud passed over his face. " You 
 wish to prove that Russia is a power nvhose friendship is worthless and 
 whose enmity is to be despised. And yet it is well known to me how 
 zealously the Austrian Ambassador was intriguir^^ not long ago to^ in- 
 duce Russia to cast me aside and enter into an alliance with you. Your 
 .Highness must excuse me if I throw aside the double-edged blade of 
 courtly dissimulation. I am an old soldier and my tongue refuses to 
 vutter anything but unvarnished truth." 
 
 "If your Majesty permits," replied Kaunitz with some warmth, "I, 
 too, will speak the unvarnished truth. You are pleased to charge me 
 with seeking to alienate Russia from Prussia while striving to promote 
 an alliance of the former with Austria. Will your Majesty allow me 
 to reply to this accusation in full without interruption 1" 
 
 " 1 will," replied Frederic, nodding his head. " Speak on, I shnll not 
 put in a word." 
 
 * Ferrand ; History of the dismemberment of Poland, Vol. 1, p. 81. 
 t Kannitz's own words. Ferrand, vol. 1, pa^e 108. 
 
ijtj JOSEPH THk SEOO.Nb 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 rvUsaiA A vo-z to all EtKorr. 
 
 Prin-ck Katjnitz remained silent for a time, as ibough he were turn- 
 ing over in hie mind wiiat he shorld say. to the King. Then slowly 
 raising his head, he met the scrutinizing glaaice of Frederic with perfect 
 composure, and spoke as follows : , 
 
 " At the conclusion of the unhappy war which desolated . both it"bs-f 
 ' tria and Prussia, I had to consider what course for the future was likely 
 to recuperate the prostrate energies of Austria. I resolved in my mind 
 various scheme? and laid them before her imperial Majesty. The one 
 which I advocated and which was adopted by the Empress -had mainly 
 /or its object the pacification of all European broils and the restoration 
 of the various Austrian dependencies to order and prosperityi For 
 some time I waited to see whether your Majesty would not seek to con- 
 ciliate France, and renew 5'our old league of friendship with her King. 
 But the policy pursued by your Majesty at the Court of Russia. convin- 
 ed me that you were thinking exclusively of securing your provinces in 
 the -east. This once understood, it became the interest of Austria to 
 rivet the links which bound her to France ; for an alliance with her of- 
 fered the same advantages to us, as that of Rufjsia did to Prussia. 
 Moreover it was Austria's opinion that Prussia was now too closely 
 bound to Russia for her ever to seek an alliance with France. It there- 
 fore appeared that our good understanding with the latter would con- 
 duce to preserve the balance of power among European nations, and 
 that it would meet with the favor of all those potentates who were anx- 
 ious for peace. • It follows thence that the court* of Vienna is perfectly 
 content with her relations towards France ; and I expressly and distinct- 
 ly declare to your Majesty that we will never seek to alienate Russia 
 from Prussia, that we will never encourage any advances from Russia, 
 and that your Majesty may rest assured that we will never deviate from 
 our present line of policy. This was what I desired to explain, and i 
 thank your Majesty for the courtesy with which you have listened to 
 
 TOfe."* , 
 
 The face of the King, which at first had looked distrustful, was now 
 entirely free from suspicion. He rose from his chair and giving his 
 hand to Kaunitz, said with a cordial smile, 
 
 "This is wha;t I call noble and candid statesmanship. You have not 
 spoken as a diplomatist but as a great minister who, feeling his strength, 
 
 ♦ This diMonrse of Kaunitz's iB historicsl. It i% found in Ferrand'8 Hiatoire des trois Dieinembre^ 
 
 iment do )3 TologDO. Tomel.p. 112. ' ' . . 
 
has uo reason to conceal his actions. I will answer in the same Bplrit. 
 Sit down again and hear nf>e. You tear Russia, and think that if she 
 g;iins too great nn ascendancy among nations, she will use it to the de- 
 Ucment of all Kurope. 1 agree with you, and 1 myself would view t.h« 
 npi^randizcment of Jkussia nndor Catharine with disapprobation and dis- 
 trust. You are right, and 1 feel the embarrassment of my present pp- 
 flitical condition. At the commencement of this Turkish war, I would 
 have used my honest endeavors to check the usurping advances of Rus- 
 sia not only in Turkey but also in Poland. But I myself Avas in a crit-' 
 ical position. You, who had been represented to me as the most rapa- 
 cious of diplomatists, you had prejudiced all Europe against me, so that 
 for seven long years ni}' only allies were my rights and my good sword. 
 The only hand reached out to me was that of Russia; policy constrain- 
 cd me to grasp and retain it. It is both to my honor and my interest 
 that I keep faith with Russia, and eschew all shifts and tergiversations 
 in my dealings with her. Her alliance is advantages to Prussia, and 
 therefore 1 pay her large subsidies, give her advice, allow my officers to 
 enlist in her armies, and finally I have promised the Empress that should 
 Austria interfere in behalf of the Turks, I will use all my influence to 
 mediate between you."* 
 
 — " i")oes that m^an that if Russia and Austria should go to war, your 
 Majesty will stand by the former 1" , 
 
 — " It means that I will make every effort to prevent a war between 
 Russia and Austria. If in spite of all that 1 could do there -should be 
 war between you, it would not be possible for Prussia to remain neu- 
 tral. Were she to do so, she would deserve the contempt both of friend 
 and foe. I would fulfil my obligations to Russia that I might secure the 
 duration of our alliance. But 1 sincerely hope that it may be my good 
 fortune to mediate with such results as will spare me the espousal of 
 either party's quarrel." 
 
 " If .so, Russia must abandon her ambitious projects in Turkey, andf 
 she must speedily consent to secure peace to Poland," replied Kaunilz 
 warmly. 
 
 , The King smiled, and takiiig from the table a sealed paoket, he pre- 
 sented it to Kaunitz. 
 
 " A letter for me !" exclaimed the Minister surprised. 
 
 ''Yes, your Highness. A few moments before you came hither, a 
 <iourier arrived from Constantinople with .despatches for you and for me." 
 
 — " Does your Majesty allow me to open them?" 
 
 — " I request you to read them while I read mine, which are, as yet, 
 unopened. 1 have only read the report of my Ambassador at Constan- 
 tinople. Let us see what news we have." 
 
 The King, with a smiling inclination of the. head, settled himself in 
 hts arm-chair, and began to read. • 
 
 A long pause etisued. Both tf^ied to seem absorbed in the dispatches 
 from Turkey-, yet eac.h one gave now and then a. hasty, furtive glance at 
 
 * ZV^bm's Memoirs of MyTimei; vol.1, page 466. 
 
58 JOSEPH THE .SECOND. 
 
 the other. If their eyes met, they were quickly cast down again, and 
 ■so they continued to watch and read until there was no more excuse for 
 silence. 
 
 " Bad news from Turkey," said Frederic, speaking first, and putting 
 down his letters. 
 
 " The Porte has been unfortunate," said Kaunitz, shrugging his .shoul- 
 ders and looking perfectly indifferent. "Russia has not only gained a 
 great victory on land, but has defeated him at sea, and has burnt his 
 fleet." 
 
 "The consequence of all this is, that Turkey now turns to Austria 
 and Prussia for help," replied the King. Upon our intervention now, 
 hangs the peace of all Europe. We have a most important mission to 
 perform." 
 
 "Your Majesty intends to undertake it?" asked Kaunitz, carelessly. 
 
 — "I am resolved to do all that I can to prevent war. It is such a 
 terrible scourge, that no nation has a right to fold her hands and see its 
 horrors, if by any step of hers it can be averted or stopped. Turkey 
 asks for intervention, that she may be restored to the blessings of peace. 
 Shall we refuse her?" 
 
 " Austria cannot mediate in this affair unless Russia first proposes it," 
 said Kaunitz, in a listless tone. The Court of Vienna cannot make 
 propositions to Russia, It, therefore, rests with your Majesty to induce 
 the Empress Catharine to make the same request of Austria, as Turkey 
 has made of us both." 
 
 " I will propose it to the Empress," said the King, eagerly, " aifd I 
 feel sure that fehe will agree to do so." , ' 
 
 Kaunitz bowed loftily. " Then," replied he, " Austria will mediate ; 
 but^let it be understood that the peace is to be an honorable one for 
 Turkey, and that Russia ceases any further aggression in that quarter." 
 
 " The Porte will be under the necessity of making some concessions," 
 said the King, "since he it is, whose arms have sustained reverses. But 
 Turkey may still remain a second-rate power, for I think that Russia 
 will be satisfied with the Crimea and the Black Sea for herself, and a 
 guarantee of independent sovereigns for Wallachia and Moldavia." 
 
 " Independent Princes appointed by Russia !" cried Kaunitz. ■ " My 
 imperial Sovereign will never consent to have a Russian province con- 
 tiguous to Austria ; and should Moldavia and Wallachia be governed 
 by Hospodars and petty despots, their pretended independence would 
 soon melt away into a Russian dependency. Austria, too, would esteem 
 it a great misfortune if Russia should come into possession of the Cri- 
 mea and the Black Sea. Her dominion over the Black Sea would be 
 more dangerous to Europe than an extension of her territory. Nothing, 
 in short, would be so fatal to that independence, which is dear to all 
 nations, as the cession of this important outlet to Russia."* 
 
 "Your Highness may be right," sard the King, "and Austria has more 
 to fear from this dominion than Russia; for the -Danube is a finger of 
 * The Prince's osvn words. Ferrand 1, page 112. 
 
L-MPEROR OK AUSTRIA. 59 
 
 the Black Sea, ^vhich might be used to seize some of yciur fairest pro- 
 vinces. We vwll keep this in view when we cnler upon our negotia- 
 tions with Ku«J;ia." 
 
 I ''Before we begin them at ali^ we must exact of Russia to restore 
 peace to Poland." 
 
 "Ah, you wish to draw Poland into the circle of interveutiou," said 
 Frederic, laughing. 
 
 " The Court of Vieruia cannot suffer Russia to oppress this unfortu- 
 nate people as she has hitherto done. Not only has she forced Stanis- 
 laus Augustus upon them, but she has also compelled them to alter their 
 constitutioc, and in the face of all justice, her armies occupy Poland, 
 devastating the country, and oppressing both royalists and republicans." 
 
 "You are resolved to speak of Poland," said Frederic, again taking 
 so large a pinch of snuff that it bedaubed not only his face, but his white 
 Austrian uniform. He brushed it oft' with his lingers, and shaking his 
 head, said, 
 
 " I "in not neat enough to wear this elegant dress. I am not worthy 
 of wearing the Austrianl ivery."* He then resumed : " You interest 
 yourself in Poland. / thought that Polish independence had been 
 thrown to the winds. I thought, also, that your Highness was ot the 
 same opinion on this question as the Empress Catharine, who says that 
 she neither knows where Polish territory begins nor where it ends. — 
 Now I am equally at a loss to know what is and what is not Poland, for 
 in Warsaw a Russian army seems to be perfectly at home, and in the 
 south of Poland an Austrian regiment affirm that they occupy Polish 
 ground by <iommand of the Austrian government. 
 
 ** Your Majesty is pleased to speak of the country of Zips. Zips has 
 always belonged to Hungary* It was mortgaged by the Emperor Siges- 
 mund to his brother-in-law Wladislaw Jagello, for a sum of money. — 
 Hungary has never parted with her right to this country ; and, as we 
 have been compelled to send troops to our frontier to watch Russia, the 
 opportunity presents itself for us to demonstrate to Poland that Austria 
 can never consent to regard a mor'tgaged province as one either given 
 or sold. Zips belongs to Austria, and we will pay back to the King of 
 Poland the sum for which it was mortgaged. That is all." 
 
 " Yes, but it will be difficult not only for Poland, but for all Europe, 
 which is accustomed to consider Zips as Polish territory, to remember 
 your Highness's new boundaries. I, for my part, do not understand it, 
 and I will be much obliged to you if, according to your new order of 
 things, you will show me where Hungary ends and Poland begins." 
 
 " Where the county of Zips ends, and where the boundaries of Hun- 
 gary began in olden times, there the line that separates Austria from Po- 
 land, should be drawn." 
 
 "Ah!" sighed the King, "you speak of the olden time. But with 
 regard to the present we must settle all these things now. 1 happen, by 
 chance, to have a m ap of Poland on my table." Oblige me now, by 
 ♦The Prince's own word. Fcrrrtnd, p«(?ellS. 
 
(jii lO^EPH TH£ .SECOND 
 
 ?!howing rae Poland, as your Highness understands its boundarieis,''" 
 
 ^ The Kiug stood up, and unfolding a map, laid it on the table. K»u- 
 nitz also rose and stood on the opposite side. 
 
 " Now," said Frederic, "let me se^, the county of Zips." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MAP OF POLAND. 
 
 *' Here, your Majesty, is Zips" said Kaunitz, as he passed his deli- 
 cate white finger over the lower part of the map. 
 
 The King leaned over and looked thoughii'ully at the moving finger. 
 For some time he kept silence, then he raised his head and met the 
 gaze of the Prince. 
 
 "A very pretty piece of land which Austria takes from her neighbor," 
 said he. with a piercing glance at Kaunitz. 
 
 "Austria lakes nothing from lier neighbor, sire, except th»it whicli 
 belongs to her," replied Kaunitz, q\]ietly. . ,' i , 
 
 " How very fortunate it is that this particular piece of land-^-hould be- 
 long to Austria," said the King, with a slight sneer. You see th.tt Pojand, 
 who, for so many centuries, had supposed herself to be the rightful owner 
 of the Zips, has, in virtue of such ownership, projected beyond the Car- 
 pathian Mountains quite to the interior of Hungary. Now a wedge of 
 that sort is inconvenient, perhaps dangerous, and it is lucky for Austria 
 that she -has found out her right of possession in that quarter. It not 
 only coniracts her neighbor's domains, but essentially increases her own. 
 It now concerns Austria to prove to Europe her right to this arinexation, 
 for Europe is somewhat astonished to hear of it." 
 
 " In the Court-chancery, at Vienna, are the documents to prove that 
 the Zips was mortgaged by the Emperor Sigesmund to his brother-in-law 
 Wladislaw, io the year 1412, for the sum of thirty-seven thousand 
 groschen. 
 
 "Since 1412!" cried J'rederic. "Three hundred and eighty-five 
 years' possession on the part of Poland has not invalidated the title of 
 Austria to the Zips! My lawful claim to Silesia was of more modern 
 date than this, and yet Austria would have made it appear that it was 
 superanuated." 
 
 " Your Majesty has proved, conclusively, that it was not so," replied 
 Kaunitz, with a slight inclination of the head. 
 
 " Will Austria take the course which I pursued to vindicate my 
 right?" asked the King, quickly. 
 
EMPEROR OF AUsTRlA. 61 
 
 "Stanislaus will not allow us to proceed to extremitios," replied the 
 Prince. " 'JViie, he complained at first, and wrote to the Empress-Queen 
 to demand what be callt-d jristii-e." 
 
 — •' And will }'oiir Hlghne>s inform me \\hat the Enapress-Queen re- 
 plied in answer to these demands ]" 
 
 " She wrote to the King of P<)land that the time had arrived when it 
 became incumbent upon her to define the boundaries of her Empire.— 
 That, in her anne.xation of the Zips to Austria, she was actuated, not by 
 any lust of territorial aggrandizement, but by a conviction of her jnst 
 and inalienable rights. Slie was prepared, not only to assert, but to 
 defend them ; and &he took this opportunity to define the lines of her 
 frontier, for the reason that Poland was in a state of internal warfare, 
 the end of which, no man could foresee.'"* 
 
 "if I were King of Poland, such plain language as this would put me 
 on my auard." 
 
 "Sire, if you were King of Polftnd, no foreign power would employ 
 such language towards you," said Kannitz, with half a smile. 
 
 " That is true," replied the King, shaking his head. " Thi> King of 
 Poland is a weak, good-natured fellow. He cannot forget that he ha^ 
 been the lover of Catharine of Russia, and, I verily believe, that if she 
 were to make a sign, he would lay, not only hfmself, but all Poland at 
 her feet." 
 
 " A,ustria would never sufler her to accept it," cried Kaunitz. 
 
 The 1 King shrugged his shoulders. " And yet it would api^ear that 
 when ^ips lay at her feet, the Empress of Austria was rea^iy to em- 
 brace n. But everybody grows eccentric when Poland is in question. 
 My brother Henry, who is in St. Petersburg, was one day discussing 
 this matter of the annexation of Zips, with the Empress. As Catharine, 
 like myself, has never had the privilege of examining the records in the 
 .Court of Chancery, at Vienna, she expressed some doubt as to the jus- 
 tice of Austria's appropriation in that quarter. ' It seerhs,' said the, 
 'as if one had nothing to do but stoop down to pick up something in 
 Poland. 'f Now when proud Austria and her lofty Kaunitz condescend 
 to stoop and pick up, why shall not other people fcMIow their example? 
 J, too, shall be obliged to march my troops into Poland, for every mis- 
 fortune seems about to visit this unhappy land. Who knOws that in 
 the archives at Berlin, there may not be some document to prove that 
 I, also, have a right to extend the lines of my frontier?" 
 
 While Frederic spoke, he kept his eyes fixed upon the face of Prince 
 Kaunitz, as though he would have read to the very bottom of his soul. 
 The latter pretended not to be aware of it ; he looked perfectly blank 
 while he affected to be stiir interested in examining the map. 
 
 " It would be fortunate if your Majesty could discover such docu- 
 ments m your archives," replied he, coolly. " I have been toJd that you 
 
 * Ferrand I, page 94. 
 
 * BWhicre's uUtorr of I'oland: t<^.4. pa^ 310, 
 
^2 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 have, heretofore, sought for them in Warsaw ; unhappily without being 
 abl-e to find any." i 
 
 The King could not repress a slight start as he heard this revelation 
 of his own machinations. Kaunitz again affected to see nothing, al- 
 though he was looking directly an the King's eyes. 
 
 " 1 say," continued Kaunitz, " that it would be most fortunate if, just 
 at this thne, your Majesty could recover your titles to that portion of 
 Poland which lies contiguous to Russia. Austria, I assure you, will 
 place no difficulties in the way." 
 
 •" Really," replied the King, " I must say that these lines form a bet- 
 ter natural frontier than my present boundaries." Here he passed his 
 hand somewhere through the north-western provinces of Poland, while 
 he continued : " Would my word suffice if I were to say to Austria that 
 the documents, proving my right to this territory, are to be found in the 
 archives at Berlin 1" 
 
 *' Your Majesty's word, as regards this question, is worth more than 
 the documents," said Kaunitz, deliberately. 
 
 — " But what would Catharine say 1 ^he who looks upon Poland as 
 her own ?" - ' 
 
 " If she says anything it is high time she were undeceived in that re- 
 spect," said Kaunitz, hastily. " She must be satisfied to share equally 
 with others. Your Majesty was pleased to relate to me a portion of the 
 conversation between the Empress and Prince Henry. The Empress 
 said, " It .seems as if one had nothing to do but stoop down to pick up 
 something in Poland.' But you forgot the sequel. She adde^S these 
 words : ' If the Court of Vienna begins the dismemberment of Poland, 
 I think that her neighbors have a right to continue it.' "* 
 
 " Vraiment^ your Highness has trusty reporters and your agents serve 
 you admirably !" exclaimed the King. 
 
 Kauniti; bowed haughtily. 
 
 " V/e are your Majesty's imitators," replied he. " First during the 
 Silesian war, then at the Court of Dresden, we learned from you the 
 value of secret information,! Having been apprised of the remarkable 
 words of the Empress, I began to fear that she might encroach upon 
 Poland without regard to the claims of Austria, Your Majesty is aware 
 that the Russian army occupy Warsaw, and that a cordon of Russian 
 troops extend as far as the frontiers of Turkey." 
 . " And if I draw my cordon beyond the district of Netz," cried the 
 king, drawing his finger across the map as if it had been a sword, " and 
 Austria extends her frontiers beyond Galicia and the Zips, the Republic 
 of Poland will occupy but a small space on the map of Europe." 
 
 — " The smaller the better ; the fewer Poles there are in the world 
 the less strife there will be. The cradle of the. Poles is that apple of 
 
 ^La Roche Aymon : Vie du Prince Henri, p. ITl. 
 
 tTlirough his Ambassador at Dresden, Frederic had bribed the keeper of the Saxon arcMivcg to 
 send him copies of the secret treaties between Austria and Saxony. He did even worse, for the at- 
 tache of the Austrian embassy at Berlin was in his pay, and he eent the King copies of all the Aus- 
 trian dispatcheg.— [L, Muhlbach, Life of Frederic the ©rest. 
 
EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 63 
 
 discord which Eris once threw upon the table of the Gods ; they were 
 born of its seeds, and disscuiion is their native element. As long as 
 there lives a Pole on the earth, that Pole will breed trouble among his 
 nbighbors." 
 
 " Ah !" said the King, taking a pinch of snufT, " atid yet your High- 
 ness was indignant at Catharine because she would force the Poles to 
 keep the peace. She appears to 7ne to be entirely of one m'nd with 
 yourself. She, too, looks upon Poland as the apple of Eris and she haff 
 found it so over-ripe that it is in danger of falling from the tree. She 
 has stationed her gardener, Stanislaus, to guard it. Let him watch over 
 it. It ijelongs to him, and if it come to the^ ground, he has nobody to 
 blame but himself. Meanwhile should it burst, we will find means to 
 prevent it from soiling us.- Now let us speak of Turkey. That un- 
 lucky Porte must have something done for him, and while we mediate 
 in his behalf, I hope to bring about a good understanding between Aus- 
 tria and Russia. Let us do our best to promote a general peace. Eu- 
 rope is bleeding at every pore ; let us bind up her wounds and restore 
 her to health." 
 
 " Austria is willing to promote the general welfare," replied Kaunitz, 
 following the King's example and rising from his chair, " but first Rus- 
 sia must conclude an honorable peace with Turkey, and she must aban- 
 don he^ rapacious designs upon the rest of Europe. But should the 
 Empress of Russia compel us to war with her on this question, we will 
 not have recourse to arms until we have found means to alienate from 
 her the most formidable of her allies." 
 
 The King laughed. " I approve your policy," said he, " but I am cu- 
 rious to know how you would manage to prevent me from keeping my 
 Avord. I am certainly pledged to Russia, but I hope that the negotia- 
 tions into which we are about to enter will end in peace. I shall send 
 a resume of our conference to the Empress, and use every effort to es- 
 tablish friendly relations between you." . 
 
 " Will your Majesty communicate her reply to me?" asked Kaunitz. 
 
 " I certainly will ; for I am a soldier, not a diplomatist;, and I am so 
 much in love with Truth that I shall be her devotee until the last mo- 
 ment of my life." 
 
 " Ah, sire, a man must be a hero like yourself to have the courage to 
 love so dangerous a mistress. Truth is a rose with a thousand thorns. 
 He who plucks it will be wounded, and woe to the head of him who 
 wears it ia his crown !" 
 
 " You and I have fought and bled too often on the field of diplomacy 
 to be tender about our heads. Let us then wear the crown of truth and 
 bear with its thorns." 
 
 So saying, the King reached out his hand and Kaunitz took his 
 leave. 
 
 After the Prince had leffc the room, Frederic remained for a few min- 
 utes listening until he heard the door of the farther ante-room closed. 
 " Now, Hcrtzberg>" cried he, " como out— the coast is clear/' 
 
64 JOS£FH THE SECOND. 
 
 A gigantic screen which divided the roonr in two, began to move, and 
 forth came Count llerlzbe'-g, the King's Prime Minister. 
 , • " Did jou hear it ail f mkedt Frederic laughing. 
 
 "I did, so please your Maje>*ty." 
 
 " Did you write it down so that I can send its resume to the Empress 
 Catharine r' 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, as far as it was possiblfEto do so, I have written 
 down every word of your conference," said Ilertzberg, with a dissatis- 
 fied expression of countenance. 
 
 The King raised his large eyes with an enc[uiring look at the face of 
 his trusty Minister. 
 
 " Are you not satisfied,. Hertzberg ■? Why do you shake your head? 
 You have three wrinkles in your forehead, and the corners of your mouth 
 turn down as they always do when something has displeased you. Speak 
 out, man. Of what do you complain 1" 
 
 " First I complain that your Majesty has avowed the old fox to per- 
 ceive that you, as well as himself, entertain designs upon Poland, and 
 that in a manner you are willing to guarantee to Austria her theft of 
 the Zips. I also complain that you have consented to induce Russia, 
 through the intervention of Austria, to make peace with Turkey." 
 
 " Is that all ?" asked the King. 
 
 — " Yes, your Majesty, that is all." 
 
 — " Well, then, hear my defence. As regards your first complaint, I 
 allowed the old fox (as you call him) to scent my desire for Polish 
 game, because I wished to find out exactly how far I could venture to 
 go in the matter." 
 
 — "Yes, sire, and the consequence will be that Austria who has al- 
 ready appropriated the Zips, will stoop down to pick up something else. 
 She has already had her share of the booty, why should she divide with 
 your Majesty i" 
 
 " Let Austria have her second share," cried the King, laughing. "Ifc 
 will earn for her a double amount of the world's censure.* As regards 
 your second complaint, let me tell you that at this moment peace is in- 
 dispensable to ns all, and for this reason I desire to bring Russia and 
 Austria into friendly relations with one another. I think it not only 
 wiser but more honorable to pacify Europe than to light the torch of 
 war a second time. It is not an easy matter to secure a general peace, 
 and we must all make some concessions to achieve a result so desirable. 
 Do you suppose that it is as easy to conciliate unfriendly powers as it 
 is to write bad verses 1 I assure you, Hertzberg, that I would rather 
 sit down to render the whole Jewish history into madrigals than under- 
 take to fuse into unanimity the conflicting interests of three sovereigns, 
 when two oUt of the three are women. But I will do my best. When 
 your neighbor's house is on fire, help to put it out, or it may communi- 
 cate and burn down your own,"f 
 
 ♦ The King'? own words. 00X6*8 History of Austria: toI. 6, page 80. 
 t The Klng'i Qwa -worls. Onevrcs Posttames; toI. 11, pngelST. 
 
EMPEROK OF AUSTRIA. 65 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE COUNTESS WIELOPOLSKA. 
 
 " You really think that he will come, Matuschka ?-" asked the Countcs3 
 Wielopolska of her waiting-woman, who standing behind the chair was 
 fastening a string of pearls in her lady's dusky hair. 
 
 "I know he will come, your ladyship," replied Matuschka. 
 
 "And you have seen the Emperor and spoken to him!" exclaimed 
 the Countess, pressing her delicate white hands upon her heart as though 
 she strove to imprison it& wild emotions. 
 
 — " Indeed I have, my lady." 
 
 " Oh, tell me of it again, Matuschka, tell me that I may not fancy it a 
 dream !" cried the Countess eagerly. 
 
 — " Well, then, my lady, I took your note to the palace, where the 
 Emperor has given positive orders that every one who wishes it, shall 
 be admitted to his presence. The guard before the door let me pass 
 into the ante-chamber. One of the lords in waiting told me that the 
 Emperor would be there before a quarter of an hour. 1 had not waited 
 so long when the door opened and a handsome young man in a plain 
 white uniform walked in. 1 should never have taken him for the P^m- 
 peror, except that the lord stood up so straight when he saw him. Then 
 I knelt down and gave the letter. The Emperor took it and said, 'Tell 
 your lady that 1 am not prepared to receive ladies in my palace ; but 
 since she wishes to see me, I will go to her. If she will be at home this 
 evening, I will find time to call upon her myself." 
 
 "Ah !" cried the Countess, " he will soon be here. I shall see him — 
 speak to him — pour out to him the longings of my bursting heart ! Oh, 
 Matuschka, as the moment approaches I feel as if I coQld fly away and 
 plunge into the wild waters of the Vistula that bare my husband's corpse, 
 or sink lifeless upon the battle-field that is reddened with the blood of 
 my brothers." 
 
 "Do not think of these dreadful things, dear lady," said Matuschka, 
 trying to keep back her tears, " it is twilight «id the Emperor will soon 
 be here. Look cheerful — for you are as beantiful as an angel when you 
 smile, and the Emperor will be much more apt to be moved by your 
 smiles than by your tears." 
 
 " You are right, Matuschka," cried the Countess, rising hastily from 
 her seat. " I will not weep, for 1 must try to find favor in the Empe- 
 ror's eyes." 
 
 She crossed the room and stood before a Psyche, where for some time 
 she scrutinized her own features; not with the solf complacently of a 
 
(36 JOSEPH Tills aEGOND. 
 
 vain woman, but with the critical aCuteness of an artist who contern- 
 piatus H fine picture. Gradually her eyes grew soft and her mouth rip. 
 pled with a. smile. Like a mourning Juno she stood in the long black 
 velvet dress that sharply defined the outlines of her faultless bust, and 
 lell in graceful folds around her stately figure. — Herboddice was clasp- 
 ed by au agraffe of richest pearls ; and the white throat and the jewel 
 Jay together, pearl beside pearl, each rivalling the snowy lustre of the 
 other. Had it not been for those starry eyes that looked out so full of 
 mournful splendor, her face might have seemed too statuet«que in its 
 beauty, but from their dark depths all the enthusiasm of a natui'e that 
 had concentrated its every emotion into one master passion, lit up her 
 face with flashes that came and went like summer-lightening. 
 
 "Yes, 1 am beautiful," whispered she, while a sad smile played around 
 her exquisite mouth. " My beauty is the last weapon left me where' 
 with to battle for Poland. I must take advantage of it. Life and hon- 
 or, wealth and blood, everything for my country !" 
 
 She turned to her waiting-woman as a queen would have done who 
 was dismissing her subjects. 
 
 " Go, Matuschka," said she, " and take some rest. You have been 
 laboring for me all day, and I cannot bear to think that the only friend 
 left me in this world, should be overtasked for me. Sometimes you 
 look at me as ray mother once did ; and then I dream that I feel her 
 hand laid lovingly upon my head, and hear her dear voice exhorting me 
 ^o pray that God would bless me with strength to do my duty to my 
 bleeding country." 
 
 Matuschka fell upon her knees and kissed the hem of her mistress's 
 lobe. 
 
 " Do not give way," sobbed she, " do not grieve now." 
 
 The Countess did not hear. She had thro\Vn back her head and was 
 gazing absently above. " Oh, yes, I am mindful of my duty," murmur- 
 ed she, '"I have not forgotten the vow I made to my mother and sealed 
 upon her dying lips with ray last kiss ! I have been a faithful daughter 
 of my fatherland. I have given everything — there remains nothing but 
 
 tnyself, and oh how gladly would I give my life for Poland ! But 
 
 God has forsaken us, his eyes are turned away !" 
 
 " Accuse not the Lord, dear lady," prayed Matuschka. "Put your 
 trust in Hirn and take courage." 
 
 " It is true. I have no right to accuse my maker," sighed the Coun- 
 tess. " When the last drop of Polish blood is spent and the last Polish 
 heart is crushed beneath the tramp of the enemy's hosts, then it will be 
 time to cry to heaven ! Rise, Matuschka, and weep no more — All is 
 not yet lost. Let us hope, and labor that hope may become reality, 
 and Poland may be free!" 
 
 She reached her hand to Matuschka and passed into an adjoining room. 
 It was the stat(*apartaient of the inn, and was always reserved for dis- 
 tinguished guests. It had been richly furnished, but the teeth of time 
 had nibblftd many a r^nt in thp old-fe.«hioned furtiitnrf?, the fafJed c"r- 
 
EJJPEROIl OF AUSTRIA. 67 
 
 tains, and the well-worn carpet. Matuschka, however, had given an air 
 of some elegance to the place. On the carved oak table in the centre 
 stood a vase of flowers, and that her dear mistress might have something 
 to remind her of home, Matuschka had procured a piano, to which thw 
 Countess, when weary of her thoughts, might confide the hopes and fears 
 that were surging in her storm-tossed heart. 
 
 The piano was open and a sheet of music lay on the desk. As the 
 Countess perceived it, she walked rapidly towards the instrument and 
 sat down before it. 
 
 " I will sing," said she. " I'he Emp6ror loves music, above all thiug.s 
 the music of Gluck." 
 
 She turned over the leaves and then said softly. 
 
 " Orpheus and Eurydice ! LaBernasconi told mc that this was his 
 favorite opera. Oh, that I knew which aria he loved the best !" 
 
 She struck a few chords and in a low voice began to sing. Gradually 
 her beautiful features lost their sadness, she seemed to forget herself and 
 her sorrows, and to yield up her soul to the influence of Gluck's heaven- 
 ly music. And now with all the power, the melody, the pathos of her 
 matchless voice, she sang, " Che faro senza JSurydice P^ 
 
 The more she sang, the btightcr grew her lovely face. Forgetful of 
 all things around, she gave herself wholly up to the inspiration of the 
 hour, and from its fountains of harmony she drew sweetest draughts of 
 consolation and of hope. 
 
 The door had opened and she had not heard it. On the threshold 
 stood the Emperor, followed by Matuschka, while the Countess, all un- 
 mindful, filled the air with strains so divine that they might have been 
 the marriage hymns of love wedded to Song. 
 
 The Emperor had stopped for a moment to listen. His face which 
 at first had worn an expression of smiling flippancy now changed its as- 
 pect. He recognised the music and felt his heart beat wildly. With 
 a commanding gesture he motioned Matuschka to withdraw, and noise- 
 lessly closed the door. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE EMPEROR AND THE COpNTESS. 
 
 The Countess continued to sing, although Joseph had advanced as far 
 as the centre of the room. The thickness of the carpet made his foot 
 fall inaudible. He stood with his right hand resting upon the oak-table, 
 while be leaned forward to listen, and one l)y one the dead meraories of 
 
68 JOSEPH THE SECOND. ^ 
 
 his youthful love came thronging around his heart and filling it with an 
 ecstasy that was half joy and half sorrow. 
 
 More and more impassioned grew the music, while the air was tremu- 
 lous with melody. It softened and softened until it melted away in 
 sobs. The hands of the enchantress fell from the keys, she bowed her 
 head, and leaning against the music, she burst into tears. 
 
 The Emperor, too, felt the tear-drops gather in his eyes ; he dashed 
 ihem away, and went rapidly up to the piano^ 
 
 . " Countess," said he in his soft mellow tones, " I felt it no indiscretion 
 to listen unseen to your heavenly music, but no one save God has a right 
 to witness your grief." 
 
 She started, and rising quickly, the Emperor saw the face of the lady 
 who had thrown him the wreath. 
 
 " It is she !" cried he, the beautiful Confederate ! — " I thank you from 
 my heart for the favor you have done me, for I have sought you for 
 some days in vain." 
 
 " Your Majesty sought me ■?" said she, smiling. " Then I am sure that 
 you are ready to sympathise with misfortune." 
 
 "Do you need sympathy?" asked he eagerly. 
 
 "Sire, I am a daughter of Poland," ^ replied she. "And the 
 Wielopolski's arc among the noblest and richest of Poland's noble 
 families," 
 
 '• Noble ! iiich ! Our castles have been burned by the Russians, our 
 fields have been laid waste, our vassals have been massacred, and of our 
 kinsmen some have died under the knout, while others drag out a life of 
 martyrdom in Siberia." 
 
 '*One of the Counts Wielopolski was a favorite of the King was he 
 not?" asked Joseph much moved. 
 
 ' " He was my husband," replied she, bitterly. '• Heedless of his 
 countrymen's warnings, he believed in the patriotism of Stanislaus. — 
 When he saw his error, he felt that he merited death, and expiated his 
 fault by self-destruction. His grave is iu the Vistula." 
 
 "Unhappy wife," exclaimed the Emperor. "And had you no othec 
 kinsman V 
 
 " I had a father and three brothers." 
 
 "You had them?" ^ . 
 
 "Yes, sire, but I have them no longer. My brothers died on the field 
 of battle, m J father, oh, my father ! — God grant that he be no more 
 among the Vivmg, for he is in Siberia /" 
 
 The Emperor raised his hands in horror ; then extending them to the 
 Countess, he took hers, and said in a voice of deepest sympathy, 
 
 "i thank you for coming to me. Tell me your plans for the future, 
 that 1 may learn how best I may serve you." 
 
 " Sire, 1 have none," sighed she. " Life is so mournful that I long to 
 close my eyes forever upon its tragedies, but " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 '' I should then be robbed of the sight of him who has promised sue- 
 
cor to my fatherland," cried she, passionately, while she sank upon her 
 knees and clasped her hands ecu vulaively^ together. 
 
 Joseph bent over, and would have raised her from tlve floor. "It ill 
 becomes such beauty to kneel before me," said he, sofily. 
 
 "Let me kneel, let lue kneel"!" exclaimed she, while her beautiful 
 eyes suffused with tears. " Here, at your feet, let me implore your 
 protection for Poland ! Have mercy, sire, upon the Confederates, whose 
 only crime is their resistance to foreign oppression. Reach out your 
 imperial hand to them, and bid them be free, for they must either be 
 slaves or die by their own hands. Emperor of Austria save the chil- 
 dren of Sobieski from barbarous Russia I" 
 
 "Do not fear," replied Joseph, kindly. "I promised the Confede- 
 rates that Austria would recognize their envoy, and I will redeem rny 
 word. Rise, Countess, I implore you rise, and may the day not be dis- 
 tant when I shall extend my hand to Poland as 1 now do to you. You 
 have a pledge of my sincerity, in the fact that we have both a common, 
 enemy, and it will not be my faull if I do not oppose her, sword iu 
 hand. Still, although men call me Emperor, I am the puppet of another 
 will. The crown of Austria is on my mother's head, its shadow, alone, 
 is upon mine. I speak frankly to you ; but our acquaintance is peculiar, 
 and, by its nature, has broken down the ordinary barriers of conven- 
 tional life. Your songs and your tears have spoken directly to my 
 heart, recalling the only happy days that I have ever known on earth. 
 But I am growing sentimental. You will pardon me, 1 know, for you 
 are a woman, and have known what it is to love." 
 
 She slowly shook her head. " No, sire," replied she, " I have never 
 known what it was to love," 
 
 The Emperor looked directly in her eyes. Shef Beautiful and ma- 
 jestic as Hera, — she, not know what it was to love ! " And your hus- 
 band," asked he. 
 
 " I was married to him as Poland was given to Stanislaus. I never 
 saw him until he became my husband." 
 
 " And your heart refused allegiance 1" 
 
 " Sire, I have never yet seen the matt who was destined to reign over 
 my heart." 
 
 "Ah, you are proud! I envy him who is destined to conquer and 
 reign over that enchanting domain." 
 
 She looked for one. moment at the Emperor, and then said, blushing, 
 "Sire, my heart will succumb to him who rescues Poland. With rap- 
 ture it will acknowledge him as lord and sovereign of my being." 
 
 The Emperor made no reply. He gazed with a significant smile at 
 the lovely enthusiast, until she blushed again, and her eyes sought the 
 ground. 
 
 " Ah, Countess," said Joseph, after a pause, "if all the women of Po- 
 land were of your mind, a multitudinous army would soon flock to her 
 standard."^ 
 
 — " Every Polish woman is of one mind with me. We are all the 
 
70 UOSEPIl raK SECOND. 
 
 daughters of one mother, and our love for her is stronger than death." 
 
 The Emperor shook his head. " Were this true,*' replied he, " Po- 
 land would never have fallen as she has done. But far be it fronm me 
 to heap reproaches upon the unfortunate. I will do what it lies in my 
 power to do for the Poles, provided they are willing to second my ef- 
 forts for themselves. W they would have peace, however, with oiher 
 nations, thcy'must show strength and unity of purpose among them- 
 selves. Until they can stand before the world in the serried ranks of a 
 national unanimity, they must expect to be assailed by their rapacious 
 neighbors. But let us forget polities', for a moment. F long to speak 
 to you of yourse]f What are your plans'? How can I serve you?" 
 
 " Sire, I have no plans. I ask nothing of the world but a place of 
 refuge, where I can sorrow unseen." 
 
 "You are too young, and, pardon me, if J add, too beautiful to fly 
 from the world. Come to Vienna, and learn from me how easy it is to 
 live without happiness.'" 
 
 *' Your Majesty will allow me to go to Vienna?" cried the Countess, 
 joyfully. . " Ever since I have felt that I could do nothing for Poland, I 
 have longed to live in Vienna, that I might breathe the same atmosphere , 
 with your Majesty and the Empress Maria Theresa. You are the only 
 Sovereigns in Europe who have shown any compassion for the mis- 
 fortunes of my country, and before your generous sympathy my heart 
 bows down in gratitude and admiration." 
 
 "Say you so, proud heart that has never bowed before?" exclaimed , 
 the Emperor, smiling, and taking the Countess's white hand in his. — 
 " Come, then, to Vienna, not to do homage, but to receive it, for noth- 
 ing becomes your beauty more than pride. Come to Vienna, and I will 
 see that new friends and new ties awaken your heart to love and happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " I have one relative in Vienna, sire, the Countess Von Salmour." 
 
 "Ah! one of the Empress's ladies of honor. Then you will nob 
 need my protection there, for the Countess is in high favor with the 
 Empress, and I may say, that she has mure influence at Court than I 
 have." 
 
 " Sire," said the Countess, raising her large eyes, with an appealing 
 look, " 1 shall go to Vienna, if I go under your Majesty's protection jftid 
 with your sanction." 
 
 " You shall have both," replied Joseph, warmly. " I will write to my 
 mother to-day, and you shall present my letter. When will you leave? 
 I dare not ask you to tarry here, for this is no place for lovely and un- 
 protected women. Moreover, the King of Prussia has no sympathy 
 with Poland, and he will like you the less for the touching appeal yoa 
 made in her behalf when you sang at the concert. Greet the Empress 
 for me, and let me hope that you will stir her heart as you have stirred 
 mine. And now farewell. My time has expired : the King of Prussia 
 expects me to supper. 1 must part from you, but I leave comforted, 
 since I am enabled to say in parting ' An revoir.'' ** ' 
 
EMPKRUR ')F AU'VfRlA , [ 
 
 He bowed, and turned to quit the room. But at the door he g-ook- 
 again. 
 
 "If I ever win the. right to claim anything of you, will you sing for 
 me the Aria that I found you singing to-night." 
 
 " Oh, your Majesty," said the Countess, coming eagerly forward, 
 "you have already earned the right to claim whatsoever you desire of 
 me. I can never speak my gratitude for your condescension ; perhaps 
 music will speaU for me. flow gladly, then, will I sing when vnu com- 
 mand me." 
 
 " I will clftim the promise in Vienna," said he, as he left the room. 
 
 The Countess remained standing just where he had met her, breath- 
 lessly listening to his voice, which for awhile she heard in the ante-room, 
 and then to the last echoes of his retreating steps. 
 
 Suddenly the door was opened and Matuschka, with joyful mien, 
 came forward with a purse in her hand. 
 
 " Oh ! my lady," exclaimed she, " the Emperor has given me this 
 purse to defray our expenses to Vienna," 
 
 The Countess started, and her pale face suffused with orlmsoa shame. 
 
 " Alms !" said she, bitterly. '' He treats me like a beggar." 
 
 "No, lady," said Matuschka, abashed. "The Emperor told me that 
 he had begged you to go to Vienna, for business of State, and tiiat he 
 had a right to provide the expenses of our journey there. He said " 
 
 The Countess waved' her hand impatiently. "Go back to the Empe- 
 ror," said she, haughtily. "Tell him that you dare not offer this purse 
 to your lady, for you know that she would rather die than receive alms, 
 even from an Emperor." 
 
 Matuschka cast down her eyes, and turned away. But she hesitated 
 and looked timidly at her mistress, whose great, glowing eyes were fixed 
 upon her in unmistakable displeasure. 
 
 "My lady," said she, with embarrassment, " I will do your bidding, 
 but you who fiave been so rich and great, know nothing of the trouble.-? 
 of poverty. Your money is exhausted. I would rather melt my own 
 heart's blood into gold than tell yon so, but indeed, dear lady, if you rf 
 fuse the Emperoi''s gift you will be without a cent in your purse." 
 
 The Countess raised her hands to her hair and unfastened the peari 
 wreath with which . Matuschka hud decorated it in anticipation of fh»> 
 limperor's visit. 
 
 " There — take this and sell it. You will readily find a jeweller that, 
 understands its value, and if he pays us but the half, it will be twic« 
 the sum which you hold in the Emperor's purse." 
 
 — " My lady, would you sell your family-jewels ! Have you forgot- 
 ten that your family are pledged not to sell their heirlooms?" 
 
 — " God will forgive me if I break my vow. It is more honorable to 
 part with my ancestral jewels than to, receive alms. I have no heirs, 
 and no one will be wronged by the act. I have but my mother — Po- 
 land. For her I am ready to sacrifice the little I possess, and when 
 nothing else remains, I shall vicld my life. Go, Matu,«chka, ^o.'" 
 
7^' JOSEi^ii i'Uli: SE0O]\'D 
 
 Matuschka took the wreath aud wepfe. " 1 go, lady, sobbed she." — 
 " This will last you for half a year, aud then the armlets, then the dia- 
 dem of brilliants, the bracelets and the necklace, must all go. God 
 grant you may live so long on these family-treasures, that old Matuschka 
 may be spared the humiliation of selling the rest. 1 have lived too 
 long, since I must chaffer, with a base-born tradesman, for the jewels 
 that were the royal gitt of John Sobieski to ray lady's noble ancestors." 
 
 She raised the Countess's robe to her lips, and left the room. Her 
 mistress looked after her, but her thoughts were Wandering elsewhere. 
 Slowly sinking on her knees, she began to pray, and the burthen of her 
 prayer was this : 
 
 " Oh! my God, grant that I may win his love." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MARIA THi?RESA. 
 
 " The pearls were sold, the Countess had arrived in Vienna, and she 
 was in the presence of the Empress, whom, although they had never 
 met before, she had so long regarded with affectionate admiration. 
 
 " I rejoice to see you," said Maria Theresa, graciously extending her 
 hand. " It gives me pleasure to receive a^elative of the Countess Von 
 Salmour. But you have another claim upon my sympathy, for you are 
 a Polish woman, and I can never forget that but for John Sobieski, Vi- 
 enna would have been a prey to the Infidel." 
 
 " Upon your Majesty's generous remembrance of Sobieski's alliance, 
 rests the last hope of Poland !" exclaimed the Countess, kneeling and 
 kissing the hand of the Empress. " God has inclined to her redemption 
 the heart of the noblest woman in Europe, and, through her magnanim- 
 ity, will the wicked Empress of Russia receive her check. Oh, your 
 Majesty, that woman, in the height of her arrogance, believes _ to-day, 
 that you are only too willing to further her rapacity and participate in 
 her crimes!" 
 
 " Never shall it be said that she and I have one thought or one object 
 in common !" cried Maria Theresa, her face glowing with indignation.-— 
 "Let her cease her oppression of Poland, or the Austrian eagle will 
 seize the Russian vulture." 
 
 The face of the Countess grew radiant with joy. Raising her beauti- 
 ful arms to heaven, she cried out exultantly, " King of kings, Thou hast 
 heard! Maria Theresa comes to our help! Oh, your Majesty, how 
 many thousand hearts, from this day, will bow down in homage before 
 
HilPEROK Ot AU5iTRU. T^i 
 
 your throne! Hereafter, not God, but Maria Theresa will be our ref- 
 uge!" 
 
 " Do not blaspheme," cried the Empress, crossing herself. " I am but 
 the servant of the Lord, and I do His divine will on earth, God is our 
 refuge and our strength, and He will nerve my arm to overcome evil 
 and work out good. I will countenance and uphold the Confederates, 
 because it is my honest conviction that their cause is just, and that they 
 are the only party in Poland who act in honor and good faith."* 
 
 " Hitherto, they would have died to vindicate that honor and that 
 liiith, now th^y will live to defend it from their oppressors. Oh, your 
 Majesty, pardon me, if, in my rapture at your goodness, I forget what is 
 due to your exalted station. My heart will burst if I may not give ut- 
 terance to my joy. I am a lonely creature, with no tie, but that which 
 binds mo to ray unhappy mother, Polonia !" 
 
 "So young, and without home or kindred," said the Empress, kindly. 
 "I have already heard of your misfortunes, poor child, from my son, the 
 Emperor." 
 
 At the name oT the Emperor, the Countess's pale face was tinged with 
 a faint rosy color. The Empress did not remark it, for she was already 
 thinking what a pity it was that such a surpassing beautiful woman 
 should be a widow -, that such an enchanting creature should be unloved 
 and unwedded. 
 
 " You arc too handsome," said she, " to remain single. Woman was 
 made for love and marriage. Happy is she whd can devote her whole 
 heart to the sweet responsibilities of domestic life, and who is not called 
 upon to assume the duties that weigh down the head of royalty. 
 
 While the Empress spoke, her eyes were fixed upon the portrait of 
 the Emperor Francis, which still hung between the windows in the place 
 of the mirror, which had been removed from its frame. The" Countess 
 Wielopolska had been admitted to the gay sitting-room. 
 
 " Earthly grandeur," continued she, " is beset with pains and cares; 
 but the happy wife, whose subjects are her own dear children, is one de- 
 gree removed from the bliss of angels. You must marry, my dear, and 
 I will find for you a hrUhant parte." 
 
 — " I am poor, your Majesty, and am too proud to enter a rich man's 
 palace without a dowry." 
 
 — " You shall have your dowry. I shall instruct my Ambassador at 
 St. Petersburg, to demand the return of your estates. It will be one 
 good deed by which that woman f may expiate some of her many crimes. 
 Your estates once restored you w ill be an equal match for any nobleman 
 in Europe." 
 
 "If I should receive my estates through your Majesty's intercession," 
 replied the Countess, " my home would be an asylum for all the unfor- 
 tunate Poles. I should think it treason to dream of personal happiness, 
 while Poland lies shackled and bleeding." 
 
 ♦ The Empregs's own words. See Ferrand 1, page 79. 
 
 tTlio words by which Maria Ther<«a always designuWd Oalhsrln*. 
 
74 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " But Poland shall be free !" cried the Empress, with enthusiasm. 
 "With the co-operation of Fiance, the voice of Austria will be so loud 
 that Russia will hear, and withdraw her iinjusL claims. We will strike 
 off the fetters of Poland, while we forge a gentle chain for the Countess 
 VVielopolska. A chain that falls so lightly upun woojan, that its bur- 
 then is sweeter than freedom.'' 
 
 "Your Majesty must forgive me," reiterated the Countess, " 1 have 
 sworn, on my mother's grave, that as long as I can be useful, 1 will live 
 for Poland. Should she regain her freedom, I will retire to a convent, 
 where every breath I draw shall be a thanksgiving to God. Should she 
 be doomed to slavery, she will need her sons and daughters no more, 
 and then I will die. Your Majesty sees that 1 am already betrothed. — 
 1 shall soon be the bride of Heaven or the bride of Death." 
 
 " The bride of Heaven," repeated the Empress, her eyes swimming 
 with tears. "Then be it so: it is not I, who would entice Mary from 
 her Master's feefc. The world is full of Marthas, troubled about many 
 things. G9 choose the better part, sweet enthusiast, and 1 will see that 
 you have cause for thanksgiving." 
 
 She reached her hand to the Countess who kissed it, and withdrew. 
 As she opened the door she f-lt the bolt turn from the outside. :\l. 
 
 " His Highness, Prince Kaunitz," cried a page ; and as the Countess 
 was making one last inclination of the head, the tall, slender form of 
 Kaunitz filled the space behind her. 
 
 " Have I permission to enter, your Majesty," said the Minister. 
 
 "You are always welcome, Prince," replied the Empress. 
 
 Kaunitz bowed slightly, and as he raided his cold eye to the face of 
 
 the Countess, a faint smile flitted over his features, but it was followed 
 
 by a sneer. Without acknowledging her presence by the smallest coUr- 
 
 'tesy, he advanced to the Empress, and the door closed upon Poland 
 
 forever'. ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MARIA ANTOINETTE AND COURT KTEQUETTE. 
 
 *' Letters from France, your Majesty," said Kaunitz, and the face of 
 •the Empress grew bright as she recognised the handwriting of her daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 "The Daviphiness is well,"' said she. " Next to her dear self 1 love 
 to see her writing. Ah, 1 have gro\yn very lonely since ray little Antoin- 
 etfj& has left me! One by one my children go; one dear face alone. 
 
EMPEROR OF AUSTKlA. 75 
 
 remains," continued she, pointing to the portrait of the Emperor. Then 
 looking at the letters in the hands of the'^Prince, she said, ' 
 
 '' Have you good news'?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty. The Dauphiness is adored by the French lp^■o- 
 plc. They repeat her in;i mofs, write odes and maJrigals to her beauty, 
 and hang up her portrait in' their houses. When she drives out in her 
 fa/t'cAe, ihey impede its progrfss with their welcomes; and when she 
 appears at the theatre, the prima donnas are forgotten. A half a year 
 ago, when she made her entry into Paris and more than a hundred thou- 
 sand people went out to meet her, the Duke De Brissac said, " Madame 
 you have one hundred thousand lovers, and yet the Dauphin will never 
 be jealous of them."* The dear old Duke! Hclitlleknew what literal 
 truth be spoke of the Dauphin on that occasion. 
 
 - " Wliat do you mean?" asked the Empress, hastily. "I know 
 by the expression of your face that you have something unpleasant 
 to tell." 
 
 " I mean to say the Dauphin is not jealous, because he is the only 
 mnn in France who is not in love -wiih the Dauphiness." 
 
 "The Empress turned scarlet. "This is a s^erious charge which you 
 presume to make against the Dauphin," said she frowning. 
 '' It is unhappily true," replied Kaunilz coolly. 
 
 — "The Dauphiness makes no mention of such a state of things in her 
 letter. It does not breathe a word of complaint." 
 
 — "Perhaps the Dauphiness, in the innocence of her heart, has no idea 
 of the grounds which she has for complaint." 
 
 The Empress looked displeased. " Do you know that your language 
 is offensive f said she. " You assert that the Dauphin is insensible to 
 the charms of his beautiful young wife." « 
 
 — " Your Majesty knows well that I will never assert a falsehood. 
 The Dauphin is not in love with his wife, and I do not believe that she 
 has an advocate at the court of Louis XV. Since the shameless parti- 
 zans of Dubarry have triumphed over the noble Duke' of Choiseui, the 
 Dauphiness is without a friend. The Duked'Arguillon is anti-Austrian, 
 and your Majesty knows what an enemy to Austria was the father of 
 the Dauphin." 
 
 " Why do you seek to torture me, Kaunitz?" said the Empress im- 
 patiently. " You are not telling me all this for nothing. Say at once 
 what you have to say." 
 
 " Your Majesty has not yet read the letter which I had the honor of 
 handing to you just now, I believe," said Kaunitz. * 
 
 Maria Theresa took up the letter from the gueredon on which she had 
 laid it, and began to look it over. 
 
 " It is true," sighed she. " The Dauphiness complains of solitude. 
 'Since the Duke de Choiseui has Iefc,',jwrites she, ' I am alone and with- 
 out a friend.' You are right. The ^auphiness is in danger. She 
 writes that her en emies arc intrigniuir Co part her from the Dauphin. 
 * Memoir« of Mndaroe De Csmpan, toI. 1, page 60. 
 
76 JUSlil^H THE SLlCO.tO. 
 
 l^hey attempted in FontaInble,i^u to assign her a suite of apartments re- 
 niotc from those of her husbancl." 
 
 " Yes, tlie anti-Austrian party, seeing that he is indifferent to her, are 
 doing their best to convert this indifference into dislike. But the Dau- 
 phitiess saw through the affair, and cnniplained to the King." 
 
 " That was right and bold !" cried the Km nress joyfully. 
 
 *' Yes, it was bold, for it gaiued another enemy for the Dauphiness. 
 She should have spoken to the King through the Duke d'Arguillon, in- 
 stead of which she applied to his Majesty herself. The Duke will nev- 
 er forgive her ; and when the Duchess of Noailles reproved the Dau- 
 phiness, she replied that she would never talie counsel of etiquette where 
 her family affairs were concerned. The consequence is that the Duchess 
 also has gone over to the enemy." 
 
 " To the enemy !" exclaimed the Empress anxiously. " Has she then 
 other enemies?" 
 
 — " Madame de Marsan, the governess of the sisters of the Dauphin 
 ■will never forgive her for leaving interfered in the education of the young 
 Princesses." 
 
 " But surely the daughters of the King will be kind to my poor Ma- 
 rie Antoinette !" exclaimed the Empress, ready to burst into tears. 
 " They promised to love her, and it is but natural and womanly that 
 they should shun the party which upholds the profligate woman who 
 rules the King of France !" 
 
 Prince Kaunitz slightly elevated his shoulders. " Madame Adelaide, 
 the eldest, until the marriage of the Dauphin, held the first place at 
 court. Now, the Dauphiness has precedence of her, and the court card- 
 parties are held in her apartments. Madame Adelaide, therefore, has 
 refused to be present, and retires to her own rooms, where she holds ri- 
 val card-parties which are attended by the anti-Austrians who are op- 
 posed to Dubarry. This is the second party who intrigue against the 
 Dauphiness. Madame Sophie perchance remembers her in her pray- 
 ers ; but she is too pious to be of use to any body. — Madame Victoire, 
 who really loves the Dauphiness, is so sickly that she scarcely ever 
 leaves her room. For a while she held little reunions there, which be- 
 ing very pleasant, were for a while attended by the Dauphiness ; but 
 Madame de Noailles objected, and court-etiquette required that they 
 shoulij^be discontlnuetl." 
 
 The Empress had risen and was pacing the floor in great agitation. 
 " So young, so lovely, and slighted by her husband !" murmured she 
 bitterly, while large tear-drops stood in her eyes. " The daughter of 
 the Cesars in strife with a King's base-born mistress and a vile faction 
 who hate her without cause ! — And I — her mother — an Empress, am 
 powerless to help her !" 
 
 " No, your Majesty," said Kaunitz, " not altogether powerless. You 
 cannot help her with armies, butHou can do so with good advice, and 
 no one can advise her as effectuailiy as her mother." , 
 
 " Advise her ! What advice can Igive ■?" cried the Empress angrily. 
 
EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 77 
 
 " Shall I counsel her to attend the pclets sozipers of the King, and truckle 
 to his mistress? Never ! never ! — My daughter may be unhappy, but 
 she shall not be dishonored !" 
 
 " I should not presume to make any such proposition to the Dauphin- 
 ess," said Kaunitz quietly. " One cannot condescend to Dubarry as we 
 did to La Pompadour, The latter was at least a woman of mind, the 
 former is nothing more than a vulgar beauty, lint there is another lady 
 whose influence at court is without Wmit ; one whom Dubarry contemns, 
 but whom the Dauphiness would do well to conciliate." 
 
 '« Of what lady do you speak, Kaunitz?" 
 
 " I speak of Madame Etiquette, your Majesty. She is a stifFand tire- 
 some old dame, I grant you, but in France she presides over everything. 
 Without her the royal family can neither sleep nor wake ; they can 
 neither take a meal if they be in health, nur a purge if they be indispos- 
 ed without' her everlasting survsillance. She directs their dress, amuse- 
 ments, associates and behavior ; she presides over their pleasure, their 
 weariness, their social hours and their hours of solitude. This may be 
 uncomfortable, but royalty cannot escape it, and it must be endured," 
 
 " It is the business of Madame de Noailles to attend to the requisi- 
 tions of court etiquette," said the Empress impatiently. 
 
 " And of the Dauphiness to attend to her representations," added 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 "She will certainly have enough discretion to conform herself to such' 
 obligations !" 
 
 — " Your Majesty, a girl of fifteen who has a hundred thousand lovers 
 is not apt to be troubled with dii^cretiun. The Dauphiness is bored to 
 death by Madame de Noailles' eternal sermons, and therein she may be 
 right. But she turns the Mistress of Ceremonies into ridicule, and therein 
 she is wrong. In an outburst of her vKxatiou the Dauphiness one day 
 called her ' old Madam Etiquette.' and as the honmois of a future Queen 
 are apt to be repeated, Madame de Noailles goes by no other name at 
 court. Again — Not long ago ihe Dauphiness gave a party of pleasure 
 at Versailles. The company were mounted on donkies." 
 
 "On donkies !" cried the Empress, with horror. 
 
 "On donkies," repeated Kaunitz, with composure. "The d On key on 
 which the Dauphiness rode was unworthy of the honor conferred upon 
 it. It threw its royal rider." 
 
 —"And Antoinette fell off?" 
 
 " She fell, your Majesty, and fell without exercising any particular 
 discretion in the matter. The Count of Artois came forward to her as- 
 sistance, but she waved him off, saying with comic earnestness, ' Do not 
 touch me for your life ! Send quick a courier for Madam Etiquette, 
 and wait until she has prescribed the important ceremonies with which 
 a Dauphiness is to be remounted upon the back of her donkey." Every 
 one laughed of course, and the next day when the thing was repeated, 
 
 everybody in Paris was heartily amused except Madame de Noailles. 
 
 »She did not laugh." 
 
78 JOSEPH THE SECOND, 
 
 Neither could the Empress vouchsafe a smile, although the affair was 
 ludicrous enough. She was still walkiiTg to and fro, her face scarlet with 
 mortification. She stopped directly in front of her unsynipathising min- 
 ister, and said, " You are right. 1 must warn Antoinette that she is 
 going too far. Oh my heart bleeds when I think of my dear, inexpe- 
 rienced child cast friendless upon the reefs of that dangerous and corrupt 
 Court of France ! My God ! My God ! why did I not heed the warning 
 I received ! "Why did I consent to let her go !" 
 
 " Because your Majesty was too wise to be guided by lunatics and 
 imposters, and because you recognized not only the imperative' necessi- 
 ty which'^Dlaced Maria Antoinette upon the throne of France, but also 
 the value and the blessing of a close alliance with the Freneh." • . <». 
 
 " God grant it may prove a blessing !" sighed the Empress. " I will 
 write to-day, and implore her to call to aid all her discretion; for Hea- 
 ven knows it is needed at the Court of France." 
 
 " It is not an easy thing to call up discretion whenever discretion is 
 needed," said Kaunitz, thoughtfully. " Has not your Majesty, with that 
 goodness which does so much honor to your heart, gone so far as to 
 promise help to the quarrelsome Poles ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the Empress, warmly, " and I intend to keep my pro- 
 mise " 
 
 '' Promises, your Majesty, are sometimes made which it is impossi- 
 ble to keep." 
 
 — " But I make no such promises, and therefore honor requires that 
 I fulfil my imperial pledge. Yes, we have promised help and comfort 
 to the patriotic Confederates, the defenders of liberty and of the true 
 faith, and God forbid that we should ever deceive those who trust to us 
 for protection !" 
 
 Kaunitz bowed. "Then your Majesty will have the goodness to ap-. 
 prize the' Emperor that the army must be put upon a war footing, our 
 magazines must be replenished, and Austria must prepare herself to suf- 
 fer all the horrors of a long war." 
 
 "A warl With whoml" exclaimed the astounded Empress. 
 
 " With Russia, Prussia, Sweden, perchance with all Europe. Does 
 your Majesty suppose that the great powers will suffer the establishment 
 of a republic here, under the protection of Austria ? A republic upon 
 the body politic of a continent of monarchies, which like a schirrous sore 
 will spread disease that must end in death to 3:11!" 
 
 '* Of what republic do you speak ?" 
 
EMl'EROR OF AUSTRIA. 79 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE TKIUMPII OF DIPLOMACr. 
 
 "I SPEAK of Poland," paid Kannitz, with His accustomed IndifFerence. 
 "'I speak of those insolent Cnnfedcraies, who, emboldened by the conde- 
 scension of your Majesty and the Emperor, are ready to dare everything 
 for the propagation of their pernicious political doctrines. They have 
 been pleased to declare Stanislaus deposed and the throne of Poland 
 vacant. This declaration has been committed to writing, and with the 
 signatures of the leading Confederates attached to it, has been actually 
 placed in the King's hands, in his own palace at Warsaw. Not content 
 with this, they have distributed thousands of these documents through- 
 out Poland, so that the question to-day. in that miserable hornet's nest, 
 is not whether the rights of the C<infederates are to be guaranteed to. 
 them, but whether the Kingdom of Poland shall remain a monarchy or 
 be converted into a republic." 
 
 " If this be true, then Poland is lost, and there is no hope for the' Con- 
 federates," replied the Empress. I promised them protection against 
 foreign aggression, but with their internal quarrels 1 will not interfere." 
 
 — "It would be a dangerous precedent if Austria should justify those 
 v?ho lay sacreligious hands upon the crown of their lawful sovereign, 
 and, for my part, my principles forbid me to uphold a band of reibels, 
 Vfho are engaged in an insolent conspiracy to dethrone their King." 
 
 — " You are right. Prince, it will never do for us to uphold them. As 
 I have openly declared my sympathy with the Confederates, so I must; 
 openly express to them my entire disapprobation of their republican 
 proclivities." 
 
 " If your Majesty does that, a war with France will be the conse- 
 quence of your frankness. France has promised succor to the Confede- 
 rates, and has already sent Dumouries with troops, arms and gold. — 
 Franc^ is longing to have a voice in the differences between Russia and 
 Turkey, and she only awaits co-operation from Austria to declare openly 
 against Russia. She will declare against ourselves, if, after your Majes- 
 ty's promises, we suddenly change front and take part against the sedi- 
 tious Poles." 
 
 " What can we do then to avert war 1" cried the Empress, anxiously. 
 " Ah, Prince, you see that the days of my youth and my valor are past ! 
 I shudder when I lookback upon the blood that has been shed under my 
 reign, and nothing but the direst necessity will ever compel me to be 
 the cau^e of spilling another drop of Austrian blood.* How then shall 
 w e shape our cour.se so a s to avoid war 1" 
 
 ♦ Th» Blmrrdtt g own w^rdf. T. V. ■BsTitnoT's CnTitr'biitioTiii toMoHprn Hf»t<fl-T vnlM. r«8« <^^ 
 
80 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 "Our policy," said Kaunitz, "is to do nothing. We must look ou 
 and be watchful, while wc carefully keep our own counsel. We propi- 
 tiate France by allowing her to believe in the continuance of our sym- 
 pathy with the Poles, while we pacify Russia and Prussia by remaining 
 actually neutral." 
 
 "But while we temporise and equivocate," cried the Empress, with 
 fervor, " Russia will annihilate the Poles, who if they have gone too far 
 in their thirst foi^ freedom, have valiantly contended for their just rights 
 and are now about to lose them through the evils of disunion. It grieves 
 me to think that we are about to abandon that unhappy nation to the 
 oppression of that woman, who stops at nothing to compass her wicked 
 designs. She, who did not shrink from the murder of her own husband, 
 do you imagine that she will stop short of the annexation of Poland to 
 Russia?" 
 
 " We will not suffer her to annex Poland," said Kaunitz, slowly nod- 
 ding his head. " As long as we are at peace with Russia she will do 
 nothing to provoke our enmity, for France is at our side, and even Prus- 
 sia would remonstrate if Catharine should be so bold as to appropriate 
 Poland to herself alone. ^^ 
 
 " You are mistaken. The King of Prussia, who is so covetous of 
 that which belongs to others, M'ill gladly share the booty with Russia." 
 
 " Austria could never suffer the co-partnership. If such an emergency 
 should arise, we would have to make up our minds to declare war 
 against them both, or 
 
 " Or V asked the Empress, holding her breath, as he paused. 
 
 " Or," said Kaunitz, fixing his cold blue eye directly upon her face, 
 " or we would have to share with them." 
 
 " Share what ?" 
 
 " The apple of discord. Anarchy is a three-headed monster ; if it is 
 to be destroyed, every head must fall. It is now "devouring Poland, 
 and I think that three great powers are strong enough to slay the monster 
 once for all." 
 
 " This is all very plausible," said Maria Theresa, shaking her head, 
 '* but it is not just. You will never convince me that good can be bora 
 of evil. What you propose is neither more nor less than to smite the 
 suppliant that lies helpless at your feet. I will have nothing in com- 
 mon with the Messalina who desecrates her sovereignty by the commis- 
 sion of every unwomanly crime ; and as for Frederic, of Prussia, I mis- 
 trust him. He has been my enemy for too many years, for me ever to 
 believe that he can be sincerely my friend." 
 
 — " France was our enemy for th«:ee hundred years, and yet we are 
 allied by more than ordinary ties." 
 
 "Our alliance will soon come to naught if we walk in the path to 
 which you would lead us. Prince. France will not be deaf to the misery 
 of Poland. She will hear the death-cry, and come to the rescue." 
 
 " No, your Majesty, Frante will wait to see what we propose to do 
 until it is too late, aad she will perceive that a resort to arms will in no 
 
EMPEROR OP AUSTRIA 81 
 
 wise affect a fait accompli. I, therefore, repeat that the only way to 
 prevent ihe Polish conflagration from spreading to other nations is for 
 us to preserve a strict neutrality, taking part with neither disputant." 
 
 " War must be averted," exclaimed Maria Theresa, warmly. "My 
 first duty is to Austria, and Austria must have peace. To preserve 
 this blessing to my subjects, I will do anything that is consistent with 
 my honor and the dictates of my conscience." 
 
 — "Ah, your Majesty, diplomacy has no conscience; it can have but 
 one rule — that of expediency." 
 
 — " You concede then that the policy you advocate is not a conscien- 
 tious one?" 
 
 — " No, your Majesty, but it is one which it is imperative for us to 
 follow. Necessity, alone, decides a national course of action. A good 
 statesman cannot be a cosmopolitan. He looks out for himself, and 
 leaves others to do the same. If Poland succumbs it will be because 
 she has not the strength to live ; therefore, if her hour be come, let her 
 die. We dare not go .to her relief^ for before the weal of other nations 
 we must have peace and prosperity for Austria." 
 
 " But suppose that France should insist that we define our position ?" 
 
 — " Then we can do so— in words. It is so easy to hide one's thoughts 
 while we assure our allies of our ♦ distinguished consideration.' " 
 
 "The .Empress heaved a deep sigh. " I see," said she, "that clouds 
 are gathering over the political horizon, and that you are resolved to 
 shield your own house, while the tempest devastates the homo of your 
 neighbor. Be it so. I must have peace ; for I have no right to sacrifice 
 my people before the altars of strange gods. This is my first, great ob- 
 ligation, and all other claims must give way to it. Thci/ must give wat/,^* 
 continued the Empress, slowly communing with herself, " but, oh, it 
 seems cruel ! I scarcely dare ask myself what is to be the fate of Po- 
 land. Heaven direct us, for all human wisdom has come to naught !" 
 Then turning towards Kaunitz, she held out her hand. "Go, Prince," 
 said she, " and be a:'sured that what we have spoken to each other to- 
 day shall remain sacred between us." 
 
 The Prince bowed, and left the room. 
 
 The Empress was alone. She went to and fro, while her disturbed 
 countenance betrayed the violent struggle that was raging in her noble, 
 honest heart. 
 
 " I know what they want," murmured she. " Joseph thirsts for glory 
 and conquest, and Kaunitz upholds him. They want their share of the 
 booty. And they will overrule my sympathy, and prove to me that I 
 am bound to inaction. Poland will be dismembered, and I will bear 
 my portion of the crime. I shudder at the deed, and yet I cannot raise 
 my hand without shedding my people's blood. I must take counsel of 
 Heaven." 
 
 She rang, and commanded the presence of her Confessor. " Perhaps 
 he will throw 9om« light upon this darkness, and the just God will do 
 the rest !" 
 
tS'Z ^' JOSEPH TllE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 GOSSIPS. 
 
 The Countess Wielopolska was alone in her room. She walked to 
 and fro, sometimes sto;;)plug before a large pier-glass to survey her own 
 person, sometimes hastening to the window at sound of a carriage pass- 
 ing by, then retiring disappointed as the vehicle went on. 
 
 " He comes late," thought she. " Perhaps he has forgotten that he 
 promised to come. Gracious Heaven, what if he should be proof 
 against the blandishments of woman ! I fear me he is too cold, and Po- 
 land will be lost ! And yet his eye, when it rests upon me, speaks the 
 language of love, and his hand trembles when it touches mine. Ah ! — 
 And I — when he is by, I sometimes forget the great cause for which I 
 live, and — no, no, no !" exclaimed she, aloud, "it must not, shall not be ! 
 lly heart must know but one loto, the love of country. Away with 
 such silly, girlish dreaming ! I am ashamed " 
 
 Here the Countess paused to listen again, for this time a carriage 
 stopped before the door, and the little French clock struck the hour. 
 
 " He comes," whispered she, scarcely breathing, and she turned her 
 bright smiling face towards the door. It, opened and admitted a young 
 woman, whose marvellous beauty was enhanced by all the auxiliarie^s of 
 a superb toilet and a profusion of magnificent jewels. 
 
 " Countess Zamoiska," exclaimed the disappointed hostess, coming 
 forward and striving to keep up the smile. 
 
 " And why such a cold reception, my dear Anna "?" asked the visitor, 
 with a warm embrace. " Am I not always the same Luschinka, to 
 whom yon vowed eternal friendship when we were schoolgirls together ?" 
 
 " Yes, we vowed eternal friendship," sighed the Countess WielopOlsIta, 
 " but since we were happy school-girls, six years have gone by, and so 
 many fearful tragedies have arisen to darken our lives and embitter our 
 young hearts." 
 
 " Pshaw," said the lady, casting admiring glances at herself in the mir- 
 ror, " 1 do not know why these years should be so sad to you ; they 
 have certainly improved your beauty, for I declare to you, Anna, that 
 you were scarcely as pretty when jou ^eft school as you are to-day. — 
 Am I altered for the worse? My heart, as you see, has not changed, 
 for as soon as I heard you were in Vienna I flew to embrace you. What; 
 a pity your family would mix themselves up in those hateful politics ! 
 You might have been the leader of fashion in Warsaw. And your stu- 
 pid husband,, too, to think of his killing himself on the very day of a 
 m.'ir.ltpd bfill. .md npoilinr^ th? tovrI <p!fldnl1e." 
 
?ht 
 
 EMPEKOii t»F AUS1K1A.» S3 
 
 "The royal quadrille." echoed the Countess, in an absent tone, "yes, 
 King, General liepnin, he who put, to death so many Polish nobles, 
 and the brutal Branicki, whose pastirae it is to set fire to Polish villages, 
 they were to have been the other dancers." j . 
 
 "Yes, and they completed their quadrille, in spite of Count "Wielo- 
 polski. Bibeskoi offered hiiniltlf as a substitute, and sat up the whole 
 night to learn the figures. Biii^skoi is a delightful partner." . 
 
 " A Russian," exclaimed the Countess. 
 
 "What signifies a man's nation when he dances well?" laughed the 
 
 lady. 
 
 ^' Din done ma chore, arc you still mad on the subject of politics? — 
 And do you still sympathise with the p6or crazy Conlcderates V 
 
 " You know, Luschinka, that Count Pac was my father's dearest 
 friend." 
 
 " I know it, poor man, he is at the top and bottom of all the trouble. 
 I beseech you chore Anna, let us put aside politics, I cannot see what, 
 pleasure a woman ciin find in such tiresome things. Mon Dieu, there 
 Are so many other things more pleasing as well as more important ! For 
 instance : How do people pass their time in Vienna'? Have you many 
 lovers'? Do you go to many balls ?"' 
 
 " Do you think me so base that 1 could dance while Poland is in 
 chains ?" said the Countess, frowning. 
 
 The Countess Zamoiska laughed aloud. " Voyons — are you going to 
 play Jeanne d'Arc to bring female heroism into fashion? Oh, Anna! 
 Wc have never had more delightful balls in Warsaw than^iave been 
 given since so many Russian regiments have been stationed there." 
 
 " You have danced with those who murder your brothers a\rd rela- 
 tives! Danced while the people of Poland arctrodden under foot !" 
 
 "■Ah bah! Ne parlez pas du pcuple !'''' cried the Countess Zamoiski, 
 ■with a gefiture of disgust. " A set of beastly peasants, no better than 
 their own cattle, or a band of genteel robbers, who have,inade it unsafe 
 to live anywhere on Polish soil, even in Warsav,-." 
 
 " You are right," sighed the Countess Wielopolska, " let us drop pol- 
 itics and speak of other things." 
 
 — '■'■ A la bonne hcure. Let us have a little chroniqve scandaleuse. 
 Ah ma chore, I am at home there, for we lead an enchanting life in 
 Warsaw. The King is a handsome man, and. in spite of the Empress 
 Catharine, his heart is still susceptible of the tender passion. You re- 
 Juember his liaison with the Countess Kanizka, your sister-in-law V 
 
 — " A base, dishonored woman, who stooped to be the mistress of the 
 man who has betrayed her country." ^, 
 
 — " A King, nevertheless, and a very handsome man, and sSc was in- 
 consolable when he ceased to love her." 
 
 " Ah ! she was abandoned then, was, she?" cried'the Countcbs Wielo- 
 polska. 
 
 , — " Oh no, dear Anna ! Your sister-in-law was not guilty of the betise 
 of flaring qnpcn T>ido. A? she i'vK qnitc snrc that the Kinrr would 
 
84 JOSEPH THE SEC05]>. 
 
 leave her soon or late, she anticipated the day, and left him. Was it not 
 excellent 1 She went off with Prince Repnin" ^ 
 
 — *' Prince Repnin !" exclaimed the Countess with horror. *' The 
 Russian Ambassador !" 
 
 — " The same. You should have seen the despair of the King. But 
 he was amiable even in his grief. H« tried all sorts of lover's strate- 
 gemsto win back the Countess: he prdwled around her house at night 
 singing like a Troubadour, he wrote her bushels of letters to implore an 
 interview. All in vain. The liaison with Repnin was made public, and 
 that, of course ended the affair. The King was inconsolable.* He gave 
 ball after ball, never missed an evening at the theatre, gambled all night, 
 gave sleighing parties, and so on, but it was easy to see that his heart 
 ■was broken, and had not Tissona, the pretty caniatrice, succeeded in 
 comforting him, I really do believe that our handsome King would have 
 killed himself for despair." 
 
 "Ah, he is consoled, is heT' said the Countess with curling lips." 
 
 " He jests and dances, serenades and gambles, while the gory knout 
 reeks with the noblest blood in Poland, and her noblest sons are stag- 
 gering along the frozen wastes of Siberia ! Oh Stanislaus ! Stanislaus! 
 A day of reckoning will come for him who wears the splendor of royal- 
 ty, yet casts away its obligations !" 
 
 " Fraiwen^, dear Anna, to hear your rhapsodies, one would almost 
 believe you to be one of the Confederates who lately attempted the life 
 of the King," cried the Countess Zamoiska, laughing. 
 
 " Who attempted the King's life?" said the Countess, turning pale. 
 
 — " Why three robbers, Lukawski, Strawinski, and Kosinski." 
 
 " I never heard of it," replied the Countess, much agitated. "Tell 
 rae what you know of it, if you can Luschinka." 
 
 '" It is an abominable thing, and long too," said Luschinka, with a shrug. 
 The conspirators were disguised as peasants, and actually had the 
 assurance to come to Warsaw. There were thirty of them, but the three 
 1 tell you of were the leaders. The King was on his way to his uncle's 
 palace, which is in the suburbs of Warsaw. They had the insolence to,^ 
 fall upon him in the streets, and his attendants got frightened and run 
 off. Then the conspirators tore the King from his coach and carried him 
 off, swearing that if he uttered one cry they would murder him. Wasn't 
 it awful ? Do you think that the dear King didn't have the courage to 
 keep as quiet as a mouse while they took him off with them to the for- 
 est of Bielani. Here they robbed him. of all he had, leaving him noth- 
 ing but the ribbon that belonged to the order of the White Eagle. Then 
 they dispersed to give the news of his capture to their accomplices, and 
 Kosinsfti was left to dispatch him. Did you ever!" 
 
 " Further, further," said the Countess, scarcely able to speak, as her 
 old school mate paused in her narrative. 
 
 Luschinka laughed. " Doesn't it sound just like a fairy tale, Anna? 
 But it is as true as I live, and happened on the third of November of 
 
tbia blessed year 1771. So Koainski and six others dr&gged ftcd dr^jg 
 ged the King until he losi his shoes and was all torn and scratched, and 
 even woun^ied. \\ ht'oever the others wanted to atop and kill the King. 
 Kosinski objected that the place was not lonely enough. All at ooce 
 thoy came upon the Russian patrol. Then the five other murderers ran 
 off leaving the King and Kosinski alone. ' 
 
 ''And Kosinski ?" asked the Countess with anxiety. 
 
 — "Kosinski went on with hi* sword drawn over the King's head, al- 
 though he begged him for rest. But the King saw that Kosinski locked 
 undecided and uneasy, so as they came near to the Convent of Bielani, he 
 said to Kosinski, ' I see that you don't know which way to act, so you 
 had better let me go into the Convent to hide, while you make your es 
 cape by some other way.' But Kosinski said no, he had sworn to kill 
 him. So they went on further until they came to Mariemont, a Castle 
 belonging to the Elector of Saxony. Here the King becged for rest, 
 and 'hey sat down and began to talk. Then Kosinski told the King that 
 he was not killing him of his own \Vill, but because he had been ordered 
 to do so by others^j to puni-h the King for all his sins, poor fellow! 
 against Poland. The King t>heu said it was not his fault but all thf) 
 fault of Russia, and at last he softened the murderer's heart. Kosinski 
 threw himself at the King's feet and begged pardon, and promised to 
 save him. So Stanislaus promised to forgive him and it was all arran- 
 ged between them. They went on to a mill near Mariemont and beg- 
 ged tlie miller to let in two travellers who had lost their way. At first 
 the miller took them to be robbers, but after a great deal of begging he 
 let them in. Then the King tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote 
 a note to General Cocceji. The miller's daughter took it to Warsaw, 
 not without much begging on the King's part, and you can conceive the 
 joy of the people when they heard that the King was safe, for everybody 
 seeing his cloak in the' streets and his hat and plume on the road natu- 
 rally supposed that he had been murdered. Well — General Cocceji fol- 
 lowed by the whole Court hurried to the mill, and when they arrived 
 there was Kosinski standing before the door with a drawn sword in his 
 hand. lie let in the General, and there on the floor, in the miller's 
 shirt, lay the King fast asleep. So Cocceji went down on his knees and 
 kissed his hand and called him his lord and King, and the people of the 
 mill, who had never dreamed who it was, all dropped on their knees and 
 begged for mercy. So the King then forgave everybody, and went back 
 to Warsaw with Cocceji. This my dear is a true history of the attempt 
 that was made by the Confederates on the life of the handsomest man in 
 Polawd !"* 
 
 "A strange and sad history," said the Countess Anna. " However 
 guilty the King may be, it would still be disgraceful if he were murder- 
 ed by his own subjects." 
 
 — " Oh my love, thes e Confederates refuse to acknowledge him for 
 ' *Wraxall. Memolri. yoL2, p. 76 
 
their King. Did you not know that they had been so ridiculous as to 
 depo^io him?" ' 
 
 ■' ^V'hat have tHe Confederntes to do with a baud of robbers who plun^ 
 <icrt?d the King and would have murdered him ?" asked Anna indignant^ 
 J v. "Arc thoy to be mode answerable for the crimes of a horde of baa- 
 dittif " * . . 
 
 "Ma ch'Jre, the banditti wore tho tools of the Confederate?. They 
 have been taken and everything has been discovered. Pulawski, their 
 great hero, hired the assassins i:nd bound them by an oath. Letters- 
 found upon Lukawski, who boasts of his share in the villany, show that 
 Pu'awski was the head conspirator, and than the plot had been approved 
 ]^y Zaremba and Pac!" 
 
 "Then all is lost," murmured Anna.. "If the Confederates have sul- 
 lied the honor of Poland by consenting to crime as a means to work out 
 her independence, Poland v.ill never regain her freedom. Oh that I 
 >hould have lived to see this day 1" 
 
 She covered her face with her hands and sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Vrahnrnt, Anna," said the Countess Zamoiska pettishly, *' I cannot 
 understand you. instead of rejoicing over the King's escape, her^.you 
 begin to cry over the sins of his murderers. All Poland is exasperated 
 against them, and nothing can save them."' So dear Anna dry your eyes 
 they will be as red as a cardinal's hat. Goodness me, if I hadn't won- 
 derful strength of raindj I might have cried myself into a fright long ago, 
 for you have no idea of the sufferings I have lived through. You talk 6P 
 Poland, and never ask a word about myself. It shows how little inter- 
 cs% you feel in me that you still call me by the name of my first hus- 
 band." 
 
 "Are you married a second time?" asked Anna, raising her head. 
 
 ■; — '■^Ah ma chcre^ my name has not been Zamoiska for four years. 
 Dear me ! The King knows what misery it is to be tied to a person 
 that loves you no iongcy, and luckily for us, he has the pdwer of divorce. 
 .He does it for the asking, and every divorce is a signal for a succession 
 of brilliant balls ; for yon understand that people don't part to go off 
 and pout. They re-marry at once, and of course, everybody gives balls, 
 routs and dinners in honor of the weddings." 
 
 "•^ Have you married agairi in this way V asked the Countess gravely^ 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied the unconscious Luschinka, " I have been twice 
 married and twice divorced. But it was not my fault. I loved ray first 
 husband with a depth of passion which he fould not appreciate, and I was 
 in an agony of despair, when six months after our marriage he told me 
 T.hat he ioved me no longer and was dying for the Countess Luwiendo. 
 She was my bosom friend, so you can imagine my grief; mais j'ai su 
 fyire bonne mine d maiivais jenx. 1 invited the Countess to my villa, and 
 ihere under the sha'de of the old trees in the park, we walked arm in 
 
 • Lukawski and Strawinski r/ere oxeeutcd. Thev (lied caTsing Kosinski a» a traitor. "Wraxall. 
 To!. L' : v>. Sa. 
 
LilhEROR ^i ALSilUi ."^7 
 
 arm and arranged with mj husbaud all the conditions of the aefar.'i'tlcy.i. 
 Every one praised my frenerous conduct; the men in particular were in 
 raptures, and Prince Lubomirski on the strength of it, fell so desperi^tc- 
 J^ in love with me that he divorced his wife and ofiercd me his hand."' 
 
 "You did not accept it!" exclaimed Countess Anna. 
 
 " "What a fjucstion !" said the excountess pouting. " Tlie l^rince was 
 young, rich, charming, and a great fjix orite with the King. AVe loved 
 one another, and of course, were married. But, indeed, my dear, love 
 does seem to have such butterfly wings that you scarcely oatchit before^ 
 it is gone f — My second husband broke my heart exactly as rhy first had 
 done; he asked me to leave him, and of cx^>nrse 1 had to go. Men an^ 
 abominable beings, Anna : scarcely were we divorced before he married 
 a third wife."'* 
 
 "Poland is lost — lost — ," murmured the Countess Anna. " She Is 
 falling under the weigljt of her children's crimes. Lost! — Oh Poland. 
 My unhappy country !" 
 
 — " An contraire ma chert. Warsaw was never gayer than it is at prc; 
 sent. Did I not tell you that every divorce was fallowed by a mar- 
 riage, and that the King was delighted with the masquerades and balls' 
 and all that sort of thing ? Why nothing is heard in Warsaw at. night 
 but laughter, music, and the chink of glasses." 
 
 " And nevertheless you could tear yourself away V said the Countess 
 ironically. 
 
 " 1 had to go," sighed the P;incpss. " 1 am on my way to Italy. You 
 sec, ma dure, it would have been inconvenant and might have made mo 
 ridiculous to go out in society, meeting my husbands with their two 
 wives, and I — abandoned by l;oth these faithless men. I should have 
 been obliged to marry a third time but my heart revolted against it." 
 
 — " Then you travel alone to Italy V 
 
 By no means, mon aviour, 1 am travelling with the most bcwifching 
 creature ! — my lover. Oh, Anna, he is the handsomest man I ever laid 
 my eyes upon ; the most delightful, and he paints so divinely that the 
 Empress Catharine has appointed him her court painter. I love him 
 beyond all expression ; I adore him ! — You need not smile, Anna, gi/r 
 voulcz vous? Lc coeur tovjours vierge povr un second amour. • 
 
 " If you love him so dearly, why then does your heart revolt against 
 a marriage with him 1" asked the Countess An'^a. 
 
 " I told you he was a painter, and not a nobleman," answered the ex- 
 Princess, impatiently. " One loves an Artist, but cannot marry him. 
 Do you suppose I would be so ridiculous as to give up my title to be 
 the respectable wife of a painter? The Princess Lubomirska a Madam 
 Wiind, simple Wand I Oh, no ! I .shall travel with him, but I will not 
 marry him." 
 
 "Then go!" exclaimed the Countess Anna, rising, and casting looks . 
 of scorn upon the Princess. " Degenerate daughtef of a degenerate 
 fatherlan d, go, and drag our shame with you to Italy. Go, and enjor 
 
 ,^^l 
 
38 ' ^OaEFH THE SE0O?Jl>i , 
 
 Tour sinful lusts while Poland breathes her last, and vultures prey upon 
 her dishonored corpse. But take with you the contempt of eVery Polish 
 heitrt, that beats with love for the land that gave you birth !" 
 
 She turned, and without a word of farewell, proudly left the room. — 
 The Princess raised her btow and opened her pretty mouth in bewilder- 
 ment, then rising, and going up to the mirror, she smoothed her hair and 
 began to laugh. 
 
 "• What a pathetic fool !" said she, " Anybody might know that her 
 mother had been an actress. To think of the daughter of an Artist get- 
 ting up a scene because a Prince^^s will not stoop to marry a painter ! 
 Quelle betise.'''' 
 
 Witk these words she walked back to her carriage and drove off. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 The Countess Anna, meanwhile, had retired to her room. Exhausted 
 by her own emotions, she sank into a chair, and clasping her hands con- 
 vulsively, she stared, with distended eyes, upon the blank wall opposite. 
 
 She was perfectly unconscious that, after a time, the door had opened 
 and Matuschka stood before her. It was not until the old woman had 
 taken her hand and raised it to her lips, that she started from her mourn- 
 ful reverie. 
 
 " What now, Matuschka 1" said she, awakening from her dream. 
 
 " My lady, I come to know what we are to do. The pearl necklace 
 and wreath are sold, and they have maintained the Countess Wielopolska 
 as beseems her rank, but we live upon our capital, and it lessens every 
 day. Oh, my lady, why will you conceal your poverty when the Ena- 
 peror " 
 
 " Peace!" interrupted the Countess. " When we speak of our pov-. 
 erty don't name the Emperor. If there is no more money in our purse, 
 take the diadem of brilliants, sell the diamonds and replace them with 
 false stones. They will bring a thousand ducats, and that sum will last 
 us for a whole year." |^ 
 
 " And then ?" sobbed Matuschka. 
 
 « And then," echoed the Countess, thoughtfully. ' Then we will 
 either be happy or ready for death. Go, Matuschka, let no one know 
 that I am selling my diamonds ; but replace them by to-morrow morn- 
 iag ; for I must wear them at the Emperor's reception." 
 
 " Your whole set, pearls and diamonds we now false," said the per- 
 
 -^^ 
 
EMPEKOK or AUSTRIA 89 
 
 aevering servant. *' What will the Emperor say v?hen he hears of if?" 
 
 '• lf(> must never know of it. Now go, and return qnicljl y-" 
 
 Matuschka, lo'^king almost anfjri'y at her lady, left the room. In the 
 antc-rootn stood a man, wrapped in a cloak. She went quic«]y up to- 
 him with the open etui. 
 
 "The.diamond coronet," whispered she. "I am to sell the jewels 
 and have their places filled with false ones. It is to be dune before to- 
 morrow." . 
 
 "How much does she expect for if?" asked the visitor in a low 
 
 voice. 
 
 — "A thousani ducats, sire." 
 
 — " I will send the sum to-night. Hide the coronet until to-morrow, 
 and then return it to her. Where is she 1" 
 
 — ''In her cabinet, your Majesty. 
 
 — " Let no one enter until I return." 
 
 He then threw down his cloak, and without knocking, opened the door. 
 The Countess was still lost in thought. She still gazed at the blank 
 wall, and heard the flippant voice which had poured out its profanity as 
 though life had been a jest, and immortality a dream. 
 
 The Emperor stopped to contemplate for a moment, and his large, 
 loving eyes rested fondly noble form. 
 
 " Countess Anna," said he,' softly. 
 
 " The Emperor !" exclaimed she, rising and coming joyfully forward, 
 while a deep blu9<i overspread her face. 
 
 — "What? Will you not respect my incognito? Will you not re- 
 ceive me as Count Falkenstein?" 
 
 " Is not the name of the Emperor the first that is pronounced by the 
 priest when he prays before the altar for his fellow-creatures?" replied 
 she, with an enchanting snVile. " Think of my heart as a priest, and let 
 that name be ever the first. I speak in my prayers to heaven. 
 
 " By heaven, if priests resembled you, I should not hate them as I do. 
 Come, my lovely priestess, then call me Emperor if you will, but receive 
 me as Count Falkenslein." 
 
 *' Welcome Count," replied she cheerfully. 
 
 "God be praised then, ray royalty has disappeared for awhile," said 
 Joseph. 
 
 — '• And yet my lord and Emperor, it is the privilege of royalty to 
 heal all wounds, to wipe away all tears, and to comfort all sorrow. — 
 What a magnificent prerogative it is to hold in one's own hand the hap- 
 piness of thousands." 
 
 " What is happiness, sweet moralist ?" cried Joseph. " Mankind are 
 forever in search of it, yet no man has ever found it." 
 
 " What is happiness !" exclaimed she, with enthusiasm. "It is to 
 have the power of ruling destiny — it is to stand upon the Himmalcynh 
 of your might, when stretching forth your imperial hand, you can say to 
 the oppressed among nations, ' come unto me, ye who strive against ty- 
 ranny, and I will give you freedom.' " 
 
:ij() JOSEPH THR biiCONDj 
 
 " In other words, replied the Emperor," with an arch smile, " it is to 
 march to Poland and give battle to the Empress of Kussia." 
 
 " It is, it is^!"' cried she, with the fervor of a Miriam. " It is to be the 
 Messiah of crucified Freedom, to redeem your fellows from bondage, 
 and to earn the blessings of a people to whom your natus, for all time, 
 will stand as the type of all that is great in a sovereign and good in a 
 man ! Oh, Emperor of Austria, be the generous redeemer of my 
 country !" 
 
 And scarce knowing what she said, she took his hand and pressed it 
 to her heart. 
 
 Joseph withdrew it, gently, saying, " peace, lovely enthusiast, peace ! 
 Give politics to the winds ! She is an abominable old hag, and the very 
 rustling of her Sybilline leaves, as she turns them over in the Cabinet of 
 the Empress, makes me shudder with disgust. Let us drive her hence 
 then. 1 came hither to taste a few draughts of happiness at your side, 
 sweet Anna." 
 
 The Countess sighed wearily, as the Emperor drew her to his side, 
 . and her pale, inspired face was turned upon him with a look of unutter- 
 able anguish. 
 
 The Emperor saw it and leaned his, head back upon the cushion of the 
 sofa. After a pause he said, '■ How sweet it is to be here !" 
 
 "And yet you came late,"' whispered she, reproachfully. 
 
 " Because I travelled by a circuitous route, got into one hackney coach 
 and out of another, drove hither, thither, and everywhere, to bafile my 
 mother's spies. Do you suppose that any one of her bigoted followers 
 would believe in a chaste friendship like ours ? Do you suppose they 
 would understand the blameless longings I have to see your lovely face, 
 and to listen to the melody of your matchless voice"? Tell me Countess 
 Anna, how have 1 deserved the rich boon of your friendship/?" 
 
 " Nay, Count Ealkenstein," replied she, with a bewitching smile, ".tell 
 me how I have earned yours. Moreover, who tells you that I am dis- 
 interested in my sentiments? The day may come when you will un- 
 derstand how entirely I rely upon you tor assistance." 
 
 " But you have not given your friendship exclusivel}'" for the sake of 
 •.the day that may come ? Have you?" said the Emperor, with a pierc- 
 Jng glance at her beautiful pale face. 
 
 The Countess cast down her eyes and blushed. " Do you mistrust 
 lue V asked she, in a low, trembling voice. 
 
 " Give me a proof of your confidence in me," said Joseph, rising and 
 taking both her hands in his. " You call me friend — give me then the 
 right of a friend. Let me, in some degree, replace to you the fortune 
 of which the Russian Empress has robbed you." ' . 
 
 "You are mistaken, sire," said the Countess, proudly, " the Russian 
 Empress did not rob me of everything. She took my lands, but I have 
 invested funds in foreign securities which yield me an ample income. I 
 -have also, my family jewels, and as long as you see me wearing them, 
 von may feel sure that 1 have other meanK of support." 
 
The Emperor shook his head. "You are nc)t wearing your iHUiily 
 jewels, Anna," sairl he. 
 
 " How sire!" exclaimed she, blu^'hinc:. 
 
 He leaned over, and in a low voice said, " your jewels are filse, your 
 pearls are imitation, and there is not a single diamond in that coronet 
 you intend to wear at niy mother's reception to-morrow," 
 
 The cheeks of the Omntess grew scarlet with confusiun, and her head 
 drooped with shame. The Emperor laid his hand upon her arm. " Now 
 Anna," said he, tenderly, "now that I know all, grant ine the happiness 
 of relieving you from your temporary embarrass^ment^. Gracious hea- 
 ven ! You w'ho are not ashamed to confide your distress to pawn brokers 
 and jewellers, yon refuse to trust me /" 
 
 " 1 would rather be under obligations to a stranger than to a friewd," 
 returned the Countess, in a voice scarcely audible. 
 
 "But Anna," cried the Emperor, with a sudden burst of feeling, "you 
 would rather be obliged to the man whom you loved than to a stranger. 
 Oh, if you but loved me, there would be no question of ' mine or thine ' 
 between us ! It is said— I have betrayed myself, and 1 need stifle my 
 passion no longer, for I love you, beautiful Anna, I lovo you from my 
 soul, and, at youv feet, T implore you to give me that which is above all 
 wealth or titles. Give me your love, be mine. Answer me, answer 
 me. Do you love me?" 
 
 " I do," whispered she, without raising her head. 
 
 The Emperor threw his arm around her waist. " Then," said he, 
 "from this hour you give me the right to provide for you. Do you 
 not •?" 
 
 — "^No sire, I can provide for myself." 
 
 " Then," cried Joseph, angrily, '• you do not love me." 
 
 " Yes, sire, I love you. You predicted that my heart would find its 
 master. It has bowed before you and owns your sway. In the name 
 of that love, I crave help for Poland. She cries to heaven for vengeance 
 and heaven has not heard the cry. She is threatened by Russia and 
 Prussia, and if noble Austria abandon her, she is lost!" Oh, generous 
 Austria, rescue my native land from her foes !" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the Emperor, sarcastically, "you call me Austria, 
 and your love is bestowed upon my station and my armies ! It is not 
 I whom you love, but that Emperor of Austria, in whose hand lies the 
 power that may rescue Poland." 
 
 "I love 7/on'; but my love is grafted upon the hope I so long have 
 cherished that in you 1 recognise the Baviour of my country." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried the Emperor, with a sneer. 
 
 The Countess did not hear him. she continued, " until Iloved you, 
 every throb of my heart belonged to Poland. She, alone, was the object oC 
 my love and of my pravers. But since then, sire, the holy fire that burned 
 upon the 'altar is quenched, i am faithless to my vestal vow, and I feel 
 within my soul the tenipesfc of an earthly passion. 1 have broken the 
 oath that f made to mv dving mother, for th^re i" one more dear to m*^ 
 
92 JOSCPIl THE 3EC0:^D- 
 
 than Poland now, and for him are the prayers, the hopes, the longings, 
 and the dreams that all belonged to Poland! Oh, my lord and my 
 lover, reconcile me to my conscience ! Let me believe that my loves 
 are one ; and on the day when your victorious eagles shall have driven 
 iiway the vultures that prey upon my fatherland, I will throw myself at 
 your feet, and live for your love alone." 
 
 " Ah, indeed," said the Emperor, with a sardonic laugh, " you •will go 
 to such extremity in your patriotism. You will sell yourself that Po- 
 land may be redeemed through your dishonor. 1 congratulate you upon 
 your dexterous statesmanship. You sought me, I perceive, that by the 
 magic of your intoxicating beauty, you might lure me to sacrifice the 
 lives of my people in behalf of yours. Your love is a strategem of di- 
 plomacy, nothing more." 
 
 " Oh, sire," cried she, in tones of anguish, " you despise me then ?'* 
 
 — " Not at all ; I admire your policy, but unhappily it is only par- 
 tially successful. You had calculated that I would not be proof against 
 your beauty, your talents, your fascinations. You are right ; I am taken 
 in the snare, for I love you madly." 
 
 " And do I not return your love from my heart?" asked she. 
 
 " Stay,"»cried Joseph, " hear me out. One half your policy 1 say 
 ■was successful; the other has been at f\uiU. As your lover I will do 
 anything that man can do to make you happy ; but my head belongs to- 
 my fatherland, and you cannot rule it, through my heart." 
 
 — "^ire, I seek nothing that is inconsistent with Austria's welfare. I 
 ask help for Poland." 
 
 — " Which help might involve Austria in a ruinous war with two 
 powerful nations, and leave her so exhausted that she would have to 
 stand by and witness the partitibn of Poland without daring to claipa a 
 share for herself." 
 
 "The partition of Poland!" exclaimed the Countess, with a cry of 
 horror. Avenging God, wilt Thou suffer sQch culminations of human 
 wickedness! And you, sire, could you share in such a crime? But, 
 no ! no ! no ! — see how misfortune has maddened me, when I doubt the 
 honor of the noble Emperor of Austria. Never would the lofty and 
 generous Joseph stoop to such infamy as this!" 
 
 — " If Poland must succumb, I will act as becomes my station and 
 responsibilities as the sovereign of a great empire, and I will do that 
 which the wisdom and prudence of my mother shall dictate to her son. 
 But Anna, dear Anna," continued he, passionately, " why should the 
 sweet confession of our love be lost in the turbid roar of these political 
 waters'? Tell me that you love me as a woman ought to love, having 
 no God, no faith, no country, butcher lover; losing her identity and liv- 
 ing for his happiness alone !" 
 
 "I love you, I love you," murnaured she, with indescribable tender- 
 ness, and clasping her hands, she fell upon her knees, and raised her eyes 
 to him with a look that made him long to fold her to his heart, and 
 yield up his empire, had she jpquested it at his hands, '* Help for Po 
 
EMFEBOR OF AUSTRIA. 93 
 
 land !" prayed she again, " help for Poland and I am yours forever !" 
 
 Joseph grew angry w'itli himself and with her. "Love does not 
 ch.'.trei-,' said he, rudely. " When a woman loves, she mu>rt recognise 
 her master, and bow before his Svill ; otherwise there is uo love. For 
 the last lime I ask, do you love uiel" 
 
 " More than life or honor." 
 
 "Then be a woman, and yield yourself to me. Away with national- 
 ity, it is an abstraci ion. What are Poland and the world to yon ?— 
 Here upon tny heart are your country and your altars! Come, without 
 condition and without reserve ! 1 cannot promise to free Poland, but by 
 the bright heaven above us, I swear to make you happy !" 
 
 She shook her head mournfully and rose from her knees. " Make me 
 happy !" echoed she. "Forme there can bo no happiness while Po- 
 Jand sorrows." 
 
 " Say that again," thundered the Emperor, " and we part forever." 
 
 "I 8»y it again," said she, with proud tranquility, but prile as death. 
 
 "And yet if I am not ready to sacrifice my own people for yours, 
 you will not believe in my love! You are unwilling to give up an idle 
 dream of Polish freedom, and you ask of me, a man and an Emperor, 
 that 1 shall bring to you the offering of my own honor and of my peo- 
 ple's happiness." 
 
 She -said nothing. 
 
 " It is enough," cried Joseph, his eyes flashing with anger. " Pride 
 agains* pride ! We part ; for the first thing I require of a woman who 
 loves me, is submission. It grieves me bitterly to find you so unwoman- 
 ly. I would have prized your love above every earthly blessing, had 
 you given it freely. Conditionally, I will not accept it ; above ail when 
 its Conditions relate to the government of my empire. No woman .shall 
 ever have a voice in my affairs of State. If for that reason she reject 
 me, I must submit, although, as at this moment, my heart bleeds at her 
 rejection." 
 
 " And mine ! My heart!" exclaimed the Countess, raising her tearful 
 eyes to his. 
 
 " Pride will cure you," replied he, with a bitter smile. " Go back to 
 the fatherland that you love so well, and I shall imitate you, and turn 
 to mine for comfort. There is many a mourning heart in Austria less 
 haughty than yours, to which, perchance, 1 may be able to bring joy or 
 consolation. God grant me some compensation in life for the supreme 
 misery of this hour ! Farewell Countess Wielopolska. To-night 1 leave 
 Vienna." 
 
 He crossed the room, while she looked afler him as though her lips 
 ■were parting to utter a cry. At the door he turned once more to say 
 farewell. Still she spoke not a word, but looked as though, like Niobe, 
 she were stiffening into marble. 
 
 The Emperor opened the door and passed into the ante-room. As 
 iie disappeared, she uttered a low cry, and clasped both hor hands over 
 her heart. \ 
 
94 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " My God, my God, I love him !" sobbed she, and reeling backward, 
 she fell fainting to tlje floor. 
 
 CHAP'TER XXVI. 
 
 FAMINE. IN BOHEMIA. 
 
 The cry of distress from Bohemia reached Vienna, and came to the 
 knowledge of the Emperor. Joseph hastened to bring succor and com- 
 fort to his unhappy subjects. 
 
 Their need was great. Two successive years of short harvest had 
 spread want and tribulation throughout all Germany, especially in Bo- 
 hemia and Mpravia, where a terrible innundaiion, added to the failure 
 of the crops, had destroyed the fruits and vegetables of every field and 
 every little garden. ,; 
 
 The country was one vast desert. From every cottage went forth 
 the wail of hunger. The stalls were empty of cattle, the barns of corn ; 
 the plows lay idle on the ground, for there was neither grain to sow, nor 
 oxen to drive; there were neither men nor women to till the spil, for 
 there was no money to pay nor food to sustain them. Each man >yas 
 alone in his want, and each sufferer in the egotism of a misery that sti- 
 fled all humanity, complained that no one fed him, when all were faint- 
 ing for lack of food. 
 
 Bread ! Bread! The dreadful cry arose from hundreds of emaciated 
 being-;, old and youn^, who in the crowded cities lay d^^ ing in the streets, 
 their wasted hands raised in vain supplication to the passers by ! 
 
 Bread ! Bread ! moaned the peasant in his hut, and the villager at the 
 wayside, as with glaring eyes they stared at the traveller, who more 
 fortunate than they, was leaving Bohemia for happier climes, and surely 
 iii gratitude for his own rescue, would throw a crust to the starving fel- 
 lows whom he left behind ! 
 
 There "they lay, watching for the elegant carriages, the horsemen, the 
 wagons that were accustomed to pass them on their road to Prague. 
 But now the high-road was empty, for the fauiine had extended to 
 Prague, and no one cared to go thither. 
 
 And yet on either side of the road were hundreds of starving wretches, 
 who long ago had left their miserable huts and now lay in heaps upon 
 the ground, the heavens their only shelter, the wide world their home. 
 These were the inhabitants of the mountains, who had come down to 
 the neighboring villages for help, but had been rudely driven away by 
 those whose sufferings^iiad maddened thera and turned their hearts to 
 stone. 
 
EMl'ERliR OF AUSTKiA 
 
 95^- 
 
 They had lain there for a day, and yet not one trace of .1 traveller liacl 
 they soen. The mid-day sun had blistered iheir foreheads but they had 
 not felt it, for the liery p*angs of hunger were keener than the sun ; and 
 now the evening air that tiinned their burning brows brought no relief, 
 tor fiercer and mori; cruel grow the gnawings of the fiend within. 
 
 "There is no help on erirth," cried an old woman, the grandmother of 
 a whole generation of stalwart mountaineers, who lay stricken around 
 her. There were her son and his wife, once such a stately pair, now rc- 
 uuced to two pale spectres; there were troops of grandchildren, once 
 round-cheeked as the carved angels on the alter of the viilage-chapei, 
 now hollow-eyed and skinny, with their blanched faces upturned implo- 
 ringly to the parents who were scarcely conscious of their presence there. 
 Hunger had extinguished youth, strength, beauty, and had almost up- 
 rooted love. Not only had it destroyed their bodies, but it had even 
 corrupted their souls. 
 
 "There is no help on earth," cried the old woman again with such en- 
 ergy of despair that her voice found its way to the dull ear of every 
 starving wretch around. And now from every hollow voice came back 
 the mournful chorus, "There is no help on earth !" 
 
 "There is no help in heaven !" shrieked an old man, who widi his fa- 
 mily was lying in a hollow, whence their moans were heard as though 
 coming from the grave. "There is no God in heaven, else he would^ 
 hear our cries ! There is no God !" 
 
 "There is no God !" echoed the maddened wretches, and many a was- 
 ted arm was raised in defiance to heaven. 
 
 "Still, still, my friends !" cried the grandmother, "let us not sin be- 
 cause we starve. We can but die and the Lord will receive us." And 
 as she spoke she raised her trembling body and stretched forth her poor 
 withered arms as though she would have calmed the tempest she had 
 raised. 
 
 "Still, father Martin !" cried she, in a voice of authority. "There is 
 a God above, but He has turned away His face because" of our sin;?^ 
 Let us pray to see the light of His countenance. Come friends, let us 
 gather up all our strength and pray." She rose and knelt, while inspir- 
 ed by her example, the" multitude knelt also. Old and young, men and 
 women, all with one supreme effort lifted up their hands to heaven. 
 
 But the prayer was over, the petitioners fell prostrate to the earth, 
 and still no sign of help from above! ^ 
 
 "You see, mother Elizabeth," groaned father Martin, "your prayers 
 are all vain. Heaven is empty, and we must die." 
 
 " We must die, we must die!" howled the famishing multitude, and 
 exhausted by the might of their own despair, they fell to rise no more. 
 A long, fearful silence ensued. Here and there a faint moan struggled 
 for utterance, and a defiant arm was raised as though to threaten Om- 
 nipotence ; then the poor, puny creatures whom hunger had bereft of 
 reason, shivered, dropped their hand ^j_ and again lay still. 
 
 Suddnnir fho rilpnce wns broken jS^Hhe fnilit sound of nnrri.'>g''-whw.lf». 
 
96 JOSEPH TH£ i^EOOND. 
 
 Nearer and more near it came, until the horses' heads were to be seen 
 through tbe clouds of dust that enveloped the vehicle. The poor star- 
 ving.puasants heard, but scarcely heeded it. They stared in mute des- 
 pair, or murmured, " It is too hite!" 
 
 Still the carriage rolled on, the dust grevF thicker, and now it hid frora 
 the travellers' view the miserable wretches that lay dying around them. 
 But heaven be praised, they stop ! 
 
 There were two carriages followed by outsiders. The first carriage 
 contained three persons all clad in dark, plain, civilian's clothes; but it 
 was easy to recognise in the youngest of the three, the most important 
 personage of all. It was he who had given the order to halt, and now 
 without waiting for assistance, he leaped from the carriage and walked 
 at once to the -foremost group of suilerers. He bent down to the old 
 woman, who, turning her fever-stricken face to him, moaned feebly. 
 
 " What is the matter f said the traveller in a gentle and sympathi- 
 sing tone. " How can I help you f 
 
 The old mother made a violent effort and spoke. " Hunger," said 
 she, " I burn — burn — hunger." 
 
 " Hunger ! hunger !" echoed the people around, shaking off their 
 lethargy, and awakening once more to hope. 
 
 " Uh, my God ! This woman will die before we can succor her," ex- 
 claimed the young man sorrowfully. " Hasten, Lacy, and bring me 
 some, wine." 
 
 " We have none," replied Lacy, " your Majesty gave away your last 
 bottle in the village behind." 
 
 " But she will die !" exclaimed the Emperor, as bending over the poor 
 old woman, he took her skinny hand in his. 
 
 " We must die," murmured she, while her parched tongue protruded 
 from her mouth. 
 
 " Sire, you are in danger," whispered Lacy. 
 
 " Rise, your Majesty," interrupted Rosenburg, " these unhappy people 
 have the typhus that accompanies starvation, and it is contageous." 
 
 " Contagious for those who hunger, but not for us," replied Joseph. 
 " Oh, my friends," continued he, " see here are three generations all dy- 
 ing for want of food. Gracious heaven ! They have lost all resem- 
 blance to humanity. Hunger has likened them to animals. Oh, it is 
 dreadful to think that a crust of bread or a sip of wine might awaken 
 these suffering creatures to reason : but flour and grain.can be of no aivail 
 here!" 
 
 " They may avail elsewhere, sire," said Rosenberg, " and if we can do 
 nothing for these, let us go on and help others." 
 
 •> " It is fearful," said the Emperor, " but I will not leave until I have 
 made an effort to save them." 
 
 He signed to one of his outriders, and taking out a leaf of his pocket- 
 book, wrote something upon it. " Gallop for your life to Prague," said 
 he, "and give this paper to the lop^l, steward of the palace. He must at 
 onoe 8end a wagon hither, laden wiih food and wine, and that he may be 
 
% EMrEllOR OP AUSTRIA 97 
 
 able to do it withopt delay, telf him to take the stores from the palace 
 and all the viands that are preparing in the icitcheu for my reception. — 
 This paper will be your warrant. As soon as you shall have delivered 
 your message, fill a portmanteau with old Hungarian wine and gallop 
 back to me. Be here within two hours, if you kill two of my best 
 horses to compass the distance." 
 
 The outrider took the paper, and setting spurs to his horse, he gallop- 
 ed off to Prague. 
 
 " And now, my friends," continued the Emperor, " although we have 
 no wine, we have bread and meat. Not much, it is true, but I think ib 
 will save these people fioin death." 
 
 The Enipct^r hastened in the direction of his carriage. "Quick, 
 Giinther, hand -tne the camp-chest." 
 
 " But your Majesty has not eaten a morsrl to-day," urged Rosenberg, 
 following him. "I cannot consent to see the food prepared for you, be- 
 stowed upon any .one. You will lose your health if you fast for such a 
 length of time. You owe it to your mother, the'»Empress, and toyour 
 subjects, not to deprive yourself of food." 
 
 " Do you think 1 could eat in presence of such hunger!" cried the 
 Emperor, impatiently. " Come, Giinther, come all of you, and help 
 me. Here is a large fowl. Cut it into little morsels, and — oh, what a 
 discovery ! — ajar of beef jelly. While you carve the fowl 1 will die- 
 tribute the jelly. Come, Lacy and Rosenberg, take each a portion of 
 this chicken, and cut it up." 
 
 " Good heavtnis. Lacy, come to my relief," cried Rosenberg. " Th« 
 Emperor is alxnit to give away his last morsel. We bc^h have had 
 breakfast, but. he has not tasted food for a day." 
 
 " He is right, our noble Emperor," replied Lacy. " In the presence 
 of such sullering, he is right to forget himself; if he could liot do Bo, he 
 would not be worthy to be a sovereign." 
 
 The Emperor heard none of this, he was already wnth the sufTerers, 
 distributing his food. WMth an earnest look and a firm and rapid hand, 
 he put a teaspoonful of jelly between the parched, half opened lips of 
 the grand-mother, whiltj Giinther, imitating him, did the same for her 
 son. 
 
 For a moment the Emperor looked to see the effect of his remedy.' 
 He saw an expressipn of joy flit over the features of the poor old wo- 
 man, and then her lips moved, and she swallowed the jelly, 
 
 "See, gee!" cried the Emperor, overjoyed, "she takes it. Oh, Giin- 
 ther, this will save them until help comes from Prague ! But there are 
 Ro many of them. Do you think we have a hundred teaspoons of jelly 
 in the jar 1" 
 
 And he looked anxiously at Giinther, 
 
 "It is a large jar, your Majesty," said Giinther, " and 1 think it will 
 hold out." 
 
 " Be sparing of it at any rate, and do not heap up your spoons. And 
 now, not another word. We must go to work/' 
 
98 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 He stooped down and spoke no more, but his face was lib up by the 
 fire of the christian charity that was coDsuming his noble' heart. He 
 looked as must have looked his ancestor Rudolph of Hapsburg, who once 
 meeting a foot-sore priest bearing the viaticum to a dying parishioner, 
 gave up his horse to the servant of God, and continued his way on foot. 
 
 While the Emperor flew from group to group, resuscitating his ex- 
 piring subjects, Lacy and Rosenberg were carefully cutting up the fowl 
 that had been roasted for his dinner. A deep silence reigned around, 
 all nature seemed to be at peace, and oyer the reclining sutferers the 
 evening sun threw long rays of rosy light, that illumined their pallid 
 faces with the hue of hope and returning life. ;V 
 
 Gradually there was motion in the scene. Here an4' there a head 
 arose from the ground, then a body, and presently a gleam of intelli- 
 gence shot athwart those glaring, blood-shot eyes. The Emperor 
 watched them with a happy smile. His errand of mercy was at an end. 
 The jar was empty, but every one had received a share, and all were 
 reviving. 
 
 " Now give them a morsel of chicken," said Joseph. " A small piece 
 will suffice, for after their long fast they can only eat sparingly of food ; 
 and they will have had enough until help comes to us from Prague." 
 
 " Then," said Rosenberg, affectionately, " I hope that your Majesty, 
 too, will take something. There will certainly be enough left for you 
 to eat your dinner without remorse." 
 
 " Never mind me, Rosenberg," laughed the Emperor. *' 1 shall not 
 die of starvation, I promise you. When the creature cries out for 
 nourishment, I shall give it; but I think that my Maker will not love* 
 me the less for having, voluntarily, felt the pangs of hunger for once in 
 my life. I can never forget this day in Bohemia; it has confirmed my 
 resolution to reign for the good of my people alone, and as God hears 
 me, they shall -be happy when I govern them. — But your chicken is 
 ready. To satisfy you, I will go and beg my supper in yonder village, 
 and, as ^.here are enough of you to attend to these poor sufferers, I will 
 take Lacy to keep me company. Come Lacy." 
 
 He took the arm of the Fieldmarshal, and they both presently disap- 
 peared behind the trees. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 THE BLACK BROTH. 
 
 In a quarter of au hour they had reached the village. The same ab- 
 sence of all life struck painfully upon the Emperor's heart as they 
 walked along the deserted streets, and heard nothing save the echo of 
 
RMPKROK OF AUSTRIA. yj) 
 
 their own footsteps. Not the Iqwing of a cow nor the bleating of u 
 sheep, not one Jamiliar rural sound broke the mournful stilhiess that 
 brooded over the air. Occasionally a ghastly figure, in tattered gar- 
 ments, from whose vacant eyes the light of reason seemed to have lied, 
 ■was seen crouching at the door of a hut, wherein his wife and children 
 ■were starving. This was the only token of life that greeted the eyes of 
 the grave and silent pair. 
 
 " Lacy," at last sighed the Emperor, " bow fearful is this deadly silence. 
 One might fancy that he walked in Pompeii, and Pompeii, alas, is not 
 more lonely. To think that I, an Emperor, must look on and give no 
 help!" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sire, you can give help," said Lacy, encouragingly. There 
 must bo vsome means by which this fearful famine can be arrested," 
 
 — " I have ordered cqrn from Hungary, where the harvest has been 
 abundant. , To encourage the importation of grain in Bohemia, I have 
 promised, besides good prices, a premium of one hundred guilders for 
 each well laden, four-horse wagon of grain that arrives before the expi- 
 ration of three weeks." 
 
 — " But the people will be exhausted before three weeks." 
 
 — " i have also ordered the commJssary store-houses to be opened in 
 Prague, and the grain to be distributed." 
 
 " This will last but lor a few days," returned Lacy, shaking his head. 
 
 " Then what can I do ?"'^exclaimed the Emperor, sorrowfully. 
 
 — "The famine is so great that it can scarcely have arisen from natural 
 causes. Where scarcity is, there will always be found the extortioner, 
 who profits by it. Thosie who have grain, are withholding it for higher 
 prices." 
 
 — " Woe to them, if I light upon their stores !" exclaimed Joseph, in- 
 dignantly. " Woe to those who traffic in the fruits of the earth, which 
 God has bestowed for the use of all men." 
 
 — " Your Majesty will not find them. They will be carefully hidden 
 away from your sight." 
 
 " I will seek until I find," replied the Erriperor. " But look there, 
 Lacy, ■what a stately dwefling rears its proud head beyond that grove 
 of trees. Is it the setting sun that gilds the windows just now?" 
 
 "No, your Majesty, the light is from within. I suppose it is the 
 castle of the nobleman, who owns the village." 
 
 They walked a few paces further, when the Emperor spoke a^ain. 
 "See, Lacy, here is a hut, from whose chimney I see smoke. Perhaps 
 I shall find something to eat -ft'ithin." 
 
 He opened the door of the cottage, and there, on the floor, in a heap, 
 lay a woman with four children. Their hollow eyes were fixed without 
 the slightest interest upon the strangers, tor they were in the last stage 
 of hunger-typhus, and saw nothing. 
 
 Lacy hurried the Emperor away, saying, " Nothing can help these ex- 
 cept death. I know this terrible fever, "j saw it in Moravia in '62." 
 
 Thoy stepped from the cottage to the kitchen. A fire ■was burning 
 
160 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 in the clilmney, and before it stood a man who was stirrhig the contents 
 of a pot." I . 
 
 " God be praised !" exclaimed the Emperor, "here is food." ' 
 
 The man turned and showed a sunken, famished countenance. 
 
 " Do you want dinner?" said he roughly. "I have a mess in my 
 pot that an Emperor might covet." 
 
 " He does covet it, my friend," said the Emperor, laughing. " What 
 have you there ?" 
 
 The man threw sinister glances at the well-dressed strangers, who jarred 
 the funereal air of his cottage with untimely mirth. 
 
 " Did you come here to mock me ?" said he. " Fine folks, like you, 
 are after no good in a poor man's cottage. If you come here to pasture 
 upon our misery, go into the house, and there you will see a sight that 
 will rejoice the rich man's heart. 
 
 " No; my friend," replied the Emperor, soothingly, "we come to ask 
 for a share of your supper." ^ 
 
 The man broke out into a sardonic laugh. " My supper !" cried he. 
 *' Come, then, and see it. It is earth and water !" 
 
 •' Earth and water !" cried the horror-stricken Joseph. 
 
 The peasant nodded. "Yes," said he, "the earth gives growth to 
 the corn, and as 1 have got no corn, I am trying to see what it will do 
 for me ! We have already tasted grass. It is so green and fresh, and 
 i?8cms so sweet to our cattle, that we tried to eat t\ie'^weei green grass.^^ 
 And he smiled, but it was the smile of a demon. 
 
 " Oh, my God!" cried the Emperor. 
 
 '^But it seems," continued the man, as though speaking to himself, 
 " that God loves cattle better than he does men, lor the grass which 
 strengthens them, made us so sick, so sick, that it would have been a 
 mercy if we had all died. It seems that we cannot die, however, so 
 now I am going to eat the glorious earth. Hurrah! My supper is 
 ready. 
 
 He swung the kettle upon the table and poured the black mass into a 
 platter. 
 
 " Now," said he, with a fiendish grin, " now will tho great folks like 
 to sup with me?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Emperor, gravely; "I will taste of your supper." 
 
 He stepped to the table, and took the spoon which the bewildered 
 peasant held out to him. Pale with excitement, the Emperor put the 
 apoon to his mouth, and tasted. Then he reached it to Lacy. 
 . " Taste it. Lacy," said he. " Oh, t© think that these are men who suf- 
 fer the pangs of starvation!" And completely overcome by his sorrow- 
 ing sympathy, the Emperor's eyes overflowed with tears. 
 
 The peasant saw them and said, " y*»s, my lord, we are men, but God 
 has forsaken us. He has been more merciful to the cattle, for they have 
 all died." 
 
 " But how came this fearfulfamine among you ?" asked Lacy. " Did 
 vou !ii-f rjnnt cot ''" ' ' 
 
KiihKuoh >i' Ai;siKik lyi 
 
 "'How could we plaiiL corn wheh wo had uone .' J or Lwo ) tsars 0*1 
 crops hai|» failed, aud hunger has eat'jn our vitals until there is not a 
 man in the village who has the strength to raise a fagi^t.'" 
 
 '' But I saw a castle as we came thither," said Lacy. 
 
 '•Yes,~vou saw the castle of the Barofe Von Weifach. Tli« whole 
 country belongs to him; but. we are 'free peasants. As long as we 
 made anything we paid hira our tithes. But we have nothing now." 
 
 And with a groan he sank dowD upon the wooden settle that stood 
 behind him. 
 
 " The BaroD does nothing for you then ?" 
 . " Why should he ?" said the man, with a bitter laugh. '• We pay do 
 more tiihes, and we are of no use to him. He prays every day for the 
 famine to last, and God hears his prayers, for God forsakes the poor 
 and loves the rich." 
 
 " But how does he profit by the famine ?" asked Lacy. 
 
 " We have been profitable laborers to him, my lord. For several 
 years past his corn-fields have been weighed down with golden tassels 
 that made the heart leap with joy at sight of their beauty. He had so 
 much that his barns would not hpld it, and he had to put up other great 
 barns, thatched with straw to shelter it. This year, it is true, that be 
 has reaped nothing, but what of that. His barna are still full to over- 
 flowing." 
 
 '• But how comes there such famine, when his barns are full of corn V 
 asked the Emperor, who was listening with intense interest. 
 
 "That is a question which does little honor to your head, sire," said 
 the peasant, with a grating laugh. "The famine is so terrible in Bohe- 
 mia precisely because the extortioners hold back their grain and will not 
 sell it." 
 
 " But there is a law agains^- the hoarding of grain." 
 
 " Yes, there are laws made so that the poor may be punished by them 
 and the rich protected," said the peasant, with a sinister look. " Oh, 
 yes, there are laws! The rich only have to say that they have no corn, 
 and there the law ends." 
 
 " And you think that the Baron Von Weifach has grain?" 
 
 The peasant nodded. "I know it," said he, "and when the timp 
 comes, he will put it in the market." 
 /'What timer 
 
 "When the need of the people will be so great that they will part 
 with their last acre of land or last handful of gold for a few bushels of 
 grain. Several years ago, when corn was cheap, iie sent his corn abroa''^ 
 to a country where the harvest had been short ; but he will not do so 
 this year, lor the rich men have speculated so well that corn is dearer 
 here than it is over the frontiers.'^- Bui I have enough of your ques- 
 tions. Let me alone and go about your business." 
 
 " Can you buy food with money ?" asked the Emperor, kindly. 1 
 
 * Gross Hoffenger. Lif^^ nnd reign of Joseph II, Vol. 1, page 18g. Carl Ramsborlj. Life and 
 times of Joseph II., page 9i>. 
 
i O'J JUJiEPU THE SECOND, 
 
 '* Yea, indeed, sire," said the peasant, while a ray of hope entered 
 the dark prison of his desponding heart. " If I had money, the house- 
 keeper of the Baron would sell me bread, wheat, meat — oh, she would 
 sell me anything if I had money to pay for it." 
 
 "Take this, then," said the Emperor, laying several gold pieces on 
 the tabl". " I hope to bring you more permanent relief, later.'*' 
 
 The peasant, with a cry, threw himself upon the gold.' He paid no 
 attention whatever to the donor. Shouting for joy at the f3ame time 
 that he was shedding tears in profusion, he darted, with his prize, to his 
 starving wife an'^ children to bid them live until he brought them food. 
 
 Without, stood the Emperor and Lacy. " Oh, God !" murmured he 
 to himself, '• and I have thought myself a most unhappy man ! Whafi 
 is the grief of the heart to such bodily torture as this ! Come, Lacy, 
 come. The day of reckoning is Here, and, "by the eternal God, I will 
 punish the guilty !" 
 
 " What means your Majesty ?" asked Lacy, as the Emperor instead 
 of returning to the village, strode forward towards the path that led to 
 the castle. 
 
 " I mean to gO at orice to yonder castle," cried he, with a threatening 
 jesture, "and my hand shall fall heavily upon the extortioner who with- 
 holds his jgrain from the people." 
 
 " But, your Majesty," urged Lacy, " the word of one discontented peas- 
 ant is not enough to convict a man. You must have proofs before you 
 condemn him." 
 
 — " True, Lacy, you are right. I must seek for proofs." 
 
 — "Row, your Majesty 1" 
 
 — "By going to the castle. My plan is already laid. As they seem 
 to be feasting to-day, I am likely to find a goodly assemblage of rich 
 men together. I must get an invitation to the feast, and once there, if 
 the charge be just, I promise to furnish the proofs." 
 
 ".Y'our MajiBsty's undertaking is not a safe one, I must, therefore, 
 accompany you," said Lacy. 
 
 " No, Lacy, I intend that you shall meet me there. Return to the 
 place where we left Rosenberg and the others, take one of the carriages, 
 and drive with him to the castle. When you arrive there, ask for me, 
 and say that you are now ready to proceed on^ our journey. Giinther 
 can remain with the mountaineers, and if our provisions arrive from 
 , Prague, he can dispatch a courier to let us know it." 
 "Shall we ask for your Majesty at the castle, sire?" 
 
 " Not by my own name. Ask for Baron Von Joseph!, for by that title 
 J shall introduce myself. Now farewell, and au revoir.'''' 
 
tiMfKKOl'. >)f AUSTRIA. \<jy, 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THB EXTORTIONKER OF QUALITY. 
 
 The drawing-room of the Freiherr Von Welfach was splendidly JIlu-, 
 minated. Hundreds of wax lights were multiplied to infinity in tho 
 spacious mirrors that lined the walls, and separated from one another, 
 the richly framed portraits of the Freiherr's noble ancestors. In the 
 hanqiictting-hall, the dinner-table was resplendent with silver and gold, 
 with porcelain and crystal. Flowers sent out their perfume from cost- 
 liest vases of Dresden china, and rich old wines sparkled in goblets of 
 glittering glass. Around the table sat a company of richly-dressed la- 
 dies and gentlemen of rank. They had been four hours at dinner, and 
 the sense of enjoyment, springing from the satisfaction of the appetite, 
 was not only visible on the flushed faces of the men, but betrayed itself 
 upon the rosy-tinted faces of the elegant women who were their com- 
 panions. 
 
 The dessert was. on the table. The guests were indulging themselves 
 in some of those post-prandial effusions, which are apt to blossom from 
 heads overheated by wine, and are generally richer in words than in 
 wisdom. The host, with flattering preliminaries, had proposed the 
 healtn of the ladies, and every goblet sparkled to the brim. Just at 
 that moment a servant entered the room and whispered a few words in 
 his ear. He turned, smiling to his guests, and apologising for tho inter- 
 ruption, said : 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, I leave it to you to decide the question just 
 proposed to me. A gentleman has, at this moment, arrived at the cas- 
 tle, requesting permission to remain until some repairs can be made to 
 his carriage, which has met with an accident in the neighboring village. 
 Shall we invite him to join us while he awaits the return of his vehicle?" 
 
 " Let us not be rash in our hospitality," replied the Freiherrin, from 
 the opposite side of the table. "In the name of the noble ladies assem- 
 bled here, I crave to know whether the stranger who comes so sans fagon 
 to our castle, is worthy of the honor proposed by my husband. In oth- 
 er words, is he a personage of rank V 
 
 *' He presents himself as the Baron Von Josephi," said the Freiherr. 
 
 " One of the oldest families in Hungary !" exclaimed one of the guests. 
 
 "Then he can be admitted," responded the hostess. "At least if it 
 be agreeable to the ladies." 
 
 Unanimous consent was given, and the Freiherr arose from his seat 
 to convey the invitation to the stranger. 
 
 " The Baron Von Josephi !" said he, re-entering with the gentleman. 
 
• ' ^ 
 
 k;jq k.-i-Jing aim at oiiCti to lh«.» .Freiherrin. She received him with smii- 
 jiig courtesy, while the rest of the company directed thei:- glances to- 
 \vard3 him, anxious to see how he would acqiiit himself in his ralher 
 •■mbarrassing position, lie was perfectly self-posses.sed, and in every 
 gesture showed himself to be a mau of the world. 
 
 \\ ith oiiiefc grace he took his seat at the side of the hostess, and, as 
 he looked around, with his large, blue eyes, he seemed rather to be crit- 
 oising than criticised. With a sharp, searching expression, his glances 
 vent from one of the company to another, until they, in their turn, felt 
 not only embarrassed, but Iwnassed and uneasy. 
 
 " I do not know why," whispered one of tliem to the lady who sat 
 next him, "but this new-comer's face seems very familiar to me. i 
 must ha%'e met him somewhere before this." 
 
 "You certainly might remember him," replied the lady, "if it were 
 only for his beautiful eyes. I never saw such eyes in my life. His 
 manners, too, are distinguished. I judge that he must have lived at 
 court." 
 
 " 111 other words, you prefer a man who fawns at court to one who 
 reigns like a prince over his own estates," said the first speaker, warm- 
 ly. '• I, for my part, " 
 
 " Hush ! Let us hear what he is saying," interrupted the lady. 
 " " I am under many obligations for your hospitality," said the Baron 
 Von Josephi to the hostess. For three days that 1 have travelled in- 
 Hohemia, I have met with nothing but poverty and starvation. Thanks 
 1o my entrance in toyour splendid home, I see that plenty still reigns in 
 the castle although it may have departed from the cottage." 
 
 " Yes, thank heaven, we know how to take care of our own interests 
 here," said the Freiherr, laughing. 
 
 " And yet you see how things are exaggerated," replied the Baron 
 Von Josephi, laughing. "Such dreadful tidings of the famine in Bohe-^ 
 mia reached Vienna, that the Emperor is actually on his way to investi- 
 gate the matter. 1 met him not far from Budweis, and he seemed very 
 sad I thought." 
 
 " By the L d, he has reason to feel sad," exclaimed one of the 
 
 guests. "He will find nothing here for his howling subjects. He would 
 have been wiser had he staid in Vienna !" 
 
 "Yes, poor, sehtimental little Emperor!" cried another, with a laugh, 
 *' He will find that the stamp of his imperial foot is not quite heavy enough. 
 to conjure corn out of the earth, wherewith to feed his starving boors." 
 
 " I do not see why he should meddle with the boors at all," added a. 
 third. " Hungry serfs are easy to govern, they have no time to cry for 
 their rights when they are crying for bread." 
 
 "If the gentlemen are going to talk of politicfe," said the hostess, ris- 
 ing from her seat, " it is time for ladies to retire. Come ladies, our cav- 
 aliers will join us when coffee is served." 
 
 'J'he gentlemen rose, and not until the Is^t Jady had passed from the 
 room did thev resume their seatg. 
 
UklhEKUK «>f AUSTRIA lllj 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," said Baron Von Joseph!, " ;is out politicul 
 gossip cun no longer annoy the ladies, allow me lo say lo you that my 
 presence here is not accident^!, as I had led you to Suppose." 
 
 "And to what are we indebted for the honor?" asked the host. 
 
 "I will explain," said the Baron, iiiclining his head. "You have re- 
 ceived me with the ho==pitaiity of the olden lime, without incjniiirrj; my 
 rank, lineage or dwelling place. Permit ine to introduce my:>eif". I 
 have estates in Moravia, and they are contiguous to those of Count 
 Hoditz." 
 
 " Then," replied Freiherr Von Weifach, " I sympathise with you, for 
 nowhere in Austria has the famine been more severe." 
 
 " Severe, indeed ! The poor are dying like flies, for they cannot learn 
 to live upon grass." 
 
 " Neither will ihey learn to livp upon it in Bohemia," said the Freiherr, 
 laughing. " The people are so unreasonable. The noblest race-horse 
 lives upon hay and grass ; why should it not be good enough for a peas- 
 ant of low degree." 
 
 " Mere prejudice on the part of the peasant!" returned the Baron. "I 
 have always suspected him of alfectalion. I have no patience with 
 grumblers." 
 
 "You are. right Baron," said his neighbor, nodding and smiling. " The 
 people are idle and wasteful, and if we were to listen to their oomplaini?, 
 we would soon be as poor as they." 
 
 " And what if a few thousand perish here and there," interposed 
 another. "They would never be missed, for they multiply like pota- 
 toes." 
 
 " You say, Baron," resumed the host, " that you paid no attention to 
 the complaints of your peasantry ?" 
 
 "I did like Ulyssus, gentlemen, I stopped my ears with wax, that my 
 heart might not grow weak." 
 
 " A melodious syren song, to be sure," hiughed the company, " a dirge 
 of bread! bread! bread!" 
 
 "Ah, you know the song, I perceive," said the Baron- Von Josephi, 
 joining in the laugh. 
 
 — "Yes, and we did as you have done. Baron. vVe stopped our ears." 
 
 "The consequence is," continued Josephi, "thatt my granaries are full 
 to overflowing. I was on my way to Prngue to dispose of it, but the 
 want, which I have seen on your estates, Freiherr, has touched my heart. 
 Nowhere have I seen anything to equal it. Hundreds of starving peas- 
 ants are on the high-road, not a mile off." 
 
 "Did you honor us with your presence to tell me this?" asked the 
 host, with lowering brow. " If so, you might have spared your trouble, 
 for I know it." 
 
 — "Oh, no, I came to you with the best intentions. I have no pity 
 for the peasant, but some for yourself. The health of his workmei' is 
 the nobleman's wealth. Now my own people are almost all dead, and 
 as I grieve to see. your lands wasted, I offer you my corn." 
 
106 JOSEPH SEE SKCUxNU 
 
 " Which means chat you wish me tci buy it," said the Freiherr, with 
 a significant smile. 
 
 — " Yes, and you can have it at once. I know that I might do better 
 by waiting, but I have a tender heart and am willing to part with it now. 
 1 make you the offer." 
 
 " How much a strich f^"* asked the Freiherr. 
 
 — "Twenty florins. You will find it cheap." 
 
 " Very cheap forsooth !" cried the host, with a loud laugh, in which 
 his guests all joined. " You wish me to buy your corn for my peasants ? 
 Why, it will be worth its weight in gold, and they have none wherewith 
 to pay me," 
 
 '• You are a humane landlord and a nobleman, and I take it for grant- 
 ed that you will make it a gift to your peasantry." 
 
 *' Why did you not do as much yourself?" asked the Freiherr, scornful- 
 ly. " Have you not ju^^t now said that your people were dying while 
 your granaries are full? No, no! I want no corn; but when corn has 
 truly risen to twenty florins, then I shall open my granaries and my 
 crops shall be for sale." 
 
 And the Freiherr filled his glass and drank a bumper. 
 
 " You should not speak so loud," said Josephi, '• for you know that 
 the Emperor has issued an edict, exacting that all those who have grain 
 shall meet him in Prague, that the government may buy their grain at 
 a reasonable price." 
 
 " Whfiit fool would heed such an edict?" cried the Freiherr. "The 
 Emperor is not the master of our ^Ejranaries. In the rural districts th© 
 nobleman is Emperor, and God forbid that it should ever be otherwise." 
 
 — " But the Emperor has appointed commissioners, who go from place 
 to place, and inspect the crops." 
 
 — '' Yes. they came hither, and they came to all of us, did they not 
 my lords?" 
 
 — "Yes, yes," cried a chorus of merry noblemen. 
 
 — "But they found nothing — nothing but a few hundred florins that 
 glided, unaccountably, into their hands, and caused them to abscond in a 
 hurry. This people loving Emperor deserves the eternal gratitude of 
 his cornmissioners, for although they found no corn for him, they found 
 ^n abundance of gold for themselves." • 
 
 Josephi colored violently, and his whole frame trembled. His hand 
 clutched the wine-glass which he held, and he seemed to breathe with 
 difiiculty. 
 
 No one observed it. The company were excited by wine, and their 
 senses were dim and clouded. But for this sumptuous dinner, at which 
 he had indulged himself too faf, the Freiherr would never have t»etray- 
 ed the secret of his overflowing barns. 
 
 - Josephi, meanwhile, controlled his indignation, and spoke again. "So 
 Frftiherr, you all reject my proposal." 
 
 "I do. God be praised I have enough and to spare." 
 
 * A tirich, in Prague, was something more than two biwhels. 
 
EMPKRUK OF ALSTRIA. ]{J, 
 
 •' Then, gentlemen,"' continued the Baron, " I offer it to any one of 
 you. You are all from this unhappy district and some one of you must 
 be in need of grain." 
 
 " We are the Freiherr's neighbors and have borrowed his wisdom," 
 said one of the company, " and I can answer for all present that thby 
 are well provided." 
 
 " There are seven of you present, and none needing grain !" exclaimed 
 Von Joseph!. 
 
 " Yes. Seven noblemen, all abounding in grain !" 
 
 " Seven extortioners !" cried Josephi. rising fr^m his sent, and looking 
 as if he would have stricken them to the earth with the lightning of his 
 flashing- eyes. 
 • " What means this insolence ?" asked the host. 
 
 — " It means that I have found beie seven men, of noble birth, who 
 have disgraced their caste by fattening upon the misery of their fellows. 
 But, by the eternal God, the extortioner bhall be l»randed throughnut the 
 world ! And be he gentle or base-born, he shall feel the weight of my 
 just indignation." 
 
 While the Emperor spoke, the company had been awaking from the 
 stupor caused by the quantity of wine they had been drinking. Grad- 
 ually their heads were raised to listen, and their eyes shot fire, unlil at 
 last, they sprang from their seats crying out, " who dares speak thus to 
 us ? By what right do you come to insult us V 
 
 " By what right !" thundered the Emperor. " The Emperor has given 
 me the right, the little chicken-hearted Emperor, whose commissioners 
 you have bribed, and whose subjects you have oppressed, until nothing 
 remains for him but to come among you and drag your infamy to day- 
 light with his own hands." 
 
 " The Emperor ? It is the Emperor !" groaned the terror-stricken ex- 
 tortioners, while Joseph looked contemptuously upon their pale and con- 
 science-stricken faces." 
 
 Suddenly the host burst into a maudlin laugh. " Do you not see," 
 said he, "that our facetious guest is making game of us to revenge him- 
 self for our refusal to buy his corn ?" 
 
 " True, true !" cried the lords together. " It's a jest — a trick to " 
 
 " Peace !" cried the Emperor, in a threatening voice. "The hour for 
 jesting has passed by, and the hour of retribution is here. I came to 
 Bohemia to feed my starving subjects, and I will feed them ! But I 
 shall also punish those who, having bread, have withheld it from the poor. 
 You shall not bribe tne either with your parchments of nobility or with 
 your pride of family. The pillory is for the criminal, and his rank shall 
 not save him." 
 
 " Mercy, grafcious Sovereign, mercy !" cried the Freiherr, whose 
 glowing cheeks were now as pale as death. "Your Majesty will not 
 condemn us for the idle words we have spoken from excess of wine !" 
 
 " What mercy had you upon the wailing wretches, of whose misery 
 you have made suoJi sport to-day 1" 
 
jyjK JOSEPH IHL ^KCDxMD; 
 
 " Y'oiir Majesty," said cue of the noblemcD, sullenly, *• there is 110 
 law. to pi event a man from holding liis own, and the Bohemian nobletnan 
 has his own code of justice, and is amenable to n>> oiher." 
 
 "The Bohemian nobleman shall enjoy it no longer!" exc'aimed the 
 outraged Emperor. " Before their earthly judges, men shall be equal, 
 as they are before the throne of God." 
 
 At that moment the door opened and the Emperor's suife came in. 
 
 " Lacy, Lacy !" cried Joseph, "you were right. The famine is not 
 the result of a short harvest, it is due to these n-ionsters of wickedness, 
 whom you see before you in the enjoyment of every Iu.\ury that sensu- 
 ality can crave." 
 
 " Mercy, sire, mercy !" cried a chorus of imploring voices, and look- 
 ing behind him, the Empe-or saw the ladies, who all sank upon their 
 knees at his feet. While Joseph had been speaking with Lacy, the lord 
 of the castle had hastened to communicate their disgrace, and to bring 
 the wives of the criminals to their assistance. 
 
 The Emperor frowned. " Ladies," said he, "we are on the subject 
 of politics, the same subject which banished you hence not long ago — 
 Rise, therefore, and retire : this is no place for you." 
 
 " No, sire 1" cried the Freiherrin Von Weifach, "I will not rise until 
 I ol^tain pardon for ray husband. I do not know of what he has been 
 guilty, but I know that our noble Emperor cannot condemn the man 
 under whose roof he has come as an invited guest. I know that the 
 Emperor is too generous to punish him, who confiding in him as a man, 
 little suspected thathe who came under a borrowed name, was the sov- 
 ereign lord of all Austria!" 
 
 " Ah, madam, you reproach me with an hour spent at your table, and 
 you expect me to overlook crime in consideration of the common courte- 
 sy extended to' me as a man of your own rank I I was so fortunate as to 
 overhear the little discussion that preceded my entrance here. Rise, 
 madam, I am not fond of Spanish customs. I don't like to see women 
 on their knees." 
 
 " Mercy for my husband !" reiterated the Freiherrin. "JForgive him 
 for thinking more of his own family than of others. What he did was 
 for lova of his wife and children."- 
 
 " Ah!" exclaimed the Emperor, "you call that love of his family ! — 
 You would elevate his cruel avarice into a domestic virtue ! I congrat- 
 ulate you upon your high standard of ethics ! But rise, I command you. 
 Meanwhile you are right on one point at least. I have eaten of your 
 salt, and I am too true a nobleman to betray you to the Emperor. I 
 wUl merely tell him that the corn is found, and that his poor people 
 may rejoice.' Open your granaries, therefore, my lords. Let each of 
 you, this night, send a courier to your tenants, proffering grain to all 
 free of charge, stipulating only that as a return for the gift, the peasan- 
 try shall bestow a portion of their corn upon their mother earth.* You 
 
 will s,ee how magical is the effect of gerrerosity. Your stores will 
 
 ——— — — ~ — 1 ' 
 
 • Gross Hofflnger, vol, 1, png^ 141' 
 
EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 109 
 
 scatter blessings over this unhappy land, and the poor will bless you as 
 their lifiirfhcl'>rs. Yi^s, fieiillcmcn, f'oin this Cla\ tMi-ward, \ ou will he 
 the tVitiids of the needy, for, God be praise<!, you h;i\e c«>rn, ani for the 
 sake <'f ^otir corn 1 forgive you. But see that the future makes full 
 atonement for the past." 
 
 No one answered a word. With sullen mien and downcast e\es they 
 stood, v.'hile the Emperor surveyed them with surprise. 
 
 "What!" said he, after a long and painful pause, " not a word of 
 thanks! Joy has made you dumb, I perceive. And no wonder; for to 
 feel (for the first time) the pleasures of benevolence may. well make you 
 speechless wiih happiness. As for you, madam," continued the P^ntpe- 
 ror, addressing his hostess, " I 'will Tiot deprive you of a share in your 
 husband's generosity. You will be so kind as to call up your servants 
 and bid tiuMn load a wagon with the remains of our excellent dinner, 
 not forgetting the wines, and you will then send it, with yo*i> greetings, 
 to your tenants in yonder village. Your servants can go i)fh\n house to 
 hous^e until the store is' exhausted." '' • - 
 
 "I wilt do'''what your Majesty commands," said the Freiherrin, pale 
 with rage. 
 
 "I do not doubt it," Replied the Emperor, latighing. " And as I will 
 be glad to liear how your boimty is received in the village, two of my 
 own attendants will accompany yours. Farewell, my lords, I must 
 leave you, for I have a large company on the high-road whom I have in- 
 vited to supper. The Freiherrin will oblige me by receiving them to- 
 night as her guests. In this stately castle there are, doubtless, several 
 rooms that can be thrown open to these weary, suffering mountaineers. 
 Have I your permission to send them hither?" 
 
 "I will obey your Majesty's commands," sobbed the lady, no longer 
 able to control her tears. 
 
 The Emperor bowed, and turning to his attendants said, "come, my • 
 friends, our messengers "have probably arrived before this, and our 
 guests await us." • 
 
 He advanced to the 'door, but suddenly stopped and addressed the 
 company; " My lords," said he, " for once your wisdom has been at 
 fault. It is well that the sentimental little Emperor did not remain, as 
 you advised, in Vienna; for the fetamp of his imperial foot has struck 
 abundance out of the earth, and it will suffice to save the lives of his 
 starving boors." 
 
110 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DIPLOMATIC ESOTERICS. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz was in his cabinet. Baron Binder was reading aloud 
 the secret dj_Mpatches which had just come in from the Austrian Ambas- 
 sador at Berlin, the young Baron Yan Swieten. Meanwhile, Kaunitz 
 was busy with a brush of peacock's feathers, dusting the expensive trifles 
 that coverefi his escritoire, or polishing its ebony surface with a fine silk 
 handkerchief, which he kept for thei purpose. This furbishing of trinkets 
 and furnitui^i, was a private pastime with the all-powerful Minister ; and 
 many a personage of rank was made to wait in the ante-room, while he 
 finished his dusting, or re-arranged his bijouterie, until it was grouped to 
 his satisfaction. 
 
 The dispatches which were being read, were of the highest impor- 
 tance, for they related to a confidential conversation with the King of 
 Prussia on the subject of the political apple, at which all were striving 
 to get the largest bite. The King of Prussia, wrote the Ambassador, 
 had spoken jestingly of the partition of Poland. He had bespoken for 
 himself the district of Netz and Polish Prussia, premising that Dantzic, 
 Thorn and Cracow were to be left to Poland. 
 
 " Very well arranged," said Kaunitz, with his accustomed sang-froid, 
 while he brightened the jewels of a Sevres ink-stand, which had been 
 presented to him by Madam de Pompadour. " Vraimeni the naivete of 
 this Frederic is prodigious. He appropriates the richest and mpst culti- 
 vated districts of Poland to himself, and then inserts, as an unimportant 
 clause, the stipulation that Cracow, with its adjacent territory, the rich 
 salt mines of Wieliczka, shall not belong to Austria." 
 
 " Van Swieten would not agree to the arrangement," said Binder, 
 "and he furthermore declared to the King that such a distribution would 
 be prejudicial to Austria. He proposed, however, that Austria might 
 be indemnified by tlie possession of Bosnia and Servia, which the Porte 
 should be made to yield." 
 
 " What a preposterous fool," exclaimed Kaunitz. "Who gave him 
 the right to make such a proposition V 
 
 " Why, your Highness, I suppose he thought " v 
 
 " He has no right to think," interrupted Kaunitz. " I ask of no em- 
 ployee of mine to think. My envoys have nothing to do but to work 
 out my thoughts, and that without any intervention of their own fancies. 
 It is very presuming in my little diplomatic agents to think what I have 
 not thought, and of their own accord to make propositions to foreign 
 courts. Write and tell him so, Binder, and add that neither our perma- 
 
E5IPER0R OF AUSTRIA. Ill 
 
 nent peaceful relations with Turkey, nor the sentiments of consideration 
 which are entertained by the Empress for the Porte, will allow of any 
 attempt, to l^sen his territory. '* 
 
 " Then you are really in earnest, and intend to be a firm ally of the 
 Porto'?" inquired Binder with astonishment. 
 
 "In earne.st !" repeated Kiiunitz with a shrug. "You statesman in 
 swaddling-clothes, you do not know the tirst principles of your profes- 
 sion, and yet you have lived wi'.h me for thirty years! In diplomacy 
 there is no such thing as stability of policy. Policy shapes itsulf accor- 
 ding to circumstances and changes as they change. The man who at- 
 tempted to follow fi.\ed principles in international policy, woiil^ soon 
 find himself and his government on the verge of a precipice.''' 
 
 "And yet there is no statesman in Europe who adheres .so closely to 
 his principles as yourself," e.\claitued Binder with the enthusiasm of Irue 
 friendship. > 
 
 Kaunitz inclined his head n-iaje^-tically. "My principles are thi^. 
 To .make Austria rich, great, powerful. Austria shall be qiiocunquff 
 modo, the first power in Europe; and in after years the world shall say 
 that the genius of Kaunitz placed her on the mountain peaks of hei? 
 greatness. For this end, it is indispensable that 1 remain at ihe head 
 of European affairs. Not only Austria, but all Europe looks to me to 
 guide her through (he storm that is threatening the general peace. I 
 dare not leave the helm of state to take one hour's rest, for what would 
 become of the great continental ship, if, seeking my ow n comfort, I were 
 to retire and yield her fortunes to some unsteady hand ? There is no 
 one to replace me ! No one! It is only once in a century that Heaven 
 'vouchsafes a great statesman to the world. This makes me fear for 
 Austria when 1 shall have gone from earth and there is no one to suc- 
 ceed me."f 
 
 "May you live many years to rule in Austria!" cried Binder warm- 
 ly. " You are indispensable to her welfare." 
 
 " I know it," said Kaunitz gravely. " But there are aspirants for po- 
 litical fame in Austria, who would like to lay their awkward hands upon' 
 the web that 1 weave. No one knows how far the youthful impetuosi- 
 ty and boundless vanity of such ambition may go. It might lead its 
 possessor to entertain the insane idea that he could govern Austria with- 
 out my goidance." 
 
 " You speak of the Emperor Joseph 1" 
 
 "Yes, 1 do. He is ambitious, overbearing, and vain. He mistakes 
 his stupid longings to do good, for capacity. He lusts for fame through 
 ■war and conquest, and would change everything in his mother's empire, 
 for the mere satisfaction of knowing that the change was his own work. 
 Oh, what would become of Austria if I were not by to keep him within 
 bounds! It will task all my genius to steer between the Scylla of a 
 bigotted, peace-loving Empress and the Charybdis of this reckless Em- 
 
 * Wilhetm Von Dohm'a Memoirs of My Time ; vol. 1, page 481 
 t The Prince's own ^orde, See Swinbnmo, vol. 1 , pagre 2J0. 
 
112 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 peror : to reconcile their antagonisms and overrule their prejudices. 
 JSiaria Theresa is for peijce and for a. treaty wiih the Porte, who h:\s al- 
 ways been a good-natuied harmless nei;^hb<>r — Joseph thirsts for war 
 that he may enlarge his dominions and parade himself before the world 
 as a military genius. If his mother were to die to-morrow, he would 
 plunge headlong into a war with Russia or with Turkey, whichever one 
 he might, happen to fancy. I am obliged forever to hold this prospect 
 before his eyes to keep him quiet. 1 must also pay my tribute to the 
 wliims of the reigning Empress, and if we declare war to pacify Joseph, 
 we must also make it appear to Maria Theresa that war was inevitable." 
 
 " By*heaven, that is a delicate web indeed !" cried Binder laughing. 
 
 "Yes, and let no presuming hand ever touch a thread of it," replied 
 Kaunitz. "I sayjAs much as I have said to you, Binder, because the 
 greatest minds m:^lst sometimes find a vent for their conceptions, and I" 
 truftt nobody on earth except you. Now you know what I mean by 
 '.jsermanent treaties with the Porte,' and I hope you will not ask any- 
 more silly questions. You ignoramus, that have lived so long with 
 Kaunitz and have not yet learned to know him !" 
 
 "Your Highness is beyond the comprehension of ordinary men," said 
 Binder with a good-humored smile. 
 
 " I believe so," replied Kaunitz with truthful simplicity, while he care- 
 fully placed his paper, pens, lines and penknife in the drawer wherein 
 they belonged. 
 
 The door opened and a servant announced his Excellency Osman 
 Pascha, Ambassador of the Ottoman Porte. 
 
 " Very well," replied Kaunitz with a nod, ." I will see him presently." 
 
 " You see," said he to Binder, as the door closed upon the servant, 
 " we are about to begin in earnest with the Porte. 1 shall receive him 
 in the drawing-room. Meanwhile, remain here, for I shall need you 
 again." 
 
 He smiled kindly upon his friend and left the room. Binder looked 
 after him with tenderest admiration. " He is a very great man," said 
 he to himself, "and he is right. Austria would fall to the rank of a se- 
 cond power but for him. What if he does know it and boast of it 1 He 
 is a truthful and candid man ! Voila touij" 
 
 And he sat down to write to Van Swieten in Berlin to beware of say- 
 ing anything prejudicial to the interests of the Porte. 
 
 He had just concluded his letter when Kaunitz returned. His coun- 
 tenance was beaming with satisfaction and his lips were half parting 
 with a smile. " Binder," said he, laying a roll of papers on the escri- 
 toire, " here are sugar plums for the Emperor. Can you guess what I 
 have in these papers "?" 
 
 " Not a declaration of war from Russia !" exclaimed Binder. 
 
 — " Hm ; something very like it,, I assure you. Listen ! It is the 
 secret treaty which our Miaister at Constantinople, Herr Von Thugut, 
 has just concluded with the Porte. The Sultan has already signed it, 
 and today I shall present it for signature to the Empress. She will do 
 
EilPEROK OF AUSTRIA. 113 
 
 it readily, for although she may not absolutely doat on the Infidel, she 
 hates Russia; and tho unbelieving Turk is dearer to her than her Chris- 
 tian cousin, the Empress Catharine." , 
 
 " Then after all we are the firm allies of Turkey," said Binder. 
 
 The Prince gave a shrug, and trifled with the papers he had brought 
 with him. " We have bound ourselves," said he, reading here and there 
 among the leaves, "to bring about a peace between Russia and Turkey, 
 by which the former shall restore to the latter all the provinces which 
 she has conquered from the Porte ; or if not all, those which are indis- 
 pensable to preserve the honor of Turkey intact. We have furthermore 
 bound ourselves to secure the independence of the Republic of Poland." 
 
 "But, Prince, that contradicts all your previous understandings with 
 Prussia and Russia ; it contradicts your plans for the partition of Po- 
 land. It will certainly lead to war, for your Highness has forgotten 
 that Prussia and Russia have already agreed for the soi-disant pacifica- 
 tion of Poland, to appropriate the greater part of her provinces to them 
 selves. 
 
 " I beg you to believe, my verdant friend, that I never forget any- ' 
 thing," said Kaunitz somewhat haughtily. " I am perfectly au fait to 
 the llusso-Prussian treaty ; but I have not been invited to the banquet, 
 and I do not intend to go uninvited. When they speak, we will con- 
 sider their offers. If they say nothing, we go to war. If they speak, 
 we will allow ourselves to be persuaded to share tho booty which we 
 cannot restore to its owners. In that way, we are iu a manner forced 
 into this coalition and the opprobrium of the act falls upon those who 
 devised it, while Maria Theresa's scruples will be more easily over-, 
 come." 
 
 " Prince," said Binder with a sigh, " I give it up. I never will make 
 a statesman. I listen to your words as to a Delphic oracle and do not 
 pretend to understand their ambiguous meaning. I understand, howev- 
 er, do I not, that we are the allies of the Sultan? Now we thereby do 
 him a great favor, what does he give in return ?" 
 
 " Not much, but still something," said Kaunitz with composure, while 
 his fingers again turned over the leaves. " The Porte, who like your- 
 self, apprehends war with Russia, understands that if Austria is to be- 
 friend him, she must put her army upon a war-footing. If Austria is to 
 do this for the sake of Turkey, Turkey of course must furnish the means. 
 The Porte then, in the course of the next eight months, w ill pay us the 
 sum of twerjty thousand purses, each containing five hundred silver 
 piastres. Four thousand purses will be paid down as soon as the treaty 
 is signed.* 
 
 " Ten million of piastres !" exclaimed Binder, with uplifted hands. 
 " By heaven, Prince, you are a second Moses. You kmow how to strike 
 a rock so that a silver fountain will gush from its barrenness." 
 
 — " I shall make good use of it, too. Our coffers need replenishing, 
 and the Emper or will rejoice to see them filled with the gold of the Infi- 
 • DobrnVi Meujoires of My Time ; ^ol. 1 . page 4T] 
 
1 14 JOSEPH THE SKCOND. 
 
 del. It will enable him to raise and equip a gallant army, and fihat \<'il} 
 give hini such unbounded delight that we are sure of his signature. Be- 
 sides this, the Porte presents us with a goodly portion of VVallachia, ho 
 lixes the boundaries of Transylvania to our complete satisfaction, and 
 allows us free trade with, the Ottoman empire, both by land" and by 
 water." 
 
 " But all these concessions will cost us a war with Russia. The ra- 
 pacious Czaripa will be furious when she hears of them." 
 
 " She will not hear of them," said Kaunitz quietly. " I have made it 
 a stringent condition with Osman Pascha that the treaty with Turkey 
 shall be a profound secret. The Sultan and his vizier have pledged .their 
 word, and the Mussalman may always be trusted. We will only make 
 the treaty public, in case of a war with Russia." 
 
 — " Whence it follows that as Russia is much more likely to court 
 our friendship than our enmity, the treaty with the Porte is all moon- 
 shine." 
 
 "With the exception of the ten million of piastres which are terres- 
 trial and tangible. It remains now to see whether Turkey will keep si- 
 lence or Russia will speak ! In either case, the peace of all Europe now 
 lies in Austria's hands. We will preserve or destroy it as is most ad- 
 vantageous to our own interests.". 
 
 At that moment the door leading to the ante-room was opened and a 
 page announced Prince Gallitzin, Ambassador of her Majesty the Em- 
 press of Russia ! 
 
 This announcement following the subjects which had been under dis- 
 cussion, was so significant, that Kaunitz could not conceal his 'sense of 
 its supreme importance. He was slightly disturbed ; but recovering 
 himself almost instantaneously he said, 
 
 " In five minutes I will receive his Highness in this room. Now be 
 gone, and open the door punctually." 
 
 " What can the Russian Minister want to-d.ay ?" said Binder. 
 
 " He has come to speak at last," replied Kaunitz, taking breath. 
 
 " Not of the partition of Poland but of your Turkish treaty. You 
 will see that the Porte will not keep silence, if he gain anything by 
 talking." 
 
 " Three minutes gone," said Kaunitz, taking out his watch. " Not 
 another word, Binder. Step behind that screen and listen to our dlscug- 
 sion. It will save me the trouble of repeating it to you." 
 
 While Binder was concealing himself, Kaunitz was composing his 
 visage before a looking-glass. It soon reached its accustomed serenity 
 and not a lock of the perruque was out of place. 
 
 In five minutes the page re-opened the door and announced the en- 
 trance of the Russian Ambassador. 
 
KMPEROK V? AUSTRIA: [15 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 RUSSIA SPEAKf?. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz stood in the centre of the room when the Russian 
 MiYiister made his appearance. He raised his cold blue eyes with per- 
 fect indifterence to the smiling face of the Russian, who bowed low, 
 while his host vouchsafed him. a slight inclination of the head. Prince 
 Gallitzin seemed to be as unconscious of this haughty reception as of 
 the fact that Kaunitz had not moved forward a single step to greet him. 
 He traversed with unruffled courtesy the distance that separated him 
 from Austria, and gave his hand with the grace of a finished courtier. 
 
 Kaunitz raised his hand languidly and allowed it to rest for a moment 
 in the palm of his. cordial visitor. 
 
 " See, what a propitious incident," said Prince Gallitzin. " Austria 
 and Russia have given one another the hand." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness," replied Kaunitz gravely, " Russia has 
 offered her hand, and Austria takes it." 
 
 " But without returning my cordial pressure," said the Russian. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz affecte'd not to hear this affectionate reproach. He 
 pointed to the arm-chairs on either side of the escritoire saying, "let us 
 be seated." 
 
 Prince Gallitzin waited until Kaunitz had taken his seat, which he did 
 in a most deliberate manner, then he took the chair opposite. 
 
 " Your Highness has been so good as to look over the new proposals 
 for pe&ce which Russia has offered to Turkey 1" asked Prince Gallitzin. 
 
 " I have read them," replied Kaunitz curtly. . 
 
 — *' Your Highness will then have remarked that accomodating her- 
 self to the wishes of Austria, Russia has retained only such of her con- 
 ditions as were necessary to the preservation of her dignity before the 
 world. But my imperial mistress has instructed me to say explicitly 
 that her moderation towards Turkey is exclusively the fruit of her con- 
 sideration for Austria. But for this consideration Turkey would have 
 felt the full weight of the Empress's vengeance ; and it might have come 
 to pass that this Porte, who already totters with his own weakness, would 
 have been precipitated by Russia far into the depths of the Black Sea." 
 
 — " In that case Russia would have learned that Austria is a diver 
 who knows how to fish for pearls. "We would have rescued the Porte 
 from the Black Sea, and if he were not strong enough to sustain himself, 
 we would have exacted a tonic at your hands in the form of more ad- 
 vantageous conditions of peace." 
 
 " Then our conditions are not satlsfactorv V^ 
 
116 JOSEPH XHfi SECOND) 
 
 " They arc of such ;i nature that Austria cannot entertain them for a 
 moment. Turkey can never consent to the independence of the Crimea' 
 and Wallachia, nor will Austria counsel her to such an indiscreet bonces- 
 sion. This would be so contrary to the interests of Austria that we 
 would oppose it, even should Turkey be forced by untoward circum- 
 stances to yield the point." 
 
 " Ah 1" cried Gallitzin laughing, " Austria would find herself in the 
 singular position of a nation warring with another to force that ration 
 to take care of its own interests. Will your Highness then tell me what 
 are the conditions which Austria is willing to accept for Turkey V 
 
 — " They are these. That the right of the Sultan to appoint the Khan 
 of Crimea and the Hospodar of Wallachia remain untouched. If Russia 
 will recognise the sovereignty of the Porte in that quarter, then Austria 
 Tvill 'induce him to withdraw his pretensions in Tartary." 
 
 " And to leave to Russia at least the territory she has conqqered 
 there V asked Gallitzin with his ineffable smile. '• The Czarina has no 
 desire to enlarge her vast empire. Russia does not war in the Crimea 
 for herself, but for a noble race of men who feel rich and powerful 
 enough to elect their own rulers. Her struggle in Tartary is simply 
 that of civilization and freedom against barbarism and tyranny." 
 
 "How beautiful all this sounds in the mouth of a Russian," said 
 Kaunitz, smiling. "You will acknowledge that~ Russia is not always 
 consistent; for instance — in Poland, where she does not perceive the 
 right of a noble race of men to elect their own rulers, but forces upon 
 them a king whom they all despise. I must now declare to you that 
 my Sovereign will enter into negotiations with Turkey on one condition 
 only : that the territorial rights of Poland be left untouched, not only 
 by Russia, but by any other European power."* 
 
 Prince Gallitzin stared at Kaunitz as he heard these astounding, words, 
 but the Austrian met his gaze with perfect unconcern. 
 
 "Your Highness defends the integrity of Polish territory," said Gal- 
 litzin, after a short pause, " and yet you have been the first to invade it. 
 Is not the Zips a portion of the Kingdom of Poland V 
 
 " No, your Highness, no. The Zips was originally a Hungarian de- 
 pendency, and was mortgaged to Poland. We intend to resume our 
 property and pay the mortgage in the usual way. This is not at all to 
 the point. We speak of the fate of Poland. As for Austria, she aims at 
 nothing but her rights, and as soon as the Empress of Russia withdraws 
 her troops from Polish ground, we will withdraw ours as well as all pre- 
 tensio|Cs whatever to the smaller portion of Polish territory." 
 
 " And doubtless your Highness intends to restore everything for which 
 the Poles are now contending. Her ancient Constitution, for instance ; 
 that Constitution which has been thrown upon the political system of 
 Europe like the apple of Eres, threatening discord and conflict without 
 end." 
 
 "^?l' 5^!'^ Kau nitz, quickly, " their Constitution must be modified 
 
as the intevosts.of tlioir ueighitors luay require. We roust, uniie ifU 
 some modiftCHtions that are suitable to us, and if Poland refuses to ac- 
 cept them, she must he forced to do it." 
 
 *' Ah!" cried Gallitzin, much relieved, "if your Highness is of this 
 mind, we will soon understand one another, and I may. therefore, be 
 permitted to speak with perfect frankness on the part of Russia." 
 
 " At last!" exclaimed Kaunltz, taking a long breath. " Russia will 
 speak at last! So far, she has only acted, and ! confess that her actions 
 have been inexplicable." 
 
 "Russia keeps pace with Austria," said Gallitzin. " The Court of 
 Vienna says that the integrity of Poland must bo respected ; neverthe- 
 less she is the first to lay her hand upon it." 
 
 " Some things wo dare not do, because they seem too difficult — other* 
 only seem to be difiicult because we dare not do them. We have taken 
 our slice of Poland because it belonged to us, and the difficulty of tho 
 step has not deterred us." 
 
 '■ Ah, your Highness, as regards your right to the' Zips, there is not a 
 kingdom in Europe that has not some old forgotten right to her neigh- 
 bor's territory ! Russia and Prussia, too, have similar claims on 
 
 Poland, so that if it be agreeable to the Empress-Queen and to your 
 
 Highness, we will meet together to have an understanding on the sub- 
 ject. Some little time may be required to define our several claims, 
 but (his once settled, there will be no further difficulty in the way." 
 
 " I see," said Kaunitz, with a satisfied air, " that wo already under- 
 stand one another. As Russia has spoken, and has made proposals, 
 Austria is ready to respond. But before we attend to our own affairs, 
 let us give peace to Turkey. The Court of Vienna will negotiate be- 
 tween you. Let me advise you to be exorbitant in your demands; go 
 somewhat beyond your real intentions, so that Austria may be obliged 
 to doclioG your proposals." 
 
 " And, in this way, your Highness proposes to bring about a peace 
 with Turkey ?" asked Prince Gallitzin, astounded. 
 
 " Certainly I do. Austria declines the proposals ; Russia moderates 
 her demands, that is, she conc<^des what she never intended'to exact, and 
 presents tliis as her ultimatum. Austria, satisfied with the conoessions 
 now offered to her ally, is of the opinion that he should acxiept them, 
 and if he prove unreasonable, must force him to do it." 
 
 " Your Highness is indeed a great statesman !" exclaimed GalUtzis. 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 " When a Russian Ambassador says so, it must be true," replied 
 Kaunitz, bowing. " As to Poland, the great question there, is to pre- 
 serve the balance of power. I beg, therefore, that Russia and Prussia 
 will make known at once the extent of their claims there, that Austria 
 may shape hers accx^rdingly. I shall enter at once into correspondence 
 with the King of Prussia, to ascertain his views as to the future bounda- 
 ries of Poland. Two things are indispensable to ensure the success of 
 this affair" 
 
1 18 JUSEl'H mE SECONDJ 
 
 —"What arc Uiey?"' 
 
 " First ; perfect frankness between the three Powers who are to act as 
 one, and celerity of action, Jest Poland should be quieted before we 
 come in with c»7/|r- remedy.'' 
 
 " I agree with yotu And second?" 
 
 " Second : profound secrecy. If France or England were to scent 
 the.atfair, there would be troublesome intervention, tiud we might all be 
 disappointed. Europe, must not learn the partition of Poland until it is 
 A fait accompUy 
 
 "I promise discretion both for Russia and Prussia," said Gallitzin, 
 eagerly. " Europe shall not hear of it until our troops are on the spot to 
 defend us from outside interference. All that is necessary now, is to 
 find three equal portions so that each claimant shall be satisfied." , 
 
 '* Oh," said Kaunitz, carelessly, as he played with the lace that edged 
 his cuffs, " If three equal parts are not to be found on Polish ground, 
 we can trespass upon the property of another neighbor who has too 
 ranch land, and if he resists, we can very soon bring him to reason." 
 
 Prince Gallitzin looked with visible astonishment at the cold and 
 calm face of the Austrian. " Another neighbor ?" echoed he, with em- 
 barrassment. " But we have no neighbor unless it be the Porte him- 
 self." 
 
 " He is precisely the neighbor to whom I have reference," said Kau- 
 nitz, nodding his head. " He is almost as troublesome as Poland, and 
 will be the better for a little blood-letting. I authorize your Highness 
 to lay these propositions before your court, and await the answer." 
 
 " Oh !", cried Gallitzin, laughing, while he arose from his chair, " you 
 will always find Russia ready for a surgical operation upon the body of 
 her hereditary enemy. The law, both of nature and of necessity, impels 
 her to prey upon Turkey, and the will of Peter the Great can never be 
 carried out until the foot of Russia rests upon the Sultan's throne, at 
 Stamboul." 
 
 " Well," said Kaunitz, when Prince Gallitzin had taken his leave, 
 " did you understand oi»r conference, Binder ?" 
 
 "Understand!" exclaimed Binder, coming from behind the screen. — 
 " No, indeed ! I must have been drunk or dreaming. I surely did not 
 hear your Highness, who, not an hour since, concluded a treaty with 
 Turkey, by which the independence of Poland was to be guaranteed, 
 1 surely did not hear you agree to a partition between Russia, Prussia 
 and Austria !" 
 
 — ^*' Yes you did. We are driven to accept our share of Poland 
 merely by way of decreasing that of our neighbors." 
 
 " Then I did understand as regards Poland. But I must have been . 
 dreaming when I thought you had; told me that we had concluded' .acr 
 trcjaCJ' with the Porte, by which he pays us ten millions of piastres for - 
 our good offices with Russia." 
 
 " Not at all. I certainly told you so." 
 
 " Then, dear Prince, I have lost my senses," cried Binder, " for indeed 
 
• &MPEKUK oy ACSTKIA J jU 
 
 I dreamed that you ha^ proposed to Russia, that in case there vtas not ' 
 land enough to satisfy you all in Poland, to lake sorae from the Sultan."' 
 
 " You have heard aright. You are very tiresome with your questioufJ 
 and }our stupid/wonder stricken face. 1 suppose if a piece of Polaml 
 were thrown at your feet, you would pick it up and hand it over V^ 
 Stani^^!:lus; and if the Porte stood before you with a raillion of piasters, 
 you would say, ' not for the world !' It is easy to see what would be- 
 come of Austria in your dainty hands ! An enviable position she would 
 hold, if conscience were to guide her policy !" 
 
 "No danger while i/ou hold the reins, for there will never be a traco 
 of conscience' in your policy," muttered Binder, gathering up his papers 
 and passing into the adjoining room. 
 
 Piince Kaunitz shrujrged his shoulders and rang his bell. 
 
 '•My new state-coach !" said he to Hippolyte, who, instead of flying 
 off as usual to obey, remained standing at the door. 
 
 " Why do you stand there f asked the Prince. 
 
 '' Pardon me, your Highness, the state-coach is not ready," stammer- 
 ed the valet. 
 
 " Not yet ready ?" repeated the Prince, accenting each word. "Did 
 I not order it to be here at two o'clock ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Highness, but the upholsterer could not understand the 
 drawings which were given him. Ho began to work by them, but was 
 obliged to undo his work, and this caused the delay." 
 
 " The man has the assurance to say that he could not work after the 
 drawings made by my own hand?" asked Kaunitz, with a fiery glance 
 of anger in his eyes. " Because he is an ass, does the churl dare to crit- 
 icise nvj drawings ! Let him bring the body of the coach to the palace 
 and 1 will show him that he is a bungler and knows nothing of his 
 trade." 
 
 And the Prince, in his rage, stalked to the door. Suddenly he stop- 
 ped. " What is the state of the thermometer to-day ?" said he. 
 
 The valet flew to the window and examined the little thermometer 
 that hung outside. 
 
 "Twelve degrees, your Highness." 
 
 "Twelve degrees," sighed the Prince, "then I dare not go to the 
 coach house. Is the coach mounted on the wheels?" 
 
 " No, your Highness." 
 
 " Then let the upholsterer have the carriage brought to my room, 
 with the drawings and his tools. Be ofl*! In ten minutes all must be here !" 
 
 Just ten minutes later the door opened, and in came a hand-barrow, 
 upon which stood the body of the coach. It was one mass of bronze, 
 plate-glass mirrors, and gilding. Behind it appeared the upholsterer, 
 pale with fright, carrying on one arm a bundle of satin and velvet and 
 in his right hand holding the drawing of the Prince. 
 
 " Set it down in the centre of the room," said Kaunitz, imperiously, 
 and then turning a look of wrath upon the unhappy upholsterer, he said, 
 with terrible emphasis. 
 
1 2 1 ) ; OiS K i- i1 T H H, S ECO X L> 
 
 " I3 It true that you have the audacity to say that you cannot work 
 after my drawuigs ?" 
 
 " I hope your Highness will forgive me," stammered the upholsterer, 
 "but there is not room in the inside of the coach for all the bows and 
 rosettes. I would have been obliged to make them so small that the 
 coach would have looked like oue of the patterns we show to our cus- 
 tomers." 
 
 " And you dare tell me that to ray face? Do you suppose that I 'do 
 not know your miserable trade, or do you mean that it is easier to gov- 
 ern an empire than to trim up a coach ? I will prove to you that I am 
 a better upholsterer than you are. Open the door and I will decorate 
 tile coach myself." 
 
 The upholsterer opened the richly gilded glass door, and Kaunitz, as 
 much in earnest as when he had been giving and taking a kingdom, en- 
 tered the coach and seated himself. 
 
 " Give me the satin and velvet and hold up the drawings, that I may 
 work after them. Some of you, hand me the nails, and some one have 
 the needle ready. You shall see how Prince Kaunitz, through the stu- 
 pidity of his upholsterer, is obliged to decorate the interior of his own 
 coach." 
 
 The Prince began to work ; and in the same room where he had 
 signed treaties and received ambassadors, the great Austrian statesman 
 sewed and hammered until he had decorated his carriage to his own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXi. 
 
 THE LAST PBTITloy. 
 
 Maria Theresa paced her cabinet in visible agitation. Her face was 
 sad beyond expression, and her eyes turned anxiously towards the door. 
 
 " I tremble," murmured she ; " for the first time in my life I mistrust 
 the deed I am about to do. All is not clear in the depths of my con- 
 science ; the voice that whispers such misgivings to my heart, is one 
 which shames the worldly wisdom of my counsellors. We are about 
 to do a wicked deed, and we shall answer for it before heaven ! Would 
 that my right hand had lost its cunning, ere ever it had been forced to 
 sign this cruel document. Oh, it is an unholy thing, this alliance with 
 an unbelieving King and a dissolute Empress! And an alliance for 
 what! To destroy a kingdom, and to rob its unhappy people of their 
 nationality forever !" 
 
 " But what avails remorse V continued she. heaving a deep sigh. " It 
 
rMrKKof. jr i; -^iKiA Til 
 
 is too late, too late ! in a few moments- Joseph will be here to exact 
 my signature, and 1 dare not refuse it. I have yielded my right to pro- 
 test against this crime and ah! ho comes," cried the En^. press,' press- 
 ing her hands upon her heart, as she heard the lock of the di>or turning. 
 
 She fell into an arm-chair and trembled violently. But it was not the 
 Emperor who appeared as the door opened ; it was the Baroness Von 
 Sahnour, governess to the Archduchesses. 
 
 " Baroness!" cried the Empress, "it must be something of most im- 
 minent importance that brings you hither. What is it?" 
 
 " f come in the name of misfortune to ask of your Majesty a fayor," 
 said the Baroness, earnestly. 
 
 " Speak then, and speak tjuickly." 
 
 " Will your Majesty grant an audience to my unhappy country-wo- 
 man, the Countess Wielopolska?" 
 
 "Tlie Countess Anna." said the Empress, with a shudder. Then, as 
 if ashamed of her agitation, she added quickly. 
 
 " Admit her. If the Emperor comes, let him enter also." 
 
 The Baroness courtesied and withdrew, but she left the door open, and 
 now v.as seen advancing the tall and graceful figure of the Countess. — 
 Her face was pale as that of the dead. She still wore her black velvet 
 dress, and the long vqil which fell around her person, hovered about her 
 like a dark, storm-heralding cloud. 
 
 "She looks like the angel of death," murmured the Empress. " It 
 seems to me that if those pale, transparent hands, which she folds over 
 her breast, were to unclasp, her icy breath would still the boatings of 
 my heart forever !" 
 
 The Countess glided in like a vision, and the door closed behind her. 
 The Empress received her with an affable smile. 
 
 '* It is very long since I have seen you," said the proud Maria Theresa, 
 with an embarrassment to which her rank had hitherto made her a 
 stranger. 
 
 " 1 was waiting to be summoned by your Majesty, "replied the Coun. 
 tess. 
 
 '• And as I did not summon you, you came voluntarily. That was 
 kind. I am very glad to see you." 
 
 The lady replied to these flattering words by an inclination of the 
 head,^nd a pause ensued. Each one seemed waiting for the other to 
 speak. As the Empress perceived, after awhile, that the lips of the 
 pale Countess did not move, she resolved to break the irksome silence 
 herself. In her own frank way, scorning all circumlocution, she went at 
 once to the subject nearest their hearts. 
 
 " I know why you are here today," said she, with a painful blush. — 
 "You have heard of the fate which threatens Poland, and you have 
 come to ask if thus I fulfil the promises I made to you ! Speak — is it 
 rot so ? Have I not rightly read the meaning of that lovely, but joy- 
 less face ?" 
 
 " It is so," sighed the Countess, and her voice trembled with unshed 
 
122 JOSEPH riiK SKCUXU 
 
 tears. " Yes, from the solitude wherein 1 had bmicd my grief since last- 
 1 >:;iw \^nir Majesty, 1 have hear;d the fata! tidings of my cuutH.ry''s woe, 
 and \etllive! Oh, why bhould the b^jdy survive when the soul is 
 dead!" 
 
 Her words died away upon her lips, and she seemed to grow paler 
 and more pale, as though every drop of blood in her veiny had sliiliened 
 and turned tu lee. But she heaved A siyh and , rallied, fur hope now 
 touched her heart, and the statue awoke to life. 
 
 '• Ah, great Empress," said she, wiih fervor, " I come to you, in whose 
 powerful hand lies the issue of my country's fate, whose mighty word 
 can bid us live or doom us to death." 
 
 " Oh, were it so, you would not sue in vain !" cried the Empress, sor- 
 rowfully. " Had the fate ()f Poland lain in my hands, she would have 
 risen tritimphant fiom the arena, where she has battled so bravely for 
 her «acred rights !" 
 
 " Poland's fate lies in your Majesty's hand !" exclaimed the Countess, 
 vehemently. "' You have not yet signed the warrant for my country's ex- 
 ecution ; you are still innocent of her blood ; your hand is still free from 
 participation in the crime of her enemies and yours ! Oh, lot me kiss 
 that hand, and bless it while yet it is spotless and pure as your noble 
 heart." 
 
 Hurried away by the might of the sorrow that overwhelmed her, the 
 Conntess da'ted forward, and throwing herself at the feet of the Em- 
 press, drew her. hand fervently to her lips. 
 
 '"Rise, dear Countess Anna, rise," said the Empress, soothingly. "I 
 cannot bear to see you at my feet when I can do nothing to avert the 
 fate of Poland." 
 
 " Who, then, can help her if not your Majesty !" cried the Countess. 
 "Oh, I did not come hither to reproach you, I came but to entreat for 
 the word that will disenthral my -country !" 
 
 " I cannot do it, as God hears me, 1 cannot," repeated Maria The- 
 resa, in a voice of anguish. "I have striven against it with all my 
 might. What I have suffered for your countrymen, no one will ever 
 know ! The anxious days and wretched nights that I have spent for 
 their sakes, have threatened my life."* 
 
 " I CANNOT !" echoed the Countess, who seemed to have heard nothing 
 but these few words. " An Empress !— An Empress ! who, \\yth a 
 wave of her hand, sways millions of men, and is responsible for her 
 actions to no earthly power !" 
 
 — "Save that which resides in the rights of her subjects over the sov- 
 ereign that is bound to reign for their good. I am responsible to my 
 people for the preservation of peace. Too much blood has been shed 
 since I came to the throne ; and nothing would induce me to be the 
 cau^e that the soil of Austria should be crimsoned by another drop."f 
 
 " And to spare a drop of Austrian blood, your Majesty will deal the 
 
 * The Empress's own words. Sep Kaumer, Contributions to Modern History, vol. 4, page 689. 
 f The EmpresH'B own words. See Wolt Austria under Muia Thoreea, page S2T. 
 
d::>ifji:KiiK uf Ai.'STRU 12'S 
 
 blow that murders a whole nation I ' cried the Countess, risinp to her 
 
 f<nt and looking di^Hciiicc at ihe Empress. '*Jii ^our ej^oiism foi Aus- 
 tria, you turn from a noble nation who have as good a right to freedom 
 as ^our own people!" 
 
 — " Countess, you forget yourself. B} what righi do you reprove 
 me?" 
 
 " iJy the light, \v!iich MisfnrUinc gives lo TmiU)," teplied r-\tv, proudly, 
 "and by ihe right which your imperial word has giv^n me to sjeak. — 
 For now 1 recall to you that promise, and 1 ask where is the eagle 
 that was to swoop down upon the vultures which are preying upon Po- 
 land?" 
 
 ^JOh, they have caged the eagle," said the Empress, sadly. " God 
 in he'iven knows how uianfully I have battled for PoUnd. When I 
 threatened interference, the answer was this ; ' We hive resoi.ed to dis- 
 member Polaml, and you fhall not prevent us.' What, then, could I 
 do ? Declare war ? That were to ruin my people. Remain passive, 
 while my enemies enlarged their frontiers, so as to endanger uty own ? 
 We then had recourse to stratagem. We defended our soil inch by 
 inch, and gave up when resistance became fanaticism. We required fir 
 our share more than we desired, h<tping to be refused. But no ! To 
 my sorrow and disappointment, even more was apportioned than we 
 had claimed. Oh! the whole ihinu has been so repuirnant to my si'nso 
 of justice th;it I refused to take any share in its arrangements,. and all 
 negotiations have been conducted by the Emperor, Prince Kaunitz and 
 Marshal Lacy."* ' . ii : 
 
 '" And these are the. ashes of the mighty promises of Empeiliors and 
 Empresses!" exclaimed the Countess, bitterly. ''Oh, Empress, think of 
 the time when you shall appear before God, to give account ('f \ our 
 deeds ! How will yon answer when the record vf this day is bionyhfc 
 before you? For the last time I am at your feet. Oh, as you h(jpe tor 
 mercy above, do -oot sign the act that dismembers Poland !" 
 
 Sh:' was again on her knees, her beautiful eyes drowned in tears, and 
 her hands clasped convulsively above her head. 
 
 "Oh, myG<»d!" exclaimed the. Empress, rising to her feet, " she 
 does not believe n>e." Then bending tenderly over the Countess, she 
 pressed her hands between her t)wn, and gently raised her to a seat. 
 
 " Do you not see how deeply I suffer, when I have no spirit to chide 
 your hard words tome! Ii is because ! comprehend your sorrow, p"or 
 child, that I forgive your iniM>tice ! And n<^w, to prove my sincerity," 
 added she, going to her escritoire and taking from it a letter, "read this. 
 1 was about to send it to Prince Kaunitz, when yoiir visit caused me to 
 forget it. Read it aloud, that 1 may know whether you understand me 
 at last." 
 
 The Coihitess unfolded the letter and read : 
 
 " When my own empire was threntened, and I knew not where to lay 
 my head, .when t he^ sorrows of child birth were overtaking me. { thiew 
 • Thtg dticonrw !■ tiUtorioRJ. 8eo Wolf, psgo 625. Eanmer, vol. 4, page B4ft, 
 
I '24 ' ' JOSKl'H iHli SKCUND 
 
 myself upon God and my just rights. But to-day, when humanity, jus- 
 tice, aye, reason itself, cry aloud against our acls, I confess to you that 
 my anxiety transcends all that I have ever suffered in my life before. 
 Tell me, Prince Kaunitz, have you thought of the evil example we 
 are giving to the nations of earth, when, for the sake of a few acres 
 of additional territory, we cast away our reputation, our dignity and our 
 honor?" 
 
 " If I yield to day, it is because I struggle alone, and no longer have 
 the vigor of mind to contend for right, as in years gone by, 1 would 
 have done, I am overpowered, but I surrender with a bleeding heart."* 
 
 The Countess remained looking at the paper, for a time, then she 
 raised her tearful eyes to the face of the Empress. " I thank your Ma- 
 jesty," said she, deeply moved, "for allowing me to see this letter. It 
 will remain in history as a noble monument of Maria Theresa's recti- 
 tude. 1 have no longer a word uf blame for you, and once again in 
 love and reverence, I kiss this hand, although I know that to-day it must 
 sign the death-warrant of unhappy Poland." 
 
 She drew near, and raised the hand of the Empress to her lips. But 
 Maria Theresa threw her arms around the Countess, exclaiming, " To 
 my heart, dear, unhappy one ! I cannot save Poland, but I can weep 
 with her loveliest and noblest daughter!" 
 
 The Countess, overcome by this unexpected tenderness, leaned upon 
 the bosom of the Empress, and wept. Maria Theresa stroked her lus- 
 trous black hair, and, as she kissed her marljle cheek, the tears that had 
 gathered in her eyes, fell upon the head of the Countess, where they 
 glittered like stars upon the darkness of the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 PINIS POLONIAE. 
 
 Neither saw the door open, but both heard a soft, melodious voice, 
 saying : " Pardon me, your Majesty, I thought yon were alone," 
 
 The Countess uttered a low cry, and trembled from head to foot. 
 
 " Do not fear," said the Empress, as she gently withdrew her arms, 
 " It is my son, the Emperor. We need not hide our tears from him, 
 for he knows that this is not the first time his mother has wept for Po- 
 land." ■ - ■ ■ 
 
 The Emperor said nothing ; he stood staring at the pale and trem- 
 
 * This letter was written by MariJi Theretft'B own hand. Bee Horrnnyr'e Pocket-History of ♦or 
 IB»tlvel3nd. 1W, Psgp 6C 
 
BaiPEBOR OF AUSTRIA. lt»5 
 
 bling Anna. He, too, grew deathly pale as he looked, and now his 
 trembling limbs answered to tlie agitiiLion that was overpowering her. 
 Suddenly, as though awaking from a painful dream, he approached, and 
 offering his hand, said, 
 
 " 1 rejoice to see you ; I have long sought you in vain." 
 
 She did not appear to see him : her arm hung listlessly at her side 
 while her figure swayed to and fro like a storm tossed lily. 
 
 "Ihave not been in Vienna," answered she, in a voice scarcely aud- 
 ible. "I had gone to bury my sorrow in solitude." 
 
 " But her love for Poland brought her hither," said the Empress, put- 
 ting her aim affectionately around the Countess's waist. 
 
 "I believe you," returned Joseph, bitterly. " The fate of Poland is 
 the only thing Worthy of touching the Countess Wielopolska. She is 
 not a woman, she is a Pole — nothing moip." 
 
 One low wail struggled from the depths of her breaking heart, but 
 she spoke not a word. 
 
 The Emperor went on : "The Countess Wielopolska is not a woman, 
 she is a monad, representing patriotism, and he who cannot think ^s she 
 does, is a criminal, unworthy of hfr regard." 
 
 " You are cruel, my son," said the EmpresSj deprecatingly. "If the 
 Countess has been bitter in her reproaches to you, we must remember 
 her grief, and her right to reproach us. We should be gentle v»(iih mis- 
 fortune, above all when we can bring no relief." 
 
 "Let him go on, your Majesty," murmured the wretched Anna, 
 while her eyes were raised, with a look of supreme agony, upon the 
 stern face of the Emperor. 
 
 *' Your Majesty is right. I am nothing but a Pole, and I will die with 
 my fatherland. Your hands shall close our coffin-lids, fur our fates will 
 not cost you a tear. The dear, noble Empress has wept for us both, 
 and the i-emembrance of her sympathy and of your cruelty, we will 
 carry with us to the grave." 
 
 The Emperor's eyes flashed angrily, and he was about to retort, but 
 he controlled himself and approached the Empress. " Your Majesty 
 will pardon me if 1 interrupt your interesting conversation, but Stale 
 affairs are' peremptory, and supercede all other considerations. Your 
 Majesty has commanded my presence that I might sign the act of parti- 
 tion. The Courier, who is to convey the news to Berlin and St. Peters- 
 burg, is ready to go. Allow me to ask if }Our Majesty has signed." 
 
 The Countess, who understood perfectly that the Emperor in passing 
 her by, to treat with his mother of this dreadful act of partition, wished 
 to force her to retire, withdrew silently to the door. But the Empress, 
 hurt that her son should have been so unfeeling, went forward and led 
 her back to her seat. 
 
 " No, Countess, stay. The Emperor says that you represent Poland. 
 Then let him justify his acts to us both, and prove that what he has 
 done, is right. 1 have suffered such anguish of mind over the partition 
 of Poland, that Joseph would lift « load from my heart, if he could 
 
126 JOSEPH THE SECONP. 
 
 show me that it is inevitable. My son you havo come for my signature ; 
 before God, your mother, and Poland herself, justify our deed, and I will 
 sign the act." 
 
 " Justify ! There are many things which we may defend without be- 
 ing able to justify them; and stern necessity often forces us to the use 
 of measures which conscience disapproves." 
 
 " Prove to me, then, the necessity which has forced us to dismember 
 a country whose people have never injured us," said the Empress, au- 
 thoritatively. 
 
 — " But whose disunion at home has become dangerous to their neigh- 
 bors. Poland lies, like a sick man, in our midst, whose d)ing breath 
 inft'uts ihe land. •» When there i?= a fire' in our neighborhood, we are 
 sontetinit^s obliged to tetr down the burning house lest the fire spread' 
 to our own." 
 
 "Yes!"' interrupted the Countess, "but you do not rob the neighbor 
 of his land. The soil belongs lo him who owns the house." • 
 
 — •' But the Pules are n<>i worthy to own their soil. What is Po- 
 land to-day'? A race of slnves and | e isants, without law or order, 
 driven hither and thither h\ a lewd and corrupt aristocracy, who in- 
 stead of blushing fur the degeneracy of their caste, hold their saturnalia 
 over the very graves of their noble ancestors ! And at the head of this 
 degenerate people is their King, the minion of a foreign court, who pro- 
 ninlgates the laws which he receives fn.m his imperial Russian mistress. 
 Verily God has weii;hed the Polish nation in His balance, and they have 
 been fmnd "wjinting!" 
 
 ''Enough!" faltered the Countess, rai^in'g her hand in deprecation. — 
 " Why will you vilify a people who are in the throes of death?" 
 
 " No. it is not enoHijih,' said the Emperor, sternly. "The Empress 
 says that I nuisi justify the acts of the three Powers to Poland — that pale 
 and beauiiful statute before me, which lives and yet is not a woman. I 
 say it iiyaiii -, a nation dies by it^ own corruption alone! Poland bears 
 within herself the seeds of her destruction. Her people have been false 
 to their antecedents, false to themselves, to their honor, and even to their 
 faith.'* 
 
 " Y'^u accuse, but you bring no proofs !" exclaimed the Countess^ her 
 eyes now flashing with woinided pride. 
 
 •Oh, it will not be difficult to collect my proofs," said the Emperor, 
 sneering., " Look at what t^ikes place in Poland, since your countrymen 
 have f(,trseen lhie fate of their fatherlaird. What are the Polish diet do- 
 ing, since they anticipate the close of their sittings'? Votinsi themselves' 
 pensions, property and every conceivable revenue at the expense of the 
 Republic, and giving her, with their own parricidal hands, the coup de 
 grace. Such shameless corruption has never come to light in the history 
 of any other nation! Freedom and ratherland ace in every mouth, but 
 in reality, no people c*re less for either, than do the Poles. Slaves, 
 who, while they hold out their hands to be manacled, are striving to 
 ♦ W"lf. Austria under Maria Theresw. ra?© 539. 
 
KMPRKOK OF AUSTRIA, 127 
 
 rei^Ti over other slaves !"* This is a picture of ihe Poland "whom jou 
 love; «nd throiigli her own crime-, she is dying." 
 
 • 1 1 is nut true !" cried ihe indignant Countess. "She dies through 
 the covetou.sness and greed <if her neighbors. It is they who have sown 
 di.isenLion in Poland, while forcing upon her unhappy people a King 
 who is nothing but the despicable tool of their despicable intrigues." 
 
 " All this has no reference to Austria," objected the Emperor. " We 
 had nothing to do with the selection of the King; nothing to do with 
 the projects of dismetnbfrment. They wen- resolved upon, with or with- 
 out our sanction, and tjie la.v of self-preservation demands that if we 
 cannot prevent, we must endeavor to profit by thcin. I know ihiii the 
 partition of Poland has an appearance of gross outrage which is obvious 
 to every eye, while the stringent necessity which has diiven Austiia to 
 participate in il, is known to few. — 1 confess that I would be giievt^d if 
 the world should misjudge me on iliis question, for I try. both in public 
 and private life, to be aii'honest man ; and I believe that hone^ty in 
 6taiesman>hip is the wisest and soundest policy. f We could nrX do 
 otherwise than we have done, and now with the tulj conviction of the 
 exigency which has called for the act,, I reptat my question to your Ma- 
 jes y, " Have you signed the act, or will yt)u, be so kind as to sign it 
 now." 
 
 'ihe Empress had listened with profound attention to her son's dis- 
 course, and her countenance, which before had been pale with anxi^t y, 
 had assumed an expression of blended serenity and resolution. A pause, 
 ensued. Marble while and speechless, the Connless witli hall-opfu 
 mouth started and bent forward, her eyesfixed upon the Em[)ress; the 
 Emperor, stern and proud, threw back his head and g.ized defiant. 
 
 Anl )ii the midst of this throbbing silence, Maria Theresa went for- 
 ward and took her seat at the escritoire. She dipped her pen in the 
 silver inkstand, and a sob, that sounded like the last death-sigh, esca- 
 ped from the lips of the Countess. The Empress turned quickly around ; 
 but the glance of her eye was resolute and her hand was firm. 
 
 She bent over the parchment and wrote; then throwing her pen on 
 the floor she turned to the Emperor and pointed with her right hand to 
 the deed, '^Placet" cried she with her clear, ringing voice, "■placel, 
 since so many great and wise men will have it so. When 1 am dead, 
 the world will Jearn what came of this violation 6f all that man holds 
 sacred.]; 
 
 And either that she might conceal her own emoftion, or avoid an out- 
 burst of grief from the Countess, the Empress walked hastily through 
 the room, and shut herself up in her dressing-room. 
 
 The Countess moaned, and murmuring "^^Yww Poloniae !'''' she too at- 
 tempted to cross the room. 
 
 The Emperor watched her, his eyes beaming with tenderness, his 
 
 * Baumer, Contributions, vol. 4, page &51 
 
 t The Eraperort owii wordp. See Ka'imer, Oonti1bu»1onf , Ac. Vol 4, ppge589, 
 
 ' The Empr? <•> owD w'irdf . 
 
128 JOSEPH I'HE SISOOKU. 
 
 heart a prey to violent anguish. As she reached the door, he saw her 
 reel and cling to a column for support. 
 
 With one bound he reached her, and flinging his arms around her 
 swaying figure, she fell, almost unconscious, upon his bosom. She lay- 
 but for one bewildering moment there. 
 
 ^^ Finis Poloniae!" murmured she again, and drawing herself up to 
 her full height, she again approached the door. 
 
 " Farewell !" said she, softly. 
 
 The Emperor seized her hand. "Anna," said he imploringly, Anna 
 do sve part thus'?" Is this our last interview"? Shall we^ never meet 
 again?" 
 
 She turned, and all the love that she had struggled to conquer, was 
 in her eyes as they met his. " We will meet once more," replied she. 
 
 ••' When V cried Joseph, frantic with grief. 
 
 — " When the hour has come for us to meet again, I will send for 
 3?ou. Promise to be there to receive my last farewell." 
 
 " I swear to be there." 
 
 " Then farewell." 
 
 " Farewell, beloved Anna! Oh let me touch your hand once more!" 
 
 " No !" said she harshly ; and opening the door she disappeared and 
 the Emperor was left alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE FIERCE COUNTESS. 
 
 Count Starhembero paced his splendid drawing>room in a state of 
 great excitement. Sometimes he murmured broken sentences, then he 
 sighed heavily, and again he seemed to be a prey to fear. Occasionally 
 his eyes glanced almost reproachfully towards the figure of a young man 
 who, with folded arms and smiling countenance, stood in the embrasure 
 of a window watching the old man's agitation. 
 
 As the clock on t^e marble mantel struck the hour, the Count stopped 
 before his young visitor, and looked searchingly at his mild and effimi- 
 Mate face. 
 
 " The half hour has elapsed. Count Esterhazy," said he solemnly. " I 
 have told you frankly that my niece, although a beautiful and perchance 
 a good-hearted woman, has a temper which is the terror of my house- 
 hold. She inherits this misfortune from her deceased father, and un- 
 happily her lovely and amiable mother did not long survive him. There 
 has been no one, therefore, to control her, and her terrible temper has 
 
EMPEROK OP A^STKIA. 129 
 
 never been restrained. Do not say to me that /might have corquered 
 it! i have dedicated my whole life to her; and lest she should ifako 
 another being unhappy, I have remained a bachelor, as you perceive. 
 But I had made a solemn promise to her parents that 1 would be a' fa- 
 ther to her, and I have kept my promise. It is not my fault if their 
 child is less amiable than other women. She has an energetic charac^ 
 ter, and I fear that if she marries she will find means to tyrannise over 
 her husband. I repeat this to you, Count, that we may clearly under- 
 stand each other, and now that the half hour has gone by, do you still 
 urge your suit?" 
 
 "Yes, Count, I do," replied Esterhazy in a soft, treble voice. "As her 
 guardian I repeat to you the offer of my hand to the Countess Margaret 
 Starhemberg." 
 
 The Count bowed. " I have done my duty, and being oleared of all 
 rCvSponsibility in the alfair, I give my consent. You must now try to 
 win hers." 
 
 *' I would like to see the Countess in your presence," said Esterhazv 
 unnloved. ^ 
 
 Count Starhemberg rang the bell, and ordered a servant to bear a. 
 request to his niece to join him in the drawing room. 
 
 "The Countess would have the honor of joining her uncle immediate- 
 ly," was the answer. 
 
 " This promises well," said the old Count looking relieved. " She 
 generally practises her music at this hour, and I am surprised that " 
 
 Just then, the sharp tones of an angry female voice were heard with- 
 out, then the jingling of glasses, then a crash, and the fall of some heavy 
 metallic body. 
 
 " That is my niece," said the old man with a shiver. " That is the 
 fanfare which usually announces her coming." 
 
 Now the door was flung violently open, and a tall, magnificent woman 
 dashed into the room. Her features, marvellously chiselled as that of 
 the antique Venus, would have been irresistible in beauty, if their ex- 
 pression had corresponded to their symmetry. But in her large black 
 eyes glared the fire of ungoverned passion,, and her rosy mouth was 
 curled with contempt. 
 
 Her tall figure was of exquisite proportions, and her arras, adorned, 
 but not hidden by the lace which fell from the short sleeves of her crim- 
 son velvet dress, were as fair and beautiful as those of the Venus of 
 Milos. 
 
 Count Esterhazy, intoxicated by the sight of. hex wondrous beauty, 
 withdrew abashed behind the window-curtain, while the Countess, grace- 
 ful as an angry leopardess, bounded through the room, and stood before 
 her uncle. 
 
 " Who has annoyed you, my child ?" asked he timidly. 
 
 "He is an idiot, an awkward animal, and shall be driven from the house 
 with the lash !" cried she. " Just imagine, uncle, that as I was coming 
 hither, I met him in the ante-ro<»m with a plateau of cups and glasses. 
 
130 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 When lie saw me, the fool fell to trembling as if he had seeti an evil 
 spirit — the plateau shook, and my dear mother's last gift, the goblet 
 from which she had cooled her dying lips, fell to the floor, and was 
 broken." 
 
 Her voice at iirst so loud and angry, was now soft and pathetic and 
 her eyes glistened with tears. She shook them off impatiently. **■ 
 
 "I can well understand, dear child, how much it must have grieved 
 you to lose this precious relic," said her uncle soothingly. 
 
 She blushed as though she had been surprised in a fault. 
 
 " Oh, it was not that," said she pettishly, " it is all the same to me 
 whether the goblet was a relic or not, for I hate sentiment. 
 
 But I detest such an awkward fool. He never could carry anything 
 without letting it fall." 
 
 — " Nay, my child, he has often carried you for hours in his arms, and 
 yet he never let you flill." 
 
 " Uncle, your jests are insupportable," cried she, stamping with her 
 little satin-slippered foot upon the carpet. You excuse this gray-headed 
 dunce merely" to vex me, and to remind me that I am an orphan without 
 a home." 
 
 — " But my dear " 
 
 " Peace ! 1 will not be interrupted. If I am tyrannised over in every 
 other way, I will at least claim the right to speak — I wish to say that 
 this old plague shall not remain here another day to torment my life 
 with his nonsense " 
 
 This time, however, I made him feel the weight of my hand. His 
 face was as red as my dress after it." 
 - " You struck my faithful old Isidor f cried the Count, shocked. 
 
 " Yes I did," replied she, looking defiantly into her uncle's mild face. 
 " I beat him well, and then I threw the whole waiter of cups and glasses 
 upon the floor. Ilave'you any fault to find with that, my sympathising 
 uncle ?" 
 
 " None, none," said the old man; " If it gave you pleasure to break 
 the glasses, we will go out and buy others." 
 
 — " We ! No, indeed, we shall not. Isidor shall pay for them from 
 his wages. It was his fault that I was obliged to break them, and no 
 .one shall suffer for it except himself. I claim that, as an act of bare 
 justice to myself." 
 
 — " But my dear Countess^ " 
 
 She stamped her foot again. " Great God, have you no object in life 
 except that of contradicting and ill-treating me !" 
 
 The Count sighed and approached the door. She heard him, ' and aa 
 exulting smile lit up her beautiful stormy face. 
 
 "Well, as you will not tell him, I shall do it myself. Yes — I shall 
 do it myself. Do you hear, uncle 1 You shall not say a word to him." 
 
 — "I will say nothing, Margaret. Will you now allow me to speak 
 of other things ? In your vehemence - — " 
 
 Uncle ? 
 
EMl'EIlUJl UF AUbTlUA. 13 J 
 
 " In your just displeasure, you have overlookea the fact that wc arc 
 not alone." 
 
 He pointed to the •window where, half-hidden by the heavy sillc dra- 
 pery, stood Count Prank Estorhazy. The Countess followed her uncle's 
 glance, and as she became aware of the visitor's presence, burst into a 
 merry lough. 
 
 " Do not be frightened, young man," said she then ; *' you may come 
 out from your corner. I am not a cat, and 1 don't devour mice. Ah 
 you have heard our discussion? What a pity you arc not a dramatic 
 poet, you have Imd such an opportunity for depicting a foolish old guar- 
 dian and his spirited ward !" 
 
 " Unfortunately I am not a poet," said the. young Count coming for- 
 ward and bowing to tho door. " If I were, I could write to-day a hun- 
 dred sonnets to the eyes of tho majestic Hera, whose anger heightens 
 her wonderful beauty." 
 
 • " Uncle," said the Countess, suddenly assuming a stately and court- 
 like demeanor, '• be so good as to present me this youug stranger, who 
 pays such insipid compliments." 
 
 — " My dear niece, let me introduce Count Frank Estcrhazy, a noble- 
 man just returned from Italy, who is in high favor with the Empress." 
 
 " Tho latter is no recommendation, uncle, for am I not also a favorite 
 with the Euipress ? Have you not often told me so when the Empress 
 was humbling me with some of her tyrannical condescension ?" 
 
 — "Certainly, my child, I have said so." 
 
 "Then you see that it is not necessary to be estimable for one to gain 
 the Empress's good-will. For my part, I wish she loved me less, for 
 then she would spare mc some of the long sermons with which she edi- 
 fies me, when I happen to appear at court." 
 
 " That probably is the reason you appear so seldom," asked Count 
 Esterhazy. " I heard your absence complained of." 
 
 *'■ By her Majesty 1" asked Count Starheraberg, 
 
 " No, your Excellency, by the Emperor."J 
 
 « What did he say V 
 
 " Dare I repeat his word "?" asked Esterhazy, appealing to the Count- 
 ess. She bowed her head, and leaned against the back of an arm-chair, 
 
 " I was yesterday at the Empress's reception. The Emperor was so 
 kind as to do the honors of the Court to me. He pointed out the several 
 beauties of Vienna, who were all strangers to me — ' But,' said he, ' tho 
 most beautiful woman in Austria I cannot show you, for she is not here. 
 The Countess Margaret Von Starhemberg has the beauty of Juno and 
 Venus united.' " 
 
 The Countess said nothing ; she stood with downcast eyes. Her 
 cheek had paled, and her lips Were firmly compressed together. Sud- 
 denly she rallied and said with a careless laugh, 
 
 " I wager that the Empress and her ladies made some amiable com- 
 mentary on the Eraperor'.'s words. Corao, tell mc what said the Em- 
 pr«s5 "" 
 
 •>" 
 
IS2 iOSEPH I'HR SECONUt ^ 
 
 " If you command me — Countess, I will tell ycu. The Empress ad- 
 ded with a sigh, ' It is true, she is as beautiful as a Goddess, but it is 
 Eris whom she resembles.' '' 
 
 "Very witty !" exclaimed the Countess with a sneer. 
 
 "And the Emperor 1" inquired the uncle. 
 
 "The Emperor frowned at the ladies who began to laugh. *Your 
 Majesty may be right,' said he,.' but Grecian Mythology has forgotten to 
 suy whether the tierce Goddess was ever vanquished by Love. Love 
 tames the most turbulent of women.'" 
 
 The Countess uttered a sharp cry, and caught with both her hands at the 
 back of the arm-chair. Her eyes closed, and a deadly paleness over- 
 spread her countenance. Her uncle hastened to put his arm around her, 
 inquiring tendsrly, " Dearest child, what ails youl" 
 
 She leaned for a while upon his shoulder ; then raising her head while 
 deep blushes crimsoned her cheeks, she said haughtily, " It is nothing. 
 A sudden faintness to which I am subject." With an inclination of the 
 head to Count Esterhazy, she continued, 
 
 " You will be so good as not to mention this weakness of mine. It 
 is purely physical, and I hope to conquer it in time. I am rejoiced to 
 think that I have verified the words of the Empress and have appeared 
 before you to-day as an Eris, I suppose you came hither to see me out 
 of curiosity." 
 
 " No, Countess Margaret, the purport of my visit was anything but 
 curiosity. I come with the sanction of your guardian to offer you my 
 hand." ' ; 
 
 The black eyes of the Countess darted fire at the smiling suitor. 
 
 " You do not answer me," said he blandly. " I say that I have won 
 the consent of your uncle, and respectfully solicit yours. It shall be the 
 study of my life to make you happy ; and perhaps at some future day 
 my untiring devotion may win a return of my love. Speak then. Coun- 
 tess, say that you will be my wife." 
 
 " Never, never," cried she, stretching forth her arrns as though to ward 
 away some threatening evil. " I shall never be the wife of any man. 
 I was not made for marriage, I will not bow my will before that cf any 
 other fellow-mortal." 
 
 " I shall not require you to do so," replied the Count as though he 
 had now removed every objection. "You will be in my house as you 
 are here, absolute mistress of all things, and I shall claim nothing but 
 the right of being your humblest and most devoted servant." 
 
 " Unhappily for you, you know not what you claim," exclaimed the 
 Countess angrily. " Ask my uncle, ask his household, and they will tell 
 you that I am a tyrant, changing my will twenty times an hour ; hating 
 to-day /the thing I shall love tomorrow. Oh, you would aspire to be 
 my husband, would you ^ Have you no friends to warn you of the, 
 reefs upon which you are running that poor little crazy bark of yours 1 
 Why the very people, as they see me pass, tell of my frantic doings ; 
 •■^nd every child in Vienna knows that I. beat my servant?, rage about 
 
lu^ uncle's house like tlio foul fieod, and dash through the streets uu 
 horselsack like the Wild Huntsman." 
 
 " ' Love tames the wildest hearts,' so s:iys the Emperor." 
 
 Margaret started, and darted a fiery glance at his tranquil face. 
 
 '•But I do not love you, I tell you; and it is useless to say another 
 word on the subject." 
 
 "Nay," said the Count, taking her hand, " it is not useless. I be- 
 seech you, do not deny my 8uit." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and a servant came in with a golden 
 tray, on which lay a letter. 
 
 "From her Majesty, the Enjpress,V said the servant, handinjr it to 
 Count Starhemberg. The Count took the letlef and went into the em- 
 brasure of the window, while the servant retired noislessly. 
 
 " Countess Margaret," said Count Esterhazy, in an imploring voice, 
 "once more I entreat you to accept me hs your husband." 
 
 She looked at him with M'ithering contempt. "Have I not told yon." 
 cried she, passionately, " that I do not love you 1 A man of honor 
 ceases to importune a woman after such an avowal." 
 
 " A man of spirit -never, gives up; he perseveres in the hope that, 
 sooner or later, he will reach his goal. No man has the right to expect- 
 that he will obtain a treasure without trouble." v 
 
 " Cant ! miserable cant !" And the great, glowing eyes that were 
 looking with such scorn at the slight figure of the Count, encountered 
 their own image in the glass before which they both stood. 
 
 " Look !" cried she, pointing to the mirror, " yonder reflection gives 
 its answer to your suit. Do you see that tall woman, whose head tow- 
 ers above the blond mannikin who stands beside herl Look at her 
 black hair, her fiery eyes and resolute bearing ! And now look at the little 
 fair-haired puppet, who resembles a man about as much as do the statu- 
 ettes on my toilet-table. Ah, sir Count, if you were the woman and I 
 the man, there might be marriage between us ! But as it is, you would 
 die of my violence, or I of your insipidity. So, excuse me." 
 
 She made a deep curtsy, and turned to leave the room. But she 
 felt a touch upon her shoulder, and looking back she saw her. uncle gaz- 
 ing at her with a face of great anxiety. 
 
 " My child," said he, in a faltering voice, "do not send Count Ester 
 hazy so rudely away. He is rich, noble and distinguished, and in ev- 
 ery way worthy of my lovely niece. Do not refuse him, Margaret." 
 
 "The Count has recovered from his stupid delusion, uncle; I have 
 told him how impossible it is for me to accept his hand." 
 
 ^ " But my poor child you must try to love him. You dare not rejec* 
 his ofier." 
 
 ''What! /dare not reject whom I please!" cried she, in a voice 
 shrill with passion. 
 
 " No, you dare not. ■ The Empress commands you to accept the hand 
 of Count Esterhazy. Here is the note | |)ave at this moment received 
 from her Majesty." 
 
134 iOSEPH lUK ."iECOiKU. 
 
 • .Margarst tore the paper savagely from her uncle's hand. With star- 
 m^ cyf ^he reacl its contents, while her whole body trenabled violently, 
 iiiid licr lips v!cvc bloody with the eflbrts she was making to suppress a 
 scream. 
 
 At last she gave it back. " Read It," said she, hoarsely, " the letters 
 swim before my eyes." 
 
 The Count took the note and read : 
 
 " Dear Count Starhembeko : — It is my desire that your niece, the 
 Countess Margaret, shall become the wife of some honorable man. In 
 this way she may hope to conquer her ungovernable temper, and be- 
 come a reasonable woman. I have heard that Count Esterhazy intends 
 to become her suitor, and I command her to accept his hand. She has 
 led a life of wild independence, and it is time she were tamed by the 
 cares, duties and responsibilities of matrimony. I am both her Em- 
 press and god-mother, and I use my double right for hei? good. The mar- 
 riage shall take place in one week, or sho goes into a convent. That ia 
 my ultimatum. 
 
 I remain, yours with sentiments of esteem, 
 
 Maui A Theresa." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 I 
 
 THE BETROTirAI.. 
 
 A LON» pause ensued after the reading of the letter. The Countess 
 stood with her eyes riveted upon her uncle's face, as though she were 
 waiting for, something more. The young Count watched her furtively, 
 but he looked determined. 
 
 " You see, my child," at last sighed the old Count, " it is inevitable. 
 The Empress must be obeyed." 
 
 " No ! no !" screamed the wretched girl, awaking from her stupor, " I 
 will not be the wife of that man." 
 
 " Then you will have to go into a convent." 
 
 " No !" cried she, her face suddenly lighting up with a flash of hope, 
 " no, I will do neither. There is a means of rescuing me from both." 
 
 She turned, with a bewitching smile, to Count Esterhazy, and in a 
 voice whose softness was music to his ear, she addressed him, 
 
 " In your hands lies the power to rescue me from a forced bridal.. You 
 have heard that despotic note from the Empress. Match-making is a 
 monomania with Maria Theresa, it is useless, therefore, for me to 
 appeal to her ; for on a question of marriage, she is inexorable. But you, 
 f'oi^nt Esterhazv," continued she, in tones of caressing melody, " yon 
 
JCMVliKOK Of AUSTKlA i.i^ 
 
 will rescue me, will you not? I cannot be your wife, for I do not love 
 you ; I cannot go into a convent, for I have no piety. Go, then, to tho 
 Empress and tell her that you do not wish to marry me. You, at least, 
 are free. Eefuso to accept me for your wife, and this miserable comedy 
 is at an end," 
 
 She had clasped her little white hands and was looking imploringly in 
 his face. 
 
 The young man shook his head. " I cannot say this to the Empress,'* 
 said he, quietly, " for it is she who sent me hither to woe you." 
 
 " The Empress sent you hither !" cried the Countess, springing for- 
 ward like a lioness. " You came not to me as a free suitor, but as the 
 obedient slave of the Empress!" 
 
 " Yes, I came at the *;ommand of the Empress," said the young man, 
 mildly. 
 
 The Countess burst into a loud laugh. " That, then, was the glowing 
 love which you were describing just now ; that, your tender wish to 
 live for my happiness alone ! Obedient school-boy ! You were told to 
 come and ask for my hand, and you came for fear of being whipped ! — 
 Oh, why am I not a man ! By the eternal Lord, no woman should in- 
 flict upon me such contumely !" 
 
 " It is true," said Count Esterhazy, taking no note of her words, 
 " that the Empress ordered me hither. But since I have seen you, I 
 need no prompting save that of my own heart." 
 
 " Peace, fool, nobody believes you ! You had consented to woe me 
 in obedience to your despotic Sovereign. But you have seen me, now 
 you know with how much justice I am called the ' The fierce Countess,' 
 and now surely you have manhood enough to reject a termagant like 
 me. Go, then, and tell the Empress that I was willing, but you were 
 not " 
 
 " I would not thus belie you, lovely Margaret." 
 
 " What do I care whether you belie me or Jiot, so that ( am rid of 
 you," said she, contemptuously. 
 
 " Submit, my dear child," said the old Count, with tears in his eye?. 
 "'Tis the first time in your life that you have been thwarted, and there- 
 fore, it is hard for you to succumb." 
 
 "I will not submit!" cried Margaret, flinging back her head. I will 
 NOT marry this man ! Uncle, dear uncle, leave me one moment with 
 him. I have something to say that he alone must hear."' 
 
 The Count withdrew at once into another room, 
 
 " Now, sir, that we are alone, I have a*secret to reveal, to God and 
 to yourself. Swear by the memory of your mother that you will not be- 
 tray me." 
 
 " I swear," 
 
 " She bowed her head as though .accepting the oath. " And, now," 
 said she, faltering and blushing, " I will tell you why I can never be 
 
 your wife. I" she hesitated and her head sank upon her bosom, 
 
 wkile she stifled a sigh. " I loFft another," whi^^ppred ^•ho. nlmo'^t inM- 
 
Uculalely. ' Yes—i iove anolher, I love him with every throb of my 
 heart, with all the strength of my being. My every breath is a praver 
 for him ; every wish, hope, and longing of my soul points to him alone. 
 I would die to give him one hour of joy. Now, that 1 have made this 
 avowal, you retract your suit, do you not;? You will go now to the 
 Empress and say that you will not aocept me for your wife. You give 
 me my freedom, surely you give it to me now ?" 
 
 Count Esterhazy smiled compassionately. "This is a fable, Count- 
 ess, which you have invented to escape me. A few moments ago you 
 said that you would never love." 
 
 '^ I said that to disincline you to marry me." 
 
 "I do not believe you," said Esterhazy, calmly. "You have invent- 
 ed this story of your love for that end ; but it is a falsehood, for you 
 are as oold as an icicle." 
 
 "Oh, I wish that I were! For this love is my greatest misfortune. 
 Look s^t me, Count. Does this look like dissimulation?" 
 
 And she raised up to his view, a face scarlet with blushes, and eyes 
 filled with burning tears. 
 
 "No, Countess," said Esterhazy, after contemplating her earnestly, 
 " I. will believe the tears that glisten in your speaking eyes. But now, 
 answer me one question. Your confidence gives me the right to ask it. 
 Is your love returned ?" 
 
 She remained silent, as if communing with herself, while every trace 
 of color vanished from her cheeks. , 
 
 *' No,'* said she, at last, with quivering lips. " No, he doe§ not know 
 it ; and if he did, he could not offer me his hand." 
 
 " Then," replied Esterhazy, coolly, " your love is no impediment to 
 our marriage. Cherish it if you choose; raise altars to this unknown 
 god, and deck them with the brightest flowers of devotion. I will not 
 inquire the name of your deity. Your secret is safe, even from myself, 
 f, ou the contrary, have never loved. My heart stands* with doors and 
 windows open, ready to, receive its mistress, and as th^ Empress has se- 
 lected you, it waits joyfully for you to take possession." 
 
 The Countess laid her hand upon bis arm, and grasped it like a vice. 
 " Yo\i will not recede," said she, hoarsely. " You still persist in desir- 
 ing me tor your wife?" 
 
 " You have told me that your love is hopeless, therefore is mine 
 hopeful. Perhaps, one day, it may succeed in winning yours." 
 
 " But you do not love me !" shrieked the maddened girl. " You are 
 here by command of the Empress." . 
 
 " And the Esterhazys have always been the loyal servants of 'the 
 Empress. Whatever she commands they obey, were it at the cbst of 
 life and happiness. Allow me, then, to persevere in my obedience, not 
 only to her desires, but to my own. , I once more- solicit the honor of 
 your hand." • 
 
 " Woe to you, if after this, I yield !" cried she, with threatening ges- 
 ture. " I have stooped to entreat you, and my prayers have been vain. 
 
clMFERUK Uf AUSTKlA. |HT 
 
 1 have withdrawn the womanly veil that concealed m^ heart's cherished 
 secret, and you have not renounced \our nnnianly siiii. I said ih;a I did 
 not love you. Loolc at me, and hear luc while 1 vow eternal haired 
 should 1 Oe forced to give you my hand I" 
 
 "There is but one siepirtMa hale to luve. Allow me to hope that 
 you will think better of it, and take thai step." 
 
 A fearful cry rang from her lips, her eves glowed like burning coals, 
 and she raised her clenched hand as though she had hoped it might fell 
 him to the earth. But suddenly it !^ank helpless to her side, and she 
 looked long and searchingly into Count Esterhazy's face. 
 
 Along silence ei>sued. "It is well," said she, at length, in clear, 
 shrill tones. "You have challenged me to mortal combat, and it may 
 be that you will win. But, oh! believe mewhen I tell yon that victory 
 will bring you no glory. Your stre"gth is not your own ; it lies in the 
 imperial hand of Maria Theresa. I swear to you that if I become your 
 wife, my whole life shall be consecrated to hatred and revenge. Count 
 Esterhazy, 1 hold my word inviolate, whether 1 pledge it to friend or 
 foe ; and when the blight shall fall upon your head that will grow out 
 of this hour we have spent together, remember that had you been a 
 man of honor you might, have spared yourself the shame !" 
 
 Without another word she lifted her pr(;ud head, and, with a look of 
 withering scorn, left the room. 
 
 Count Esterhazy's eyes followed her retreating figure and his placid 
 brow grew troubled. " Beautiful as she is." murmured he, ".it is dan- 
 gerous to woo her. She has the beauty of Medusa. My heart positive- 
 ly seems to petrify under her glance. I would be more than willing to 
 renounce the honor of wedding this beautiful demon, but I dare not re- 
 fuse." 
 
 And he drew out his delicate, embroidered handkerchief to vipe off 
 the big drops of sweat that stood upon his forehead. 
 
 " Well?" aske3 Count Starhemberg, opening the door and putting 
 through his head. 
 
 " Pray come. in," said Esterhazy, in a piteous tone. 
 " Ah, my niece has left ! Weli, I suppose thafe, as usual, she has con- 
 quered, and you release her?" 
 
 "Not at all," replied the unhappy mannikin, "I still beg for the hon- 
 or of her hand. The Empress has spoken and I have only to obey." 
 
I3S JOSEPH XHK aECOINU 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 FRANZ ANTONY MESMER. 
 
 For some weeks, great excitement had existed iu Vienna. In all as- 
 semblies, cafes^ h'ouses and restcmranfs. in the streets and on the public 
 places, the topic of converaaiion had been the wonderful cures of the 
 Suabean physician, Mesmer. These cures contravened all past expe- 
 rience, and set at naught all reason. Mesmer made no use of decoction 
 or electuary, he prescribed neither baths nor cataplasms; he cured his 
 patients by the power of his hand and the glance of his large, dark eye. 
 He breathed upon their foreheads, and forthwith they saw visions of far 
 off lands ; he passed the tips of his fingers over their faces, and pain 
 and suffering vanished at his touch. No wonder that physicians de- 
 nounced him as a charlatan, and apothecaries reviled him as an impos- 
 ter. 
 
 No wonder that the populace, so prone to believe the marvellous, had 
 jfaith in Mesmer, and reverenced him as a saint. Why should he not 
 perform miracles with his hand, as did Moses with a rod, when he struck 
 the rock 1 Why should not the power of his eye master disease, as 
 once the glance of the Apostles gave speech to the dumb and awakened 
 life in the dead ? 
 
 Mesmer, too, was an apostle — the apostle of a new faith. He bade 
 suffering humanity turn to heaven for relief 'The reflection from the plan- 
 ets', said he, ' and the rays of the sun, exercised over the human system, 
 a magnetic power. The great remedy for disease lay in this' magnetic 
 power, which resides in iron and steel, and which has its highest and 
 most mysterious development iu man.' 
 
 The people believed; and sought his healing hand. Remastered 
 their infirmities, and soothed their sufferings. But the more the world 
 honored and trusted him, the more bitter grew the hatred of the faculty. 
 Each day brought him fresh blessings and fresh imprecations. The 
 physicians, who in Salzburg, had hurled Paracelsus from a rock, dared not 
 attempt the life of Mesmer; but they persecuted him as an imposter, 
 and proved, by learned and scientific deduction, that his system was a 
 lying absurdity. 
 
 Those, who affected strength of mind, and refused to believe anything 
 except that which could be demonstrated by process of reasoning, gave 
 in their adherence to the indignant physicians. Those, on the contrary, 
 who had faith in the mysteries of religion, were disciples of Mesmer; 
 and they reverenced him as a prophet, sent Aom heaven, -to prove the 
 fiupremacy of nature over knowledge. 
 
KMl'KJiUll or AUSTKIA I, '^,9 
 
 Mesmer's fame had reached the Court, and the Empress, herself, be- 
 oame interested in his extraori'inary achievements. In vain Van Swie- 
 ten and Stork besought her to silence the audacious quack, who was 
 ruining a great profession. She shook her head, and would have noth- 
 ing to do with the feud. 
 
 " I shall wait and see," said she. His system is harmless, and I shall 
 not fetter him. One thing is certajn. His manipulations will never 
 poison anybody, as many a regular physician's prescription has done, 
 and he shall not be molested. He has voluntarily sought an ordeal 
 which will determine his position before the world. If he cures the 
 blindness of my little protege, Therese, 1 shall give in my adherence 
 with the rest; for he who restores the blind to sight, holds his skill 
 from above." 
 
 This young girl was known to all Vienna. In her second year, after 
 an attack of suppressed measles, she had become blind, and all attempts 
 to restore her sight, had proved unavailing. But if sight had been de- 
 nied to her eyes, her soul was lit up by the inspiration of art. When 
 Therese sat before the harpsichord and her dexterous fingers wandered 
 over its keys — when, with undisturbed serenity, she executed the most 
 difficult music that could be written for the instrument, no one who saw 
 her beautiful eyes could have surmised their inutility. Her features 
 were expressive, and those sightless eyes, seemed at times, to brighten 
 with joy, or to grow dim with sorrow. Nevertheless, Thorese Von 
 Paradies was wholly blind ; her eyes were merely the portals of her 
 soul — they sent forth light, but received none in return. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV f. 
 
 THERESE VON PARADIES. 
 
 Therese Von Paradies was in her room ; her mother stood near, for 
 with the assistance of a maid, she had just completed her daughter's 
 toilet. Therese was elegantly dressed, and she seemed to enjoy her 
 splendor although she was not permitted to see it. 
 
 " Say, mother," said she, as the last touch had been given to her 
 dress, " of what material is my gown ? It feels as soft as a young girl's 
 cheek." 
 
 " It is satin, my child." 
 
 " Satin ? And the color ?" 
 
 " White." 
 
 " White !" repeated she, softly. *' The color without «^l"r. How 
 
\4v JOSKPh iliE bh-(JUMJ 
 
 strange that must be. 1 shudder when 1 tbhik that 1 shall see it before 
 long." 
 
 '• Why should you shudder'?" said her mother, tenderly. "You 
 ■ should rejiMce, dear child, that the world, with ail its beauties, is about 
 to i;)econie kuown to }ou." 
 
 " I do not know," replied Therese, thoughtfully. " I shall enter upon 
 a new world which will astonish, and perchance, affright me by its 
 strangeness. Now I know you all in my heart, but when I see you, I 
 shall no longer recognize you. Oh, mother, why do you wish me to he 
 restored to sight? 1 am very happy as 1 am." ^ ■ 
 
 "Silly child, you will be still happier when you see. ■ It ig absurd for 
 you to dread an event which will add a hundred-fold to your enjoyment 
 of life." 
 
 . " And why absurd, dear mother 1 Does not the heart of the bride, 
 on her wedding day, teat half in hope and halY in fear? . And is not 
 her soul filled with sweet apprehension? 1 am a bride— the bride of 
 light, and I await my lover to day." 
 
 " Ah, who knows if light will come," sighed the mother. 
 
 *' It will come, mother," said Therese, confidently. "I felt- it yester- 
 day, when, for a moment, Mesraer removed the bandage from my eyes. 
 It was for a second, but I saio, and what 1 saw cut like a sharp sword 
 athwart my eyes, and 1 fell, almost unconscious." 
 
 "That was a ray of light — the first* glance of your biidegroom !" 
 cried the mother, joyfully. 
 
 " Then 1 fear that I shall never be able to bear his presence," replied 
 Therese, sadly. " But tell me, mother, am 1 dressed as becomes a 
 bride r 
 
 "Yes, Therese, you are beautifully dressed, for to-day we receive a 
 throng of distinguished guests. Even the Empress has sent one <jf her 
 lords in waiting, to bear her the tidings of your restoration to sight. — 
 The two great doctors. Van Swieten and Stork, will be" here to see the 
 marvel ; and princes and princesses, lords and ladies, ministers and 
 generals, will be aroUnd you." 
 
 " How is my hair dressed ?" . 
 
 '■ It is dressed as you like it, d la Matignon. Pepi has built a tower 
 upon your head at least three quarters of an ell high, and above that is a 
 blue rosette, with long ends." 
 
 " It is indeed very high," replied Therese, laughing, " for I cannot 
 reach it with my hands. But I have another question to ask, dear 
 mother. Promise me that it shall be frankly ansWered." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " Well, then, tell me, is my appearance pleasing? Hitherto every 
 one has been kind to me because of my misfortune ; but when I stand 
 upon equal footing with other women, do you think • that 1 am pretty 
 enough to give pleasure to my friends ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, you are very handsome," said tlie mother, smiling 
 lovingly at her child's simplicity. "Your figvire is graceful, yo.ur fice 
 
KMI'EROa OP AUSTRIA I4l 
 
 is oval, your featui;e3 are regular, and your brow is high unci thoujcrhtfnl. 
 
 Wlitiu the ligllt of cl.i;,' «tl;iij be itllcct'd fi-jill' .\uur i.iige, dui k c-j «• -, 
 yoii will he a bt-autitul te-oniuii, ruy duii2;hter." 
 
 •'Thank you, denr moiher, those are plea-sant tidings,'' said Tb«rtjse, 
 kissing her. 
 
 " 1 must leave you, dearest," said her mother, softly, disengaging 
 herself from Therese's arms ; •' I have my own toilet to make, and some 
 preparations for our guests. I will send the maid." 
 
 " No, deiir mother, send no one. I need silence and solitude. I. tdo, 
 have preparations to make fur the heavenly gue«iL that visit.s me tu-day. 
 I must strengthen my soul by prayer." 
 
 She accompanied her mother to the door, kissed her again and return- 
 ing seated herself at the harpsichord. And now from its keys came 
 forth sounds of mirth and melancholy, of love and com|)liiinf, of pruyeis 
 and tears. At one time she en tuned a hymn of joy, then came steal- 
 ing over the air a melody that brought tears to the eyes of the mu>i- 
 cian ; then it changed and swelled into a torrent of gushing harmony. 
 
 Suddenly she paused, a tremor ran through her frame, and a blush 
 slowly mantled her cheek. Her hands fell, and her bosom heaved. As 
 if drawn by some invisible power, she rose from hei instrument and 
 went towards the door. In the centre of the room she stopped and 
 pressed her hands upon her heart. 
 
 " He comes," murmured she, with a sraile of ecstasy, "he mounts 
 the staircase, now he is in the corridor, his hand is upon the door." 
 
 Yes, the door opened so softly that the acutest ear could not l^ave de- 
 tected a sound. But Therese felt it. and she would have gone forward, 
 but her feet w'ere paralysed, and she remained with outstretched arms. 
 With her heart she had seen him who now appeared upon the'threshojd. 
 The person, whose coming had so agitated the young girl, was a man. of 
 scarcely forty years, of a lofty, imposing carriage, and of prepossessing 
 features. His large, blue eyes, rested upon Therege with a glance of 
 power, which thrilled through every fibre of her being. FIc held out 
 ' his right arm towards her; then slowly lowering it, he pointed to the 
 floor, Therese followed its motion and sank on her knees. A trium- 
 phant smile beamed over Mesmer's face, and he raised his hand again. 
 The girl arose, and as though she had seen him open his arms, she 
 darted forward and laid her head upon his breast. 
 
 "Mesmer, my friend, my physician," whispered she, softly. 
 '"Yes, it is 1," replied Mesmer, in a rich, melodious voice. "Your 
 heart has seen me, your eyes shall see me, too, my child." 
 
 He led her to a sofa and seated her gently beside him. Then pass- 
 ing hiij outstretched hand before her, she trembled. 
 
 "You are very much excited to-day, Therese," said he, with a slight 
 tone of disapprobation. 
 
 " I am excited because you are so. dear friend," said the blipd gi'I. — 
 " Your eyes dart beams that threaten to consume the world." 
 
 '*A world of ignorance and of wickedness," said he, in reply. "Yes, 
 
142 JUaEI'H Tflfi SECOND,! 
 
 Tlierese, I will consume it to-day. and in its stead shall arise a super- 
 natural world; yet one "to which banished nature shall return and claim 
 her rights to man. Oh, will I have strength to say, ' Let there be light!' " 
 
 — " Dear ifriend, if you doubt of the result, do not expose yourself to 
 the humiliation of failure. I am satisfied with my blindness, for I have 
 a world of light in my heart." 
 
 " No !" cried Mesmer, with energy, " the work is begun, it must be 
 completed. You 7nust see Therese, or all for which I have striven will 
 recoil upon my head, and bury me beneath its ruins. This day decides 
 not only your fate, poor child, but mine. To-day must Mesmer prove 
 to the world that the animal magnetism, which physicians deride as 
 quackery, savans deny as impracticable, and the people ignorantjy wor- 
 ship as sorcery, is a golden link which binds humanity to heaven. To- 
 day you shall be healed by the magnetic power which binds you to me, 
 and links us both to God." 
 
 " Heal me, then, dear master P' cried the girl, inspired by his enthusi- 
 asm ; " restore me to sight, and in so doing give light to those who can- 
 not see your God-like gift." 
 
 He laid his hand upon her shoulder, and gazed earnestly in her face. 
 " You have faith in me then, Therese, have you not ?" 
 
 " I believe in you and I comprehend you, master. I know Jhat I shall 
 see ; and when the scales fall from my eyes, the light of conviction will 
 dawn for others. They will then comprehend that there is a power in 
 Nature stronger than the craft of bare human wisdom." 
 
 " Oh, you speak my very thoughts, dear Therese," said Mesmer, ten- 
 derly. " You see into my mind, and its perceptions find birth upon 
 your lips. Let doctors sneei", and learned skeptics disbelieve, but the 
 day will come when all must acknowledge that magnetism is truth, and 
 all human wisdom, lies. Physicians, though, will be its deadliest ene- 
 mies, for they are travellers, who having strayed from the right path, go_ 
 farther and farther from tiruth, because they will not "retrace their 
 steps."* 
 
 " But you will show them the path, ray toaster, and the world will 
 honor you above other men." 
 
 " If ingratitude do not blind it to truth. It is hard to find day-light 
 in the labyrinth of established faith. I, too, have wandered in this laby- 
 rinth, but in all my divarications, I sought for truth. With passionate 
 longing, I called her to my help Far removed from the hum of hu 
 man imbecility, down among the solitudes of untrodden forests, I sought 
 her. Here I was face to face with Nature, and listened for response to 
 the anxious questionings of my restless heart. It was well for me that 
 the trees were the only witnesses of my agitation, for my fellow-meo, 
 had they met, would have chained me as a madman." 
 
 " Not I, master. I would have understood your noble strife." 
 
 Mesmer pressed her hand and went on : " Every occupation became 
 distasteful to me, every moment ded icated to aught else seemed to be 
 
 ♦ MB«m«r» owfi words. SVe Ffnns Anton Mesmer, of Buabi«, b'y Vt, JttBtiliuS Kenwr, p»g« 68. 
 
8MPEKOR OF AUSTRIA, 143 
 
 treason to truth. I regretted the time which it cost nie to translate my 
 thoughts into words, an J 1 formed the singular resolution o^ keeping si- 
 lence. For three months I rellected without speaking >\ word. At the 
 end of this time a new faculty unfolded itself in my mind, and I bfegan 
 to see with rapture that the day of truth had dawned. I knew that 
 henceforth my life would be one long struggle against preconceived er- 
 I'or; but this did not affright me. So much the more did I feel the ob 
 ligation resting upon me to impart to m_\ fellow beings the gifts I had 
 received*. I have suffered much from their prejudices, but most from 
 the sneers of envious physicians, who sooner than receive a light fr.tm 
 other. hands, would stumble in the night of their ignorance forever.* 
 But my day of triumph is here. You, Thirese, are the Evangeli>t of 
 ray new Faith, and your restored vision shall announce it to the world !" 
 
 " It shall, dear master, it shall ; and again.'it their will these infidels 
 shall believe. They will see that we have all, been blind together — all 
 but yon, who, questioning in faith, have received your au'^wer from on 
 high. Take the bandage from .my eyes and let me see the light of day ! 
 I tremble no longer with apprehension of its splendor!" 
 
 Mesmer held her back as she raised her hands to her head. " Not 
 yet, Therese. Your bandage must be removed in the presence of my 
 enemies." 
 
 "■ Whom do you expect, master V 
 
 " I have told you. — I expect my enemies. Professor Barth will be 
 there to sneer at the charlatan who, by an invisible power, has healed 
 the malady which his couching knife would have sought in vain to re- 
 move. Doctor Ingenhaua, my bitter rival, will be there, to find out by 
 what infernal magic the charlatan has cured hundreds of patients pro- 
 nounced by him incurable ; Father Hell will be there, to see if the pre- 
 sence of a great astronomer will not affright the charlatan. Oh, yes ! — 
 And others will be there — none seeking knowledge, but all hoping to 
 see me discorafitted." 
 
 " Do not call yourself so of^eu by that un worthy ;iame," said Therese 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 " Men call me so; I may as well accept the title." 
 
 " Perhaps they have called you so in days gone by ; but from this 
 day they will call you ' Master,' and will crave your pardon for the ob- 
 loquy they have heaped upon your noble head." 
 
 " How little you know of the woHd, Therese ! It never pardons those 
 who convict it of error,- and above all other hatred is the hatred that 
 mankind feel for their benefactors." 
 
 Gracious heaven, master, if this is the world which is to open to my 
 view, in mercy leave me to ray blindness !" 
 
 She stopped suddenly, and sank back upon the cushion of the softC. 
 Mesmer raised his hands and passed them before her forehead. 
 
 *' You are too much excited. Sleep !" 
 
 " No, DO, I do not wi sh to sleep," murmured she. _ 
 
 * Thft Wh(fle •'onyemVon is in Mesmcr'i wortTe, 8e» Jhstlnus K«mor, r«C^ *^- 
 
144 JUiSEPH TUK SECOND} 
 
 ''I command you to sleep," repeated Mesnjpr.. 
 
 in. M:.-e ii(-aveci a sigh ; hei head fell taither back, and her audible, 
 re^uiai Luiiatliiii'^ soon proved that sleep had cume at the bidding of her 
 ma^'jer. 
 
 xMesnier bent over her, and b< gan his manipulations. He approach- 
 ed her lips, and opening her mouth, breathed into it. She smiled a hap- 
 py sniile. He then raised his hands and touching the crown of her 
 head de-crihed half-circles in I he air: tlien stooping over her, he again 
 inhaled her breath, au'^- breathed his own into her mouth. 
 
 Tlie door opened and the mother of Therese came in. 
 
 " The guests are here," said she. 
 
 Mesinei inclined his head. " We are ready." 
 
 " Ready, and Therese sleeps so soundly !" 
 
 " I will awake her when it is time. Where is my Harmon icon 1" 
 
 " In the parlor where you ordered it to be placed." 
 
 " Let us go, then, and from thence we will call Therese." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVll. 
 
 • > THE FIRS* DAY OF LIGHT. 
 
 The elite of Vienna were assembled in the drawing-room of Hen: Von 
 Paradies. The ari^itocratic, the scientific and the artistic world were 
 rej)reseiited ;. and the Empress, as befure intimated, had sent her mes- 
 senger to take notes of the extraordinary experiment which was that 
 day to be tried upon the person of her young pensioner. At the request 
 of Mesiner some of the lower classes were there also, for it was his de- 
 sire that the cottage as well as the palace should bear testimony to the 
 triumph of animal magnetism over the prejudices of conventional sci- 
 ence. 
 
 By order of Mesmer, the room had been darkened, and heavy grean 
 curtains hung before every window. Seats were arranged around the 
 roorti, in^^he centre of which was a space occupied by a couch, some chairs, 
 and a table on which lay a box. 
 
 Upon this box the eyes of the spectators were riveted, and Professor 
 Barth himself, in spite of his arrogant bearing, felt quite as much curio- 
 sity as his neighbors, to see its contents. 
 
 "You will see, Herr Kollege," said he to one who sat beside him, 
 " you will see that he merely wishes to collect this brilliant assemblage 
 in Older to perform an operation in their presence, and so make a name 
 for himself. This box of course contains the instruments. Wait and 
 
watch for the laucet that is sure to m^ke its appearance first ,^r last." 
 
 "What will be the use of his lancet," replied Herr Kollege, "when 
 there is nothing upon which it can operate? J'he girl is irretrievably 
 blind, for neither knife nor lancet can restore life to the deadened opti- 
 cal nerve." 
 
 " If he attempts to use the lancet in my presence," said the Professor 
 in a threatening tone, "J will prevent him. 1 shall watch him closely, 
 and woe to the importer if I surprise him at a trick !" 
 
 "The box does not contain surgical instruments," whispered the As- 
 tronomer, Hell. "I know what he has in there." 
 
 " What ?" asked the others eagfirly. 
 
 "A planet, my friends. Youknovr ho ii? given to meddling with- 
 planets. I hope it is oncunknown to science, for if he has carried ofTany 
 ofmij stars, I shall have him arrested for robbery." 
 
 This sally caused much laughter, which was interrupted by the en- 
 trance of Mesmer with Frau "Von Paradies. Without seeming to ob- 
 serve the spectators who now thronged ihe room, Mesmer advanced to 
 the table where lay the box. His face was pale, but perfectly resolute, 
 and as his eyes were raised to meet those of the guests, each one felt 
 that whatever might be the result, in the soul of the operator there was 
 neither doubt nor fear. 
 
 Mesmer opened the box. A breathless silence greeted this act. Every 
 whisper was hushed, every straining glance was fixed upon that mysteri- 
 ous coffer. He seated himself before it, and Professor Barthe whispered, 
 " Now he is about to take out his instruments." 
 
 But he was interrupted by the sound of music — music so exquisite 
 that the heart of the learned Professor himself responded to its pathos. 
 It swelled and swelled until it penetrated the room and filled all space 
 with its thrilling notes. All present felt its power, and every eye was 
 fixed upon the enchanter, who was swaying a multitude as though their 
 emotions had been his slaves, and his music the voice that bade them 
 live or die ! 
 J " Ah !" whispered the Astronomer, " you made a mistake of a part of 
 speech. The man has not instrtiments, but an instrument." 
 
 " True," replied the Professor, " and your planet turns out to be an 
 insignificant harmonicon." 
 
 " And the lancet," added Ingerhaus, " is a cork, with a -whalebone 
 handle." 
 
 Mesmer played on, and now his music seemed an entreaty to some 
 invisible spirtt to appear and reveal itself to mortal eyes. At least, so 
 it seemed to his listeners. They started — for responsive to the call, a 
 tall white figure, whose feet seemed scarcely to touch the floor, glided 
 in and stood for a moment irresolute. Mesmer raised his hand and 
 stretching it out towards her, she moved. Still he played on, and near- 
 er and nearer she came, while the music grew louder and more irresist- 
 ible in its pleadings. 
 
 A movement was perceptible among the spectators. Several ladies 
 
 10 
 
[45 JOSEPH ttfK SISCOND, 
 
 had faiffted ; their nerves had gi^ffeti way before the might of that won- 
 derful music* But no one felt disposed to move to assist them,,for all 
 were absorbed by the spell, and each one gazed in speechless expecta- 
 tion upon Mesmer and Thcrese. 
 
 He still played on, but he threw up his head, and his large eyes were 
 directed towards his patient with a look of authority. She felt the 
 glance and trembled. Then she hastened her steps, and smilingly ad- 
 vanced until she stood close beside the table. He pointed to the couch, 
 and she immediately turned towards it and sat down. 
 
 " This is well gotten up," said Professor Barthe. " The scene must 
 have been rehearsed more than once." 
 
 " If the blind are to be restored to sight by harraonicons," whisper- 
 ed Doctor Ingenhaus, " I shall throw my books to the winds and be- 
 come an itinerant musician." 
 
 "If planets are to be brought down by a wave of the hand," said 
 Hell, " I will break all my telescopes, and offer my services to Mesmer 
 as an amanuensis." 
 
 The harmonicon ceased, and the censorious professors too, were for- 
 ced to cease their cavilling. 
 
 Mesmer arose, and approaching Therese, made a few passes above her 
 head. 
 
 " My eyes burn as if they were pierced with red-hot daggers," said 
 she, with an expression of great suffering. 
 
 He now directed the tips of his fingers towards her eyes, and touched 
 the bandage. 
 
 " Remove the bandage and see !" cried he in a loud voice. 
 
 Therese tore it off, and pale as death, she gazed with wonder at the 
 'Master,' who stood directly in front of her. Pointing to him, she said 
 with an expression of fear and disb'ke, 
 
 " Is that a man which stands before me ^"f 
 
 Mesmer bowed his head. Therese started back, exclaiming, " It is 
 fearful! But where is Mesmer? Show me Mesmer !" . '^' '" 
 
 "I am he," said Mesmer, approaching her. ^' 
 
 She drew back aud looked at him with a scrutinizing expression. "I 
 had supposed that the human fdce was radient with joy," said she, " but 
 this one looks like incarnate woe. Are all mankind sad? Where is 
 my mother?" 
 
 Frau Von Paradies was awaiting her daughter's call ; she now came 
 forward, her face beaming with love and joy. But Therese, instead of 
 meeting here with equal fervor, shrank, aud covered her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 "Therese, my daughter, look upon me," said the mother. 
 
 " ft is her voice," cried Therese, joyfully, removing her hands. Frau 
 Von Paradies stood by, smiling. 
 
 ♦ It freqoenOy happened that not only women, but men also, fainted) when Mesmer played oa 
 the Glass-Harmonicou. Justinas Kerner, page 48. 
 
 ^ Thcrofc's own words. Just;nu» Kerutr, P. C3, 
 
KMFEKUK UK atlSTKlA " J 47 
 
 " Is this ray mother ?" continued she, looking up into her face. " Yes 
 — it must be so; those tearful eyes are full of love. Oh mother, c6me 
 nearer, and let me look into those loving eyes !" 
 
 Her mother leaned over her, but again Thcrese recoiled, "What a 
 frightful thing!" said she with a look of fear. 
 
 " What Therese '? What is frightful V asked her mother. 
 
 " Look at your mother, Therese,'' said Mesmer. She heard the welf- 
 beloved voice, and her hands fell from her eyes. 
 
 "Now tell me, what disturbs you," said Frau Von Paradies. ' 
 
 Therese raised her hand and pointed to her mother's nose. " It ig 
 that," said she. " What is it ?" ' * 
 
 " It is my nose !" exclaimed her mother, laughing, and her lau^h was 
 echoed throughout the room. 
 
 " This nose on the human Yace is horrible," said Therese. " It threat- 
 ens me as though it would stab my eyes.'** 
 
 "I will show you the figure of a man who threatens," said Mesmer 
 assuming an angry air, clinching his fists, and advancing a few paces. 
 
 Therese fell upon her knees with a cry. " You will kill me !" ex- 
 claimed she, cowering to the floor. 
 
 The Spectators were thunderstruck. Even Professor Barthe yielded 
 to the overwhelming evidence of his senses. 
 
 " By heaven, it is no deception !" exclaimed he. " She sees !" 
 
 " Since Professor* Barthe is convinced, no one will dare dispute the 
 fact," observed Mesmer, loud enough to be overheard by the Professor. 
 
 Parthe frowned, and pretended not to hear. He already repented of 
 what he had said, and would have bought back his own words with a 
 rtandful of ducats. But it was too late. Every one had heard him 
 »nd on every side murmurs of astonishment and of admiration grew 
 into distinct applause. 
 
 Meanwhile, Therese was greeting her father and her other relatives. 
 But she, who had always been so alfectiotiate, was now embarrassed and 
 
 30ld. 
 
 " I knew it," said she, sadly. " I knew that the gift of sight would 
 not increase my happiness.' Imagination had drawn your imac^es and I 
 loved the pictures she had painted. But now that I see you with the 
 eyes of flesh, my heart recoils from participation in the sad secrets 
 which your care-worn faces reveal. Ah, I believe that love, in its hiwh- 
 est sense, is known to the blind alone ! But where is Bello ? Let me 
 see my^ dog, the faithful companion of my days of dependence." 
 
 Bello had been whining at the door, and as Fran Von Paradies open- 
 ed it, he bounded to his mistress, caressing her with his paws, and lick- 
 ing her hands.' 
 
 Therese bent over him, and the dog raised • his eyes to hers. She 
 stroked his glossy, black coat, and, foV the first time since she had re- 
 covered her sight, she smiled, 
 
 " This dog is more pleasing to mo than man," said she, communing 
 
 ■ • These arc the einct words of Thereto, Judiiius Kpinrr, page «?. 
 
148 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 -with herself. " There is truth in his eyes, and his face does not terrify 
 me, like those of my own race."* -> 
 
 " I think we may take our leave," growled Professor Barthe, " the 
 comedy is over, and the relations and friends can applaud the author 
 and the actress. I don't feel it my duty to remain for that purpose." 
 
 "Nor 1," added .IX')Ctor [ngenhaus, as he prepared to accompany the 
 Professor. '• My head is in a whirl with the antics of this devilish doc- 
 tor.". 
 
 " Take me with you," said father Hell, *' I must go and look after 
 my planets. I'm afraid we shall miss another Pleiad." 
 
 jSo saying, the repreisentatives of science took their leave. At • the 
 door they met with Count Von Langermann, the messenger of the Em- 
 press. 
 
 " Ah, gentlemen," said he, " you are hastening from this enchanted 
 spot to announce its wonders to the world. No one will venture to 
 doubt when such learned professors have seen and believed. I, myself, 
 am on miy way to apprise the Empress of Mesmer's success." 
 
 " Pray inform the Empress, also, that we have seen an admirable 
 comedy, Count," said Barthe, with a sneer. 
 
 ," A comedy!" echoed the Count. " It is a marvellous reality. Your- 
 self confessed it. Professor." 
 
 "A careless 'word, prematurely uttered, is not to be accepted as evi- 
 dence," growled Barthe. 
 
 "Such astounding things demand time for consideration. They may 
 be optical delusions," added Ingenhaus. 
 
 " Ah, gentlemen, the fact is a stubborn one," laughed Count Langer- 
 mann. " Therese Von Paradies has recovered her sight without couch- 
 ing-knife or lancet, and I shall certainly convey the news of the miracle 
 to the Empress." 
 
 "AVhat shall we dol" asked the Astronomer of his compeers, as 
 Count Langermann bowed and 'left them. 
 
 Professor Barthe answered nothing. 
 
 " We must devise something to prop up science, or she will fall upon 
 our heads and crush us to death," said Ingenhaus. 
 
 " What are we to do," repeated Barthe, slowly, as after an embarrass- 
 ing silence, the three had walked some distance together down the 
 street. I will tell you what we must do. Treat the whole thing as a 
 farce, and maintain, in the face of all opposition, tihat Therese Von Par- 
 adies is still blind." ^ 
 
 "But, my honored friend, unhappily for us all, you have made this im- 
 practicable by your awkward enthusiasm." 
 
 "I spoke ironically, and the ass mistook sarcasm for conviction." 
 
 "Yes, and so did everybody else," sighed Hell. "You will find it 
 difficult to convince the world that you were not in earnest." 
 
 " Perhaps to-day and to-morrow, I may fail to convince the world, but 
 day after morrow it will begin to reason and to doubt. If we do not 
 < Therese's awii wcr^ls. Justinus Kerner, page 68. 
 
oppose this quack with a strong phal:\nx of learnc<l men, we will all be 
 sineered at for our previous incredulity. Now I adiu-re to my text. 
 Thcrese Von Paradics is blind, and no one shall prove to me that she 
 can see. Come to my study and let us talk this provoking matter 
 over. 
 
 Meanwhile, Therese was receiving the congratulations of hor friends. 
 She gazed at their unknown Hices with a melancholy smile, and frowned 
 when it was said to her, " this is the jfriend whom you love so much." — 
 " This is the relative whose society has always been so agreeable to 
 you." 
 
 Then she closed her eyes, and said they were weary. " L»et me hear 
 your voices, and so accustom myself t<> jour straV)ge coii;tenances," 
 said she. ''Speak, dear friends, I would <fether know you with the heart 
 than with these deceiving eyes." 
 
 Suddenly, asfonc of her female companions came up to greet her, 
 Therese burst into a merry laugh. " What absurd thing is that, grow- 
 ing out of your head ?" asked she. 
 
 " Why, that is the coiffure, which you like the best," replied her 
 mother. "It is a coiffure a la Mategnon.''^ 
 
 Therese raised her hands to her own head. *' True, the very same 
 towering absurdity. I will never wear it again, mother." 
 
 " It is very fashionable, and you will become accustomed to it." 
 
 " No, I shall never be reconciled to such a caricature. Now that I 
 can choose for myself, I .shall attend less to fashion than to fitness in my 
 dress. But 1 have seen mankind — let me see nature and heaven. Mes- 
 mer may I look upon the skies?" 
 
 " Come, my cliild, and we will try if your eyes can bear the full light 
 of day," replied Mesmer, fondly, and taking her arm he led hei\,towards 
 the window. 
 
 But Therese, usually so firm in her tread, took short, nncertain steps, 
 and seemed afraid to advance. 
 
 "Gracious heaven I" exclaimed she, clinging anxiously to Mesmer, 
 " see how the windows come towards us ! We will be crushed • to 
 death !" 
 
 " No, Therese, it is we who. advance, not they. You will soon acquire 
 a practical knowledge of the laws of optics, and learn to calculate dis- 
 tances and sizes as well as the rest of us." 
 
 " But what is this V cried she. as they approached the tall mirror 
 that was placed between; the windows. 
 
 " That is a mirror."' 
 
 " And w,ho is that man who is so like yourself?" 
 
 " That is only the reflection of my person in the mirror." 
 
 " And who is that ridiculous being with the coiifure a la Mateqnon ''" 
 
 " That is yourself." 
 
 "I !" exclaimed she, quickly advancing to the mirror. But suddenly 
 she retreated in alarm. " Gracious heaven, it comes so fast that it will 
 thr6w me down." Then she Ffopped f-r a moment and ]a"<rh"cr, " See," 
 
150 JUSKPb rHE ^SEOUWD 
 
 said she, "the girl is as cowardly as myself. The farther 1 step back 
 the further she retreats also." 
 
 " All this is an optical delusion, Therese. The girl is nothing but a 
 reilection, a picture of yourself in the mirror." 
 
 '' True, 1 forgot. You told me that just now,'' replied Therese, draw- 
 ing. her hand wearily across her forehead. "Well let me contemplate 
 myself. This, then, is ray likeness," said she, musing, "My mother 
 was mistaken. This face is not handsome. It is weary and soulless. — 
 Come, master, I have enough of it, let me see the heavens." 
 
 " Wait until I draw the curtain to see whether you are able to bear 
 the full light of day." 
 
 The curtain was lifted, and Therese, giving a scream, hid' her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, it cuts like the point of^ a dagger !" cried she. 
 
 " I thought so ; you will have to become gradually accustomed to it. 
 You shall see the sky this evening. But now you must suffer me to 
 bind up your eyes, for they must have rest."- 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 DIPLOMATIC STRATEGY. 
 
 Thk Emperor Joseph was in his cabinet, engaged in looking over the 
 letters and documents of the day, when a page announced his Highness 
 Prince Kaunitz. Joseph waved his hand in token of consent, and when 
 the Prince appeared at the door, rose to meet him as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 " It must be business of State that brings your Highness to my study 
 at this early hour," said the Emperor. 
 
 ' " It is indeed, sire," said Kaunitz, taking, the chair which Joseph him- 
 self, had just placed for him. 
 
 " And it must be a day of rejoicing with you. Prince, for 1 see that 
 you wear every order with which you have been decorated by every 
 court in Europe. What does this display signify ?" 
 
 " It signifies, sire, that the day has come, which I have awaited for 
 twenty years — the day for which I have schemed and toiled, and which 
 for me shall be the proudest day of my life. I go out to battle, and if 
 1 am to be victorious, yonr Majesty ndust come to my assistance," 
 
 " Is it a duel with the Empress in which I am to be yom' second ? I 
 ihsnk you for the honor, hut you know that I have no influence with my 
 
 * 'ihe description of Therese's impressions, aud the words She used upon the recovery of her 
 siijht, are not imaginary, Tliiey are all oit«d by Jnstinus Kemer, and were related to him by her 
 own father. 
 
lady-mother. I am an Emperor williout a sceptre. But tell nic Kiiu- 
 riilz, what is the cause of the trouble?" 
 
 " You know it, sire, and I have come to prove to you that lama 
 man of my word, and keep my promises." 
 
 "I do not remember that you ever promised me anything." 
 
 " But I do. I remember a day on which my young Emperor came 
 to me to complain of a wrong which, had been inflicted upon him at 
 Court." 
 
 '' Marianne !'' exclaimed the Emperor, with a sigh. '• Yes, yes, the 
 day on which 1 lost sight of her forever." 
 
 ** Yes, sire. The Emperor, worthy of his high vocation, relinquished 
 the girl who had found fivor in his eyes, and for this sacrifice I promised 
 him my loyal friendship. Three objects formed the tics that bound us 
 together on that day. Does your Majesty remember?" 
 
 " Yes. You promised to place Austria at the head of European af- 
 fairs; you have done so. You promised indemnity for Silesia; we have 
 it in our recent acquisitions in Poland." 
 
 " I promised, also, to crush the priesthood, and to ruin the Jesuits," 
 cried Kaunitz, exultingly, and I am here to fulfil ray promise. The hour 
 has come ; fur 1 am on my way to obtain the consent of the Empress 
 to the banishment of the Jesuits from Austria." 
 
 " You will never obtain it. Attachment to the order of Jesus is an 
 inheritance with the House of Ilupsburg, and my mother styles nie a 
 degenerate son because I do not participate in the feeling." 
 
 " We will find means to alienate the Empress," said Kaunitz, quietly. 
 
 " I hope so, but I doubt it. Tell mo what 1 am to do, aud 1 am 
 ready to make another charge against them." 
 
 Prince Kaunitz opened his pocket-book, and took from thence a letter 
 which he handed to the Emperor. 
 
 " Will your Majesty have the goodness to hand this to the Empress ?- 
 It is a letter from Carlos III., in which he earnestly requests his illus- 
 trious kinswoman to give protection no longer to t\\(i Jesuits, whom he 
 has driven forcibly away from Spain." 
 
 " Indeed ?" said the Emperor, smiling. '■'■ If that is all, the Spanish 
 Ambassador might have delivered it quite as well as I." 
 
 " No, sire, that is not all. It was the King of Spain's request that 
 your Majesty should deliver the letter, and sustain it by every argu- 
 ment which your well known enmity to the Jesuits might suggest." 
 
 "I am more than willing to undertake it; but to-day, as ever, m}'- 
 representations to the Empress will be vain." 
 
 " Do your best^ sire, and I will come to your relief with a reserved 
 force, which will do good service. Only allow me to request that you 
 will not quit the Empress until the reserve comes up." 
 
 " Then the parts we are to play are distributed and learned by heait ?" 
 
 "Just so, and heaven be propitious, that the scenery may work well, 
 and the actors may know their cue." 
 
 " We have accomplices then '''' 
 
"I will be accompanied by the Papal Nuncio, and if your Majesty- 
 permits me, I will go tor him ut once. In half an hour I v/ili come to 
 the rescue. 
 
 " Go, then, and I fly to the Empress," cried Joseph, with exultation. 
 
 CHAPTER ^kXXlX. 
 
 DOMINUS AC REDEMPTOR XOSTER. 
 
 True to their agreement, the Emperor sought an interview with his 
 mother. Not enjoying, like her Prime Minister, the privilege of enter- 
 ing the Empress's presence without formal leave, Joseph was always 
 obliged to wait in her ante-room until the Chamberlain returned with 
 her Majesty's answer. To-day the Empress was pi^itious, and gave 
 word for her son to be admitted to her private cabinet at once. " That 
 he mi<5fht enter promptly upon the object of his visit, the Emperor open- 
 ed the interview by handing the letter of the King of Spain asd re- 
 questing her Majesty to read it in his presence. 
 
 The Empress, surprised at the urgency of the demand, sat before her 
 escritoire and read the missive of her royal relative ; while her son, with 
 folded arms, stood near a window, and scrutinised her countenance. 
 
 He saw how gradually her expression lowered, until heavy folds corru- 
 gated her brow and deep heavings agitated her chest. 
 
 "Those are the sea-gulls that announce the coming storm," said he, 
 to himself. " 1 must be on my guard lest I be engulphed in the foam- 
 ing waves." ' 
 
 "As if she had guessed his thoughts, Maria Theresa raised 'her eyes 
 from the letter, and darted a look of displeasure at her so^. 
 
 " Is the Emperor aware of the contents of this letter?" asked she. 
 " I believe so, your Majesty," replied he, coming forward and bowing. 
 '' It is an urgent request on the part of the King of Spain to have the 
 Jesuits removed from Austria." 
 
 " Nothing less," cried the Empress, indignantly. " He expects me to 
 assume all his enmity towards the Jesuits, and urges it in a most un- 
 seemly manner. Doubtless, he requested your Majesty to present his 
 letter in person, because it is well known that in this, as in all other 
 things, your opinions are at variance with those of your mother. I pre- 
 sume this is a new tilt against my predelictions, like that in which you 
 overthrew me but a few weeks since, when I signed the act that ruined 
 Poland. Speak out. Are you not here to sustain the King of Spain ?'* 
 «' Yes, T am, your Maiesty," cried Jo?eph. reddening. "I would do 
 
as the King of Bpahi has done. I would importune you until the powej' 
 of the Jesuits ie crushed in Austria as it has been crushed in France 
 and in Spain." 
 
 "You will not succeed !" cried the Empress, trying to control her ris- 
 ing anger. " I make no protest against the action of the Kings of France, 
 Spain, or Portugal, for I presume that they have decided according to 
 their convictions ; but in Austria the Jesuits deserve all praise for their 
 enlightened piety, and their existence is so osspntial to the well-being of 
 tlie people, that 1 shall sustain and protect theni as long as I live,"- 
 
 '• Then," cried Joseph, passionately, " Austria is Inst. If I were ca- 
 ■pable of bate, I should hate these Jesuits, who projiagating the senile 
 v;igaries of an old Spanish dotard, have sought to govern the souls of 
 men, and have striven for nothing on earth or in heaven save the exten- 
 sion of their own influence and authority." 
 
 '•It appears to me that my son has no reason to lament over the soft- 
 ness of his own heart," replied Maria Theresa, bitterly. '■^ If he were 
 absolute sovereign here, the Jesuits would be exiled fo-mortow, and the 
 King of Prussia, for whom he entertains such unbounded admiration 
 wouid lie the first one to offer them shelter. I will answer your vitupera- 
 tion, my son, by reading to you i^»%tter '-written by Frederic to his 
 agent in Rome. It relates to the >umor how afloat that the Pope is 
 about to disperse the holy brotherhood. I have just received a copy of 
 it from Italy, and it rejoices me to be able to lay it before you. flear 
 your demi-god." 
 
 The Empress took a paper from her escritoire, and unfolding it, rea4 
 aloud. 
 
 "Announce distinctly, but with(>ut bravado, thiit as regards the Jes- 
 uits, I am resolved to uphold them for the future, as *'havedonehitheito. 
 Seek a fitting opportunity to communicate my senlirfftnts on the subject 
 to the Pope. 1 have guaranteed free exercise of religion to my sub- 
 jects in Silesia. "I have never known a priesthood worthier of estfeem 
 than the Jesuits. Add to this, that as I am an infidel, the Pope cannot 
 dispense me from the obligation of performing my duty as an honorable 
 man and an upright sovereign. Frederic."* 
 
 " Well," asked the Empress, as she folded the letter, "shall the infi- 
 del shame the christian 1 Would you serious]^' ask of me to be less 
 clement to the priesthood than a Protestant. Prince'? Never, never 
 shall it be said that INIaria Theresa was ungrateful' to the noble brother- 
 hood, who are the bulwarks of order and of legitimate authority." 
 
 Joseph was about to make an angry retort, when the door opened 
 and a page announced, with great formality : 
 
 " His Highness, Prince Kaunitz, and his Eminence, the Papal Nuncio, 
 Monsignore Garampi." 
 
 The two Ministers followed close upon the Announcement, and the 
 'Nuncio was received by the Empress with a beaming smile. 
 
 " I am curious to know what has br ought Prince Kaunitz and the Pa- 
 
 * PrtPr Philip WoU : Oi»npraI lii-ftory of the Jennits, toI. 4, page !V,. 
 
i04 JOSKI'Jl iUJ!. .Sl!.CU.M> 
 
 pal Nuncio together," said she. " It is unusual to see tlie Prime Minis- 
 ter of Austria in thii corapan}- of church aKni. It must, therefore, be 
 s(;i;iet,hing sianificanr, which has united church and stale to-day." 
 
 " Your Majesty is right," replied Kauniiz, " the visit of the Nuncio 
 Is so signilicant. for Auslria, that the visit of your Majesty's Minister 
 in his company, was imperative." 
 
 '• Your Eminence comes to speak of State affairs T' inquired the Em- 
 press, surprised. 
 
 The Nuncio drew from his robe a parchment to which was affixed a 
 ribbon with the Papal seal. 
 
 " His floiiness instructed me to read this document to your Apostolic 
 MajcsLy.'" said Monsigtiore. Garampi, with a respectful inclination of the 
 head. '• Will your j\lajesty allow me?" 
 
 •'Certainly," said the Empress, leaning forward to listen. 
 /Fhe Nuncio then unfolded the parchment, and amid the breathless 
 atti-ntion of all present, read the celebrated document, which in history, 
 be;ii s the name of its first words : " Domhms ac RedempioT Nostery — 
 This letter stated that in all ages the Pope had claimed the right to 
 found religious orders or to abolish J.hem. It cited Gregory, who had 
 abolished the order of the Mendicff^fc Friars, and Clement V., who had 
 suppressed that of the Templars, lb then referred to the Society of the 
 Brotherhood of Jesus. It stated that this society had hitherto been 
 sustained and fostered by the Papal See, on account of its signal usefulness, 
 and the eminent piety of its members. But of late, the Brotherhood 
 had manifested a spirit of contentiousness among themselves, as well as 
 towards other orders, organizations and universities ; and had thereby 
 fallen under the displeasure of the Princes from whom they had reiv- 
 ed encouragement s^id protection." 
 
 When the Nunci^i had read thus far, he paused and raised his eyes to 
 the tacf. of the Empress. It was very pale and agitated, while the 
 countenance of the Emperor, on the contrary, was flushed with triumph. 
 Joseph tried to meet the glance of Prince Kaunitz's eye, but it was 
 blank as ever ; sometimes fijsed vacantly upon the Nuncio, and then 
 turning, with cold indifference, towards the speaking countenances of the 
 devoted friend and inveterate enemy of the Order of Jesus. 
 
 " Go on, your Eminence," at length faltered the Empress. 
 
 The Nuncio bowed and continued in an audible voice: " Seeing that 
 bcf.ween the Holy See and the Kings of France, Spain, Portugal and 
 the Sicilies, misunderstandings had arisen which were attributable to 
 the influence of the Order of Jesus, seeing that the Society at this pres- 
 ent time had ceased to bear the rich fruits of its past usefulness, the 
 Pope, after conscientious deliberation, had resolved, in the fullness of his 
 apostolic right, to suppress the brotherhood." 
 
 A loud cry burst from the lips of the Empress, as overwhelmed by 
 the'^e bitter tidings she covered her face with her hands. The Eraperpr 
 approached as though he wished to address her, but she waved him off 
 impatiently. 
 
" Away, Joseph !"' said she. " I will listen neither to your condo- 
 lence nor to your cxultiitii.-ii. Let me advise you too, to moderate your 
 transports, for this is Austrian soil, and no one reigns in A\ustria but 
 • Maria Theresa. The Jesuits have been a blessing to mankind; thev 
 have inj^ructed our youih, and have been the guardians of all knowl- 
 edge; they have encouraged the Arts and Sciences, and have disset;jina 
 ted the Christian faith in every part of the world. They have been Uie 
 true and loyal friends of my house, and in their day of adversity, 
 though I may not defend them against their ecclesiastical superiors, 1 whl 
 protect them against malice and insult."' 
 
 Thus spoke the generous and true-hearted Maria Theresa, but her ef- 
 forts tO'jiistain the Jesuits, as an organized brotherhood, weit^ fruitless. 
 They wdrs an ecclesiastic fraternity, sad as such, their existence was be-, 
 yond the reach of civil authority. As individuals, (hey were her sub- 
 jects, but as a society, they were amenable to the laws of the Church, 
 and they stood or fell, by that code alone. 
 
 Bravely she struggled ; but the earnest representations of the Nuncio, 
 the sharp, cutting arguments of Kaunitz, and her own reluctance to 
 come to a rupture with the Pope in a matter essentially within ecclesi- 
 astical jurisdiction, all these things united, bore down her opposition ; 
 and with the Fiame reluctance as she had felt in acquiescing to the par- 
 tition of Poland, she consented to the suppression of the Society of 
 Jesus. 
 
 " Come hither my son," said the Empress, reaching her hand to Jo- 
 seph. " Since I have seen fit to give my consent to this thing, I have 
 nothing wherewith to reproach you. As co-regent I hope that what I 
 am about to say will obtain your approbation. Monsignore, you have 
 read to me the order of his Holiness, Clement XIV, for the suppression 
 of the Jesuits. For my part, nothing would ever have induced nie to 
 expel them from my dominions. But since his Holiness sees fit to do 
 so, 1 feel it to be my duty, as a true daughter of the Church, to allow 
 the order to be put into execution.* Acquaint his Holiness with my 
 decision, and remain a few moments that you may witness the promp- 
 titude with which his intentions are to be carried out." 
 
 She sat down to her escritoire, and tracing a few lines upon a piece 
 of paper, handed it to Prince Kaunitz. 
 
 "Prince," said she. '-here is the order which in accordance to strict 
 form must be in my own hand writing. Take it to Cardinal Migazzi. 
 Let him carry out the intentions of the Pope, and himself perform the 
 funeral rights of the devoted sons of Jesus." 
 
 She turned her head away, that none might see the tears which were 
 streaming from her eyes. Then rising from her seat, she crossed the 
 room. Those who had brought this grief upon her watched her nuble 
 form, apd as they saw how her step faltered, they exchanged silent glan- 
 ces of sympathy. As she reached the door, she turned, and then they 
 saw her pale, sad face an! tearful eyes, 
 
 * The EmpT«89> own words. Grofs HofBnger.vnl. 1. p«igel98. 
 
"When the Cardloal visits the Colle<:];e of the Jesuits to reacl the Pa- 
 pal order, let an imperial Coinm4«sariii3 accompany him," said Maria 
 Theresa in an imperative tune. " Immediately after its promulgation 
 he shall promise to the Jesuits my Imperial favor and protection, if they 
 submit to the will of the Pope as becomes true servants of God and of 
 the Church. It shall also be exacted that the proceedings against the 
 Order of Jesus shall be conducted with lenity and due respect, and for 
 the future, I. shall never suffer that any member of the society shall be 
 treated with contumely and scorn."'^' . . 
 
 She bowed her lofty head, and withdrew. 
 
 Complete silence followed the disappearance of the Empress. No 
 one dared to violate the significance of the; laoment by a WQ&d, The 
 Nuncio bowed low to the Empenor and retired ; but as Kisanitz was 
 about to follow, Joseph came hastily forward and clasped him in his 
 arms. . 
 
 "I thank you," whispered he. "You have fulfilled your pledges, and 
 Austria is free. My obligations to you are for life 1" 
 
 The two ministers then descended together to the great palace-gate 
 where their state-carriages awaited them. 
 
 Prince Kaunitz greeted the Nuncio with another silent bow, and shrink- 
 ing from the blasts of a mild September day.f wrapped himself up in 
 six cloaks, and sealed up his mouth with a huge muffof sables. He then 
 stepped into his carriage, and drove off. Once safe and alone within his 
 exhausted receiver, he dropped his muff for a moment, and wonderful 
 to relate — he smiled. 
 
 '' Let things shape themselves as they will," said he thoughtfully, " I 
 am absolute master of Austria. Whether the sovereign be called Maria 
 Theresa, or Joseph, it is all one to me. Both feel my worth, and both 
 have vowed to me, eternal gratitude. Poland has fallen — the Jesuits 
 are dispersed — but Kaunitz is steadfast, for he is the pillar upon which 
 the imperial house leans for support !" 
 
 Four weeks after the publication of the papal order by Cardinal 
 Migazzi, the doors of the Jesuit College were opened, and forth from its 
 portals came the brotherhood of the order of Jesus. 
 
 Led by their superior, all in their long black cassocks, with rosaries 
 hanging at their blue girdles, they left the flimiliar home, which had been 
 theirs for a hundred years. Each one carried in his hands his Bible and 
 breviary. The faces of the brothers were pale and unspeakably sad, 
 and their lips were compressed as though to thrust back the misery that 
 was surging within their hearts. 
 
 The multitude weremute as they. Not a word, whether of sympathy 
 or of animosity greeted the silent procession. On went the noiseless 
 spectre-like train until it reached the market-place. There the Superior 
 stopped, and the brothers gathered around him in one vast ciniie. 
 
 He uncovered his head, and all followed his example. All bowed 
 
 * The Empress's words. Adam Wolf. Maria Theresa. P. 432. 
 + Tbe Papn) orfler was promnl^ntna iii Viennn on Pept, 10. 1795. 
 
KMPEKUK UK AjSTRlA. |57 
 
 their heads hi prayer to the God who had willed that this gteat hum ilia-, 
 tion should be/all them. In one last petition to Fleavcn for resignation, 
 they bade adieu to their £;lorious past with its glorious memories; and 
 the people overcome by the simple sublimity of the scene, fell upon their 
 knees and wept, repeating while they wept the prayers which they had 
 learned from the teachers with whom they were parting forever. 
 
 The prayer, was ended, and now the Superior went from brother to 
 brother, taking the hand of each one. And every man faltered a bless- 
 ing which their chief returned. So be went from one to another until 
 he had greeted them all ; then passing from the crowd, with a Jesuit on 
 eithe( side, he disappeared. 
 
 So ended the dispersion of the order of Jesus, whom the whole world 
 believed to be crushed forever. Buftbey knew better, for as crowding 
 around their chief they had whispered "Shall we ever be a brotherhood 
 again?" he had returned the pressure of their friendly hands, and had 
 replied with prophetic fervor. 
 
 "Yes — whenever it be God's will to reinstate us. Wait patiently 
 for the hour. It will surely come, for Loyala's order is immortal like 
 the soul !" 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 HEART STRUGGLES. 
 
 The week of delay which the Empress had granted to the Countess 
 Margaret had passed away and the eve of her bridal had dawned. The 
 Countess had been more fitful than ever during those eight eventful davs, 
 and her uncle's household had suffered accordingly. 
 
 "She will take her life," whispered the servants among themselves, 
 as each day, like a pale spectre, she glided through the house to mount 
 her wild Arabian. The two footmen, who accompanied her on these 
 occasions, told how she galloped so madly that they could scarcely keep 
 pace with her ; and then suddenly checked her horse, and with her head 
 bent over its neck, remained motionless and wept. 
 
 Once the Emperor had surprised her in tears, and when she became 
 aware of his presence, she started off on a mad run and left him far be- 
 hind. This occured twice ; but the third time the Emperor came upon 
 her so quickly that before she had time to fly. he had grasped her rein. 
 The footmen declared that they had never heard such a cry as she gave ; 
 and they thought that the Emperor would be highly offended. But he 
 only laughed, and said, c»r.. 
 
158 JOSEPH TUB SEOUKJU. 
 
 " No\v. Countess, you are mv prisoner, find I shall not allow my 
 v.ea.i.tl'ji Aiuiizou to go uiuii tjiiri iias tui -i iiic vvhy wc never see hur at 
 Court." 
 
 i'he Countess turned so pale that her servants thought she would fall 
 from her horse, and the Emperor cried out, " Good heaven ! what is the 
 matter with you?" 
 
 She broke into a loud laugh, and striking her horse with the whip, 
 tried to gallop off again. But the Emperor put spurs to his horse, and 
 the two dashed on together. Neck and neck they ran; the Coiintess 
 lashing her Arabian until he made wild leaps into the air, the Emperor 
 urging his Barb with whip and spur until his flanks were white with 
 foam. At last he came so near that he made a grasp at her rein and 
 caught it, exclaiming, with a merry laugh, 
 
 " Cawght again !" 
 
 The Countess turned around with eyes that darted lightning. 
 
 " Why do you laugh so immoderately'?" said she. 
 
 " Because we are enacting such a delightfully comic scene. But do 
 not look so angry ; your bright eyes are on fire, and they make a man's 
 heart boil over. Answer my question and 1 restore you to freedom. — 
 Why do you shun me, and why do you never come to court?" 
 
 Now the pale cheeks flushed, and the voice was subdued until its 
 tones were like plaintive music. "Sire, I do not visit the court because 
 I am a poor, unhappy creature, unfitted for society, and because no one 
 misses me there." 
 
 " And whj do you fly from me as if I were Lucifer, the son of the 
 morning?" 
 
 '• Ah. your Majesty, grief flies from the light of day, and seeks the 
 cover of friendly night ! And, now, free my horse, if you would not. 
 have me fall dead at your feet," 
 
 Agnia she turned pale, and trembled from head to foot. When the 
 Emperor saw this, he loosed her rein, and bowing to his saddle-bow, 
 galloped away out of sight. The Countess turned her horse's head and 
 went slowly home. 
 
 All this, Count Starhamburg learned from the footmen, for never a 
 word had his niece spoken to him since the unhappy day of Connt Es- 
 terhazy's visit. To say the truth, the old man was not sorry that her 
 soriow had taken the shape of taciturnity ; for her pale cheeks and glar- 
 ing eyes alfrighted him, and he hugged himself close in his short-lived 
 security, as each day she declined to appear at table, and was served in 
 the solitude of her own room. 
 
 She was served, but her food returned untouched. Neither did she 
 seem to sleep, for at all times of the night she could be heard pacing 
 her room. Then she would sit for hours before her piano ; and, although 
 her playing and singing had been equally renowned, her uncle had never 
 suspected the genius that had lain concealed iuithe touch of her hands 
 and the sound of her voice. It waS' no longeh the " fierce Countess," 
 whose dashing exQpiition had distanced all gentler rivals ; it was a timid 
 
EMFEROK OK AUSTIllA |59 
 
 maiden, whose first love was findina: utterance in entranolnsr melodv — 
 Otj ihc night t'ollowiiig hc-i l;i-L ( .il-'jutiu r \Miii thv; Eiij]k-i-..i , tijf, u, . , 
 became more passionate in its chuiactor. It. was less tfiider, but t'n 
 more, sad, and ofuu it ceased, bi^cause Iho inusician stopped to wwp. 
 
 ller uncle heard her soh, and following ihe impuUeof hi* atit^ciiou 
 and compassion, he opened the door of h-jr room, and came softly in. 
 
 He called her, and she i-aised her head. The light from the wax can 
 dlf's that stood on the harpsichord, fell directly npon her face, whiih v.iis 
 biiuewed with tdars. Her uncle's entrance seemed neither to have sur- 
 prised nor irritated her ; with an expression of indescribable woe, she 
 merely murmured, 
 
 "See, uncle, to what the Empress has reduced me !" 
 
 Her uncle took her in his arms, and like a weary child, she leaned her 
 head upon his shoulder. Suddenly she started, and disengaging herself, 
 she stood before him and took his hnnds in hers. 
 
 "Oh, is it inevitable ! Must I bow my head, like a slave, to this 
 marriage, while my heart proclaims an eternal no!" 
 
 The old Count wiped his eyes. " I fear there is no hope, my child, I 
 have done all that 1 could." 
 
 " What have you done ?" 
 
 " 1 first appealed to Count Esterhazy ; but he' declar*«d himself to be 
 too intoxicated by your beauty, to resign you. I then tried to interest 
 some of our friends at court ; but no one dared to intercede for my 
 darling. The Empress has received a severe blow in the expulsion of 
 the Jesuits, and no one has the courage to come betM-een her and her • 
 mania for match-making. I then appealed to her Majesty, myself; but 
 in vain. Her only answer was this : You are to marry the Count or go 
 into a convent. She added, that tO' morrow everything w<'uld be pre- 
 pared in the court-chapel for your marriage ; that she, herself would 
 honor you by giving you away, and that if you did not come punc; ual- 
 ly when the imperial state-coach was sent for you,- she would have you 
 taken instead, to a convent." 
 
 " Is that all?" asked she, with a painful blush. 
 
 *'No, Margaret; I saw the Emperor also." 
 
 "What said he?" asked the Count ess, in a hoarse voiie. pressing «o 
 heavily upon the old man's shoulder that he could scarcely suind undu'r 
 the weight of her hands. 
 
 " Word for word, tell me what he said !" 
 
 "I will tell you. The Emperor said : * Dear G)unt. no one would 
 serve you sooner than I, but as regards her mania for marrying people, 
 the Empress is inflexible. And indeed, it seems to me, that she has 
 chosen admirably for your beautiful niece. Count Esterhazy is young. 
 hand.sorae, immensely rich, and a favorite at court. You wijl see desir 
 Count, that she will end by making him an »ffectionate and obedient 
 wif6-, for a yoTing girl's ha'e i? very often nothing but. concealed b'Vt- " 
 Those were the Emperor's words, my dcir." 1 protested against his in- 
 terpretation of your dislike to Count' Esterhazy, but in vlitn. 
 
160 JU«EFH THE 6EC0ND. 
 
 To this Margaret replied not a word. Her hands had fallen gradually 
 from her uncle's shoulders until they hung listless at her side; her 
 graceful head was bowed down by the sharp stroke of the humiliation 
 which had just striclien her, and her whole attitude was that of hopeless 
 disconsolation. 
 
 After a few moments, she threw back her head with wild defiance. — 
 " He will find that he is a false prophet," exclaimed she, with a laugh 
 of scorn. " I promise him that." 
 
 " But, my dear girl," began Count Starhemberg. 
 
 " Will you, too, insult me with prophecies of my future obedience to 
 this fine young man 1 l5o you, too, wish to prove to me that 1 am a 
 fortunate " 
 
 " My child, I wish nothing of the sort." • * 
 
 "Then what means the ' but?' Does it;;mean that I am to be con- 
 soled by the t-'plendor that is to attend this execution * Does it mean 
 
 that my maidenly blushes — the blushes that betray my. secret love, are 
 to be hidden by a veil of priceless lace"? Does it mean that the chains 
 with which your peerless Empress will fetter my arms, are to be of 
 gold, secured with diamonds ? Have you taken care to provide the 
 myrtle wreath, the emblem of love, wherewith to deck the bride's 
 brow? Oh, God ! oh, Kjrod ! May some inr.perial daughter of this wo- 
 man suffer worse than death for this !" 
 
 "The Count shuddered, and left the room. He had not dared to say 
 that in truth her bridal dress was all that she had described. It had" all 
 been chosen — the .rich robe, the costly veil, the golden bracelets, the 
 glittering diamonds, even the myrtle wreath — the emblem of the hum- 
 ble as well as the high-born bride. All were there, awaiting the mor- 
 row. 
 
 * 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 \ 
 
 THE FORCED BRIDAL. 
 
 The ceremony was to take place at eleven o'clock.. The imperial 
 carriage of state was at the door, and behind it stood the gilded coaches 
 of Counts Esterhazy and Starhemberg. The former had been awaiting 
 the appearance of his bride for two hours ; but to all his tender messages 
 she had curtly replied that she would come when she was ready. 
 
 "I fear she will play us some dreadful trick," sighed the old Count. 
 
 " My dear Count," returned jEsterhazy, " no man would be so presum 
 ing as to thwai-fc the Empress." 
 
iCMr£KO& 04» AUbTKlA. • J (31 
 
 "Perhaps not — but my niece has more character than some men." 
 " What have I done for her to scorn me as she does !" cried the un- 
 ' happy little bridegroom. 
 
 " You have opposed her, that is all. My niece is an Amazon, nnd 
 cannot bear to give up her heart at another's will. Had she been left 
 free, it might have been otherwise." 
 
 *' Do you really think she will come to love mel" asked Esterhazy, 
 surveying his diminutive comeliness in the mirror opposite. 
 
 "1 am quite sure of it, and so is the Emperor. Take courage 
 then, bear with her whims for awhile, they are nothing but harmless 
 summer lightnings. Do not heed the storm ; think of the flowers that 
 will spring up to beautify your life, when the showers of her tears shall 
 have passed away." 
 
 " Oh, I will be patient. Siie shall e.xhaust herself." 
 
 Here the door opened, and the Countess's maid entered with a re- 
 quest that Count Esterhazy would follow her to her lady's apartment. 
 
 The Count kissed his hand to Count Starhemberg and hurried away. 
 When he entered the Countess's sitting-room she was standing in all the 
 pride of her bridal attire, and seemed more transcendantly beautiful 
 than ever. The court-dress, with its long train, heightened the elegance 
 of her figure, and the silver-spotted veil, that fell to her feet, enveloped 
 her like a white evening cloud. 
 
 But how little did her face ftccord with this superb festive dress ! — 
 Her cheek was deathly pale, her exquisite mouth was writhing with an- 
 guish, and her great, glowing eyes darted glances of fiery hatred. 
 
 " You really have the courage to persevere, Count Esterhazy ? You 
 will perpetrate the crime of marriage with me ?" 
 
 " When a man opens his arms to receive the most enchanting woman 
 that was ever sent on earth, do you call that crime ?" said Esterhazy, 
 tenderly. 
 
 An impatient shrug was the answer to this attempt at gallantry. 
 
 " Have 1 not told you that you would earn nothing for your reward 
 by my hatred ? In the despair of my heart, have I not told you that I 
 love another man ? Oh, you have come to tell me that youspare me 
 the sacrifice — have you not? You will not force a helpless girl to mar- 
 ry you who does so only to escape a convent — will you ? Oh, tell me 
 that you have summoned manliness enough to resist the Empress and 
 to gtve me my freedom !" 
 
 " I have summoned manliness enough to resist you and bearing yoHr 
 anger, I am resolved to take the Ijewitching woman to wife, whom my 
 generous Empress has selected for me." 
 
 " You are a contemptible coward," cried she. 
 
 " I forgive you the epithet, because I am in love," replied he, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " But if you Have no pity for me," cried she wildly, " have pity on 
 yourself. You have seen how I treat ray, uncle, and yet 1 love him 
 dearly. Think what your fate will be since I hate you immeasureably." 
 
 1] 
 
162 , JOSEJ'B THfi SECOND. 
 
 *• Ah," said he, " can you expect me to be more merciful to myself 
 than to you 1 No, no ! I rely upon my love to conquer your hate. It 
 will do so all in good time." 
 
 " As there is a God in heaven, you will rue this hour !" cried Marga- 
 ret with mingled defiance and despair. 
 
 " Com'B, Countess, come. The Empress and her son await us in the 
 court-chapel." 
 
 Margaret shivered, and drew her veil around her. She advanced to- 
 wards the door, but as the Count was in the act of opening it, she laid 
 her two hands upon his arm, and held him back. 
 
 " Have mercy on my soul," sobbed she. " It is lost if I become your 
 wife» J have a stormy tempi|r, and sorrow will expand it into wicked- 
 ness. I feel that I shall be capable of crime if you force me to this 
 marriage !" 
 
 " Gracious heavens !" cried the Count, pettishly, " if you abhor me to 
 such a degree, why do you not go into a convent ?"- 
 
 " I had resolved to do so, for the convent is less repulsive to me than 
 a home in your palace ; but I could not bring myself to the sacrifice. 
 No ! — Were I to be immured within those convent walls, I should for- 
 ever be shut out from the sight of him whom I love. Do you hear this "? 
 Do you hear that I marry you only to be free to see him, to hear his 
 voice, to catch one glance of his eye as he passes me in the crowd 1 — 
 Oh, you will not take to wife a woman who meditates such perjury aa 
 this ! You will not give your father's name to her who is going to the 
 altar with a lie upon her lips and a crime upon her soul ! Go — tell all 
 this to the Empress. Tell her that you will not disgrace your noble 
 house by a marriage with me ! Oh, Count Esterhazy, be merciful, be 
 merciful I" 
 
 " Impossible, Countess, impossible ; were it even possible for me to 
 belie you by such language. I shall not see the Empress until we stand 
 before the altar together, and then she will be in her oratorium, far be- 
 yond my reach." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you can reject me at the altar. Oh, see how I humble 
 myself! I am on my knees before you. Spurn me from you in the 
 face of the whole world !" 
 
 Count Esterhazy looked thoughtful. On her knees the Countess un- 
 happily was more beautiful than ever, so that remembering her uncle's 
 w^ords, he said to himself, 
 
 "Yes — I will humor her — I must feign to yield." 
 
 He stretched out his hands,' saying, " Rise, Countess. It does not be- 
 come a sovereign to kneel before her slave. I have no longer the power 
 to oppose your will. Before the altar, I will say 'no ' to the Priest's 
 question, and you shall be free." 
 
 The Countess uttered a loud cry of joy, and rose to her feet. And 
 as her pale cheek kindled with hope, and her eyes beamed with happi- 
 ness, she was more beautiful than she had ever been in her life before, 
 and Count !Estcrha?y exulted over it. 
 
EMFEROK UP AUtiTHJA, 163 
 
 "God bless you !" exclaimed she, with a heavenly smile. "You 
 have earned my affection now ; for my life I vow to love you as a cher- 
 ished brother. Come, dear, generous, noble friend,' cbme. Let us 
 hasten to the chapel." 
 
 It was she now who opened the door. Count Starhemberg awaited 
 them in the drawing-room. Margaret flew to meet him, and embracing 
 him said, 
 
 " Do I not look like a happy bride now ? Come, uncle, come, dear 
 Count Esterhazy, let us go to our bridal.'' 
 
 She took Esterhazy's arm and he placed her in the carriage. The old 
 Count followed in speechless wonder. 
 
 At the door of the chapel they were me^^'y the Empress's first lady 
 of honor, who conducted the bride to the altar. The Emperor walked 
 by the side of Count Esterhnzy. The face of the Countess was radiant 
 with happiness, and all who saw her confessed that she was lovely be- 
 yond all description. 
 
 And now the ceremonial began. The Priest turned to Count Ester- 
 hazy and asked him if he took the Countess Margaret Von Starhemberg 
 for his wedded wife, to love, honor, and cherish her until death should 
 them divide. 
 
 There was a pause, and Margaret looked with a bright smile at the 
 face of her bridegroom. But the eyes of the spectators were fixed upon 
 him in astonishment, and the brow of the Empress grew stormy. 
 
 " Will you take this woman for your wedded wife ?" repeated the 
 Priest. 
 
 "I will," said Esterhazy, in a loud, firm voice. 
 
 A cry escaped from the lips of Margaret. She wa^ so faint that she 
 reeled and would have fallen, but for the friendly support of an arm 
 that sustained her, and the witching tones of a voice that whispered : 
 "Poor girl, remember that a cloister awaits you." 
 
 She recognised the voice of the Emperor ; and overcoming her weak- 
 ness, the courage of despair came to her help. 
 
 She raised herself from Joseph's arras and taking the vinaigrette that 
 was tendered her by the lady of honor, she inhaled its reviving aroma ; 
 then she looked at the Priest. 
 
 He continued, and repeated his solemn question to her. Etiquette re- 
 quired that before she answered, she should have the sanction of the 
 Empress. The Countess turned, with a low inclination, to the lady of 
 honor, who, in her turn, curtsied deeply to the Empress. 
 
 Maria Theresa bowed acquiescence, and the bride, having thanked her 
 with another curtsy, turned once more to the Priest atid said " Yes." 
 
 The ceremony was over, and the young couple received the congratu- 
 lations of the court. Even the Empress, herself, descended from the 
 oratorium to meet thera. 
 
 " I have chosen a very excellent husband for you,' said she smiling, 
 " and I have no doubt you will be a very happy woman." 
 
 " It must be so, of course, your JIajesty," replied the bride, '■ for had 
 
164 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 your Majesty not ascertained that this marriage had been made in 
 heaven, you would not have ordered it on earth, I presume." 
 
 Maria Theresa darted a look of auger at the Countess, and turning 
 her back upon such presumption, offered her good wishes to the Count. 
 
 " What did you say to irritate the Empress so 1" whispered Joseph 
 to the bride. 
 
 Margaret repeated her words. " That was a bold answer," said he. 
 
 " Has your Majesty ever taken me for a coward? I think I have 
 shown preter-human courage this day." 
 
 " What ! Because you have married Count Esterhazy 1 Believe me, 
 you will be the happiest of tyrants and he the humblest of your slaves." 
 
 " I will show him that slavib deserve the lash !" cried she, with a look 
 of hatred at her husband, who came forward to conduct her to the pal- 
 ace, where the marriage guests were now to be received. 
 
 The festivities of the day over, the Empress's lady of honor conduct- 
 ed the Countess to her new home. It was the duty of this lady to as- 
 sist the bride in removing her rich wedding-dress, and assuming the 
 costly fiif/lige -wMch lay ready prepared for her on a lounge in her mag- 
 nificent dressing-room. 
 
 But the Countess imperiously refused to change her dress, "Have 
 the goodness," said she, *' to say to her Majesty, that you conducted me 
 to my dressing-room. You can say further," added she, hearing the 
 door open, " that you left me with Count Esterhazy." 
 
 She pointed to the Count, who entered, greetrog the ladies with a re- 
 spectful bow. 
 
 " I will leave you then," said the lady, kissing Margaret's forehead. 
 " May heaven bless you !" 
 
 Count Esterhazy was now alone with his wife. With a radiant smile 
 and both hands outstretched, he came towards her. 
 
 " Welcome to my house, beautiful Margaret. From this hour you 
 reign supreme in the palace of the Esterhazys." 
 
 Tho Countess stepped back. " Do not dare to touch my hand. A 
 gulf yawns between us, and if you attempt to bridge it, I will throw 
 you, headlong, into its fiery abyss." 
 
 "What gulf 1 Point it out to me, that I may bridge it with my 
 love," cried Esterhazy. 
 
 "The gulf of my contempt," said she, coldly. "You are a coward 
 and a liar. You have deceived a woman who trusted herself to your 
 honor, and God in heaven, who would not hear my prayers, God shall 
 be the witness of my vengeance. Oh, you shall repent from this hour to 
 ' come, that ever you called me wife. 1 scorn to be a liar like you, and I 
 tell you to beware. I will revenge myself for this accursed treachery." 
 
 " I do not fear your revenge, fbr you have a noble heart. The- day 
 will come when I shall be forgiven for my deception. Heaven is always 
 clement towards the repentant sinner, and you are my heaven, Marga- 
 ret. 1 await the day. of mercy," 
 
 '' Yes, you shall have such mercy ai heaven has show»^ to me !" cried 
 
4MPERUK OP AUSTRIA. 165 
 
 she. •' And now, xir, leave thin room. I have DotUing more to say to 
 you." 
 
 " What, Margaret!" said Esterhazy, with an incredulous smile, "you 
 would deny me the sweet right of visitiug your room ? Chide, if you 
 will, but be not so cruel. Let me have the first kiss " 
 
 Margaret uttered a fearful cry, as he attempted to put his afms, 
 around lier. Freeing herself, with such violence that Esterhazy reeled 
 backwards with the shock, she exclaimed, 
 
 " You are worse than a coward, for you would take advantai^e of 
 rights which my hatred has annulled forever." 
 
 " But, Margaret, m j wife " 
 
 " Count Esterhazy," said Margaret, slq^^ly. " I forbid you ever to use 
 that word in this room. Before the world 1 will endure the humiliation 
 of being called your wife ; but once over the threshold of my own 
 room, I am Margaret Starhemberg, and you shall never know me as any 
 other Margaret. Now go !" 
 
 She pointed to the door, and as the Count looked into her face, whero 
 passion was so condensed that it almost resembled tranquility, he had 
 not the hardihood to persist He felt that he had gained his first and 
 last victory. 
 
 As soon as he had passed the door, Margaret locked and bolted it ; 
 then alone with the supremo anguish that had been crushed for these long, 
 long hours, she fell upon her knees, and wept until the morning .star 
 looked down upon her agony. 
 
 CHAPTER XLU. 
 
 PRINCE LOUIS DE ROHAN. 
 
 J 
 
 t 
 
 The Cardinal Prince, Louis de Rohan, French Ambassador at Vien- 
 na, had petitioned the Empress for a private audience, and the honor 
 had been granted hici. It .was the first time since a year that he had 
 enjoyed this privilege, and the proud Prince had determined that all 
 Vienna should know it, for all Vienna was fully aware of the Empress's 
 dislike to him. 
 
 Accompanied by a brilliant cortege, the Prince set out for the palace. 
 Six footmen stood behind his gilded carriage, while inside, seated upon 
 cushions of white satin, the Prince dispensed smiles to the women, and 
 nods to the men, who thronged the streets to get a glimpse of bis mag- 
 nificence. Four pages, in the Rohan livery, dispensed silver coin to the 
 populace, while behind, came four carriages, bearing eight noblemen of 
 
iO(> lOSEPhS XaiS SECONDt 
 
 the proudest fiimilies in France, and four other carriages which bore the 
 household of the hauglity Priuce of church and realm,"" 
 
 The cortege moved slowly, and the people shouted. From every 
 ■window, burgner's or nobleman's, handsome women greeted the hand- 
 some Cardinal, who was known to be a connaisseur in female beauty. — 
 The crowd outside followed him to the palace gates, and when his car- 
 riage stopped, they shouted so vociferously that the noise reached the 
 ears of the Empress, and so long, that their shouts had not ceased when 
 the Cardinal, leaving his brilliant suite^ was ushered into the small recep- 
 tion room, where Maria Theresa awaited him. 
 
 She stood by the window, and half turned her head as the Prince, with 
 profoundest salutations, came forward. She received his obseqious hom- 
 age with a slight inclination of the head. 
 
 "Can your Eminence tell me the meaning of this din?" asked she, 
 curtly. * 
 
 " 1 regret not to be able to do so, your Ma-jesty. I hear no din ; I 
 have heard nothing save the friendly greetings of your people, whose 
 piety edifies my heart as a Priest, and whose welcome is dear to me as 
 a quasi-s,\xh]ect of your Majesty. For the mother of my future queen 
 must allow me the right to consider mjself almost as her subject." 
 
 "I would prefer that you considered yourself wholly the subject of 
 my daughter ; as I doubt whether she will ever find much loyalty in 
 your heart, Prince. But before we go further, pray inform me what 
 means all this parade attendant upon the visit of the French Ambassa- 
 dor here to-day? I am not aware that we are in the carnival, nor have 
 I an unmarried daughter for whom any French Prince can have sent 
 "you to propose." 
 
 " Surely your Majesty would not compare the follies of the Carnival 
 with the solemnity of an imperial betrothal," said the Archbishop, def- 
 erentially. 
 
 " Be so good as not to evade my question. I ask why you came to 
 the palace with a procession just fit to take its place in a Carnival ?" 
 
 " Because the day on which the mother of th& Dauphiness receives 
 jfie, is a great festival for me. I have so long sued for an audience that 
 when it is granted me, I may well be allowed to celebrate it with the 
 pomp which befits the honor conferred." 
 
 " And in such a style that all Vienna may know it, and the rumor of 
 your audience reach the ears of the Dauphiness herself." 
 
 " r canupt hope that the Dauphiness takes interest enough in the 
 French Ambassador to care whether he be received at a foreign court 
 or not," replied the Cardinal, still in his most respectful tone. 
 
 <' I request you to come to the point," said Maria Theresa, impatient- 
 ly. " Tell me, at pnce, why you have asked for an audience ? What 
 seeks the French Ambassador of the Empress of Austria 1" 
 
 " Allow me to say that had I appeared to-day before your Majesty as 
 
 * In th&beginninK of the year '80, Prince de Eohan was made Cardinal ond Grand Almoner of 
 France. Befnre that time, he had been Archbisliop of Strasburg. Memojres but la vie priyte <le 
 J^arie Antoinette, vol 1, page 47, 
 
jfcMl'EiSUK on AOaTlUA. 1()7 
 
 the Fiench Ambassador, I would have been accompanied by my atlach's 
 and received by your I^Iajcsty in state. But your Majesty is so gra- 
 cious as to receive me in private. It follows, therefore, that the Cardi- 
 nal de Rohan, the cousin of the Dauphin, visits the imperial mother of 
 the young Dauphiness." 
 
 '=ln other words, you come hither to con^lain of thcDauphincss-con- 
 sort ; again to renew the unpleasant topics which have been the cause of 
 my repeated refusals to see you here." 
 
 "No, your Majesty, no. I deem it my sacred duty to speak confi- 
 dentially to the mother of the Dauphiness." 
 
 "If the mother of the Dauphincss-consort will listen," cried the proud 
 Empress, sharply emphasising the word "ajusort." 
 
 "Pardon me, your Majesty, the apparent oversight," said de Rohan, 
 with a smile, " But as a Prince of the Church, it behooves me, above 
 all things, to be truthful, and the Dauphiness of Franc<^ is not yet Dau- 
 phiness-consort. Your Majesty knows that as well as I." 
 
 " I know that my daughter's enemies and mine have succeeded so far 
 in keeping herself and her husband asunder," said the Empress, bitterly. 
 " But the Dauphiness possesses in her beauty, worth and sweetness, 
 weapons wherewith to disarm her enemies, if she would but use them," 
 said de Rohan, with a shrug. "Unhappily she makes no attempt to 
 disarm them." 
 
 " Come — say what you have to say without so much circumlocution," 
 cried Maria Theresa, imperiously. "What new complaint have the' 
 !^rcnch against my daughter?" 
 
 " Your Majesty is the only person that can influence the proud spirit 
 of the Dauphiness. Maria Antoinette adores her mother, and your 
 Majesty's advice will have great weight with her." 
 " What advice shall I give her?" 
 
 "Advise her to give less occasion to her enemies to censure her lev- 
 ity and her contempt of conventional forms." 
 
 "Who dares to accuse my daughter of levity ?" said the Empres.s, 
 her eyes flashing with angry pride. 
 
 "Those, who in the corruption of their own hearts, mistake for wan- 
 tonness, that which is nothing more than the thoughtlessness of unsus- 
 pecting innocence." 
 
 " You are pleased to speak in riddles. I am Maria Theresa, — not 
 Oedipus." 
 
 "I will speak intelligently," said de Rohan, with his^verlasting 
 smile. "There are many things innocent in themselves, which do not 
 appear so to worldly eyes. Innocence may be attractive in a cottage, 
 but it is not so in a palace. An ordinary woman, even of rank, has The 
 right, in the privacy of her own room, to indulge herself in childish 
 sport; but your Majesty's self cannot justify your daughter when I tell 
 you that she is in the habit of playing wild games with the young la- 
 dies who have been selected as her companions." 
 
 " My poor, little Antoinette I" exclaimed the Empress, her eyes fiHr 
 
J (58 ^uaai'B ihe seoono. 
 
 7ng with compassionate tears. *'• JTer enemies, who do not allow her to 
 be a wife, might surely permit her tp. remain a child ! I have heard 
 before to-day of the harmless diversions which she enjoys with her 
 young sisters-in-law. If there were any sense of justice in France, you 
 would understand that to ^use hjilf-grown girls, the Dauphiness musjj 
 herself play the child. But I know that she has been blamed for her 
 natural gayety, poor darling, arid I know that Madame de Marsan will 
 never forgive her for feeling a sisterly interest in the education of the 
 young Princesses of France,* 1 know that the salons of Madam de 
 Marsan are a hot-bed of gossip, and that every action of the DaupKiness 
 is there distorted into crime.f If my lord Cardinal has nothing else 
 to tell me, it was scarcely worth his while to come to the palace in so 
 pompous a manner, with such a solemn face." 
 
 " I did not come to your Majesty to accuse the Dauphiness, but to 
 warn her against her enemies, for unfortunately she has enemies at 
 court. These enemies not only deride her private diversions, but with 
 affectation of outraged virtue, they speak of recreations, hitherto un- 
 heard of at the court of France." 
 
 " What recreations, pray "?" 
 
 "The Dauphiness, without the sanction of the King, indulges in pri- 
 vate theatricals." 
 
 " Private theatricals ! That must be an invention of her ene- 
 mies." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty, it is the truth. The Dauphiness and her 
 married sisters-in-law, take the female characters, and the brothers of the 
 King, the male. Sometimes Monsieur de Campan, the Private Secre- 
 tary of the deceased Queen, and his son who fills the same office for the 
 Dauphiness, join the actors. The royal troupe give their entertainments 
 in an empty enire-sol, to which the household have no access. The 
 Count of Proyence plays the jeune premier, but the Count d'Artois also 
 is considered a good performer. I am told that the costumes of the 
 Princesses are magnificent, and their rivalry carried to the extreme." 
 
 The Empress, atTecting not to hear the last amiable remark, said : 
 
 " Who are the audience ?" 
 
 " There is but one spectator, your Majesty, the Dauphin himself." 
 
 Maria Therese's face lighted up at once, and she smiled. 
 
 The Cardinal went on: "The aunts of the Dauphin, themselves, are- 
 not admittPti to their confidence, lest they might inform the King, and 
 his Majesty forbid the indecorous representations." 
 
 •' I shall write to the Dauphiness and advise her to give up these rep- 
 resentations," said Maria Theresa, calmly, "not because they are indec- 
 orous, but because they are a pretext for her enemies. If she has the 
 approbation of her husband, that of itself, ought to suffice to the court, 
 for it is not an unheard thing to have dramatic representations by the 
 royal family. Loui^ XIV. appeared on the boards as a dancer, and even 
 
 * Madam de Marsan wa=j their governeie. 
 
 t M«moireB ^e Mme. de Campaa. Vol. 1, page C5. 
 
BMPEKOK *JY aWIKJA J 6'9 
 
 ujKler the pious Madame d'Maintenon, the princes and princesses of 
 France, acted the dranaas of Cornell I c and Racine." 
 
 " But they had the permission of the King, and none of tham were 
 future queens " 
 
 "What of that? If the Queen approved of the exhibition, the Dau- 
 phiness might surely repeat it. My daughter is doing no more at Ver- 
 sailles than she has been accustomed to do atSchonbrunn in her mother's 
 presence." 
 
 " The etiquette of the two courts is dissimilar," said d'Rohan, with a 
 shrug. " In Vienna an Archduchess is permitted to do that, which in 
 Paris, would be considered an impropriety.'* 
 
 "Another complaint!" cried the Empress, out of patience. 
 
 .^"The Dauphiness finds it a bore." continued d'Rohan, " to be ac- 
 companied wherever she goes by two ladies of honor. She has, there- 
 fore, been seen in the palace, even in the gardens of Versailles, without 
 any escort, except that ot two servants," 
 
 "Have you come to the end of your complaints?" said the Empress 
 scarafely able to control her passion. 
 
 "I have, your Majesty. Allow me to add that the reputation of a 
 woman seldom dies from a single blow ; it expires gradually from re- 
 peated pricks of the needle ; and Queens are as liable to such mortality 
 as other women." • 
 
 " It ill becomes the Prince de Rohan to pas? judgment upon the honor 
 of women," cried Maria Theresa, exasperated by his lip-morality. "If 
 the French Ambassador presumes to come to me with such trivial com- 
 plaints as I have heard to day, I will direct my Minister la Paris to 
 make representations to the King of another arid a more serious nature." 
 
 " Regarding the unpardonable indifference of the Dauphin to his wife?" 
 asked the Cardinal with sympathising air. 
 
 " No. Regarding the unpardonable conduct of the French Ambassa- 
 dor in Vienna," exclaimed the Empress. " If the Cardinal is so shocked 
 at a slight breach of etiquette, he should be careful to conceal his own 
 deformities under its sheltering veil. Innocence may sin against cere- 
 mony ; but he who leads a dissolute and voluptuous life, should make 
 decorum a shield wherewith to cover his own shame !" 
 
 " I thank your Majesty for this axiom so replete with worldly wis- 
 dom. But for whom can it be intended ? Certainly not for the Dau- 
 phiness?" 
 
 " No— for yburselfj Prince and Cardinal !" cried the Empress, beside 
 herself with anger. "For the Prelate who, unmindful of his rank and 
 of its obligations, carries on his shameless intrigues even with the ladies 
 of my court For the Ambassador who, leading a life of oriental mag- 
 nificence, is treading under foot the honor of his country, by living upon 
 the credulity of his inferiors. All Vienna knows that your household 
 make unworthy use of your privileges as a foreign minister by import- 
 ing goods free of tax, and re-selling them here. All Vienna knows Lha^: 
 there are more silk stockings sold at the hotel of the French embassy 
 
than ill all Paris and Lyons together. The world blames me for hav- 
 hig revoked the privilege enjoyed by fl)reign embassies to import their 
 clothing free of duty. It does not know Uiat the abuse of this privilege 
 by yourself has foi'ced me to the measure." 
 
 " Your Majesty is very kind to take so much trouble to investigate 
 the affairs of my household. You are more o«/aii to the details than 
 myself. I was not aware for iustancej that silk stockings were sold at 
 the embassy^ — no more than I was aware that I had had any mnours with 
 the ladies of the Court.' I have a very cold heart, and perhaps that is 
 the reason why I have never seen one to whom I would devote a second 
 thought. As regards my manner of living, I consider it appropriate to 
 my rank, titles and means ; and that is all that I feel i^i necessary to 
 say on the subject." 
 
 " You dispose of these charges in a summary manner. To hear you, 
 one would really suppose there was not the slightest ground for reproach 
 in your life," said the Empress satirically. 
 
 " That this is quite within the range of possibility, is proved by the case 
 of the Dauphiness," replied de Rohan. " If your Majesty thinks so lit- 
 tle of her breaches of etiquette, it seems to me that mine are of still less 
 consequence. And allow me to say that the French nation will sooner 
 forgive me a thousand intrigues with the ladies of Vienna, than pass 
 over the smallest deviation from Court usages on the part of the Dau- 
 phiness: Marie Antoinette has defied them more than once, and I fear 
 me, she will bitterly repent her thoughtlessness. Her enemies are 
 watchful and — — " 
 
 " Oh I see that they are watchful !" exclaimed Maria Theresa, "I see 
 it. Do not deny it, you are one of those whose evil eyes see evil-doing 
 in every impulse of my dear defenceless child's heart. But have a care, 
 Sir Cardinal — the friendless Dauphiness will one day be Queen of France, 
 and she will then have it in her power to bring to justice those who per- 
 secute her now !" 
 
 " I hope that I will never be accused of such fellowship," said de Rohan 
 for the first time losing his proud self-possession. 
 
 " I — the Empress of Austria accuse you to day of it !" cried Maria 
 Theresa with threatening mien. *' Oh my lord, it does you little honor, 
 you a royal personage and a prince of the church, to exchange letters 
 with a Dubarry, to whose shameless ears you defame the mother of 
 your future Queen !" 
 
 V " When did I do this"? When was I so lost to honor as to speak a 
 disrespectful word of the Empress of Austria ?" 
 
 "Ah! you deny it — do you? — Let me tell you that your praise^or 
 your blame are all one to me ; and if I have granted you this interview 
 it was to show you how little I am disturbed by your censorious lan- 
 guage. 1 know something of the intriguing at Versailles. I have even 
 neard of the private orgies of the " Oeil de boeuf," where Louis enter- 
 tains his favorites, and I will tell you what took place at the last one. 
 * Memoirps do Mme. de Campan. Vol. 1, p. 41, 
 
EMPEKOK OPmUSTBLA 171 
 
 The Countess Dubarry was diverting the company with accounts of the 
 hypocrisy of the Empress of Anstri;*, and to prove it, she drew a letier 
 from her pocket-book saying : ' Hear what the Cardinal de Rohan says 
 about her.' Now Cardinal, do you still deny that you correspond wiih 
 her ?" 
 
 '• I do deny it," said the Prince firmly. " I deny that I ever have 
 written her a word." 
 
 The Empress took from her pocket a paper, and read as follows : 
 " True, I have seen Maria Theresa weeping over the fate of Poland ; but 
 this Sovereign, who is such an adept in the art of dissimulation, appears 
 to have tears and sighs at her command. In one hand she holds her 
 pocket-handkerchief, and in the other, the sword with which she cuts oft' 
 a third of that unhappy country."* '" Now Sir Cardinal, upon your sacred 
 honor, did you, or did you not, write these words 1" 
 
 The Prince turned pale, and grasped the arm of the chair on which 
 he sat. 
 
 " Upon your honor, and your conscience, before God," — reiterated the 
 Empress, 
 
 The Cardinal raised his eyes slowly, and in a low voice said, " I dare 
 not deny it, 1 wrote them. In an unlucky hour I wrote them, but not 
 to Dubarry." 
 
 "To whom then ?^' 
 
 " To one who has betrayed me to Dubarry. Far be it from me to 
 name him. I alone will bear the weight of your Majesty's tdispleasu re, 
 I aloue am the culprit." 
 
 "I know of no culprit in the matter," replied Maria Theresa, throwing 
 back her stately head. " I stand before God and before the worH, and 
 every man has a right to pass sentence upon my actions — even the Car- 
 dinal de Rohan. I merely wish to show him, that the Dauphiness and 
 her mother both know what to expect of his Eminence." 
 
 " The Dauphiness knows of this letter !" cried de Rohan. 
 
 " It is she who sent me this copy." 
 
 The Prince bowed his head down upon his hands. " I amlost," mur- 
 mured he. 
 
 The Empress surveyed him with mistrust. Such emotion on the part 
 of such a man astonished her, and she doubted its sincerity. " VVhy 
 this comedy, Prince ?" said she. " I have already told you that I am 
 indifferent to your opinion." 
 
 " But the Dauphiness will never forgive me," said he uncovering his 
 face. " My contrition is no comedy, for I look with prophetic eyes into 
 the future, and there I see anguish and tears." 
 
 " For whom," said Maria Theresa scornfully. 
 
 " For me, and perchance for the Dauphiness. She considers me her 
 
 enemy and will treat me as such. But hatred, is a two-edged sword 
 
 which is as apt to wound the one who holds it as well as the one for 
 
 whom it is unsheaihed. Oh, your Majesty! warn the Daup hiness. She 
 
 * Memoirs de Weber lioncemant Mario AntoineUe, Vol. 8, page 806. 
 
172 rftWitttJ tHl!. t)KCUM> 
 
 stonds upon the brow of a precipice, and if she do not recede, her ene- 
 mies \vi41 thrust her headlong into the abyss below. Marie Antoinette 
 is an angel of innocence and chasftity, but the world in which she lives 
 does not understand the h'.ngnage of angels ; and the wicked will soil 
 her wings that her puiily may not be ji roproa.ih to their own foulness. 
 Warn the Dauphiness to bewara of her enemies ; but as God hears 
 me, I am not one of thera. Marij Antoinette will never belieVe me, 
 find therefore my fate is sealed. 1 beg leave of your Majesty to with- 
 draw;." 
 
 Without awaiting the answer, the Prince bowed and retired. Maria 
 Theresa looked thoughtfully after him, and long after he had closed the 
 door, she remained standing in the centre of the room a prey to the anx- 
 ious misgivings which his visit had kindled in her heart. 
 
 " He is right," said she, after a time. "She wanders upon 'the edge 
 of a precipice, and I must save her. But oh, my God ! Where shall 1 
 find a friend who will love her enough to brave her displeasure, and, in 
 the midst of the flattery which Rurrounus her, will raise the honest voice 
 of reproof and censure? Ah she is so unhappy, my little Antoinette, 
 and I have no power to help her ! Oh, ray God ! succor my perse- 
 cuted child !" 
 
 CHAPTER XUIf. 
 
 THE rOlKS AT VIRNTtA. 
 
 The three Powers which had lived so long at variance, had united 
 themselves in one common cause, the pacification of Poland. In vain 
 had Stanislaus refused his assent to their friendly intervention : in vain 
 had he appealed to England and France for help. Neither of these 
 Powers was willing, for the sake of unhappy Poland, to become in- 
 volved in a war with three nations, who were ready to hurl their consol- 
 idated strength against any sovereign who would have presumed to dis- 
 pute their joint action. 
 
 In vain King Stanislaus began by swearing, that sooner than consent 
 to the dismemberment of Poland, he would lose his right hand. The 
 three Powers, tired of his impotent struggles, informed him, through 
 their envoys at Warsaw, that there were limits to the moderation which 
 decorum prescribed to governments — that they stood upon these limits 
 and awaited his speedy acquip.sceiice to the act of partition.* The Rus- 
 sian Empress added to thij that, if Stanislaus did not call a convention 
 . ^ PlUumer's Contrlbnltoiw to Modsrn ElafDry. Vol, 4,.p«g«M«. 
 
KMi'EKUH or AUSTRIA 173 
 
 of the Polish Diet to rpcocrnifse th^ net, she would devastate his land, so 
 that he vvouid not have a ii'\er sr.'. n Idt Xo hu:i.'* 
 
 The unhappy Kin^ had ro loncer i'■^ r.^rve to brave such terrific 
 threats. He submitted to the will of his tyranr^, and eame in as a 
 fourth Power, eager to obtain as much »» he could for his own individual 
 advantage. 
 
 The wretched Poles toolt no notice of the edicts of a IvMig, who had 
 beeu forced upon them by a strange sovereign. Only a Ibw cowards 
 and hirelings obeyed the call for a convention ; .so that in all, there were 
 only thirty-six members, who, under the surveillance of Austrian and 
 Prussian Ilupsars. signed their nnineH to the act of partition. 
 
 The King of Prussia received Pomerelia and the distiictof Nantz; 
 Russia took Leionia and several important way wodeships ; and Austria 
 obtained the county of Zips, a portion of Galicia and of Lodomeria, and 
 half of the Palatinate of Cracow. 
 
 Here and there an isolated voice was raised to protest against the 
 stupendous robbery ; but it was lost amid the clash of arms and the 
 tread of soldiery. Whenever a word was spoken that fretted the sensi- 
 bilities of Austria or Prussia, Cathnrino said she was willing to bear all 
 the blame of the thing ; and laughing heartily, she called the protests 
 that were sent on the bulject, ^' moutarde aprcs diner.^^ Frederic resort- 
 ed to self deception, proclaiiping to tlie world " that for the first 
 time the King and the Republic of Poland were established on a firm 
 basis ; that they could now apply themselves in peace to the construc- 
 tion of such a government as would tend to preserve the balance of 
 power between proximate nations, and prevent them from clashing. "f 
 
 The Poles, in silent rancor, submiited to their fate, and took the oath 
 of allegiance to iheir oppressors. Now boundary lines wer<» drawn, and 
 new names assigned to the sundered provinces of the dismembered 
 fatherland. The citadels were given over to their foreign masters, and 
 now the deed was consuminated. 
 
 Even Maria Theresa rejoiced to know it, and whether to relieve her 
 burthened heart, or to pretend to the world that she approved of the 
 transaction, she ordered a solemn Te Deum to be sung in the Cathedral 
 of St. Stephen, in commemoration of the event. 
 
 The entire court was to assist at this ceremony, after which the Em- 
 press was to recei^ve the oath exacted from those of her new su^DJects 
 who desired to retain possession of their property. 
 
 The ladies of the court were in the ante-room awaiting the entrance 
 of the Sovereigns. Their handsome, rouged faces were bright with sat- 
 isfaction, for they all had suffered from the misery which, for a year 
 past, had been endured by their imperial mistress. Now they might 
 look forward to serene skies and a renewal of court festivities, and they 
 congratulated one another in triumpii. 
 
 But they were caut.ious not to give too audible expression to their 
 
 • Eanmer'i Oontribntinns to Modem Hiitory, Vol.4, pace 607, 
 t EanmCT'tCoutritratiOTW, page M». 
 
174 iOSEPfl lUK SEOUNO. 
 
 hopes. They whispered their exptctations of pleasure, now and then 
 castiag stolen glances at a tall figure in black, whicli, sorrowful and 
 alone, stood tearfully regardiag the crowds in the streets who were hur- 
 rying to church to celebrate her country's downfall. This was the 
 Countess Von Salmour, governess to the Archduchess Marianna. Like 
 the other ladies of the palace, she was to accompany the Empress to 
 the Cathedral, hut it was clear to all beholders that to her this was a 
 day of supreme humiliation. 
 
 The great bell of St. Stephen's announced to her people that the Em-^ 
 press was about to leave the palace. The folding-doors were flung open " 
 and she appeared leaning on the arm of the Emperor, followed by the 
 princes, princesses, generals, and statesmen of her realms. Silently the 
 ladies of honor arranged themselves on either side of the room to let 
 the imperial family pass by. Maria Theresa's eyes glanced hastily 
 around, and fell upon the pale, wan features of the Countess Von Sal- 
 mour. ^ 
 
 All eyes now sought the face of the unhappy lady, whose sad, mourn- 
 ing garments were in such striking contrast with the magnificent dresses 
 of the ladies around her. 
 
 "Madam Von Salmour," said the Empress, " I dispense you from 
 your duties for this day. You need not accompany the court to church." 
 
 The Countess curtsied deeply, and replied, " Your Majesty is right 
 .to e,\cuse me, for had 1 gone with the court to church, I might have been 
 tempted to utter treason to heaven against the oppressors of my coun- 
 try." 
 
 The company were aghast at the audacity of the rejoinder, but the 
 Empress replied with great mildness, 
 
 " You are right ; for the temptation would indeed be great, and it is 
 noble of you to speak the truth. I respect your candor." 
 
 She was about to pass on, but paused as though she had forgotten 
 something. 
 
 " Is the Countesa Wielopolska in Vienna"?" asked she. 
 
 "She arrived yesterday, your Majesty." 
 
 " Go to her while we are at church," said Maria Theresa, compassion- 
 ately. 
 
 Madam Von Salmour glanced towards the Emperor, who with an ex- 
 pression of painful embarrassment, was listening to their conversation. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty," said the lady, " the Countess Wielopol- 
 ska is making preparations for a journey, and she receives no one. 
 We parted yesterday. To-morrow she leaves Vienna forever." 
 
 " I am glad that she intends to travel," said Maria Theresa, approv- 
 ingly. " It will divert her mind ;" and with a friendly smile, she took 
 leave of the governess, and passed, on. 
 
 Joseph followed with wildly throbbing heart ; and neither the trium- 
 phant strains of the Te Deum, nor the congratulatory shouts of his sub- 
 jects, could bring back serenity to his stormy brow. He knelt before 
 (,he altar, and with burning shame, thought of his first entry into St. 
 
SMl'EliOK OF AOSTRlA. 175 
 
 Stephen's as Emperor of Austria. It hfld been the anniversary of the 
 deliverance of Vienna by John Sobieski and his Poles; and in the self- 
 same ?pot where the Emperor had thanked God for this deliverance, he 
 now knelt in acknowledgement for the new principalities which were the 
 fruits of his own ingratitude to Poland. 
 
 From these painful and humiliating retrospections, the Emperor's 
 thoughts wandered to the beautiful being who, like a Hamadryad, had 
 blended her lifij with the tree of Polish liberty. He thought of that 
 face, whose pallid splendor reminded him of the glories of waning day. 
 and he listened through the long, dirn aisles of memory, to the sound of 
 that enchanting voice, whose melody had won his heart long ago on 
 that first, happy evening at Neustadt. 
 
 The Countess AVielopolska was leaving Vienna forever, and yet there 
 was DO message for him. A longing, that seemed to drown him in the 
 flood of its intensity, rushed over his soul. He would fly to her pres- 
 ence and implore her to forgive the chant of victory that was rejoicing 
 over her country's grave! Oh, the crash of that stunning harmony, 
 how it maddened him, as kneeling, he listened to its last exnUant notes ! 
 It was over, and Joseph scarcely knew where ho was, until his mother 
 laid her hand upon his shoulder and motioned him to rise. 
 
 In the great reception-room, with all the pomp of imperial splendor, 
 Maria Theresa sat upon her throne and received the homage of her new 
 subjects. Each one, as he passed, knelt before the powerful Empress, 
 and as he rose, the Chief Marshal of the household, announced his name 
 and rank. 
 
 This ceremony over, Maria Theresa descended from the throne to 
 greet her Polish subjects in a less formal manner. No one possessed 
 to a greater degree than herself, the art of bewitching those whom she 
 desired to propitiate ; and today, though her youth and beauty were no 
 longer there to heighten the charms of her address, her elegant carriage, 
 her ever-splendid eyes, and graceful afflibility, were as potent to win 
 hearts as ever. Discontent vanished from the faces of the Poles, and 
 by and by they gathered into groups, in which were mingled Hunga- 
 rians, Italians and Austrians, all the subjects of that one great Empress. 
 The majority of the Poles had adopted the French costume of the 
 day. Few had possessed the hardihood to appear before their new sov- 
 ereign in their rich, national dress. Among these few was an old man 
 of tall stature and distinguished appearance, who attracted the attention 
 of every one present. 
 
 While his countrymen unbent their brows to the sunshine of Maria 
 Theresa's gracious words, he remained apart in the recess of a window. 
 With scowling mien and folded arms, he surveyed the company ; nor 
 could the Empress, herself, obtain from him more than a haughty in- 
 clination of the head. 
 
 The Emperor was conversing gaily with two Polish noblemen, whose . 
 cheerful demeanor bore evidence to' the transitory nature of their na- ' 
 lional griei; when he observed this old Cfian. 
 
 \ 
 
ft 
 
 176 idSEi'H IHJt tiJECOKl* 
 
 " Can you tell me," said he, " the name of yonder proud and angry 
 nobleman ?"• 
 
 The faces of the two grew scarlet, as following the direction of the 
 Emperor's finger, they' saw the eyes of the old man fixed, with t>corn, 
 upon their smiling countenances. 
 
 "That," said one of, them, uneasily, "is Count Kanuienski." 
 
 " Ah, the old partisan leader !" exclaimed the Emperor. " As he does 
 not seem inclined to come to me, I will go forward and greet him myself." 
 
 So. saying, Joseph crossed over to the window where the old Count 
 was standing. He received him with a cold, solemn bow. 
 
 " I rejoice to meet Count Kaunienski, and to express to him my esteem 
 for his character," began the Emperor, reaching out his hand. 
 
 The Count did not appear to perceive the gesture, and merely made 
 a silent bow. But Joseph would not be deterred from his purpose by 
 a hauteur which he knew very well how to excuse. 
 
 "Is this your first visit to Vienna*?" asked he. 
 
 " My first and last.visit, sire." 
 
 " Arc you pleased with the Austrian capital V 
 
 " No, your Majesty, Vienna does not please me." 
 
 The Emperor smiled. Instead of being irritated at the haughtiness 
 with which his advances were met, he felt both respect and sympathy 
 for the noble old man who disdained to conceal his discontent from the 
 eyes of the sovereign himself. 
 
 " I wonder that you do not like Vienna. It has great attractions for 
 strangers, and you meet so many of your countrymen here just now. — 
 There never were as many Poles in Vienna before." 
 
 An angry glance shot athwart the face of the old man. " There were 
 many more when John Sobieski delivered Vienna from the hands of Aer 
 enemies," said he. " But that is ahnogt a hundred years ago, and the 
 memory of princes does not extend so far. to the obligations of the 
 past.* But," continued he, more courteously, " I did not come here to 
 speak of my country. We must be resigned to the fate apportioned to 
 us by Providence, and you see how readily my countrymen adapt 
 themselves to the vicissitudes of their national life." 
 
 " And yet, Count, their smiles are less pleasing to me than your 
 frowns. In spite of the present, I cherish the past, and honor those who 
 mourn over the misfortunes of their native land." 
 
 The old man was touched, and looked at the handsome, expressive face 
 of the Emperor. " Sire," said he, sadly, " if Stanislaus had resemble4 
 you, Poland would have beeh free. But I have riot come hither to-day 
 to whine over the unalterable past. Nor did I come to pay homage to 
 the Empress." 
 
 Nevertheless the Empress would rejoice to become acquainted with 
 the brave Count Kannienski. Allow me Count, to present you." 
 
 ♦ This whole converaation ia historical. It "was often related by the Emperor, who said that he 
 had been so touched by Count Kanuienski's patriotiam and boldness, that but for the fe«r of a ro- 
 pnlte, h« wonM hare embraced him. gwinbtirne, vol. 1. page 849. 
 
EMPISKUK Of aUiSTKlA j-^ 
 
 Kannienski shook his gray locks. " No, sire, I came to Vienna purelv 
 for the sake of a woman who will die under the weight of this dav's 
 anguish.^ I came to console her with what poor consolation I have to 
 
 " Is she a Pole ?" asked Joseph, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, sire: sh^. is the last true-hearted Polish woman left on eafth 
 and I fear she is about to die upon the grave of her fatherland " ' 
 
 " May I ask her name T' 
 " Countess Anna Wielopolska. She it is who sent me to the palace 
 
 and 1 came because she asked of me one last friendly service " ' 
 
 " You bring me a message 1" faltered the Emperor 
 
 "The Countess begs to remind the Emperor of the promise he made 
 on the day when the Empress signed the act of " 
 
 " I remember," interrupted the Emperor, 
 
 "She asks, if mindful of his promise, he will visit her to-morrow af- 
 ternoon at SIX o'clock." "nuw ai 
 
 " Where shall I find her?" 
 
 " In the very same room which she occupied before. I have delivered 
 my message. Your Majesty will, therefore, permit me to withdraw " 
 
 fi, w'J -A^ ^"'"^^ ^"^Y- ^'^^^^ ^"^ P''°"<^'y he made his 'way 
 through the giddy crowd, without a word of recognition for the frivo- 
 lous Poles, who saluted him as he passed. 
 
 "He is the last PoHsh hero, as she is the last Polish heroine," sighed 
 the Emperor, as he followed the old man with his eyes. " Our destinv 
 IS accomplished. She would bid me a last farewell." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE LAST FAREWELL. 
 
 CouNTEsg Anxa Wielopolska was alone in her room, which, like her- 
 rarn J^' A ^u 'T'""^ ^."^^ ^reat and distinguished guest. A rich 
 carpet covered the floor, flowers bloomed in Mostly vases the niano 
 
 7ounZ:.t ?^ ''' r^'' "." ''''^''^' ^^^"^^ ^^' "^he (SinTess'stUl 
 found consolation m her genius. But she, herself, was strangely altered 
 
 ZS Ve't^f she had thrown her boquet to the Em'p:;^^^^^^^^ 
 iNeustadt. Nevertheless, she wore the same dress of black velvet the 
 
 ;ira^LTir^,rin°""' "■' ^--^ ""o"'' "' "-"» --■ "--^ 
 
 Her heart beat high, and her anxious eyes wandered to the little 
 
 J2 
 
178 JUSKl'li IHK 6K(JUM> 
 
 bronze clock that stood upon a console opposite. Tlie clock struck six, 
 and her pale cheeks flushed with anticipated happiness. 
 
 " It is the hour,"' said she. "1 shall see him once more." And as 
 she^poke a carriage stopped, and she heard his step within the vesti- 
 bule below. TiOQibling, in every limb, she approached the door, aiid 
 btnb h(r ear to listen. 
 
 " Yes, becomes," whispered she, while, with a gesture of extreme ag- 
 itation, she drew from her pocket a little case, from whence she took a 
 tiny flask, containing a transparent, crimson liquid. She held it for a 
 few seconds to the light, and now she could hear the sound of his voice, 
 .as bespoke with Matuschka in the ante-room. The steps came nearer 
 and nearer yet. 
 
 "It is time," murmured she, and hastily moving the golden capsule 
 that covered the phial, she put it to her lips and drank it to the last drop. 
 
 " One hour of happiness," said she, replacing the phial in her pocket, 
 and hastening back to the door. 
 
 It was opened, a.nd the Emperor entered the room. Anna met him 
 with both hands outstretched, and smiled with unmistakable love as he 
 came forward to greet her. Silent, but with visible agitation, the Em- 
 peror looked into those eyes which were already resplendent with the 
 glory of approaching death. Long they gazed upon each other without 
 a word, yet speaking love with eyes and lips. 
 
 Suddenly the Emperor dropped her hands, and laying his own gently 
 upon her cheeks, he drew down her head, and rested it upon his breast. 
 She left it there and looked up with a tender smile. 
 
 " Do not speak, love," said he, gently. " I am an astrologer, who 
 looks into his heaven to read the secrets there." " And, oh," sighed he, 
 after iie had gazed for, a time, " I see sorrow and suffering written upon 
 that snowy brow. Tears have dimmed the splendor of my stars, but 
 they have not been able to lessen their beauty. I know you apain, my 
 queen of the night, as you first appeared to me at Neustadt. You are 
 still the same proud being, Anna." 
 
 *' No, dearest, no. I am a trembling woman, craving nothing from 
 earth save the glance of my beloved, and the privilege of dying in his 
 embrace." 
 
 " She who loves desires to live for her lover," said he, pressing her 
 again and again to his heart. 
 
 " Death is the entrance to eternal life, and she who truly loves, will 
 love throughout eternity." 
 
 " Speak not of death in this hour of ecstacy, when I have found you 
 once more as I had pictured you in dreams. Oh, Anna^s^aia ! will you 
 part me from you again? Have you indeed brought me hither to cheat 
 me with visions of love, and then to say farewell forever !" 
 
 " No, Joseph, I bid you eternal welcome. . Oh, my lover, my soul 
 has gone forth to meet yours, and nothing shall ever part us again." 
 
 " And are you mine at last !" cried Joseph, kissing her passionately. 
 *' Has the statue felt the ray of lovp, and uttered its first sweet sound f 
 
EMPKKOK OP AUSTRIA 179 
 
 Oh, how I have longed to hear that sound ! I have gone about by day, 
 wearing the weight of sovereignty upon ray fainting shoulders, and bv 
 night i have wept like a love-sick boy for your sake, Anna, but no one 
 suspected it. No one knew that the Emperor was unhappy." 
 
 " I knew it," whispered she. " J knew it, for your sorrows have ail 
 been mine." 
 
 "No, no!" cried Joseph, awaking from his dream of bliss, "you told 
 me that Poland was dearer to you than I. I remember it now! You 
 refused me your hand, and forsook me for the sake of your country." 
 
 " But, now, beloved," said she, clinging to him, " row I am but a wo- 
 man — a woman who abandons her fitherland with all its memories, and 
 asks but one blessing of heaven — the blessing of living and dying in 
 her lover's arms." 
 
 " Oh, if you would not kill me, speak no more of dying, Anna! Now 
 you arc mine, mine for life ; and my heart leaps with joy as it did when 
 first I heard your heavenly voice. Let me hear it once more. Sing to 
 me, my treasure." 
 
 She went to the harpsichord, and the Emperor bent over her, smiling 
 as he watched the motion of her graceful hands upon the keys. She 
 struck a few. full chords, and then glided into a melody of melancholy 
 sweetness. The Emperor listened attentively ; then, suddenly smiling, 
 he recognized the song which she had sung before the King of Prussia 
 and himself. 
 
 The words were different now. They represented Poland as a beg- 
 gard queen, wandering from door to door, repulsed by all. She is 
 starving, but she remembers that death will release her from shame 
 and hunger." 
 
 The Countess was singing these lines, 
 
 " If life to her had brought disgrace, 
 Honor returns with death's embrace " 
 
 ■when she stopped, and her hands fell powerless from the instrument. — 
 The Emperor raised her head, and saw, with alarm, that her face was 
 distorted by pain. Without a word, he took her in his arms, and carry- 
 ing her across the room, laid her gently upon the sofa. She raised her 
 loving eyes to his^ and tried to steal her arm around his neck, but it fell 
 heavily to her side. Joseph saw it, and a pang of. apprehension shook 
 his manly frame. 
 
 " Anna," groaned he, " what means this 1" 
 
 •' Honor returns with death's embrace," whispered she. 
 
 The Emperor uttered a savage cry, and raised his despairing arms to 
 heaven. " And it was false," cried he, almost mad with grief, "it was 
 false! She had not forgotten Poland. Oh, cruel, cruel Anna !" And 
 he sobbed piteously, while she strove to put her trembling hand upon 
 his head. 
 
 " Cruel to myself, Joseph, for I have just begun to value life. ' But I 
 swore to my mother that I would not outlive the disgrace of Poland, 
 and you would have ceased to love me bad I violated my oath. For- 
 
180 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 give the pain I inflict upon you, dearest. I longed for one single hour 
 of happiness, and I have found it here. With my dying breath I bless 
 you." 
 
 " Is there no remedy ?" asked he, scarcely able to speak. 
 
 " None," said she, with a fluttering smile. *' I obtained the poison 
 from Cagliostro. Nay — dear one, do not weep ; you see that I could 
 not live. Oh, do not hide your face from me, let me die with my eyes 
 fixed upon. yours!" 
 
 " And," cried Joseph, " must I live forever." 
 
 " You must live for your subjects — live to be great and good, yet 
 ever mistrusted, ever misunderstood. But forward, my Prince, and the 
 blessing of God be upon you ! Think, too, that the Poles, my breth- 
 ren, are among your subjects, and promise me to love and cherish 
 them." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " Try to reconcile them to their fate — do not return their ill-will ; 
 swear to me that you will be clement to my countrymen." 
 
 " I swear ! I swear to respect their misfortunes, and to make them 
 happy." 
 
 One last beaming smile illumined her face. " Thank you — dearest," 
 said she, with difficulty. " My spirit shall look out from the eye of 
 every Pole, to whom you will have given — one moment — of joy ! Oh, 
 what agony ! FareWell !" 
 
 One more look — one shudder — and all was was still. 
 
 The Emperor fell upon his knees by the body, and prayed long and 
 fervently. The little clock struck seven. The hour of happiness had 
 passed away forever. 
 
 The following day, Joseph, pale but perfectly calm, sought an inter- 
 view with his mother. 
 
 " I come to ask leave of absence of your Majesty," said he, languidly. 
 
 " Leave of absence, my son ? Do you wish to travel again so soon ?" 
 
 " I must travel, your Majesty. I must make a journey to Galicia to 
 become acquainted with our new subjects." 
 
 " Perhaps it might be as well for us to show them some consideration 
 at this period. I had already thought of this ; but I have been told that 
 GaMcia is rather an uncivilized country, and that the people are ill-dis- 
 posed towards us." 
 
 " We cannot expect them to love their oppressors, your Majesty." 
 
 " No — but it is a dreadful country. No roads — no inns — miles and 
 milefe of uninhabited woods, infested by robbers. Oh, my son, postpone 
 your journey to a milder season ! I shall be trembling for your safety." 
 
 " There is no danger, your Majesty. Give me your consent, I am 
 very, very desirous of visiting Poland." 
 
 " But np vehicle can travel there at this time of year,, my son.'* 
 
 " I will go on horseback, your Majesty." 
 
 " But where will you get provisioBs, Joseph ? Where will you rest 
 at niffht ?" 
 
" I will rest wherever night overtakes rae, either in a cottage, on my 
 horse, or on the ground. And as for food, mother, if there is food for 
 our people, there will be some for me ; and if there should be scarcity, 
 it is but just that I should share their hardships. Let me go, I entreat 
 you." 
 
 " Go, then, my so"n, and God's blessing be with you," said the Em- 
 press, kissing her son's forehead. 
 
 " Joseph !" said she, as he was leaving the room, " have you heard 
 that the poor, young Countess Anna has committed suicide on account 
 of the troubles in Poland ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty," replied Joseph, v^thout flinching. 
 
 *' Perhaps yc-u had better defer your journey for a day to attend her 
 funeral. All the Pole« will be there, and as we both knew and adff'ired 
 her, I think it would propitiate our new subjects if we gave some pub- 
 lic mark of sympathy by following the body to the grave. I have for- 
 bidden mention to be made of the manner of her death, that she may 
 not be denied a resting-place within consecrated ground." 
 
 How she probed his wound until the flesh quivered with agony. 
 
 " The (Countess Wielopolska is not to be interred in Austria, your 
 Majesty," said he. Count Kannienski will accompany the body to Po- 
 land. Near Cracow there is a mound wherein it is said that Wanda, the 
 first Queen of Poland, was buried. Anna Wielopolska will share her 
 tomb. Her heroic spirit could rest nowhere save in Poland. When I 
 visit Cracow I will go thither to plant flowers upon her grave, that the 
 white roses she loved, may grow from the consecrated earth that lies 
 upon her heart." 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE CONCKRT. 
 
 Theresk Paradies was to give a concert, the first at which she had 
 performed since the restoration of her sight. Of course the hall was 
 thronged, for in spite of the incontrovertible fact itself, and of its cor- 
 roboration by the Paradies family, there were two parties in Vienna, — 
 one wKo believed in the cure, and the other who did not. Those who 
 did not, doubted upon the respectable testimony of Professor Barthe, 
 Doctor Ingenhaus, and the entire faculty, who, one and all, protested 
 against the shameful imposition which Mesmer was practicing upon am 
 enlightened public. 
 
 The audience, therefore, W9.s less interested in Therese's music, won- 
 
1,S2 JUSKI'b IHB SECC»iM> 
 
 derful as it was, than in her eyes ; for her father had announced, that 
 during the pauses, Therese would prove to the incredulous that her cure 
 •was no deception. 
 
 Professor Barthe, Doctor Ingenhaus, and the Astronomer were there 
 in the front row, sneering away the convictions of all who were within 
 hearing. Herr Paradies now appeared, and as he stood reckoning the 
 profits that were to gladden his pockets on that eventful evening, Barthe 
 left his seat, and approached him. 
 
 " You really believe, do you, that your daughter sees?" said the Pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 " She sees as well as I do. "^ Were you not there to witness it your- 
 self, when her bandage was removed ?" 
 
 *' I humored the jest to see how far the impudence of Mesmer and 
 the credulity of his admirers would travel together. I hear curious ac- 
 counts of your daughter's mistakes, granting her the use of her eye- 
 sight. It is said that some one presented her a flower, when looking at it, 
 she remarked, " what a pretty star !" And did she not put a hair-pin in 
 her mother's cheek, while trying to fasten her hair?" 
 
 " Yes, she did both these things, but I think they prove her to be 
 making awkward use of a new faculty. She is not likely to know the 
 name of a thing when she sees it for the first time ; neither has she 
 learned to appreciate distances. Objects quite close to her she some- 
 times stumbles upon, and those out of reach, she puts out her hand to 
 take. All this will correct itself, and when Therese has become as fa- 
 miliar with perspective illusions as the rest of us, she will go out into 
 the streets, and the world will be convinced." 
 
 " You really believe it then !" 
 
 " I am as convinced of it as that I see myself." 
 
 " It is very disinterested of you to publish it," said the Professor, 
 looking significantly at the happy father. " This acknowledgement will 
 cost you a considerable sum." 
 
 '• How f asked Von Paradies, frightened. " I do not understand." 
 
 " It is very simple nevertheless," said the Professor, carelessly. 
 " Does the Empress give your daughter a pension ?" 
 
 '* Certainly. You know she does, and a handsome one, too." 
 
 " Of course it is lost to her," replied Barthe, enjoying the sudden 
 paleness which ove^-spread the radiant face of Von Paradies. " A girl 
 who sees, has no right to the money which is given to the blind ; and I 
 'heard Von Stork, this very day, saying that as soon as it was proved 
 that your daughter could see, he intended to apply to the Empress for 
 her pension in behalf of another party." 
 
 " But this pension is our chief support; it enables us to live very 
 comfortably. If it were withdrawn, i should be a beggar." 
 
 " That would not alter the case. Pensions are granted to those who, 
 by their misfortunes, have a claim upon the public charity. The claim 
 dies from the moment that your daughter's infirmity is removed. Through 
 the favor of the Empress, she has become a scientific musician, and this 
 
EMi'ttROlt Uf AUSTKIA | S;^ 
 
 now must be her capital. She can teach music And give concert.' 
 
 " But that will not maintain us respectably," urged Von Paradiei 
 with increasing uneasiness, 
 
 " Of cosrse it will not maintain you as yoli live with your handsome 
 pension. But you need nofc starve. Be that as it may, there is a blind 
 Countess who is my patient, for whom Von Stork is to obtain the pen- 
 sion as soon as you can convince the faculty that your daughter is no 
 longer in need of it. Tliis patient, 1 assure you, will receive it as lonw 
 as she lives, for it will never enter into her head to fancy that she has 
 been cured by Master Mesmer." 
 
 "But, my dear Professor," entreated Von Paradies, '4iavc meicv on 
 me and my family. For sixteen years we have received this income 
 and it had been secured to us during Therese's lifetime." 
 
 "Nevertheless, it goes to the Countess, if she is not blind, I toll you. 
 The Empress, so says Von Stork, has never refused a request of his, 
 because he never asks anything but that which is.just and reasonable." 
 •' We are ruined !" exclaimed Von Paradies, in accents of despair. 
 " Not unless you prove to us that your daughter ts not deceiving you,^'' 
 replied Barthe, with sharp emphasis. "If you can show her to be blind, 
 you are saved ; and Von Stork would petition the Empress, in conside- 
 ration of the shameful imposition practiced upon your paternal love, to 
 increase the pension. Well — this evening's entertainment will dedde 
 the matter. Meanwhile, adieu."^ 
 
 The Professer lounged back to his seat, leaving his poisoned arrow 
 behind. 
 
 " I think," said Barthe, smiling as he saw the victim writhe, "that I 
 have given him a receipt for his daughter's eyes that will be more po- 
 tent than Mesmer's passes. It vyill never do to restore the age of mir- 
 acles." 
 
 " No, indeed, if miracles are to make their appearance upon the sta^e 
 of this world, what becomes of science ]" asked Ingenhaus. 
 
 " Let us await the end of the farce," said the Professor. " Here she 
 comes." 
 
 A murmur went through the hall as Therese entered. The wuests 
 rose from their seats to obtain a sight of her. They had known her 
 from infancy, but to-night she was an object of new and absorbing in- 
 terest, even to the elegant crowd, who seldom condescended to be aston- 
 ished at anything. 
 
 Therese seemed to feel her position, for whereas she had been accus- 
 tomed to trip into the concert-room with perfect self-possession, she now 
 came forward timidly, with downcast eyes. The audience had always 
 received her with enthusiasm, for she was a great artist; but now per- 
 foct silence greeted her entrance, for nothing was remembered, save the 
 marvel which her appearance there was to attest. 
 
 Whether accidentally or intentionally, several chairs were in her way 
 as she passed to the instrument. She avoided them with perfect confi- 
 dence, scarcely brushing them with the fplds of her white satin dress, 
 
\S4 JusKPu rail .-seouni^ 
 
 " She sees, she is cured ! She is no longer blind," murmured the 
 spectators, and with renewed curiosity, they watched her every motion. 
 
 There were three people within that concert-room upon whom these 
 murmurs produced profound and dissimilar impressions. 
 
 Barthe frowned angrily. Von Paradies grew paler and trembled like a 
 coward as he was, while Mesmer, who leaned against a pillar, fixed his 
 eyes upon Therese with a glance of supreme happiness, Therese re- 
 turned the glance with one of such deep trust and love, that no ,one who 
 saw it could doubt her power of vision. The audience burst out into 
 one simultaneous storm of applause, and this reminded the young; girl 
 that she was not alone with her " Master." She raised her eyes for the 
 first time, towards the spectators, and met every glance directed to- 
 wards herself. 
 
 The sight of this sea of upturne'd faces so terrified the poor child, 
 that she felt faint and dizzy. She grouped about with her hands to find 
 a seat, for she could scarcely stand. 
 
 The action attracted universal attention. A significant .look passed 
 between Von Paradies and Barthe, while Mesmer's brow darkened, and 
 his face flushed with disappointment. It was very unfortunate — that 
 faintness of Therese. 
 
 She stood irresolute and alone, unable to advance, and too weak to 
 see the chair that stood close at hand. 
 
 For sometime, the audience surveyed her with breathless interest. — 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by a voice in the crowd : 
 
 " Will no one take pity upon the girl and lead her to the harpsi- 
 chord"? Do you not see that she is as blind as ever !" 
 
 Therese recovered herself when she heard these insulting words, and 
 her eyes flashed strangely for eyes that could not see. 
 
 " I am not blind !" cried she, in a clear, firm voice, and as if the sneer 
 had restored her strength and self-possession, she came forward at once, 
 and took her seat. 
 
 The audience applauded a second time, and Therese bowed and smiled. 
 While she drew off her gloves, she looked back at Mesmer, who return- 
 ed the glance with one of affectionate pride. 
 
 Scarcely knowing what she did, Therese began to play. She kept her 
 eyes fixed upon Mesmer, and as she felt the power of his magnetic 
 glance, she soared into heights of harmony that ravished the ears of her 
 listeners, and left all her previous performances far behind. 
 
 She ended with a sigh, as though awaking from some heavenly dream. 
 Never had she been so enthusiastically applauded as now. This time 
 it was not her vision, but her incomparable skill which had elicited the 
 acclamations of the public, and Therese, happy in her success, bowed, 
 and smiled again upon her admirers. 
 
 And now the artistic exhibition was at an end. Herr Von Paradies 
 advancing, informed the public, that they would now proceed to test the 
 genuineness of his daughter's cure. He then came to the edge of the 
 platform, and spoke in a loud, distinct voice : " I request the distin- 
 
KMPKKUn yjf AUbTltlA 1J^5 
 
 guislied company, who have brought books or music for the purpose, to 
 hand them to me, that we may discover whether in truth she sees, or 
 imagines that she sees. I beg so much the more for your attention, 
 ladies and gentlemen," continued he, in a faltering voice, " that this 
 night is to decide a fearful doubt in my own mind. Doctor Mesmer af- 
 firms that my daughter's vision has been restored. I, alas ! believe that 
 she is yet blind!" 
 
 The audience expressed astonishment, Theresa uttered a cry of horror 
 and turned to Mesmer, who, pale and stunned by the shock of her fa- 
 ther's cruel words, had lost all power to come to the poor child's assis- 
 tance. 
 
 Barthe was laughing behind his pocket-handkerchief. " The remedy 
 works," whispered he to Ingenhaus, " the remedy works." 
 
 Two gentlemen arose. One handed a book, the other a sheet of mu- 
 sic. As Von Paradies turned the book over to his daughter, she gave 
 him a reproachful look. She opened it and read : " Emilia Galotti, by 
 Gotthold Ephraim Lessing." 
 
 " And, now," continued she, " if one of the ladies present will select 
 a passage, and another will look over me as I read, the audience can 
 thus convince themselves that I sec." 
 
 One of the most distinguished ladies in Vienna approached TheresB 
 and stood close by her side, while another, a celebrated actress, request- 
 ed her to open the book at page 71. 
 
 Therese turned over the leaves and found the place. 
 
 "That is right, my love," said the Countess. " Now read." 
 
 Therese began to read, and when she ended, the excitement of the 
 people knew no bounds. 
 
 " She sees ! She sees !" cried the people. " Who can doubt it ?" 
 
 And now from the crowd arose a voice. 
 
 " We have enough proof. The fact is self-evident, and we may all 
 congratulate the Frdulein upon the recovery of her sight. Let us have 
 more of her delightful music." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot agree with Doctor Mesraer's invisible pa- 
 tron," said Yon Paradies. " I strive to forget that 1 am her father, and 
 place myself on the side of the incredulous public, who have a right to 
 demand whether indeed the days of miracles have returned." 
 
 "My remedy does wonders," said Barthe to the faculty. 
 
 Herr Von Paradies continued : " This being the case, it is easier for 
 us to suppose that the distinguished actress, who selected the page, has 
 been requested to do so, than to brieve that my daughter has seen the 
 words just read ; for this lady is known to be a follower of Doctor Mes- 
 mer. Perhaps the Countess did not remark that the corner of the leaf 
 is slightly turned down." 
 
 He took the book and passed the leaves rapidly over his thumb. 
 
 " Here it is," said he, holding it up. 
 
 " Father !" exclaimed Therese, indignantly, " I saw you turn the leaf 
 ttfew minutes ago with your own hand." 
 
|St> JOSEPa J-flK SKCUJSD 
 
 *' Saw !" cried Von Paradies, raising his hands. Then turning to the 
 audience, he continued : " As regards I his book, it was handed to me 
 just now by Baron V^u Horlca. one of Mesmer's mobt devoted adhe- 
 /ents. He may have been commissioned to se.lect this particular work, 
 and Theresa may be aware of it. If 1 am thus stringent in my accept- 
 ance of the evidence in this case, it is because 1 long to possess the sweet 
 a-^sucance of my dear child's compleU) cute." 
 
 '• Hear him,'' laughed Barthe, touching Ingenhaus on the elbow. 
 
 Therese, meanwhile, was growing embarrassed, and looking to Mes- 
 mer for encouragement, she lost sight of everything under the influence 
 of his eyes. Her father held the paper before her but she was not 
 aware of it. The audience whispered, but Mesmer at that moment, 
 turning away from Therese, she sighed, and recovering her self-posses- 
 sion, took the paper and placed it before the harpsichord. 
 
 " March, from Oedipus," said she, seating herself before the instru- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why, Therese," cried her father, "you read the tltle*without turn- 
 ing to the title page." 
 
 " I saw the piece when it was handed to you by Ritter Gluck." 
 
 " You are acquainted with Gluck ?" asked Von Paradies. " He has 
 never been to our house," 
 
 " I have seen him at Doctor Mesmer's," repljed Therese. 
 
 " Ah, indeed! Ritter Gluck, who hands the music, is like^Baron Von 
 Horka, who brought the book, a friend of Mesmer's," said Von Para- 
 dies, with a sneer that affrighted his daughter and made her tremble. 
 
 But she placed her hands upon the keys and began to pl^y. 
 
 The enraptured audience again forgot her eyes, and entranced by the 
 music, hung breathless upon her notes, while she executed the magnifi- 
 cent funeral march in Oedipus. Suddenly, at the conclusion of a pas- 
 sage of exquisite beauty, she ceased, and her hands wandered feebly 
 over the keys. Her father, who was turning the leaves, looked almost 
 scornfully at the poor girl, who, alarmed and bewildered by his unac- 
 countable conduct, grew deadly pale, and finally, with a deep sigh, closed 
 her eyes. 
 
 After a few moments she began again. From her agile fingers drop- 
 ped showers of pearly notes, while through all the fanciful combinations 
 of sound, was heard t-he solemn and majestic chant of the funeral march. 
 The audience could scarcely contain their raptures, and yet they dared 
 not applaud for fear of losing a note. 
 
 She seemed to be astray in a wilderness of harmony, when her father, 
 with an impatient gesture, laid his hands upon her fingers and held them 
 down. 
 
 " You are no longer playing by note !" exclaimed he, with affected 
 surpri-;e. "You are giving us voluntaries from Orpheus, instead of the 
 funeral march. I appeal to the public to say whether my daughter is 
 phtving the funeral march." 
 
 There Tiras a pause, then a voice, tremulous with emotion, said : "No, 
 
EMPEKUH Uh AL'STKIA. 187 
 
 it is no longer the funeral march; it is now a beautiful arrangemenL 
 from Orpheus." 
 
 Ilerr Von Paradies, with an expression of profoundest anguish, threw 
 his arm around his daughter, exclaiming. "Oh, my beloved child, it is 
 then as I feared ! We have been deceived, and you are blind for life." 
 
 " Father !" screamed 'J'herese, Hinging him off; •' Father you know — " 
 
 *' I know that you are blind," cried he, following her, and again clamp- 
 ing her in his arms. " Come, my poor child, come, and fear nothing \ 
 Your father will work for you; and his hand shall guide your faltering 
 steps. Oh, my child ! May God forgive those who have brought this 
 bitter disappointment upon my head ! My dream of hof)e is over. — 
 You arc blind, Therese, hopelessly blind, and your father's heart i,s 
 broken !" 
 
 The audience were deeply moved by this outburst of paternal grief 
 and tenderness. Here and there were heard halfaudible murmurs of 
 sympathy, and many of the ladies had their handkerchiefs to their eyes. 
 Everybody was touched except Professor Barlhe. He, on the contrary, 
 was chuckling with satisfaction, and felt much more inclined to applaud 
 than to commiserate. He looked at Ingenhaus, who not being in the 
 secret, was divided between sympathy for the father and indignation to- 
 wards the charlatan. Indeed he had so far fprgotten his own interest in 
 the scene, that he was weeping with the rest. 
 
 "Console yourself, my triend," said Barthe, ''all this is the result of 
 my efforts in behalf of science, I deserve a public vote of thanks for 
 having out-mesmered Mesmer." 
 
 He stopped — for Therese's voice was heard in open strife with her 
 father. " Let me go !" cried she, with passion. " I am not blind. As 
 God hears me, I see — but oh, how fearful have b6en the revelations that 
 sight has made to me this night I" 
 
 Poor, poor Therese ! The shock of her father's treachery had proved 
 too great for her girlish frame. She reeled and fell back insensible in 
 his arms. 
 
 Von Paradies, with simulated anguish, turned to the audience and 
 bowed his stricken head. Then raising his daughter in his 'arms, he 
 carried her away from the stage. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 TiiERESE lay for several hours unconscious, while her mother wept, 
 and watched over her, and her father stood by, sullenly awaiting the re- 
 sult. 
 
At last she heaved a sigh and opened her eyes. "Where am 11" 
 asked she, feebly. 
 
 " At home, darling," replied the tender motTier, bending over and 
 kissing her. 
 
 " No — I am ip. the fearful concert-room. They stare at me vpith those 
 piercing daggers which' men call eyes, and oh, their glances hurt me, 
 mother ! There they sit, heartlessly applauding my misery, because it 
 has shaped itself into music ! Let me go ; I am strong, and 1 see !" 
 
 Shii attempted to rise but her father held her back. "Lie still, my 
 child," said he, reproachfully ; " it is vain for you to carry this decep- 
 tion further, Trust your parents, and confess that you are blind. Were 
 it otherwise, you would not mistake your own familiar chamber for the 
 vast concert-room. For Mesraer's sake, you have sought to deceive 
 us, but it is useless, for we know that you are blind." 
 
 " You are blind — you are blind !" These oft repeated words seem- 
 ed fraught with a power that almost made her doubt her own senses. — 
 She saw, and yet she felt as if sight were receding from her eyes. 
 
 " Oh my God ! Why will my father madden me !" cried the unhap- 
 py girl, rising in spite of all efforts to detain her, and looking around 
 the room. " Ah — now I remember, 1 fainted and was brought home. 
 Yes, father, yes, I tell you that I see," cried she wringing her hands, and 
 writhing with the agony he was inflicting upon her. " 1 see in the win- 
 dow the blue flower-pot which Mesmer brought me yesterday — there 
 opposite stands my harpsichord, and its black and white keys are beck- 
 oning me to come and caress them. Two open books lie upon the table, 
 and over it are scattered drawings and engravings. Oh, father, have 1 
 not described things as they are 1" 
 
 " Yes, child — you have long been familiar with this room, and need 
 not the help of eyes to describe it." 
 
 " And then," continued she, '1 see you both. I see my mother's dear 
 face, tender as it ^as when first my eyes opened to the light of its love ' 
 — And, my father, I see you with the same frown that terrified me in the 
 concert-room — the same scowl that to my frightened fancy, seemed that 
 of some mocking fiend who sought to drive me back to blindness! 
 What is it father"? What has changed you so that you love your 
 child no longer, and seek to take the new life that God has just be- 
 stowed V 
 
 " God has bestowed nothing upon you, and I will no longer be the 
 tool of an imposter," replied he morosely. "Am I to be the laughing 
 stock of Vienna, while men of distinction see through the tricks of the 
 charlatan? I must and will have the strength to confess my folly, and 
 to admit that you are blind." 
 
 Therese uttered a cry, and shook as though a chill had seized her. 
 " Oh God, help me !" murmured the poor girl, sinking in her mother's 
 outstretched arras, and weeping piteously.- Suddenly she raised her 
 head and gradually her face brightened, her cheeks flushed, her lips par- 
 ted with a smile, and her large expressive eyes beamed with happiness. 
 
EMPEROR OP aUSTKJA » 189 
 
 Once more she trembled — but with joy, and leaning her head upon her 
 mother's shoulder, she whispered, " He comes." 
 
 The door opened, and Mesmer's tall and comrftanding figure advanced 
 towards the group. Therese flew to meen him and grasped his hands in 
 hers. 
 
 " Come, Master, come and shield me ! God be thanked, you are here 
 to shelter mo. If you leave again 1 shall lose my sight." 
 
 He passed his hands lightly over her face, and looked earnestly into 
 her eyes. 
 
 " You are dissatisfied with me Master," said she anxiously. " You 
 are displeased at my childish behaviour. I know that I was silly ; but 
 when I saw these multitudinous heads so close together, all with eyes 
 that were fixed on me alone, I began again to feel afraid of my own race. 
 It seemed as if the walls were advancing to meet me — and I retreated 
 in terror." 
 
 " What confused you at the harpsichord, child ?" 
 
 "Th% sight of the small, dazzling notes, and the singular motions of 
 my own fingers. I am so unaccustomed to see, that hands and notes 
 appeared to be dancing a mad Morrisco, until at last I grew confused 
 and saw nothing." 
 
 " All this is so natural," said Mesmer sadly, " for the seat of your in- 
 firmity lay in the nerves. And now that they require rest, you are a 
 prey to agitation and to tears ! Unhappy Therese, there are some who 
 seek to plunge you back into the darkness from whence I have rescued 
 you !"■' 
 
 She put her arms upon his shoulders and sobbed, " save me, Master, 
 save me — I could not bear blindness now !" 
 
 At the other end of the room stood Von Paradies and his wife. She 
 laid her hand upon his arm, saying imploringly, 
 
 " What signifies all this mystery, husband ? "Why do you torture 
 our little Therese so cruelly 1 You know that she sees, why then da 
 ypu " 
 
 " Peace !" interrupted Von Paradies angrily. " If Therese does not 
 become blind again, we shall lose our pension." 
 
 " My poor child," sobbed the mother, " you are lost !" 
 
 " I have come to your help Therese," said Mesmer audibly. . "I know 
 all that is passing under this -roof," continued he, with a look of scorn at 
 her parents. " They are trying to deprive you of your sight, and they 
 Well know that excitement and w^eeping will destroy it. But my name 
 and honor are linked with your fortunes, child, and I shall struggle for 
 both. I have come to tatic you to the villa with my other patients. 
 You shall be under my wife's carp, and will remain with us until your eyes 
 are fortified against nervous impressions. The carriage is at the door." 
 
 " I ana ready to go," replied Therese, joyfully. 
 
 *' I will not suffer her to leave the house !" cried Von Paradies strid- 
 ing angrily forward. " Therese is my daughter, and shall not be torn 
 from her father's protection." 
 
190 JOSEI'b THK SfiCONU 
 
 "She goes with me," thundered Mesmer with eyes that flashed llght- 
 n'.rijr^ likii th()^e of Olyir.pian Zeus, " You gave her to me as a patient, 
 and until she is cured she belongs to her ^ hysician." 
 
 He took Thercse in his arms and carried her towards the door. But 
 Von Paradies, with a roar like that of some wild animal, placed himself 
 before it and defended the-passage. 
 
 " Let me pass," cried he. 
 
 *' Go — but first put down Therese." 
 
 '• No — You shall not deprive her of the sight I have bestowed." 
 
 "With these words, he raised his muscular right arm, and swinging off 
 Von Paradies as if he had been a child, Mesmer passed the opening and 
 stood outside. 
 
 " Farewell, and fear nothing," cried he, " for your pension will not 
 be withdrawn. Therese is once more blind. But as God is just, I will 
 restore her again to sight !" 
 
 Mesmer, however, was destined to be foiled. His enemies were richer 
 and more influential than he ; and Von Paradies, in mortal, terror for his 
 pension, sustained them. Van Stork obtained an order, commanding 
 the relinquishment of Therese to her natural guardians, and her father 
 armed with the dottument, went and demanded his daughter. Therese 
 flew to Mesmer's arms, and a fearful scene ensued. It shall be described 
 in Mesmer's own words. 
 
 " The father of Therese, resolved to carry her away by main force, 
 rushed upon me with an unsheathed sword. I succeeded in disarming 
 him, but the mother and daughter both fell insensible at my feet: the 
 former from terror, the latter because her unnatural father had hurled 
 her against the wall, where she had struck her head with such violence 
 as to lose all consciousness. Madam Von Paradies recovered and went 
 home, but poor Therese was in a state of such nervous agony that she 
 lofit her sight entirely, f trembled for her life and reason. Having no 
 desire to revenge myself upon her parents, I did all that I could to save 
 her life. 
 
 " Herr Von Paradies, sustained by those who had instigated him, fill- 
 ed Vienna with the cry of persecution. 1 became an object of universal 
 contumely, and a second order was obtained by which 1 was comman- 
 ded to deliver Therese to her father."* y 
 
 From this time Therese remaiped blind, and continued to give Con- 
 certs in Vienna, as she had done before. Barthe and his accomplices 
 were triumphant, and Mesmer, disgusted with his countrymen, left 
 Vienna, and made his home in Paris. 
 
 Therese Von Paradies then, as her father asserted, was blind. Whe- 
 ther she ever was anything else remains to this day an open question. 
 The faculty denied furiously that she had seen : Mesmer's friends on the 
 contrary declared solemnly that she had been restored by animal mag- 
 netism, but that her cruel father, for the sake of the. pension, had perse- 
 cuted her and so succeeded in destro ying her eye-sight forever. 
 
 • Jnftlnui Kernor. Franz Anthony Mwmer. P. TO. 
 
MARIE ANTOINETTE. 191 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIL 
 
 LH ROI EST MOKT, VIVE LE ROJ ! 
 
 It was the evening of the tenth of May, 1774. The Palace of Ver- 
 sailles, the eeat of royal splendor, was gloomy, silent and empty. Regal- 
 ity, erst so pleasure-loving and voluptuous, now lay with crown all dim, 
 and purple all stained, awaiting the last sigh of an old expiring King, 
 who$e demise was to restore to it an inheritance of youth, beauty and 
 strength. 
 
 In one wing of the Palace, royalty hovered over a youthful pair, as 
 the genius of hope ; in another, it frowned upon the weak old King as 
 the implacable angel of death. 
 
 Louis the Fifteenth was balancing the great account of his life: a life 
 of luxury, voluptuousness, and supreme selfishness. Yii^lding to the 
 entreaties of his daughters, he had sent for the Archbishop of Paris; but 
 knowing |5erfectly well that the sacraments of the Church would not be 
 administered under a roof which was polluted by the presence of Du- 
 barry, the old libertine had banished her to the chateau de Ruelles. 
 
 But Monseigneur de Beaumont required something more than this of 
 the royal sinner. He exacted that he should make public confession of 
 his scandalous life in presence of the Court *to which he had given such 
 shameful example. The King had struggled against such open humilia- 
 tion, but the Archbishop was tirm, and the fear of death predominating 
 ' over pride, Louis had consented to make the sacrifice. 
 
 For three days the Courtiers had hung about the ante-room, afraid to 
 enter, (for the King's disease was small-pox;) yet afraid to take flight 
 lest by some chance he should recover. But now the doors of the royal 
 apartments were flung wide open, and there was great, trepidation among 
 the crowd.* The Archbishop in his canonicals was seen standing by the 
 bed of state; on one side of him stood the Grand Almoner, and on the 
 other the Minister, the Due d'Arguillon. At the foot of the bed' knelt 
 the daughters of the King, who in soft whispers were trying to comfort 
 their miserable father. 
 
 "The King wishes to bid adieu to his friends!" cried the Due d'Ar- 
 guillon in a loud voice. 
 
192 , JUSJIPH tm SECOND 
 
 Here was a dilemma! Everybody was afraid of the small- pox, for 
 the handsome Marquis de Letorieres, whom Louis had insisted upou 
 seeing, had just died of the infection, and nobody desired to follow him. 
 And yet the King might outlive this attack, and then — r-what? 
 
 Once more the Due d'Arguillon called out for the King's friends ; and, 
 trembling froni apprehension of results that might follow this latter con- 
 tingency, they entered the chamber of death. The atmosphere was 
 fearful. Not all the fumes of the incense, which was sending its vapory 
 wreaths to the pictured ceilings, could overpower the odour of approach- 
 ing dissolution. In vain the acolytes swung their gold6a censers — Death 
 was there, and the scent of the grave. 
 
 Breathless, and with compressed lips, the King's friends listened to 
 his indistinct rautterings, and looked upon his swollen, livid, blackened 
 face. Each one had hurried by, and now they all were free again, and 
 were preparing to fly as far as possible from the infected spot. But the 
 clear, solemn voice of the Archbishop — that voice which so often had 
 stricken terror to their worldly hearts, was heard again, and he bade 
 them stay. 
 
 "The King asks pardon of his subjects for the wicked and scandalous 
 life which he has led on earth," said the Archbishop. " Although as a 
 man, he is responsible to God alone for his deeds, as a sovereign he ac- 
 knowledges to his subjects that he heartily repents of his wickedness, 
 and desires to live only that he may do penance for the past, and make 
 amends for the future." 
 
 A piteous groan escaped from the lips of the dying monarch, but his 
 " friends " did not stay to hear it ; they fled precipitately from the 
 frightful scene. 
 
 While here, a trembling soul was being driven from its earthly dwel- 
 ling, in another wing of the palace, the other members of the royal fami- 
 ly were in the chapel at prayer. The evening services were over, and 
 the chaplain was reading the " Eorty hours' prayer," when the sky be- 
 came suddenly obscured ; peal upon peal of thunder resounded along 
 the heavens, and night enveloped the chapel in its dismal pall of black. 
 Livid flashes of lightning lit up the pale faces of the royal supplicants, 
 while to every faltering prayer that fell from their lips, the answer came 
 from above in the roar of the angry thunder clap. 
 
 There before the altar knelt the doomed pair, the innocent heirs of a 
 selfish and luxurious race of Kings, whose sins were to be visited upon 
 their unconscious heads. No wonder they wept — no wonder they shud- 
 dered on this dark and stormy night which heralded their reign. 
 
 The rites were ended, and the Dauphin and Dauphiness went silently 
 together to their apartments. The few trusty attendants who were gath- 
 ered in the ante-room, greeted them with faint smiles, and uttered silent 
 orisons in their behalf; for who could help compassionating these two 
 young creatures, upon whose inexperienced heads the thorny crown of 
 royalty was so soon to be placed ? 
 
 As they entered the door, a flash of lightning that seemed like the fire 
 
MARIE A>'TOINETTE. J 93 
 
 which smote the guilty cities of Israel, flashed athwart their paths, and 
 the thunder cracked and rattled above the roof, as though it had l)een 
 riving that palace-dome asunder. The Dauphiness cried out, and clung 
 to her husband's arm. lie, scarcely less appalled, stood motionless on 
 the threshold. 
 
 The violence of the wind at that moment had burst open some outer 
 door. The lights in the chandeliers were almost extinguished, and one 
 solitary wax-light, that had been burning in the recf'ss of a window, went 
 entirely out. Regardless of etiquette, and of the presence of the royal 
 pair, Monsieur de Campan sprang to the chandelier, and re-lighting the 
 candle, quickly replaced it in the window. 
 
 The Dauphin beheld the act with astonishment, for no one at that 
 court was more observant of decorum than Monsieur de Campan. 
 
 " What means that light in the window ?" inquired the Dauphin, in 
 his clear, touching voice. 
 
 *' Pardon me, your Highness, it is merely a ceremony," replied Moa- 
 Bieur de Campan, confused. 
 
 *' What ceremony?" asked the Dauphin, with surprise. 
 
 "Your Highness commands me?" 
 
 " I request you — if the Dauphiness permits," said Louis, turning to 
 his wife, who almost exhausted, leant for support against him, and bow- 
 ed her head. 
 
 " Your Majesty has given orders that as soon as the event, which is 
 about to take place, has occurred, the whole court shall leave Versailles 
 for Choisy. Now it would not be possible to issue verbal orders in 
 such a moment as the one which we await ; so that the Master of the 
 Horse and myself had agreed upon a signal by which the matter could 
 be arranged without speech. The Guardes dit corps, pages, equerries, 
 coaches, coachmen and out-riders, are all assembled in the court-yard, 
 their eyes fixed upon this light. As soon as it is extinguished, it will be 
 understood that the moment has arrived when the court is to leave 
 Versailles. 
 
 *'The disappearance of the light then, will communicate the tidings 
 of the King's death ?" 
 
 Monsieur de Campan bowed. Louis drew his wife hurriedly forward, 
 and passed into another room, where, with his hands folded behind him, 
 he walked to and fro. 
 
 " God is just,'' murmured he to himself, " and there is retribution in 
 Heaven." 
 
 Marie Antoinette, whose large violet eyes had followed her husband's 
 motions, raised them to his face with a look of inquiry. She rose from 
 the divan on which she was sitting, and putting her small, white hand 
 upon the Dauphin's shoulder, said, 
 
 " What do you mean, Louis ?" 
 
 " I mean that this solitary light, for whose disappearance these people 
 are waiting, shines in retribution for the fearful death-bed of my fiither." 
 
 " I do not understand." •.' 
 
 13 
 
i 94 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 *' No, Antoinette, how should you ? You have never heard the tragic 
 story of. my father's death, have you?" 
 
 " No, my husband," said she, tenderly, " tell it to me now." 
 
 " I will, Antoinette. He was one of the best and truest. hearts that 
 ever lived, and yet these selfish courtiers all forsook him in his dying 
 hour. He lay alone and abandoned in his room by all save my angelio. 
 jnother, who nursed him as loving woman alone can nurse. The court 
 was at Fontainebleau, and the Dauphin's father announced that as soon 
 as his son had expired, they would all journey to Choisey. My father, 
 who in an arm-chair, was inhaling, for the last time, the balmy breath of 
 Spring, saw these hurried preparations for departure from the open win- 
 dow where he sat. He saw carriages, horses, trunks, lackeys and 
 equerries ready at a moment's warning to move. He saw that the sig- 
 nal for the rushing crowd to depart, was to be his death. Tumi ng to 
 his physician, he said, with a sad smile, " I must not be too long in dy- 
 ing, for these people are becoming impatient."* 
 
 " Shameful !" cried Marie Antoinette, wiping away her tears. 
 
 " Aye, more than shameful !" exclaimed Louis. " Now, you see, 
 that the hour of retribution has come, for once more the court grows 
 impatient with the 'length of a dying sovereign's agony. Oh, would 
 tKat my noble father were alive ! How much more worthy was he to 
 be a King than I." 
 
 "From my heart I echo your wish," said Antoinette, fervently, 
 *' How was it that he died so young?'* 
 
 Louis looked searchingly at tbe face of his young wife. " He died oC 
 a malady whose name is an impeachment of the honor of those who 
 survive him," said the Dauphin, sternly, '• and my mother died of the 
 fiame disease.f But let us not throw any darker shadows over the 
 gloom of this heavy hour. I am stifled — I have a presentment of " 
 
 A loud shout interrupted the Dauphin. It came nearer and nearer, and 
 now it reached the ante-room where the crowding courtiers were pour- 
 ing in to greet King Louis XVL 
 
 The Dauphin and his wife were at no loss to understand these shouts. 
 They exchanged glances of fear, and side by side, they fell upon their 
 knees, while, with tear-streaming eyes, they faltered : " Oh, God have 
 mercy upon us, we are so young to reign !"J 
 
 The doors were thrown open, and the Mistress of Ceremonies of Marie 
 Antoinetta appeared. Behind her came a multitude of lords and ladies, 
 their curious eyes peering at what they had never expected to see — a 
 royal couple assuming the purple, not with pomp and pride, biit with 
 humility, distrust and prayer. 
 
 They, rose and faced their subjects. Madame de Noailles curtsied so 
 low that she was upon her knees. 
 
 • SoulaTie : Memoires, etc., V9I. 1. 
 
 t It was generally believed that the Dnuphin and his wife were poisoned by a political party, 
 wlioseleadcrwastheDucdeChoisenl. The royal couple belonged to the anti- Austrian party.— 
 MnruQir<?e de Oampao. Vol. 1, pacre 78. 
 
 * NffliTi^'ri'ii lo "nmrai) Vol. I. rntr* 7<? 
 
MARIE AKTOINEITE. 195 
 
 "Your Majesties will forgive this intrpsion," said she, vith all the 
 aplomb of her dignity. " I come to request that your Majesties will re- 
 pair to the State reception room to receive the congratulations of, your 
 royal relatives ^nd those of your court, who are all awaiting anxiously 
 to do you homage." 
 
 Such a request from the lips of Madame de Noailles. was the exac- 
 tion of an indispensable form of court etiquette, which the young couple 
 dared not evade. 
 
 Arm in arm they went, Marie Antoinette hiding her tears with her 
 handkerchief, and looking inexpressibly lovely in her childish emotions, 
 while the loud greetings of a magnificent court hailed her as their 
 Queen. 
 
 While the consorts of the royal Princes folded their sister-in-law in 
 their arms, the Princes, with courtly decorum, bowed ceremoniously be- 
 fore the King. 
 
 " Permit us, sire," began the Count of Provence, "to be the first to 
 lay our homage at your Majesty's feet, and to " 
 
 '* My brothers, my brothers !" cried Louis, deeply affected, "is my 
 crown to rob me of the dear ties of kindred ? Oh, do not call me King, 
 for I cannot afford to lose the dear companions of my childhood." 
 
 " Sire," replied the Count of Provence, " you shall not lose them ; 
 and for us, our gain is two-fold. We receive from God a gracious 
 King, and retain our much-loved brother." And the Coifnt embraced 
 the King, who had opened his arms to receive him. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, the Chateau of Versailles was deserted. • 
 The courtiers, pages, equerries and lackeys, had all departed, delighted 
 to leave that infected atmosphere, within whose poisonous influence the 
 iron rules of etiquette had detained them while Louis XV. lived. None 
 of them felt inclined to do homage to departed royalty. Even the 
 Dukede Villequier, first gentleman of the bed-chamber, in his terror, 
 forgot etiquette, and instead of watching the King's corpse, he too, made 
 ready to go with the rest. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the Duke to Andouille, the King's physician, " I 
 leave you that you may be able to open and embalm the body." 
 
 Andouille grew pale, for he knew perfectly well that the performance 
 of such a ceremony as that, was his death-warrant. However, after a 
 pause, he replied, " I am ready, your Grace, but you must remain to 
 hold the King's head. It is, as you know, a part of your duty as gen- 
 tleman of the bed-chamber."* 
 
 The Duo de Villequier said nothing. He merely bowed and hurried 
 from the room. Andouille followed his example, but more considerate 
 than the other attendants of the King, he made some provision for the 
 deserted corpse. He sent for one of the subordinates of the palace, 
 and ordered him" to watch by the body. Then, going to his carriage, he 
 saw several hod-men lounging about, who were carrying mortar for 
 some repairs that were being made on the palace. The physician called 
 
 ♦■ OBnj'pRti Vol- 1. p«»« 79 
 
196 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 thera, and bade them go tell the lord-steward that the King's coffin must 
 be saturated with spirits of wine, and his winding-sheet also. 
 
 Such were the preparations that were made for the obsequies of the 
 defmicu King ; and his body was watched by a few servants and these 
 hod-meu whom Andouille had employed as messengers. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIIL 
 
 THE MKIiOK.iNDA. 
 
 It was early in the morning. The court had accompanied the King 
 and Queen to Choisy, and thither had flocked the' representatives of ev- 
 ery class in Paris, to do homage to the King and wish him a prosperous 
 reign. 
 
 The people seemed wild with joy, and nobddy vouchsafed a thought 
 to the memory of the "jBien-amt'," whose body was even now being 
 taken to its last rest, in the vaults of St. Denis. The funeral train was 
 anything but imposing. The coffin, placed upon a large hunting wagon, 
 was followed by two carriages, containing the Due d'Ayen, the Due 
 d'Auraont, and two Priests. Twenty pages and as many grooms closed 
 the procession, which went along without attracting the notice of any- 
 body. The burial service was read in the crypt and the coffin hastily 
 lowered in the vault, which was not only walled up, but cemented also, 
 for fear the infection imprisoned within, might escape from the dungeon 
 of the dead, and infest the abodes of the Jiving. 
 
 N()t one of the royal family had followed the body. The King waa 
 at Choisy, and all hearts were turned to him. Thousands of men went 
 in and out of the palace, each one with his burthen of fears, hopes, un- 
 easiness or expectations. Who now was to find favor at court? Would 
 it be the Queen or the aunts of the King 1 What fate^ aVraited Dubarry 1 
 Who would be Prime Minister? v 
 
 While these matters were being discussed without, the King, who had 
 not yet made his appearance, was in his cabinet. His disordered mien, 
 tangled hair, and red eyes, as well as the lights that still flickered in the 
 chandeliers, showed plainly that he had not been to bed that night. 
 
 He could not sleep. The future lowered dark and threatening before 
 Mm, and day had not brought comfort to his affxious mind. Great 
 drops of sweat stood upon his brow, and his face, never at the best of 
 times handsome, to-day was less attractive than ever. 
 
 " 1 am so young," thought he, despondently." " I know of no man 
 at this court, in whose honesty I can confide. Every man of them has 
 
MAlUp A^NTOl^'ETTE 197 
 
 curried favor with that shameless woman, whose presence has defiled 
 the throne of my ancestors, Jind disgraced the declining years of my 
 grand-f;ither. To whom shall 1 turn ? Who will aivc counsel to a poor 
 Juexperienced youth '?" 
 
 A slight knock was heard at the door. The King rose and opened it. 
 " Monsieur de Nicolai,'' said Louis, surprised, as the old man stood 
 before him with head inclined. " What brings you to roe ?" 
 " The will of your deceased father, sire." 
 
 The King stepped back and motioned him to enter. "Now speak,'* 
 said he. '• I know that you were with my father on his death-bed ; and 
 I have often sought to win your friendship, but until now have sought 
 in vain." 
 
 "Sire, I was afraid that if I betrayed an interest in your Majesty, I 
 might not be allowed to live long enoijgh to fulfil the trust confided to 
 me by your father. I had sworn, that on the day you ascended the 
 throne of France, 1 would deliver his will to your Majesty." 
 " And you have preserved it? You have brought it to me?" 
 "Sire, here it is," said the old nobleman, taking from his breast a 
 sealed package, and laying it in the King's hands. 
 
 Louis gras))ed it eagerly, and deeply moved, read the address. "Pa- 
 pers to 1)0 delivered to which ever one of my sons ascends the throne of 
 France." 
 
 "Your Majesty sees that I have kept my trust," said de Nicolai. 
 " Oh, why is not my Hither here to reign in my stead !" exclaimed 
 Louis. 
 
 "He died, sire, that he might be spared the sight of the disgrace 
 which has overtaken France. He died 4.hat the world might bear wit- 
 ness to the basenesss of those who, since his death, have swayed the 
 destinies of France. He did not die in vain. Your Majesty's self will 
 profit by his martyrdom." 
 
 " Yes, I have heard of it all. I know the invisible hand that dealt 
 the death-blow to my father, my motlier, and my grand-mother. I know 
 
 it and " 
 
 "Sire, yoar Majesty's father forgave his enemies, and through me he 
 prays your Majesty to do likewise." 
 
 " I will obejUl^id Louis, inclining his head, " and leave the guiltj 
 to the vensea^EB Heaven." 
 
 bej^llai 
 
 wWgt] 
 entWPy 
 
 " And now^^^p that my mission is accomplished, allow me to retire, 
 and let me entwilyou to lay your father's words to heart." 
 " I will do so, I promise you. Can I do aught to serve you ?" 
 " No, your Majesty, I have nothing to ask of man." 
 The King gave him his hand, and followed him with wistful eyes un- 
 til the door had closed behind him. 
 
 " Oh, how beggard seems a King, when he has nothing wherewith to 
 recognize the loyalty and love of his friends," thought Louis, with a 
 weary sigh. 
 
 He took up the packet and read : " Treaty concluded between Louis 
 
! 98 JOSEPH THE SKCUNJ). 
 
 XV. find Maria Theresa, on the 1st of May, 1756. Arguments to prove 
 that sooner or later, the Austrian alliance will be an injury to France." 
 
 The King turned over the pages and read the following : 
 
 " Whichever one of my sons is called to the throne of Louis XV. 
 let him. hearken to the warning of his father. Beware, my son, of en- 
 tanglements with Austria. Never seek the hand of an Austrian prin- 
 cess, for marriages with Austria have brought no blessing to France." 
 
 The King sighed heavily, and his head sank upon his breast. " Too 
 late — too late, my father ! My fate is decided !"" And Louis took up 
 the second memorandum. 
 
 " List of persons whom I recommend to my son, the King of France.". 
 
 •' Ah! — this is the guide I was seeking. Let me see. First, — ' Mon- 
 sieur de Maurepas — a statesman who has steadily opposed the policy 
 advocated by La Pompadour.' That is well — I shall recall him from 
 banishment. 'Messieurs de Machault, de Nivernois, de Muy Perigord, 
 de Broglje, d'Estaing,' and others — all men of honor. How far-sighted 
 was my father, in recommending these men ! They are the very nobles 
 ^vho have kept aloof from the late King's mistresses. With one excep- 
 tion. I adopt the list ; but there is one among them, who stooped to be 
 a flatterer of Dubarry. The Due d'Aiguillon is certainly a statesman, 
 bat he cannot be of my ministry." 
 
 Here the King paused, perplexed to know who should be appointed 
 in d'Aiguillon's place. Suddenly his face brightened, and he rose from 
 his chair. 
 
 •' Marie Antoinette," thought he. I will advise with her. Though 
 we may not love one another, we are friendly, and she has a right to my 
 confidence. Besides, she is intelligent and principled." 
 
 Here the King took up his memoranda, and prepared to seek his wife. 
 He had gotten as far as the door, when his expression changed again, 
 and his face once more wore a look of blank despondency. With a 
 grieved and perplexed mind, he returned to the table. 
 
 " No, no," sighed he, falling back into his chair, " that will never do. 
 She is an Austrian, and her policy would be in direct opposition to that 
 of my father." 
 
 For sometime the poor young King sat in profou nd^di scouragement. 
 Finally, with a long, weary sigh, he raised his head,^jfcbegan to reflect 
 again. At last he solved the difficult problem. ^^^^ 
 
 " Ah ! — I have it now," thought he, heartily relie^^^ " I will go to 
 Madame Adelaide. She was my mother's dearesf^iend, and my fa- 
 ther's favorite sister. She shall be my counsellor. I believe, that with 
 her assistance, I may succeed in carrying out the policy dictated by my 
 father." 
 
 He gathered up his papers, and went into the ante-room, where he 
 ordered a page to go to Madame Adelaide, and say " that the King would 
 ■visit her if she could conveniently receive him."* 
 
 * Madam Adelaide, an anti- Austrian, and, therefor*, one of the Queen's enemies, was, tbrongh- 
 ()ijt his whole re\ffn, tho connsellor of her nftphev. 
 
MA Kit: ANTOINLITK. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 FRANCE XND ArSTRIA. 
 
 "While the King was dosctted with Madame Adelaide, the Queen, on 
 her^side, was receiving her royal household. This ceremony over, ^ho 
 had gladly retired to the privacy of her own room, there to restore or- 
 der to her confused mind. But her rest was not of long duratiou, for 
 presently came Monsieur de Campan to announce the visit of the Aus- 
 trian Ambassador. 
 
 The Queen received him fnost cordially ; rising from her seat and ad- 
 vancing a few steps to meet him. Madame de Noailles, who conform 
 ing to etiquette, had entered with Monsieur de Campan, and was to re- 
 main in the room during the interview, was shocked at the Queen, and 
 frowned visibly. 
 
 ]\Iarie Antoinette paid no attention to her. She reached her hand to 
 Count Von Mercy and allowed him to press it to his lips. Again Ma- 
 dame de Noailles was horror-stricken. The kissing of the Queen's hand 
 was a state ceremonial, and was inadmissible in private. 
 
 The Queen had forgotten the existence of her Mistress of Ceremonies, 
 "With sparkling eyes and beaming smiles, she greeted the old Count, 
 who, to her, was the representative of all that she loved — her mother, 
 her sisters, and her native country. 
 
 "Have you news for me from Vienna, Count?" said she, in a voice 
 whose tones were strikingly like those of her mother. 
 
 " I bring to your Majesty letters of condolence and of congratulation 
 from the Empress and the Emperor." 
 
 " Why you must be a conjurer, Count. Our reign is not twenty -four 
 hours old yet, and you bring us congratulations from Vienna!" 
 
 " I will explain, your Majesty," said the old Count, with a smile. 
 "You remember that more than a week ago, the King lay in a stupor, 
 which, for some hours, was supposed to be death. Duriug this stupor 
 my courier started for Vienna, and the messenger sent after him, to stop 
 the despatchdb, arrived too late. The answers had becH sent, and these 
 are the congratulatory letters. 
 
 The Count handed his papers, and as the Queen cast down her beauti- 
 ful eyes to read the address, she exclaimed, joyfully, " My mother's 
 handwriting and my brother's !" 
 
 She broke the seal of the Empress's letter, and her countenance fell. 
 
 " Nothing but official papers," said she, sighing, and putting them on 
 the table. " I know the contents of Joseph's letter, without reading it. 
 Have you no news for me from Vienna? Think of something to tell 
 me from home, dear Count." 
 
2U0 JOSEPH THE SECOI^iD. 
 
 Count Von Mercy cast a stolen glance at the Mistress of Ceremonies, 
 ■who, stiff and watchful, stood close by the side of the Queen's chair. — 
 Marie Antoinette understood the look. 
 
 " Madame de Noailles," said she, turning with a snnile to address her, 
 "you will not, I hope, tnink rae rude, if I request you to allow me a 
 few moments interview with Count Von Mercy. He has something to 
 say to me that is of a strictly confidential nature," 
 The Mistress of Ceremonies did nnt appear to have heard a word of this 
 address. Marie Antoinette reddened and threw back her head. " I re- 
 quest Madame de Noailles," repeated she, changing her tone, " to retire 
 into the reception-room. I wish to speak with Count Von Mercy alone." 
 
 "I mjust be permitted to say that your Majesty's request cannot be 
 granted," replied Madame de Noailles. " No Queen of France is per- 
 mitted to receive a foreign ambassador otherwise than in the presence 
 of the court. I shall have to ask his Majesty's pardon for a breach of 
 decorum which I was too late to prevent— the reception of the arnbas- 
 sador here with myself alone to witness the interview." 
 
 The Queen's eyes flashed with anger as she listened to this presump- 
 tuous language. 
 
 "You will have to ask pardon of no one but myself, Madame, for 
 y6ur unseemly language to your sovereign." 
 
 " Excuse mc, your Majesty, I perform my duty, and this requires of 
 me to see that no one here commits any breach of court etiquette. The 
 laws of etiquette are as binding upon the Queen as upon her subjects, 
 and she cannot infringe, them." 
 
 " I announce to you, Madame, that no laws of yours shall be binding 
 upon me. The Queen of France is here to make laws, not to receive 
 them ; and, for the last time, I command you to quit this; room, and to 
 leave me alone with the representative of my imperial mother." 
 
 Madame de Noailles made a deep curtsy and backed out of the 
 room. Marie Antoinette looked after her until the last traces of her 
 long train had vanished, and the silk portiere had fallen in its place. 
 
 '"Ah !" said she, taking a long breath, "at last I have gained a vic- 
 tory. It is now my turn to lecture, and Madame has received her first 
 scolding. Well, Count, now that she is fairly off, what have you to tell 
 me from Vienna ?" 
 
 Count Von Mercy looked towards the door, and having convinced 
 himself that it was well closed, he drew from his pocket a package and 
 presented it to the Queen. 
 
 Marie Antoinette hastily tore open the seals, and began to read. 
 " Oh," said she, with a disappointed look, " this is no private letter. It 
 is nothing but a letter of instructions, directing me how to win the 
 King's confidence, so as to influence his policy and secure a new ally to 
 Austria. The Empress need not remind me that I must look to the in- 
 terests of the House of Hapsburg. The Queen of France will never 
 forget that she is the daughter of Maria Theresa, and she will do all in 
 her power to promote an alliance betweeij France and Austria. Tell 
 
ilAJlIK AXTrHNKTTE. 201 
 
 my mother that 1 will never cease to be her subject, and that her inter- 
 ests shall always be mine. And now f'^r the other niission." 
 
 "Good heavens !" cried she. after opening the letter, " more politic?." 
 She looked down the page and read : "Pcrsonafjes whom 1 rccoinniend 
 as suitable for the comii-ellors and household of the King." This was 
 quite a long list in the Empress's handwriting, and at its head stood the 
 name of the Due de Choiseul. "The Queen of France must use every 
 cflbrt to secure his appointnaent as minister, for he is sincerely attached 
 to us." 
 
 Many other distinguished names were there; but not one of those 
 which had been mentioned by the King's father. 
 
 "I will preserve this papev with care," said Marie Antoinette, bury- 
 ing her letters deep in her pocket. " No doubt you know their contents, 
 Count. A postscript says, ' Consult frequently with Mercy ;' so let us 
 begin at once." ' 
 
 '• Will your Maje'Sty not read the letter of the Emperor V 
 
 " Why should 1 read it now ? It grieves me to see these political 
 documents from the hands of dear relatives who ought to write to me 
 of home and love. I will put it with the official letter of the Empress 
 lor the King to read." 
 
 " Pardon me your Majesty, but I do not think it official." 
 
 "Read it for me then,'' said the Queen, throwing herself back in the 
 deep recesses of her arm chair. "I have confidence enough in you to be 
 willing that you shall see my brother's letter should it even be a private 
 one." 
 
 Count Von Mercy bowed and unfolded the letter, which was as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "Madam. I congratulate you upon your husband's accession to the 
 throne of France. He will repair the faults of his predeccssoi*^ reign, 
 and win the love of his people. The French nation has groaned under 
 the inflictions of a king, who not only proscribed parliament but entrus- 
 ted every office of state to his favorites. He banished deCholseul, Ma- 
 lesherbes and Chalotais ; and in their stead elevated the Maupeous, the 
 d'Arguillons, and that hateful Abbot Terra}', who for rapacity were none 
 of them better than Dubarry ; and thus he ended by losing the love of 
 his subjects. I have often pitied Louis XV. for degrading himself as he 
 did before the eyes of his family, his subjects, and the world. 
 
 "Unite your efforts to those of your husband that you may win the 
 love of the French nation. Leave no stone unturned to secure their af- 
 fections, for by so doing you will prove a blessing to your people. 
 
 "Strengthen our alliance with France, and apply yourself to the mis- 
 sion for which you vrere educated — that of peace-maker between two of 
 the most important powers of Europe. 
 
 "I kiss your hands, and remain, with the highest esteem and conside- 
 ration, your Majesty's friend and brother, Joseph."* 
 
 " You are right, C ount," said the Queen, as the ambassador concluded 
 * Lctteni of Joseph 2<J, as clmrRcterieiic contributions, 4c. P. 30. 
 
202 JOSEPli THE SEiJUND. 
 
 his reading. " This is no official document, but a most significant letter 
 of instructions. I am expected to preserve peace betv/een France and 
 Austria. Ah! I fear that i am not calculated to walk the slippery arena 
 of politics, and I confess to you that I feel in nowise drawn towards it. 
 it does seem to me that a Queen of nineteen may be pardoned if she 
 feels some desire to enjoy life. I intend to begin by breaking the fetters 
 which have hitherto made such wretchec^ puppets of the Queens of 
 France; and before long you will see the workings of my Court Revo- 
 lution. But there is one thing near to my heart which you must assist 
 me to compass. The Due deChoiseul must be Minister of Foreign Af- 
 fairs. I know that he desires it, and I am under obligations to him 
 which deserve some return. 1 owe it to him that I am Queen of France. 
 NovF if I succeed in elevating Choiseul to the ministry," continued the 
 Queen with an appealing smile, " 1 hope that Austria will be sati.sfied, 
 and Nvill allow me to letire from the field. I'he Due deChoiseul will be 
 a much abier auxiliarv t,ii:ui I, near the King ; we must therefore have 
 him recailed." 
 
 " Phe Duke arrived in Paris from Chanteloiip this morning, but does 
 net (.hiak it advisable to present him-^elf until he receives a message 
 f,.,m ihe Kitig." 
 
 • I will see that the messnge is sent." said Marie Antoinette, confi- 
 deniiy. " The King will uot refuse me, I know. You shrug your shoul- 
 ders, Count. Do you tliink it doubtful." 
 
 " Your Majesty condescends to speak confidentially with me," suid 
 the Count, seriously. " I am an old servant of your house and my hair 
 has grown gray in its service, In consideration then of th-^ deep affec- 
 tion which 1 have ever felt for your Majesty, will you allow me to speak 
 with you frankly ?" 
 
 " 1 implore you, Count, to do so." 
 
 "Then your Majesty, let me warn you to be careful. Things do not 
 work at this French Court as they ought to do. Your Majesty has bit- 
 ter enemies, who await an opportunity to declare themselves openly. 
 The Count of Provence and the aunts of the King are at their head, and 
 believe me, they are watchful spies." 
 
 " Oh my God," cried the poor young Queen, " what have I done to 
 earn their enmity ?" 
 
 "You are an Austrian Princess, and that suffices for them. Your 
 marriage was a victory over the anti-Austrian party for which the Due 
 deChoiseul will never be forgive^i ; and Pcj for yourself, if you give them 
 the opportunity, they will not scrup;*^' to take revenge upon your own 
 royal person. ' The Count of Provence has a sharp tongue, and his aunts 
 and himself will spare no means to wound or to injure you. Therefore 
 pardon me if again I bid you beware of your enemies. There is Madame 
 deNoailles for instance, she belongs to the most powerful families in 
 France, and the French nation regard her as the palladium of the Queen's 
 honor. Your Majesty cannot afford to offend her. It would be a great 
 misfortune for you, if she should resign her office, for her resignation 
 
MAKIJC ANTOl.NEriK. '2U:i 
 
 would place on the list 'of your enemies all the most influential nobles 
 iix France." 
 
 "Is th;it all ?" asked the Queen with a painful blush. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, and I thank you for your condescension in listen- 
 ing so long." 
 
 ''Then hear me," said Marie Antoinette, rising and standing proudly 
 before him. "You tell me that I have enemies. Be it so, and may God 
 forgive them! IJut it were unworthy the daughter o'f ]\Iaria Theresa 
 to stoup to conciliate them. With visor raised, and front exposed, I 
 stand before them. My blameless lit*' shall be my defeno«. for I will 
 so live that all France shall be ni i.ampions. As for Madame de 
 Noailles, 1 will make no conoessionss o. u^r. My virtue n6eds no more 
 protection from etiquette than that of any other wonian. Heretofore 
 the Queens of France have been nothing but Marionettes in the hands 
 of their highborn duennas. I intend to transform the puppets inio wo- 
 men, whom the French nation j;in love and esteem ; for I wish m_v peo 
 pie to know that their QueenV virtue is not a thing of form, but the ve- 
 ritable overflowing of a heart aspiring to perfection." 
 
 "Right royally spoken !'' said a soft voice behind, and the Queen 
 starting, beheld ihttKing, who having opened the door quittly, had beard 
 her last words. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 THB kino's list. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, with a happy emile, gave her hand to her hus- 
 band. He raised it to his lips and kissed it so fervently that his young 
 ■wife blushed with pleasure. 
 
 "Do you know what brings me to you, Antoinette?" said he gaily. 
 "The deadly anxiety of good Madam Etiquette. She met me in the 
 ante-room and confessed that she had been guilty of the crimfe of leav- 
 ing the Queen alone with a foreign ambassador. To relieve her mind I 
 promised to come hither myself and put an end to the treason that was 
 hatching between France and Austria." 
 
 "Ah '."said Marie Antoinette, with a bewitching pout, " then you 
 came, not to see me, but to save Madam Etiquette a fit of the vapors." 
 
 " I made use of her as a pretext to intrude myself upon you," said 
 the King, with embarrassm^t. 
 
 " Oh, your Majesiy wpU knows that you need no pretext to come io 
 my presence !" said Marie Antoinette, eagerly. 
 
204 JOSEPH I'HE SECOND. 
 
 " Certainly I require it just now, for 1 have brol^en up a charming 
 tele a-tele,^'' said the Kins', bowing to Von Mercy. 
 
 '' The Count has brought ine letters fiom tiie Empress," said Marie 
 Antoinette. "And what do you suppose they were? /Congratulations 
 upon our accession to the throne." 
 
 The King smiled, but expressed no surprise. 
 
 " What, you are not surprised V said the Queen. " Do you take the 
 Count for a sorcerer?" 
 
 '■■ I take him for a true and loyal friend of his sovereign," said Louis, 
 " and I only wish that I possessed one as faithful. But I am not at all 
 astonished to hear of the congratulations, since the courier started ofF 
 with the news a week ago." 
 
 "Your Majesty knew it then V 
 
 " A King must know all things," said he, gravely. " Are you not of 
 my opinion, Count? Is it not proper that a sovereign should possess a 
 knowledge of every important letter which comes into his kingdom or 
 leaves it?" 
 
 '■'• 1 believe so, your Majesty,'^ replied the Count, somewhat con- 
 fused. 
 
 "I am convinced of it, and so is the Empress of Austria," said the 
 King, with a laugh. "She is admirably well posted in all that concerns 
 foreign courts, and not a document leaves the French Ambassy in Vien- 
 na, of which she has not a copy. Is it not so. Count Von Mercy ?" 
 
 "I do not believe, sire, that there is any person in the French Am- 
 bassy capable of betraying the interests of his country or of revealing 
 its secrets." 
 
 "Then change your creed. Count, for in every country there are men 
 open to bribery. But," continued he, turning to the Queen, " we have 
 wandered from our subject — your Majesty's letters from Vienna. Have 
 you good news ?" ' 
 
 " It is mere official, sire," replied the Queen, handing the letter to 
 the King. 
 
 Louis looked it over ; then replacing it upon the table, said, " And 
 the other letters ?" 
 
 " Which other letters?" asked the Queen. 
 
 •' Did you not tell me there were several ?" 
 
 " No, sire," replied the Queen, reddening. 
 
 " What fabels men do invent !" exclaimed the King. " A courier has 
 just arrived from the French Embassy, in Vienna, with despatches in- 
 forming us that Count Von Mercy had received, for your Majesty, one 
 official letter from the Empress, and two private letters of instruction, 
 one of which contained a list of persons recommended by her Majesty ; 
 and finally, a fourth missive, private, from the Emperor Joseph. And 
 all this is pure invention, Count Von Mercy ?" 
 
 "It is, your Majesty," said the Count,fwith much embarrassment, 
 while Marie Antoinette cast down her eyes and blushed. 
 
 The King enjoyed their confusion for awhile; he seemed to take 
 
MARIE ANTOINETTK 205 
 
 pleasure in this first triumph of his regal power, and a Bmile flitted over 
 his rather clumsy features. 
 
 " You see then," continued he, *' that I have received false intelligence 
 and it is evident that Austrians are less corrupt than Frenchmen, lor I 
 am told that coiint Von Mercy and Prince Kaunitz are au fait to every- 
 thing that transpires in the palace here. Be that as it may, we intend 
 to follow the example of the Queen. Our policy shall be 8o frank and 
 honorable that all the world may know it and wolcume. But — it oc- 
 curs to me that the Mistress of Ceremonies is in great angui?h of mind. 
 She will not recover her equanimity until she sees you again, Cotint." 
 
 ^^In that case, your Majesty, I will beg leave to retire, replied the 
 Count. 
 
 The King bowed, and the Queen gave him her hand. 
 
 As the Count was about to raise the j^or/iVrg, the King called him 
 back. " Do you send a courier to Vienna to-day 1"' asked his Majesty. 
 
 " Yes, sire, in one hour." 
 
 " Then let me impart to you a secret, which I think will interest her 
 imperial Majesty, of Austria — my new ministry." 
 
 "How! has your Majesty already chosen them?" asked Marie An- 
 toinette, anxiously. 
 
 The King nodded. " It was my first sacred duty to seek guides for 
 my inexperience, and I have chosen ministers who are able statesmen, 
 and have already served before." 
 
 The Queen's eyes brightened, and even Count Von Mercy seemed 
 surprised and pleased. 
 
 "Do, your Majesty, let us have their names," said Marie Antoinette. 
 
 "First, Monsieur de Maurepas." 
 
 The Queen uttered an exclaniafion. "The Minister of the Regency, 
 who has been banished for forty years!" 
 
 "The same. He was a friend of my father. He will be Prime Min- 
 ister, and as I am so unfortunate as to have to bear the weight of royalty 
 at twenty years, I have taken care to select old and experienced men as 
 my counsellors." ' 
 
 " Aitd who is to succeed the Due d'Aiguillon 1" cried Marie Antoi- 
 nette, " for I presume that your Majesty intends to give him his dismis- 
 sal." 
 
 " I would be glad to retain him as my minister," said the King, poi^it- 
 edly, " for his policy is identical with mine. He has the interests of 
 prance at heart, and has never suffered himself to be led away by for- 
 eign influence. But unluckely, he was too iotimate with Dubarry, and 
 on this ground, I shall dismiss him." 
 
 " And his successor 1" asked the Queen, scarcely able to restrain her 
 bitter disappointment. 
 
 " His successor is the Count de Vergennes." 
 
 " Do Vergennes"?" cried the Queen, scornfully. " He, who married a 
 slave in Constantinople." 
 
 " Ah, you have heard that ridiculous story which was invented by 
 
206 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Monsieur de Choiseul ? Nobody here ever believed it; and let: me tell 
 ■you that, the Countess de Vergtnines, enjoys the esteem and cunsiHera- 
 tion of all who know her. Vergennes, hiniself, is a man of talent, and 
 will do me good service. The other ministers are: for the War De- 
 partment, Count de Muy ; for the Minister of Finance, instead of that 
 hateful Abbott, of Terray — (was not that the Emperor's expression?) — 
 1 have chosen Count de Clugny." 
 
 '' Count de Clugny !" said Marie Antoinette, again beginning to hope. 
 " Does your Majesty mean the friend of the Due de Choisuel?" 
 
 " Himself, madam," said the King, coolly. " And while you are 
 speaking of Monsieur de Choiseul, I am reminded that this is not the 
 first time his name has been mentioned to-day. You, Count Von Mercy, 
 are a friend of his — I am not. You can, therefore, tell me whether it 
 is true that he has left Chanteloap, whither the deceased King had ban- 
 ished him." 
 
 " Yes, sire, the Due de Choiseul arrived this morning in Paris. 
 
 " What can he want in Paris ?" asked the King, with an imconscious 
 look, " Why did he leave Chanteloap 1 It seems to me that for the 
 man who is so lucky as to have a lauded estate, this is the very time of 
 year to stay there. You had better advise your friend to return to the 
 country. And now. Count, you know all that I have to tell, and I will 
 detain you no longer. Madame de Noailles must be in despair. Com- 
 fort her by informing her that you left the Queen of France in the com- 
 pany of her husband." 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 THE FIRST PASQUINADE. 
 
 The Court had left Choisy for the Chateau de la Maette, near Paris. 
 Hfere the Queen was to hold her first public levee, and her subjects 
 longed to appear before her, for the Parisians were enthusiastic admirers 
 of grace and beauty. Marie Antoinette had won their hearts by re- 
 fusing to accept the tax called " La ceinture de la rein^ This tax was 
 the perquisite of the Queen of France on her accession to the throne. — 
 But having discovered that the nobles had managed to evade it and 
 cast the burden of taxation upon the poor, Marie Antoinette had re- 
 quested her husband's leave to relinquish her right to it. Like wildfire 
 the news of the young queen's generosity spread throughout Paris; and 
 in all the streets, co/es, and cabarets, the people were singing this coup- 
 
MARIE ANTOINETTE. 207 
 
 " Vous renoncos oharmante souveraine, 
 
 Au plus beau dc vog levenus; 
 A quoi vous servirait la ceiuture de reine, 
 
 Vous aves celle de Venus.*' 
 
 They sanpf, they shouted, and made merry, happy in the posgesslon 
 of a young King and a beauliful Queen, c.:isting ne\t-r % thought to- 
 wards him, who, years before, had been sijrn.\nied '■• Le Bien-aimcy* 
 
 One speculating jeweller, alone, honored the memory of the deceased 
 King, and made his f )rt>nie thercbv. Fie nianufacturi^d a mnurnin"' 
 bnuif-box, of blacli shagreen, wlinr^e lid was oni imenled with a poit(aii 
 of the Qneen. He called his boxes '■•La consolation dans le chagrin^'''\ 
 and his portrait and his pun became ao popular that in less than a week 
 he had sold a hundred thousand of these boxes, Louis, also, had his 
 share of the national good will. J 
 
 Ife renounced the box called '■'■ Le joyeux asenement ; and to commem- 
 orate the act, another snufi'-box made iA af>pe,irance in Paris as a. ])en- 
 dant to the '" Consuiation in Grief." The King'.< box coift.ained t'he por- 
 traits of Louis XII. and Htnry IV. Below th<-.<5e, was his own liktn.-*, 
 with the follovving inscription : "■ Les pcres du penple^ XII et IV font 
 Xr/." These boxes were ds popular hs those of ilie Quet-n, and Louis 
 and Marie Antoinette were the idoKs of the Parisians. 
 
 " Long live the King !" was the cry from morn till night. Hope 
 biightened every eye, and reigned in every heart. The peof)le dreamed 
 of peace, happiness and plenty, and the fashions symbolised their state 
 of mind. The women dresi.ed their heads with ears of wheat, and ate 
 their rfrayt^w from cornucopias. The men poured out their enthusiasm 
 in sonnets and addresses, and everything in (''lance was couleur de rose. 
 
 Coulcur de rose — with one exception. The an.i-Austrian party frown- 
 ed, and plotted, and hated. Exasperated by the enthusiasm which the 
 beautiful young Queen inspired, they watched her every motion, eager 
 to magnify the most trivial imperfection into crime, hoping, sooner or 
 later, to render her obnoxious to the French people, and finally, to com- 
 pass the end of all their wicked intrigues — a separation between the 
 King and Queen, and the disgrace and banishment of Marie Antoinette 
 to Austria. 
 
 . It was the day of the grand reception at La Muette, where every 
 lady having a right to appear at court, might come uninvited and be 
 presented to the Queen. The great Throne-room was prepared for the 
 occasion, and although its decorations were black, they were tastefully 
 enlivened with white and silver. The throne, itself, was covered with 
 black velvet, trimmed with silver fringe. Hundreds of ladies throtiged 
 the room, all with their eyes fixed upon the door through which the 
 Queen and her court must make their entrance. 
 
 * Momnires de W'eber. Vol. 1, p. 4S. 
 
 t Meraoires do Mme. do Campan. Vol. 1, page 91. 
 
 X Thii word " chaff rin," sienifltos not only grief, bnj also that preparaHoo of leather, which, la 
 
 KnltTi'h. lit calTM " Slinitrofn " Hmco 'hfi PTin. 
 
•208 * JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 The folding doors were thrown wide open; and announced by her 
 mistress of ceremonies, Marie Antoinette appeared. 
 
 A murmur of admiration was heard among the crowd. Never had 
 the Queen looked so trmiscendairtly lovely as she did to-day in her dress 
 of deep mournint;. She seemed to feel the solemnity of her position as 
 Queen-consort.pf a great nation, and the expression of her face was tran- 
 quil and dignmed. No woman ever represftnted royalty with better 
 grace than Marie Antoinette, and the old coquettes of the Kegency and 
 of the corrupt Court of Louis XV, were awed by her stateliness. They 
 could not but confess that they were in the presence of a noble and vir- 
 tuous woman: therefore they disliked her, whispering one to the other, 
 " What an actress !" 
 
 Marie Antoinette took her seat upon the throne. On her right and' 
 left were the royal family, and behind them the ladies of the Court- 
 Opposite stood Madame de Noailles, whose duty it was to present those 
 who were unknown to the QueeH), 
 
 The presentation began. Forth in their high-heeled shoes came the 
 noble-born widows, who, old and faded, were loath to forget that in the 
 days of the Regency they had been blooming like the Queen, and 
 who, in happy ignorance of their crows' feet and wrinkles, were deck- 
 ed in the selt-oame costumes which once had set off their roses and dim- 
 ples. 
 
 It was a ludicrous sight — these ugly old women, with their jewels and 
 patches — their extraordinary head-dres?es-^and their deep, deep curtsies, 
 painful by reason of the aching bones, of three-score and ten. The young 
 Princesses dared not raise their eyes to these representatives of by-gone 
 coquetry, for they wero'iifraid to commit a crime — they were afraid that 
 they might laugh. But the ladies (if honor, safe behind the hoops of the 
 Queen and h^* sisters inlaw, made merry over the magnificent old ruins. 
 Madame de Noailles was so busy with the front that she overlooked the 
 rear, where the lively young Marquise de Charente Tounerre, tired of 
 standing, had glided down and seated herself comfortably on the floor. 
 Neither could she see that the Marquise, in the exuberance of her youth- 
 ful spirits, was pulling the other ladies by their skirts, and amusing 
 them with mimicry of the venerable coquettes before mentioned ; so 
 that while etiquette and ceremony were parading their ugliness in front 
 of the throne, behind it youth and beauty were tittering and enjoying 
 the absurd pageant in utter thoughtlessness of all consequences. 
 
 The mistress of ceremonies was in the act of presenting one of the 
 oldest, most shrivelled, and most elaborately dressed of the ancients, 
 whew. the Queen, attracted by the whispering behind, turned her head in 
 the direction of her ladies of honor. There on the floor, sat the Mar- 
 quise de Charente Tounerre, imitating every gesture of the old Comiesse; 
 while around her, the others, includ4ng the Princesses themselves, were 
 pursing up their lips, and smothering their laughter behind handkerchiefs 
 and fans. The drolleries of the Marquise were too much for the Qiieen. 
 She turned away in terror lest they should infect her with untimely le- 
 
MARIE AUTOIKETTE. 209 
 
 vity, and jnst at that moment the Cointesse made precisely such a curt- 
 sy as the Marquise was making behind her. 
 
 Marie Antoinette felt that her dignity was departing. She struggled 
 to recall it, but in vain ; and instead of the stately inclination which it 
 was her duty to return, she suddenly opened her fan to hide the mirth 
 which she was unable to control. 
 
 The gesture was seen not only by the austere mistress of ceremonies, 
 but by the Comtessc her-^elf who, furious at the insult looked daggers at 
 the Queen, and omitting^ her third curtsy, swept indignantly to her place. 
 A short pause ensued. Madame de Noailles was so shocked, that she 
 forgot to give the signal for another presentation. The Queen's face 
 was still buried under her fan, and the Princesses had Ibllowed her ex- 
 ample. Discontent was manifest upon the countenances of all present, 
 and the lady whose turn it was to advance, did so with visible reluc-' 
 f«nce. 
 
 Marie Antoinette recovered her self-possession, and looked with per- 
 fect serenity towards the high and mighty Duchess whose titles were 
 being pompously enumerated by the punctilious mistress of ceremonies. 
 As ill-luck would have it, this one was older, uglier, and more strangely 
 bedizened than all the others together. The Queen felt a spasniodic 
 twitch of her facfe ; she colored violently, and opening her fan attain it 
 was evident to all that assemblage of censorious dames that for the 
 second time, youth and animal spirits had prevailed over decorum. 
 
 In vain Marie Antoinette sought to rfepair the cojitreiems. In vain she 
 went among them with her sweetest smiles and most gracious words. 
 Their outraged grandeur was not to be appeased— she had offended be- 
 yond forgiveness. 
 
 The Areopagus sent forth its fiat. The Queen was a frivolus woman 
 — she had that worst of failings — a taste for satire. She despised all 
 conventions, aud trampled all etiquette under foot. 
 
 On that day the number of her enemies was increased by more than a 
 hundred persons, who attacked her with tongues sharper than two-ed^ed 
 swords. The first thrust was given her on the morning that followed 
 the reception ; and the same people who a few days before, had been 
 singing her praises on the Pont-neuf, were equally, "if not better pleased 
 with the ballad of " La Beine mocqmme^'' of which the cruel refrain 
 was as follows : 
 
 " Petite reine de vingt ans 
 Vous qui traitez si mal lea gens, 
 Vous repasseiez la barriere 
 Laire, laire, laire, lanlaire, lanla."* 
 
 ♦ Momoires de Mme. de Cainpan, Vol. 1, P. 90-91. 
 
 14 
 
210 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER Lll. 
 
 THE NEW FASHIONS. 
 
 The Queen had submitted to a state of things which she felt to be 
 irremediable. She had renounced all idea of interceding with the King 
 • for de Choiseul, for she felt that interfereuce on her part would be re- 
 sented, and she could not atford to lessen, by so much as a shade, the 
 kindly feelings which her husband had began to manifest towards her. 
 
 Louis appeared to have no greater happiness than that which he found 
 in his wife's society. They were often seen wandering in the sha'dy 
 walks of the palace-gardens, talking, jesting and laughing together, as 
 might have done any other young couple, unencumbered by the burden 
 of royalty. It had even happened to Louis to steal an arm around the 
 graceful form of the Queen, and once or twica to bestow a shy kiss up-' 
 on her ivory shoulders. 
 
 The heart of the King was thawing, and Marie Antoinette, who had 
 so longed and pined for his regard, sometimes blushed, while with beat- 
 ing heart, she indulged a hope that the King was falling in love. 
 
 She sought, by every means in her power, to please him, and she, 
 who hitherto, had seemed indifferent to dress, now bestowed hours of 
 thought upon the toilet of the day. 
 
 The anti-Austrian party, the royal aunts, the brothers of the King, 
 and tlie Orleans family, all her enemies, observed this new taste for 
 dress with secret satisfaction. Not one of them suspected that it was 
 aimed at the heart of the King, and that Marie Antoinette, whom they 
 were deriding as a, coquette, was coquetting with her husband, and 
 dressing- for him alone. So they flattered and encouraged . her, hoping 
 to divert her mind from politics and urge her on to ruin. 
 
 The Duchess of Chartres had mentioned to the Queen a Parisian 
 modiste, who had instituted a complete revolution in dress. This wonder- 
 ful modiste, whose taste in modes was exquisite, was Madomoiselle 
 Bertin. The Duchess had described her dresses, laces, caps, and coif- 
 fures, with so much enthusiasm, that Marie Antoinette grew impatient 
 with curiosity, ordered her carriage and sent a message to Madame de 
 Noailles to prepare to accompany her at once to Bertin's establishment. 
 
 Madame received this message with indignation, and instead of mak- 
 ing ready to obey, went in hot haste to the Queen's reception-room. 
 
 " I wish to drive to Bertin's to make some purchases," said Marie 
 Antoinette, as her tormentor appeared at the door. 
 
 "That is impossible, your Majesty," said the guardian of the Inferno 
 of etiquette. " No Queen of France has ever set foot within the pre- 
 
MARIE ANTOOfKTTE. '>|i 
 
 ciiicts of a shop, or has ever appeared in a pul>;io place of that soi i It 
 wouldbesuchanegreg.ous breach of etiquette that I am convinced 
 jour Majesty will not be jjuilty of it." ^unvincea 
 
 "Well, said the Queen, with a scornful laugh, '^ will not di.tnrl, 
 your virtuous convictions. 1 will not be guilty of that which no QuLn 
 of France has ever stooped to do, so that you cao. have Berlin sent to 
 the palace, and I will examine her goods here '" 
 
 "Here! Your Majesty Would receive a modiste in vour reception 
 room !" cried de Noailles,. rolling up the whites of he^ ees Mb' 
 seech your Majesty to remember that none but the noble ladle. ^L 
 
 ,trntt'""'^f^'''''' ^aW.., are allowed to ente ^ie QueL ^ 
 laeeDtion-roora. 'qtuct.n a 
 
 reeeption-roora. 
 
 The Queen bit her rosy l.ps. « Well, then, Madame," said she " I 
 5 '•^^7\^^'-t"^ ''!,n^y own cabinet. I presume there carbe no' ob 
 jec ions to that and ,f there were, I should certainly not heed them '' 
 T^ ^"'y ^* °^y «^'^«' nevertheless, obliges me to remark to your 
 
 "There is no office at this court which instifip<! nn,, ,^r,^ • j- 
 disobedience of .ho Queen's order. Go tfir.tMadre.tnd o-derS 
 Bertm be sent to me in an hour." ' "'^* 
 
 "Oh!" murmured Marie Antoinette as fho M,•e^rnoo ^r r- 
 
 rj/mTr ^' " '''' ^^"-'^ -ir/eii^^t^j^iitr t^^ s^rs 
 
 An hour later Mademoiselle Bertin made her appearan'^e before th^ 
 Quee^. lour royal lackeys followed her, laden with band boxes 
 fashi^nfr"""' ' "'' ^'^ ^^^^"' "^^^^« ^^" ^-"Sht me th" latest 
 
 ''No, your Majesty," replied Bertin, reverentially, "I brine the m^ 
 tenals wherewith to ftll your Majesty's orders." ^ *' 
 
 rST^r^ •!?" "°.^^o^^ t^' *^r'°g your samples of fashions ?" asked M^ 
 ne Antoinette, with surprise. ^^' 
 
 "Your Majesty, there are no new fashions," s»id Bertin " Yo„. 
 SJ^SnTftloilowX--^""'-^'^'^^"'- ^^---ioes'not ^^^Z 
 I' Ah! you intend that I shall invent new fashions?-" 
 
 thatlM;rv,"'^'J'!f^V ^^^ Q^\e» of France cannot stoop to wear 
 tnat which has already been worn by othprs." 
 
 "You are right," said the Queen, pleased by the flatterv nf fho 
 shrewd mo^;.-.^.. "Make haste, and show me vour Toodf S ? 
 begin at once to set the fashions'to the court JtCl bTouiVanVmr/ 
 naent to invent new modes of dress." ^ '^ *" *°'"'^- 
 
 eo^f''^l''"'^''lV'""'^.',^°^^P^°'"^ her boxes, exhibited her 
 goods -There were the beautiful silken fabrics of Lvons- th.2^ 
 n.g white satin besprinkled with boquets, hat rivalled' nature there 
 ve? aTs^'from a! -^-^^^eighter^ed by embroidery of'gra'nd'sT 
 ^s thoS' ! fiS^ '"^°''u''°f Valenciennes, whose web was as delicate 
 as though elfish fingers had spun the threads ; muslins, from India, so 
 
212 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 fine that they could only be woven in water ; crapes, from China, with 
 the softness of fiatin and the sheen of velvet ; there were graceful Os- 
 trich plumes, from Africa, and flowers from Paris, so wondrous in their 
 beauty, that nothing was wanting to their perfection save perfume. 
 
 Marie Antoinette flitted from one treasure to another, her white hands 
 at one moment deriving new beauty from the dark velvets upon which 
 they rested ; at another, looking lovelier than ever, as they toyed with 
 the transparent laces. There was nothing queenly about her now. She 
 was merely a charming woman, anxious to out-shine all other women in 
 the eyes of one man. 
 
 \Yheu Mademoiselle Bertin took her leave, the Queen gave her orders 
 to return to the palace daily. " One thing I shall exact of you, Made- 
 moiselle, you shall disclose the secret of my toilet for the day to 
 liobody ; and the fashions shall be made public at the end of one week." 
 
 Mademoiselle Bertin, with a solemnity befitting the importance of her 
 office, swore that henceforth the hands which had been honored by car- 
 rying out the ideas of a Queen, should never work for lesser mortals ; 
 that her dresses would be made with closed doors, and that she would 
 'rather be led to execution than betray to a living soul the mysteries of 
 her royal patroness's toilet.* 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 THE TEMPLE OF ETIQUETTE. 
 
 The hour for the Queen's toilet was one of ravishment to Madame 
 de Noailles, for it was a daily glorification of that etiquc^tte which she 
 worshipped, and which Marie Antoinette abhorred. In that hour, the 
 chains were on her hands and feet. She could neither breathe, speak, nor 
 move, but in the narrow limits of its weary exactions. 
 
 The Queen's toilet then, was Madame de Noailles' triumph, and she 
 always made her appearance in the dressing-room with an air of su- 
 pretae satisfaction. 
 
 The first lady of honor poured the water into the golden basin, and 
 Marie Antoinette, who at least had the privilege of washing her own 
 hands, stood patiently waiting until the towel had been passed by a lady 
 of the bed-chamber to the same lady of honor who had poured out the 
 water. The latter|, on one knee, gave the towel, and the Queen wiped 
 her hands. • ;' 
 
 * Madem<nBelle Berlin, from that day, became au important personage, and received Biany a rich 
 pr«i<Dt from noble Isdief anxioui to Icnltata the Qa««n lo dreas. 
 
JJ A Ki t ANH )I N KIT K. 2 I ." - 
 
 The second act of the royal toilet began at the solemn moment when the 
 Queen changed her richly embroidered night chemise for the simpler 
 (.me she wore durincr the day. This changing of garinents was a sub- 
 lime ceremonial, not only in the Qucsn's drc-ssing-ioom, but also in thtt 
 of the King. At the Kinc's great levee, none but a Prince of the blood 
 had the right to reach him his shirt. By the lesser leve.^, the nobleman 
 whom the King wished to honor, was called upon to fill tliis high otfice; 
 and the enviable mortal, thus honored, remained near the King's person 
 for the whole day ; was entitled fo dine at the royal table, and had a 
 seat in the King's hunting wagon. 
 
 Now, at the toilet of the Queen, the ceremonial was difTerent, and, as 
 in all such matters, more onerous for the woman than for the man. 
 The honor of presenting the chemise devolved upon the lady present, 
 whose rank was the highest. 
 
 On the particular day to which we allude, it was the privilego. of 
 Madame de Noailles. ]\farie Antoinette had allowed her uijjht-dress 
 to slip from her shoulders, and stood, bared to the waist, awaiting the 
 pleasure of her Mistress of Ceremonies. She crosseci hor beautiful 
 arms and bent her head in readiness to receive the chemise, which 
 the lady of the bed-chamber was in the act of passing to Madame di^ 
 Noailles. 
 
 At this moment there was a knock at the deor, and the Duchess of 
 Orleans entered the room. A triumphant smile lit up the face of INIa- 
 dame Etiquettp, for now the ceremony would be prolonged. It was no 
 longer her duty, it was that of the Duchess to wait upon the Queen. — 
 But the proud Countess de Noailles could not condescend to pass the 
 garment to the Duchess. That was the duty of the aforesaid lady of 
 the bed-chamber. The Mistress of Ceremonies .motioned her to ap- 
 proach, and the Duchess began to draw off her gloves. 
 
 Meanwhile, Marie Antoinette, with folded arms, stood beautiful as 
 one of Dean's nymphs, but very uncomfortable in her beauty • for she 
 was beginning to grow chilly and her teeth chattered. At last the 
 preparations were made, and the Duchess advanced with the coveted 
 garment. 
 
 Suddenly she stopped, and stood perfectly still. She had heard the 
 voice of " Madame," the Countess of Provence, and it v.'ould have been 
 an unpardonable sin for the Duchess of Orleans to deprive a Prince-ss 
 of the blood, of handing the chemise to the Queen. 
 
 The door opened, and the sister-in-law of Marie Antoinette came in. 
 The Duchess retreated — Madame de Noailles approached slowly and re- 
 lieved her of the chemise, and with unflinching deliberation, again gave 
 it into the hands of the lady of the bed-chamber. 
 
 And there stood the Queen, shivering and waiting. Scarlet with 
 shame and anger, though trembling from head to foot, she murmured 
 resentful words against her tormentors. The Princess saw it ajl, and 
 hastened to her relief. Without stopping to remove her gloves, shft 
 took the chemise, and advancing, in great, haste, to throw it over th'^. 
 
"214 ■ JOSHPII THE SECUMI 
 
 Queen's head, she struck against h,er high tovpet and disarranged the 
 head-dress. 
 
 *' Oh, my dear sister," said the Queen, laughing, " my hair will have 
 to be dressed anew.'' 
 
 I\radame de Noailles drew down her eyebrows, as she was accustom-' 
 ed to do when irritated by indecorum, and motioned to the second lady 
 of the bed-chamber to put on the Queen's shoes. The royal toilet now 
 went on more smoothly, and was completed according to form. This 
 done, it became the duty of the victim to pass into her reception-room, 
 attended by her ladies. Madame de Noailles had opened the door and 
 stood before it like a she-Cerberus waiting for her prey to pass within, 
 when the Queen, still laughing at her disordered coiffure, threw herself 
 into a chair before her cheval-glass, and said, 
 
 '• I hope, Madame, that etiquette does not require'of the Queen of 
 Prance to appear before her court with dishevelled hair. If I may be 
 permitted to express a preference in the matter, I would like to have 
 ■my hair in order." 
 
 Madame de Noailles closed the door, and turned stiffly to the first 
 lady of the bed-chamber. 
 
 ''Oh, no," said Marie Antoinette, " I will not' trouble my good Ma- 
 dame de Cam pan to-day. Did my Secretary fetch my hairdresser from 
 Paris?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty," said a lady in waiting, "the' hair-dresser is in 
 the outer room," 
 
 " Go and call him, de Cajnpan. And now ladies," said Marie Antoi- 
 nette, to the Princesses, " you shall sec one of the demi-gods. Leonard 
 Is called in the world of fashion " 7e dieto des coiffures.'''' 4 
 
 " Leonard !" exclaimed' Madam de Noailles. " And has your Majes- ' 
 ty then forgotten that the Queen is not permitted to be waited upon by 
 any but womanly hands ?" 
 
 "The Queen not permitted P^ echoed Marie Antoinette, proudly. 
 *' We shall see whether the Queen of France asks permission of her 
 subjects to employ a male or female hair-dresser!" 
 
 The door opened, and the discussion was stopped by the entrance of 
 Madame de Campan with Leonard. 
 
 " Now, ladies," continued the Queen, " be so good as to await me ia 
 the reception-room.'' As she saw that the prim ]ips^ of de Noailles 
 were about to be opened, she added : "the Mistress of Ceremonies and 
 Ladies of the Bed Chamber will remain." 
 
 Leonard's skilful hands were soon at work, loosening the Queen's 
 hair ; and it glistened, as it fell, like glimmering gold. He surveyed it 
 with such looks of enthusiasm as a statuary might bestow upon the 
 spotless block of marble, from whence he will fashion ere long, the 
 statue of a goddess. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, from the mirror, saw his complacent face, and 
 smiled. " What style do you intend to adopt for me?" asked she. 
 
 " The coifwn a ia Marie Antoinette" said Leonard. 
 
MAUIt ANTOlNliTTt 
 
 "I have never seen it." 
 
 Here Leonard sank the subject and became the artist. His head 
 went proudly back with a look of conscious power. ,, . 
 
 "Your Majesty must not think me so barren of invention that I 
 should deck the head of my Queen with s coiffure that has been seen 
 before by mortal eyes." 
 
 "Then you are about to invent a coiffure ?" 
 
 "If it please your Majesty — if your Majesty will condescend to leave 
 its fashion to the inspiration of my genius." 
 
 "Follow your inspiration by all means," said the Queen, hii^hly 
 amused, and Leonard began his work. A Ion?, solemn pause; ensued, 
 and all eyes were strained to see the result. He combed the Queen's 
 hair over a trellis of fine wire, then he introduced two down cu9hionp,which 
 he had brought in his band-box, and after he had built him a tower of 
 a foot high, he too"k a long breath and surveyed the structure. Then lie 
 glaticed at the toilet-table where lay a mass of flowers, feathers and 
 laces, which Bertin had left. 
 
 " May 1 be allowed to select from these ?" asked he. 
 • The Queen nodded, and Leonard chose a bunch of white ostrich feath- 
 ers, which he prepared to place in her head. 
 
 " Feathers !" cried Marie Antoinette. " You surely are not going lo 
 put feathers in my hair!" ■-. 
 
 " Pflrdon me/ your Majesty," said Leonard, with an air of supreme 
 wisdom, "if I beg you to allow me to complete my coiffure, before you 
 decide upon its merits." And he went to work to fasten the feathers 
 in his tower. 
 
 " This is really becoming," said the Queen, not reflecting that her 
 •beautiful face with its lofty brow and exquisite contour, could bear anv 
 abomination with which Leonard chose to invest it. 
 
 " I adopt the ♦feathers," said she, " and allow you to call the coiffure 
 after me. Poor ostriches, they will not thank me ! You are, from this 
 day, in my service Monsieur Leonard, and my steward will assign you 
 your apartments." 
 
 Leonard bowed with the dignity of an artist who feels that in the fa- 
 vor of his sovereign he has his merited reward. 
 
 ' " Come every morning at this hour, and every evening at seven 
 o'clock," said Marie Antoinette. " Meanwhile, you arc at liberty to 
 dress the hair of as many ladies as you choose." 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty," interposed Madame de Noailles. '• An 
 old immutable regulation of the French court forbids any person em- 
 ployed by the royal femily to serve a subject ; and the coiffeur of the 
 Queen cannot be allowed to dress the hair of any lady in France." 
 
 " Nevertheless, J give him permission to dress as many heads as he 
 pleases when- he is not in attendance upon myself. What is the use of 
 .1 man's taste and talent, if it is all to be wasted on one monotonous 
 employment ? Let Monsieur Leonard exercise his ingenuity upon dif- 
 ferent styles of women, that he may have scope for |iis imagination." 
 
2 1 (1 JUSEI'll, THE SECOND 
 
 The Mistress of Ceremonies sighed, and opened the door. Marie 
 Antoinette approached it gaily, for she was all anxiety to test the effect 
 of her coiffure upon the ladies in waiting. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 THE NEW FASHIONS AND THEIR UNHAPPr RESULTS. 
 
 A universal murmur of surprise and admiration was heard among the 
 ladies, when the Queen appeared in the reception-room. The Countess 
 of Provence could scarcely retain her discontent as she surveyed the 
 magnificent costume of her beautiful sister-in-law. 
 
 For a few moments the Queen enjoyed the pleasure of being sincere- 
 ly admired. Then, advancing to the Princess, she took her hand and 
 said, " oblige me, dear sister, by dining with the King and myself en 
 famille.. Let us have a social meal together today." ., 
 
 "Certainly, your Majesty, I will do so with pleasure, but what you are 
 pleased to call a family-dinner will lose all its charm through the curios- 
 ity of your Majesty's admirers, who come from Paris, from Versailles, 
 and from All the ends of the earth, to look at the royal family taking 
 their dinner." 
 
 " Not at all," said the Queen, eagerly. "I look upon this daily exhi- 
 bition as a tyrannical custom, which must be abolished. It is too hard 
 that we cannot have our meals in private, but must be gazed at like an- 
 imals, and denied the privilege of confidential intercourse. I have sub- 
 mitted to be stared at for four years, but the Queen is not to be ruled , 
 as the Dauphiness has been. We shall dine to-day en famille, and from 
 this time the public have access to our dining-room no more." 
 
 "That is delightful news," answered the Princess, " but I pity the 
 good people who are coming in expectation of seeing your Majesty at 
 table." 
 
 "They will return to their homes," said the Queen, slightly raising 
 her shoulders, " and when they reflect coolly on the subject, they will 
 certainly not think less of me because I prefer to dine like the rest of 
 the world. I believe that if we desire popularity with the people, we 
 must show them that we have feeling hearts like themselvCvS, and it is 
 by such means that I hope to gain the love of the French nation. 
 
 The Princess was secretly vexed at the honesty and purity of the 
 Queen's motives, but she forced a smile, and replied : " You have al- 
 ready succeeded in doing so ; for the French people adore you, and if 
 they oould only see you to-day in that piquant head-dress, they would 
 
MARIE ANTUlNErfE. 217 
 
 verify the saying of the Mayor of Paris, ' Your Majpsty beholds in us 
 II hundred thousand lovers.'' 
 
 Marie Antoinette laughed. "Quite a respectable army," said she, 
 slightly blushing, " but to complete its worth it must be coninianded by 
 the King. How surprised he will be to see us dining in private." 
 "His Majesty has not been consulted '?" 
 
 " It is a surprise which I have iq store for him. He has often bewail- 
 ed this stupid custom, but dared not complain for fear of remarks. I 
 am less timid than he, and 1 am about to give you a proof of the same." 
 "Madame de Noai lies," added she, aloud, "inform the ushers that 
 while the royal family are at dinner, no strangers will be admitted to 
 the dining-room. The privilege of entrance shall cease from to-day." 
 The Countess had been awaiting her opportunity to speak. 
 " Your Majesty," said she, with an expression of painful anxiety, " I 
 entreat of you not to revoke that privilege! Believe me, when I tell 
 you, that it is dangerous to interfere with customs which are so old that 
 the people have grown to look upon them as rights. Ever since the 
 days of Francis I., the royal family has dined in public, and every de. 
 cently clad person has enjoyed the privilege of enterifig the banquet 
 room. Moreover, allow me r.o oWerv.:- to your Majesty, that this pub- 
 lic meal is an express ceremony of the French court, and it is indispen- , 
 sable to its dignity." 
 
 " Etiquette, Madame," replied M.irie Antoinette, "is not made for 
 sovereigns but regulated by ihem. You speak of the people's rights ; 
 allow me to claim something for mine, it has ever been the habit of 
 Kings and Queens to give commands, not to receive them. Let me, 
 therefore, advise you to strike out from your code of etiquette the rule 
 which obliges us to dine in public, and to insert in its stead, the follow- 
 ing: 'On days of festivals or of public reji;icing, the people will be ad- 
 mitted to the King's dining room.' And now, sister, let us take a turn 
 in the park." 
 
 So saying, the Queen took the arm of the Princess, and followed by 
 the ladies in waiting, they went out upon the terrace, Madame de 
 Noailles remained behind, in the large, empty reception-room. Her 
 face was pale and troubled, and she leaned despondently against the high 
 back of an armchair near that, from which the Queen had just risen. 
 
 " Royalty totters on its throne!" murmured she, in a low voice. 
 
 "This woman's bold hand is shaking the pillars of her own temple, and 
 when it falls it will bury both King and Queen under its fragments. 
 She laughs at etiquette as ridiculous despotism ; she does not know that 
 it is the halo which renders her sacred in the eyes of the people. I see 
 the tempest lowering," continued the Mistress of Ceremonies, after a 
 thoughtful pause. "The Queen is surrounded by enemies whom she 
 defies, and those who would be her friends she alienates by her haughti- 
 ness. In the innocence of her thouirhMess heart, what unhappy prece- 
 dents has she established this day. They are the dragon's teeth, that , 
 will grow armed men to destroy their sower. She despises conventions, 
 
2 I S JOSEPH THE SKCONIU 
 
 and braves old customs. She does not know how dearly she will pay 
 for her milliner, her hair-dresser, and her dinners in private ! 1 have 
 done my duty. I have warned and remnnstrated, and will continue to 
 do so as long as my patienee and honor can endure the humiliationsto 
 which I am exposed — but no longer! By the heaven that hears me — no 
 longer!" 
 
 The Countess was right. The apparently trifling incidents of the day 
 were fraught with mouriful consequences to the Queen, Heretofore, lshe 
 had been remarked for her simplicity of dress : from the introduction 
 of Bertin and Leonard into her household she dressed with rare mag- 
 nificence. Not only the ladies of the court, but those of the city, fol- 
 lowed her extravagance at a distance. Tliey must wear the same jewels, 
 the same flowers, the same costly silks and laces. Ostrich feathers be- 
 came the rage, and they were soon so s:carco that fabulous prices were 
 pa'd to import them for'the use of the French women. 
 
 The trousseau of a young beaut^y became as important as her dowry. 
 Mothers and husbands sighed, and at last ended by abusing the Queen. 
 It was she who had set the example of this wasteful luxury in dress, she 
 who had bewitched all the women, so that they had gone mad for a 
 feather or flower. Strife was in every house. Parents were at vari- 
 ance with their children, marriages were broken ofl* through the exactions 
 of the brides, and on all sides, the blame of everybody's domestic 
 troubles fell upon the shoulders of the Queen.* 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 SUN RISE. 
 
 The court had now moved to Marly. Each day brought its varieties 
 of sports, and the palace became the very shine of pleasure. Even the 
 King, fascinated by his wife's grace and gayety, lost his awkward bear- 
 ing, and became a devoted lover. He was ready to gratify every whim 
 of hers, without ever inquiring whether it was consistent with the digni- 
 ty and station of a queen. True, all her whims were innocent in them- 
 selves, but some of them were childish, and therefore, inappropriate to 
 her position. 
 
 The King grew so bold that he paid graceful compliments to the Queen 
 on the subject of her beauty ; and in the exuberance of his young, gush- 
 ing love, he went beyond his courtiers in felicity of expression, so that 
 *Mad«ineCampnn, Merooires, etc. Vol, 1,piifte9«. 
 
MAlUk ANTOkVEriK, 219 
 
 finally he became more eloquent than d'Artois, more impassioned than 
 de Charfcres, and more piquant than de Rovence. 
 
 Marie Antoinette beheld this transformation with rapture, and her lit- 
 tle innocent coquetteries with the Princes and noblemen ol' the Court 
 had but one aim — that of heightening the effect of her charms upon her 
 royal husband. 
 
 " One of these days," thought she, " he will learn to love me. I await 
 this day as nature throughout her dark winter nights awaits the rising of 
 the glorious sun. Oh how happy will 1 be when the morning of my 
 wedded love has dawned !" 
 
 " But," — added she, interrupting herself and smiling, " what a sim- 
 pleton 1 am with my smiles — like a blind man enraptured with a color ! 
 1 talk of sunrise, I — who am such a barbarian that 1 never saw the sun 
 rise in my life ! — And to think that the French are so fond of compar- 
 ing me to the rising sun ! I think I had better make acquaintance with 
 the original of which 1 heard so often tliat I am the copy !" 
 , So the Queen, full of a new idea, sent for the Countess de Noailles. 
 "Madame," said she, "can you tell me at what hour the sun rises?" 
 " When the sim rises !" exclaimed Madame, who had hardly ever 
 taken the trouble to remember that the sun rose at all. 
 
 " Yes Madame, 1 wish to know at what hour the sun rises, and I Iwpe 
 there is nothing in your code of etiquette that forbids the Queen of 
 France to aspire to a knowledge of that very common-place fact." 
 
 " I regret, your Majesty that I cannot enlighten you, for 1 have never 
 felt any interest in the matter. But if you will allow me, I will make 
 the riecessary inquiries." ? 
 
 " Do so, if you please, Madame." 
 
 Madame de Noailles was absent for pome time. At last she returned. 
 " Pardon me your Majesty that I have been away so long. But no 
 one in the palace could give me the information 1 sought, luckily in 
 passing one of the corridors, I met a gardener-coming in with fresh flow- 
 ers for your Majesty's cabinet, and he was able to tell me. The sun 
 rises at present, at three o'clock." 
 
 "Thaijk you. Be so good as to make your arrangements accordingly. 
 I shall get up at three o'clock to-morrow morning and go out upon the 
 hillock in the garden to see the dawn of day." 
 
 "Your Majesty would go out into the garden at three o'clock in the 
 morning?" said Madame, almost fainting with horror. 
 
 "\es Madame," said Marie Antoinette with decision. "Is there any 
 law in France to forbid me a sight of the sun at that hour ?" 
 
 "No, your Majesty," for such an extraordinary demand could never 
 have been pre-supposed. Since France was a Kingdom, no Queen of 
 France has ever been known to indulge a wish to see the sun rise." 
 
 " Unhappy Queens ! I suppose they were so profundly engaged in 
 the-^study of your favorite code that they had no time to admire the 
 works of God. jBut you see that I am an eccentric Queen, and I would 
 go in all humility to adore Him through one of his glorious works. And 
 
*22i) JOSEPH TUE .SfiOONU 
 
 as luckily for me, Etiquette has never legislated uprvn the suTiject. 5'ou 
 have no grounds for ohjeciion, and J shall commii. the astoamling indis- 
 cretion of going out to see the sun rise/' 
 
 "Still, your Majesty must allow me to say that for all extraordinary 
 cases not provided for, in tho code of Etiquette, the Queen must have 
 the consent of the King." 
 
 " Do not concern yourself about that ; I shall express my desire to the 
 King, and that will suffice. My ladies in waiting who keep Diaries can 
 then note with quiet consciences that on this day the Queen of France, 
 with the consent of her husband, went into the garden to ?ee t he sun rise *?" 
 
 Marie Antoinette slightly inclined her head, and passed into her dress- 
 ing-room, there to put herself into the hands of Monsieur Leonard. The 
 skilful hair-dresser was in his happiest vein ; and when he had achieved 
 the great labor of his day, the Queen was inexpressibly charming. 
 
 Conformably to her wishes, many irksome Court-customs had been 
 laid aside at Marly. The strict lines of demarcation between royalty 
 and nobility no longer hampered the daily intercourse of the sovereigns 
 and their subjects. The lords and ladies in waiting |were at liberty to 
 join the Queen's circle in the drawing-rooms, or to group themselves to- 
 gether as inclination prompted — Some talked over the events of the day, 
 some discussed the new books which lay in heaps upon a table in one of 
 the salons — others again played billiards with the King. 
 
 To-day the Court was assembled in an apartment opening into the 
 garden, and the Queen, who had just made her appearance, in all the 
 splendor of her regal beauty, was the cynosuie of attraction and of ad- 
 miration. She stood in the centre of the room, her eyes fixed wistfully 
 upon the setting sun, whose dying rays were flooding park, .tieKj-aee, and 
 even the spot on which she stood, with a red and golden light. By her 
 side stood the King, his mild countenance illumined with joy and admi- 
 ration of his young wife's surpassing loveliness. On the other side of 
 the Queen were the Princes and Princesses of the blood ; and around 
 the royal group an assemblage of the youngest, prettiest and spright- 
 liest women of the aristocracy, escorted by their cavaliers, young nobles 
 whose rank, worth, and culture, entitled them to all the favor which 
 they enjoyed at court. At the head of the wits were the Count de Pro- 
 vence, the Count d'Artois, and their kinsman, the Duke de Chartres, 
 known years afterwards as " Philippe Egalite." De Chartres and the 
 wicty Duke de Lauzun were among .the most enthusiastic admirers of 
 the Queen. 
 
 The French court was in the zenith of its splendor. Youth and beauty 
 were the rule, — age was the exception ; and in the saloris of Marie An- 
 toinette, its solitary representative frowned through the deep and angry 
 furrows that dented the wrinkled visage of Madame de Noailles. 
 
 To-day the high-priestess of etiquette had taken advantage of the 
 liberty allowed to all, and had absented herself. Her absence was a 
 sensible relief to a court, where no man was older than the King, and 
 many a woman was as young as the Queen. 
 
MARIE AJNTOINETTE. 221 
 
 For a time. Marie Antoinette's glance lingered caressingly upon the 
 garden, thioiigh whose perfumed alleys the evening wind was Vnstling 
 with a sweet, lo\V"6ong. ■ The court, following the mood of the Queen, 
 kept perfectly silent. Of what were they thinking, that crowd of youth- 
 ful triflers, so many of whom were hurrying to the bloody destiny which 
 made heroes of coxcombs and heroines of coquettes ! 
 
 Suddenly the expression of the Queen's ftice, which had been thought- 
 ful and solemn, changed to its usual frankness and gayety. " Ladies, 
 and gentlemen," said &he, in that clear, rich voicC of her.s, which always 
 reminded one of little silver bells, " 1 have a riddle to propose." 
 
 "A riddle!" echoed the company, crowding around to hear. 
 
 "Yes, a riddle, and woe to those who cannot guess it ! They will be 
 sentenced to sit up this whole night long." 
 
 "A severe sentence," said the King, with a sigh. "May I not be 
 one of the condemned. Well, then, lovely sphinx, tell us your riddle." 
 
 " Listen all !" said Marie Antoinette, " and strain your every faculty 
 to its solution. Princes and Princesses, lords and ladies, can you tell 
 me at what hour the sun will rise to-morrow ]" 
 
 The perplexed company looked at one another. Everybody seemed 
 puzzled except the King. He, alone, smiled and watched the counte- 
 nances of the others. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen, you who are fed on the sciences — come ladies, 
 you so expert to .guess — will none of you solve ray riddle?" cried the 
 lively Queen. " You, brother Philip, who knows all things, have you, 
 naver asked this question of the sun ?" 
 
 " I interest myself, dear sister, in matters which concern myself, my 
 family and France," replied the Count de Provence, not over-pleased at 
 'the appeal. "The sun, which belongs to another world, has no share in 
 my studies or my meditations." » 
 
 " Condemned," said the Queen, with a merry laugh. " No sleep for 
 youito-night. And you, brother d'Artois, who are such a devotee of 
 beau tes have you never worshipped at the shrine of solar magnificence ?" 
 
 "The sun roie in this j*oom, your Majesty, about a quarter of an 
 hour ago," said Count d'Artois, bowing. '• I can, therefore, safely say 
 that in the Cha**au of Marly, it usually rises at eight o'clock." 
 
 "Compliments will not save you, d'Artois; you shall not go to sleep 
 this night. And what say you, my sisters-in-law and our dear Elizabeth ?" 
 
 " Oh, werdare not bo wiser than our husbands !" said the Countess de 
 Provence, qiiinkly. 
 
 " Then, you shall share their fate," returned Marie Antoinette. "And 
 now," continued she, cousin de Chartres, it is said that your merry-mak- 
 ing sometimes last until morning. You must, then, be intimately ac- 
 quainted with the habits of the rising sun." 
 
 " Mi/oi," said the Duke, with a careless laugh, "your Majesty is 
 right. My vigils nre frequent, but if returning from thence, I have ever 
 met with the sun, 1 have mistaken it for a street-lantern, and have never 
 given » second thought to the matter." 
 
 \ 
 
222 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " Nobody, then, in this aristocratic assembiage, knov?8'«ught about 
 the rising of the sun," said the Queen. .; . , ■':. .». 
 
 A profound silence greeted the remark. The Queen's ;faco. grew pen*- 
 sive, and gradually deepened into sadness. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed she, with a sigh, " what egotists we are in high-life. 
 We expect heav:en to shield and sustain us in our grandeur, and never 
 a thought do we return to heaven." 
 
 " Am 1 not to be allowed the privilege of guessing, Madame?" asked 
 the King. 
 
 " You, sire ,!" said Marie Antoinette. *' It does not become the King's 
 subjects to put questions to him, which he might not be able to answer." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I request your Majesty to give m^ a trial." 
 
 " Very well, sire. Can you read my.riddld andjteilm.e at what hour 
 the sun will rise to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty. The sun will risfe at three o'clock," said Louis, 
 with a triumphant smile. • : : :\ 
 
 Everybody wondered. Marie Antoinette laughed her silvery laugh, 
 and clapped her little white hands with joy. " Bravo, bravo, my royal 
 Oedipus I" cried she, gaily. "The Sphinx is overcome; but she will 
 not throw herself into the sea just yet. She is too happy to bend the 
 knee before her husband's erudition." 
 
 With bewitching grace, the Queen inclined her beautiful head and, knelt 
 before the King. But Louis, blushing with gratification, clasped her 
 hands in his, and raised her tenderly to her feet. . ,<> 
 
 " Madam," said he, '' if I had the tact and wit of my brother Charles, 
 I would say that the sun, which so lately has risen, must not set so soon 
 upon its worshippers. But answer me one question — what-is the mean- 
 ing of the riddle with which your Majesty has been entertaining us?": 
 
 " May I answer with another question ? Tell me, sire, have you ever 
 seen the sun rise ?" ■ t , ,■ 
 
 "I? No, your Majesty.^ 1 confess that I never have." 
 
 " And you, ladies and gentlemen ?" ..n; 
 
 " I can answer for all that they have not," laughed d'Artois. 
 
 " Now, sire," said the Queen, again addressing her husband, " tell me 
 one thing. Is it unseemly for a Queen of France to see;.the sun risel" 
 
 " Certainly not," answered the King, laughing heartily. 
 
 " Then will your Majesty allow me to enjoy that privilege?" 
 
 " It seems to me, Madame, that you have no consent to ask save that 
 of your own bright eyes. If they promise to remain «pen all night, 
 you have no one to consult on the subject but yourself," 
 
 " I thank your Majesty," said the Queen. " And now, as none of the 
 company were able to solve my riddle, all must prepare to sit up with 
 ^me. May I hope, sire, that you will be magnanimous enough to re- 
 linquish the right you have earned to retire, and to afford me the happi- 
 ness of your presence also ?" ■ 
 
 Louis looked quite discomfitted, and was about to stammer out some 
 awkward reply, when the Marshal of the Household thjre.w open the 
 
MARIK AKTOINE'lTE. 223 
 
 doors of the banquet-hall, and approaching the King, cried out, " Le Roi 
 est Hcrviy 
 
 " Ah !" said he, nluch relieved, "let us refresh ourselves for the 
 vigil." 
 
 Dinner over, the cc^tnpany pronocnaded in the gardens for an hour 
 and then returned to the drawing-room to await the compulsory privi- 
 lege of seeing the sun rise. Alarie Antoinette, with the irDpatietice of a 
 child, was continually going out upon the terrace to see how the niwht 
 waned; but the moon was up, and the gardens of Marly were bathed 
 iu a silver light that was anything but indicative of the dawn of day. 
 
 The scene was so calm and lovely, that the young Queen returned to 
 the drawing room in search of the King, hoping to woe him to the en- 
 joyment of the beautiful Nature, which was elevating her thoughts far 
 above the kingdoms of earth, and peacefully leading her heart to heaveii. 
 But the King was nowhere to be seen, and as she was seeking him fust 
 in one room, then in another, she met. the C"unt de Provence. 
 
 "I am charged, Madame," said he, " with an apology from the King. 
 His Majesty begs that you will pardon him for making u.se of his right 
 to retire. He hopes that your Majesty will not enjoy your night the 
 less for his absence.''* 
 
 The Qiieen colored to her brows, and her expressive face gave token 
 of serious annoyance. She was about to dismiss the company, saying 
 that she had changed her mind, but she remembered that by so doin^, 
 she might become the subject of the ridicule of the court. Her pride 
 whispered her to remain, and smothered her instinctive sense of propri- 
 ety. She looked anxiously around for Madame de Noaielles, but on 
 the first occasion, when her advice would have been welcome, she was 
 absent. She had been told that etiquette had. nothing to do with the 
 Queen's party of pleasure, and she, like the King, had retired to rest. 
 
 Marie Antoinette then motioned to her fi^st Lady of Honor, the 
 Princess de Chimay, and requested" her to say to Madame de Noailles 
 that her presence would be required in the dr.awing-room at two o'clocky 
 when the court would set out iov the hill, from whence they would wit- 
 ness the dawn of the morrow. 
 
 "It is an unconscionable time coming," yawned the Countess of 
 Provence. "See, my dear sister, the band of the clock points to mid- 
 night. What are we to do in the interim ?", asked she, peevishly. 
 
 " Propose something l;o while aWay the time," said the Queen, smiling. 
 
 *' Let us depute d'Artois to do it. He is readier at such things than 
 the rest of us," said the Prineess. ■ . • . 
 
 "Does your Majesty second the proposal?" asked d'Artois. 
 
 " I do, with all my heart. 
 
 "Then," said the thoughtless Prince, " I propose that we play the 
 most innocent and rollicking of games— blind man's buff,"*. 
 
 A shout of laughter, in which the young Queen joined, was the re- 
 sponse to this proposii tion, ' •..• ^ ^ ; . r. 
 
224 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 "I was charged. with the duty of relieving the tedium of the court," 
 continued the Prince, gravely, " I once more propose the exciting game 
 of blind-man's buff." 
 
 " We are bound to accede,'' replied the Queen, forgetting her embarr 
 rassment of the moment before. " Let us try to recall the happy days 
 of our childhood. Let us play blind-man's buff until the sun rises, and 
 transforms the children of the night once more into earnest and reason- 
 ing mortals." 
 
 CHAPTER LVI, 
 
 THE FOLLOWINO DAY. 
 
 The Queen was alone in her cabinet, which she had not left since she 
 had seen the sun rise. She had taken cold in the garden, and as a sou- 
 venir of the event, had carried home a fever and a cough. But it was 
 not indisposition alone wUich blanched her cheeks. Something migh- 
 tier .than fever glowed in her flashing eyes, something more painful than 
 malady threw that deadly paleness over her sweet, innocent face. From 
 time to time, she glanced at a paper lying on the table before her, and 
 every time her eye fell upon it, her brow grew darker. 
 
 There was a knock at the door. She started — and murmuring, •' The 
 King!" — she flung her handkerchief over the papers, and throwing 
 back her head, compelled herself to calmness, while her husbanii, lifting 
 the silken portiere^ advanced towards the table. She tried to rise, but 
 Louis came hastily to prevent it, saying : " I come to make inquiries 
 concerning vour health, but if my presence is to disturb you, I will re- 
 tire." 
 
 "Remain then,' sire, I will not rise," said the Queen, with a languid 
 smile. 
 
 " Are you still suffering ?" said Louis. 
 
 •' Only from a cold, sire, it will pass away.". 
 
 " A cold for which you are indebted to the chill night-air. It would 
 appear that the Queens of France, who lived and died without seeing 
 the sun rise, were not so stupid after all." 
 
 The Queen gave a searching look at the King's face, and saw that it 
 was disturbed. 
 
 " I went with "your Majesty's consent." 
 
 *' I believe that I was wrong to give it," returned he, thoughtfully. — 
 
 * This game was frequently played in the courtly circles, and not only in aristocratic houses, 
 but in all social gatherings. It became the fashion. Madame de Genlis, who was fond of ecourg- 
 iDg the folllea of her day, made this fsRhion the snbjact of one of her dramas. 
 
UAlilE A:NTOIiSLTl'L". 'J'J,, 
 
 *' i should havedtemerabered that for a hundred years past, the court of 
 France has been so corrupt that, unhappily, the French nation have lost 
 all faith m chastity and purity of heart. You, Madame, must teach 
 them to distinguish the innocence which has nothinj; to concetti, from the 
 depravity which has lost all shame. But we must be cautious, and so 
 conduct ourselves, that our actions may be beyond misconstruction." 
 
 " Your Majesty wishes me to infer that my harmless desire to beholif 
 one of the glorious works of my Maker, has been misinterpreted'?" naid 
 the Queen, opening her large eyes full upon her husband. 
 
 The King avoided her glance. '• No, no," said he, with embarrass- 
 ment, " I speak not of what has been, but of what might be." 
 
 "And this most innocent of wishes has inspired your Majesty with 
 these apprehensions ?" 
 
 " I do not say so, but " 
 
 " But your IMajesty knows that it is so," cried the Queen. " It is 
 very generous of you to save my feelings by concealing that which you 
 know must subject mo to mortification ; but others here are less mag- 
 nanimous than you, sire. I have already seen the obscene libel to 
 which my pleasure-party has given birth. I have read ' Xc ^«t;cr cfe 
 
 " Who has dared to insult you by the sight of it?" asked Louis, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " Oh, sire," said Marie Antoinette, bitterly, " there are always good 
 friends, who are ready to wound us with the weapons of others ! I 
 found the lampoon on my table this morning among my letters." 
 
 " You shall not be exposed to a repetition of this : Campan shall look 
 over your papers before he presents them." 
 
 "Do you think I am likely to liud them often, sire? I hope 
 not ; buk*be that as it may, I am not a coward. 1 have courage to face 
 any amount of calumny ; for my heart is pure, and my life will vindi- 
 cate me." 
 
 " It will, indeed," said the King, tenderly, " but you must keep aloof 
 from the poisonous atmosphere of Slander. We must live less among 
 the multitude." 
 
 " Ah, sire, how can we keep aloof from those who have the right to 
 be near us?" 
 
 The King started, almost imperceptibly, and his anxious glance rested 
 upon his wife's honest, truthful eyes. Removing her handkerchief, she 
 pointed to a paper. 
 
 "This is the envelope in which I found ' Le lever de raurorc.'' The 
 handwriting is disguised, but tell me frankly, if you do not recognise it. 
 
 ^" I — really — I may be mistaken," — began the King. " but " 
 
 " Nay — you see that is the hand olj. the Count de Provence, your 
 own brother, sire. He it ia who enjoys the cruel satisfaction of having 
 forced this indecent libel upon my notice, and I doubt not, for one rap 
 ment, that he also is the one who sent it to you." 
 
225 JUSKPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " Yes, no doubt he did it to warn us, and we must be grateful, and 
 take the warning to our hearts." 
 
 The Queen laughed scornfully. "Does your Majesty suppose that 
 these drawings were made with the same benevolent intention ?" said 
 she, handing him a second paper. " Look at these indecent caricatures, 
 j,made still more obnoxious by the vulgar observations attached to them. 
 There is no disguise of his handwriting here, for this was not intended 
 for my eyes." 
 
 " Too true," sighed the King, " the drawings and the writing are both 
 iny brother's. But who can have sent you these shameful sketches?" 
 
 " I told you just now, sire, that there are always people to be found, 
 who stab their friends with borrowed weapons. The drawings were ac- 
 companied by a letter, informing me that they were executed in the 
 salons of Madame Adelaide, and that the remarks we're the joint pro- 
 ductions of your Majesty's brother and your aunts." 
 
 The King passed his handkerchief over his forehead to dry the heavy 
 drops of sweat that were gathering there, and rose up with the paper in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Where is your Majesty going?" asked the Queen. 
 
 " To my brother," cried he, indignantly. "I will show him this dis- 
 graceful paper, and ask by what right he outrages my wife and his 
 Queen ! I will tell him that his actions are those of a traitor and ^" 
 
 " And v/hen you have t-old him that, will you punish him as Kings 
 panish traitors ?" 
 
 The King was silent, and the Queen continued, with a sad smile, 
 
 " You could not punish him •, for the traitor who outrages the Queen 
 is the brother of the King, and, therefore, he can outrage with impu- 
 
 " He shall not do it with impunity ! I will force him to honor and 
 love you. 
 
 '• Ah, sire, love will not yield to force," said Marie Antoinette, in a 
 tone of anguish. '* Were I as pure as an angel, the Count de Provence 
 would hate me for iny Austrian birth, and Madame Adelaide would use 
 the great influence she possesses over your Majesty to rob me of the 
 iittle favor I am gaining in your sight." 
 
 " Oh, Antoinette, do you not feel that my whole heart is yours," said 
 Louis, affectionately. " Believe me, when I say, that it is in the power 
 of no human being to sully your sweet image in my eyes. Do not fear 
 the royal family. I am here to protect you, and soon or late, your 
 worth will overcome their prejudices." 
 
 •' No, sire, no. Nothing will ever win me their regard. But I am 
 resolved to brave their enmity, satisfied that in the eyes of the world, 
 my conduct and my conscience both will sustain me." c- 
 
 "Your husband, also," said^ the King, kissing her hand. - * 
 
 " Sire, I hope so," said Marie Antoinette, in a tremulous voice. "And 
 now," continued she, dashing away the tear-drops that were gathering 
 in her evpy, " now give me those caricatures. They have ?erved to 
 
MAUIK AKTOiMirrL. 227 
 
 convince your Majesty that I know my enemies and defy them. Their 
 mission is accomplished ; let us try to forget their existence." 
 
 She took the drawings from his hand, and tearing them to pieces, 
 scattered them over the carpet. The King picked up a lew of the frag- 
 ments. ^ 
 
 " Will you allow me to retain these as a souvenir of this hour ?" said 
 he, gazing fondly upon her sweet face. 
 
 " Certainly, sire." 
 
 "But you know that Princes can never receive a gill without return- 
 ing one. Therefore, do me the favor to accept this, it is paper for pa- 
 per." He drew from his bosom a little package to which the royal 
 seal was alllxed, and Marie Antoinette took it with a glance oi surprise. 
 
 *' What can it be ?" said she, as she unfolded it. 
 
 He watched her as she read, and thought how beautiful she was, as 
 blushing and smiling, she held out her hand to thank him. 
 
 " How, sire," said she, joyfully, "you make me this royal gift?" 
 
 " If you will accept it. The Chateau de Trianon is a small estate ; 
 but its mistress may at least find it a home where she will have liberty 
 to enjoy Nature, without exciting the malevolence of h^r enemies. 
 No one can watch you there, Antoinette, for your castle is not large 
 enough to lodge your slanderers. It will scarcely accommodate your 
 friends." 
 
 " How can lever thank you, sire?" said she, iu grateful accents. 
 " You have understood my heart, and have gratified its weary longings 
 for occasional solitude. iTiis, then, is my own private domain." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And I liiAy rule there without interference from state or etiquette." 
 
 " Assuredly. As chatelaine of Trianon, you alone will regulate its 
 customs, and all who visit you must submit to your ryjes." 
 
 " And no man can enter my chateau without an invitation ?" 
 
 " Not even the King, himself." 
 
 Marie Antoinette smiled, until the pearls encased within her coral 
 lips, dazzled the royal vision. 
 
 " How delightful," said she. " I do not think that the Count of Pro- 
 vence will ever be invited to Trianon." 
 
 " Nor I," replied Louis. 
 
 " But the King will be so often asked to come, that he will certainly 
 wish he were the Count de Provence. Still he must promise not to 
 come until he receives his invitation." 
 
 " I promise, beautiful chatelaine.'''' 
 
 " And then to come whenever I invite him." 
 
 "That I can promise more safely than the other." 
 
 " Upon your royal word ?" 
 
 " Upon my royal word. And thus I seal it with a kiss upon yonx 
 fair hand." 
 
 " Upon my hand only, sire 1" asked she, while she turned a cheek 
 whose hyc was like the rosy liniug of a seu shell. 
 
T2S ' lOSEl'H THE Sh'COND. 
 
 hoa'i^ accepted the challenge, and pressed so passionate a kiss upon 
 that cheek, that it flushed to a deep, burning crimson, and the Queen's 
 i?\-cs were east down, till nothing of them was visible except her long, 
 dark lashes. 
 
 The royal lover, too, grew very red, and starame^d a few inaudible 
 words. Then bowing, awkwardly, he stumbled over an arm-chair, and 
 /retreated in dire contusion. 
 
 Marie Antoinette looked after her clumsy King with a beating heart. 
 
 '• Am 1 indeed to be blest with his love !" thought the poor, young 
 thitrg. " If 1 am, I shall be the happiest and most enviable of women." 
 
 CHAPTER LVn. 
 
 THE LAST APPEAL. 
 
 The carriage of the Countess Esterhazy was returning from a ball 
 which the Empress had given in honor of her son's departure from Vi- 
 enna. Joseph was about to visit France, and his lovely young sister 
 was once more to hear the sound of a beloved voice from home. 
 
 It was long past midnight, but the Hotel Esterhazy was one blaze of 
 light. It had been one of the Countess's first orders to her steward that 
 at dusk every chandelier in her palace should be lighted. She hated 
 night and darkfl«ss, she said, and must have hundreds of wax lights 
 burning from twilight until morning. This was one of the whims of 
 the fair Margaret, which, although it amused all Vienna, was anything 
 but comic to her husband, for it cost him one thousand florins a month. 
 
 The Hotel then, from ground-flour to attic, was bright as noon-day. — 
 Six lackeys, in silvered livery, stood on either side of the entrance with 
 torches in their hands, to light their lady to the vestibule. From the 
 inner door to the stair-case, a rich Turkey carpet covered the floor, and 
 he'-e again, stood twelve more lackeys, performing the oflice of candela- 
 bra to the light-loving Countess. At the foot of the stairs, stood the 
 steward and the butler of the household, awaiting such orders as she 
 mif^ht choose to fling at them on her way ; and at the head of the stairs, 
 waiting to receive her, stood a bevy of dames de compagnie, and other 
 female'attendants. 
 
 The Countess passed through this living throng without vouchsafing 
 one wlance in acknowledgement of their respectful greetings. In pro- 
 foutid silence she swept up the stair-way ; her long, glossy train of white 
 5!atin,'following her as she went, like the foaming track that a ship leaves 
 >j',->on the broad bosom of the ocean, and the diamonds, that decked her 
 
ii A III 1'. A M U I N I'.'l' 1 1: . > v> ; 
 
 brow, no.ck nnd arras, flinging showers df radiance that, dazzleti tiie cvt- 
 ]ike lightning when the. storm is at its height. Her head was thrown 
 hftck, her largo black eyes were starry as ever, and her face was so palo 
 that its pallor was unearthly. 
 
 At the landinjc^placc she turned, and speaking to the steward, said : 
 
 " Let Count Esterhazy know that in Leu minutes 1 await him }n the 
 blue-rooni." Having said thus much, she continued her way, and disa^ 
 peared fiom the eyes of her staring household. w 
 
 TJer di.^appoaranoe was the signal for the transformation of the cande- 
 labra into men. 
 
 "Did you hear her?" whispered one. "She has sent for the Count." 
 
 "Never troubling herself whether he sleeps or wakes," said another. 
 " Poor man ! He has been in bed for four hours." 
 
 ♦' No wos..ler he goes to bed early," remarked a third. " It is the 
 only place on earth where he has peace." 
 
 " Nevertheless, he will be obedient and come. He dare not refuse." 
 
 " Oh, no !" was the general response. " In ten minutes he will bo 
 there, or his amiable Countess will ti'&at us to a scene where she flings 
 handsful of gold out of the windows, and gathers all the people in Vi. 
 enna before the Hotel to see the show." 
 
 The servants wero right; Count Esterhazy did not disobey his wife. 
 He trembled when he received her message, called nervously for his 
 valet to dress him, and at the end of the ten minutes, was on his wav 
 to the blue room. 
 
 The Countess was there before him, looking like an angry Queen about 
 to condemn a recreant vassal to death, And Esterhazy, with the mien 
 and gait of a culprit, came into her presence with a bow that was al- 
 most a genuflexion. 
 
 " You see, Countess," said he, " with what haste I obey your com- 
 mands. I feel so honored at the call that " 
 
 He paused — for really her fiery eyes seemed to burn him, and her 
 contempt dried up the stream of his common-place flattery, as the breath 
 of the Sirocco parches up the dew-drop. 
 
 " Why do you not go on '?" said she. 
 . "lam bewildered by my own joy," replied he, blandly. " Remem- 
 ber — it is' the first time since our marriage that you have allowed mo 
 the privilege of an interview in private; and I may well lose my speech 
 in the intoxication of such a moment." 
 
 " It is the first time. You have a good memorY. Can you also re- 
 collect how long it is since we had that interview *?" 
 
 " Can 1 recollect ! Four long years !'" 
 
 " Four long years," sighed she, " to the dav, and almost to the 
 hour." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed the Count. " And can you forgive mo for hav- 
 ing forgotten this charming anniversary ?" 
 
 " You are happy to have tasted of the Lethe of indifference. I— I have 
 counted the days and the ho\\rs of my slavery, nnd each day and hour 
 
is hramled upon my heart. Ilavn you forgotten, loo, Count Eeterhazy, 
 what I swore to you on that wedding-night?" 
 
 "Yes, Margaret — I have forgotten uli the cruel words you spoke to 
 me in an outburst of just indignation." 
 
 "I wonder that ybu should have Ihrgotten them, for it has been my 
 daily tare to remind you of the vow I then made. Have I not kept 
 my word ? Rave I not crossed your path with the burning ploughshares 
 of my hatred? Have I not cursed your home; wasted your wealth, and 
 made you the laughing-stock of all Vienna?" 
 
 "You judge yourself with too much severity, Margaret," said the 
 Count, mildly. " True,— we h:ive not been very happy, since this is 
 the first time, since our marriage-uigbt, that we are face to face without 
 witnesses. I will not. deny either that our household expenditures have 
 cost several njillions, and have greatly exceeded our income. But the 
 lovely Countess Esterhazy has a right to exceed all other women in the 
 vsplendor of her concerts and balls, and the richness of her dress. Come, 
 make me amends for the past — 1 forgive you. There is still time to " 
 
 " No !" exclaimed she, " the time went by four years ago. You can 
 never make amends to me nor I to yow. Look at yourself You were 
 then a young man, with high hopes and a light heart. Many a woman 
 would have been proud to be called your wife — and yet you chose me. 
 Now, that four years of accursed wedded life have gone over your head, 
 vou have passed from youth to old age, without ever having known an 
 interval of manhood. Audi — oh, God! What have I become through 
 your miserable cowardice ! I might have grown to be a gentle woman, 
 had fate united me to him whom I love ; but the link that has bound me 
 to you has unsexed me. Our marriage was a crime, and we have paid 
 its penalty ; yov. are as weak as a woman, and / — as inflexible as a 
 man." 
 
 Two large tears glittered in her eyes, and fell slowly down her pale 
 cheeks. Count Esterhazy approached and caressed her with his hands. 
 She shuddered at his touch, recoiling as if from contact with a reptile. 
 Meanwhile, he was imploring her to begin a new life with him — to give 
 him her hand, to make him the happiest of men. 
 
 "■ No, no, no !" cried she. " In mercy cease, or you will drive me 
 mad. But 1 will forgive you even your past treachery, if you will 
 grant the request I am about to make." 
 
 "You will condescend to ask something of me! Speak, Margaret, 
 speak. What can I do to make you happy ?" 
 
 " You can give me my freedom," replied the Countess, in a soft, im- 
 ploring voice. " Go with me to the Empress, and beg her to undo 
 what she has done. Tell her that she has blasted the lives of two hu- 
 man beings — tell her that we are two galley-slaves, pining for liberty." 
 
 Count Esterhazy shook- his head. "The Empress will never allow 
 us to be divorced," said he, " for I have too often assured her that I was 
 happy beyond expression, and she would not believe me if I came with 
 Allot hrv story." 
 
" Thfn let us go to the foiintiiir.-hpftd,'" said iho Coiinteps, wrinjrin-' 
 her hands, " Let us go to the Pope aud implore him to loose the bands 
 of our mutual misery." 
 
 " Impossible. That would be a slight which the Empress never 
 would forgive. I should fall under her displeasure." 
 
 " Oh, these servile hearts that have no life but that which they bor- 
 row from the favor of Princes!" cried Margaret, scornfully. '• What 
 has the favor of the Empress been worth to you ? Por what have yon to 
 thank her 1 For these four years of martyrdom, which you have spent 
 with a woman who despises you V 
 
 "I cannot dispense with the good will of my sovereign,'' said the 
 Count, with something like fervor. " For hundreds of years, the Ester- 
 hazys have been the favorites of the Emperors of Austria, and we can- 
 not affjrd to lose the station we enjoy therefrom. No — 1 will do noth- 
 ing to irritate the Empress. She chose you for my wife, and therefore 
 I wear my chains patiently. Maria Theresa knows how T have obeved 
 aud honored her commands, and one of these days, 1 shall reap the' re- 
 ward of my loyalty. If Count Palfy dies, I am to be Marshal of the 
 Imperial household ; but yet higher honors await us both. If 1 continue 
 to deserve the favor of the Empress, she will confer upon me the title 
 of ' Prince.' You refuse to be my wife, Margaret, but you will one 
 day be proud to let me deck that haughty brow with the coronet of a 
 Princess." 
 
 Margaret looked more contemptuously at him than before. 
 
 ♦' You are even'more degraded than I had supposed," said she. " Poor, 
 crawling reptile, I do not even pity you. I ask you, for the last time' 
 will you go with me to Rome to obtain a divorce ?" 
 
 " Why do you repeat your unreasonable request, Margaret ? It is 
 
 vain for you to hope for a divorce. Waste my fortune if you will^ [ 
 
 cannot hinder you — I will find means to repair my losses ; and the Em- 
 press, herself, will come to my assistance, for " 
 
 " Enough," interrupted the Countess. " Since you will not aid me in 
 procuring our divorce, it shall be forced upon you. I will draw across 
 your escutcheon such a bar sinister as your princely coronet will not be 
 large enough to hide. That is ray last warning to you. Now leave 
 me. 
 
 " Margaret I implore you to forgive me if I cannot make this great 
 sacrifice. I cannot part from yo<i, indeed, I cannot," began the Count. 
 
 "And the Empress will reward your constancy with the title of 
 Prince," replied Margaret, with withering scorn. " Go — you are not 
 worthy of my anger — but I shall know where to strike. Away with 
 you." 
 
 Count Esterhazy, with a deep sigh, turned and left the room. 
 
 *' The last hope to which I clun|f, has vanished !" said she, " and I 
 must resort to disgrace.*' 
 
 She^ bent her head, and a shower of tears came to her relief. Ihn 
 they did not Boften her heart. She rose from her seat nnitfering, " it. i« 
 
too hue to weep ! I havn no nlternative. Tho. hour for revenge haa 
 struck !" 
 
 CHAPTER LVIIl. 
 
 Tim FLIGHT. 
 .1 
 
 TiiF. < 'o\-,ntess passed into her dressing-room. She closed and locked 
 the door, then going across the room, she stopped before a large picture 
 that hung opposite to her rich Venitian toilet-mirror. The frame of this 
 picture was ornamented with small gilt rosettes. Margaret laid her hand 
 upon one of these rosettes and drew it, towards her. A noise of ma- 
 chinery was heard behind the wall. She drew down the rosette a se- 
 cond trme, and then stepped back. The whirr was heard again, the pic- 
 ture began to move, and behind it appeared a secret door, Margaret 
 opened it and as she did so, her whole frame shook as if with a deadly 
 repugnance to that which was within. 
 
 -' I am hp.re, Count Schulenberg," said she coldly. 
 The figure of a young raau appeared at the door- way. 
 
 " May I presume to enter Paradise?" said he, stepping into the room 
 •with a flippant air. 
 
 "You may,"' replied she, without moving ; but the hue of shame over- 
 spread her (ace, neck and arms, and it was plain to Count Schulenberg 
 that she trembled violently. 
 
 These were to him the signals of his triumph, and he smiled with sat- 
 isfaction as he surveyed this lovely woman, so long acknowledged to be 
 the beauty 75a?" excellence of the imperial court at Viehna. Margaret al- 
 lowed him to take her hand, and stood coldly passive, while he covered 
 it with kisses ; but when he would have gone further, and put his arm 
 around her waist, she raised her hands, and receded. 
 
 ♦'•Not here," — murmured she hoarsely. " Not here, in the house of 
 the man whose name I bear. Let us not desecrate love ; enough that 
 we defile marriage." 
 
 " Come, then, beloveiil, come," said he imploringly. The coach is at 
 the door, and I have passes for France, Italy, Spain and England. 
 Qioof^e yourself the spot wherein we shall bury our love from the world's 
 gaze/' 
 
 ti ■y^g gQ ^r, Paris," replied she, tjjrning away her head. 
 
 "To Paris, dearest? Why you have forgotten that the Emperor 
 leaves for Paris to-morrow, and that we incur the risk of recognition 
 there" 
 
" Not at all — F'arls is a large city, and if we aro discovered 1 shall 
 seek protection from the Emperor. lie knows of my uijiappy mar- 
 riage and sympathises M'ith my sorrj^ws." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, dearest. Then in Paris, we spend our hon- 
 ey-moon, and there enjoy the bliss of requited love." 
 
 "There, and not until we reach there," said she gravely. " I require 
 a last proof of your devotion, Count. I exact that until we arrive in 
 Paris yon shall not speak to me of love. You shall consider me as a 
 sister, and allow me the privilege of travelling in the carriage with my 
 maid — she and I on one seat, you opposite." 
 
 "Margaret that is abominable tyranny. You expect me to be near 
 you and not to speak of love ! 1 must be watched by your maid, and 
 :Ht opposite to you ! — You surely cannot mean what you say." 
 
 " 1 do indeed. Count Schulenberg." 
 
 " But think of all that I have endured for a year that I have adored 
 you, cold Beauty ! Not one single proof of love have you ever given 
 me yet. You have tolerated mine, but have never returned it." 
 
 "bid I not write to you 1" 
 
 " Wri<te ! yes. You wrote me to say that you would not consent to 
 be mine^ynless I carried you away from Vienna. Then you went on to 
 order our mode of travelling as you would have done had I been your 
 husband. ' Be here at such nn hour; have your passes for various 
 countries. Describe me therein as your sister. Come through the 
 garden and await me at the head of the secret stair-way.' Is this a love- 
 letter'? It is a mere note of instructions. For one week I have waited 
 for a look, a sigh, a pressure of the hand ; and when 1 come hither to 
 take you from your home forever, you receive me as if I were a courier. 
 No, Margaret, no — I will not wait to speak ray love until we are in 
 Paris." 
 
 " Then, Count Schulenberg, farewell. "VVe have nothing more to say 
 to one another." 
 
 She turned to leave the room, but Schulenberg darted forward and 
 fell at her feet. " Margarev, beloved," cried he, "give me one single 
 word of comfort. I thirst to know that you love me." 
 
 " Can a woman go further than I am going at this moment ?" asked 
 Margaret, with a strange, hollow laugh. 
 
 " No. I acknowledge my unspeakable happiness in being the partner 
 of yonr flight. But I cannot comprehend your love, It is a bitter 
 draught in a golden beaker." 
 
 " Then 'do not drink it," said shp, retreating. 
 
 " I must — I must drink it ; for my soul thirsts for the cup, and I will 
 accept its contents." 
 
 " My conditions?" 
 
 " Yes, since 1 must," said Schulenberg heaving a sigh, " I promise 
 then to contain my ecstasy until we roach Paris, and to allow that guar- 
 dian of virtue, your maid, to sit by your side, while I sufler agony op- 
 posite. But oh ! when we reach Paris " 
 
234 jDsia'H iBJ. .->i^c(hM> 
 
 " In Paris we will talk further, and my speech shall, be iinerent." 
 
 '•Thank you, beloved," cried the Count passionately. , "T^his heaven- 
 ly promise will sustain me throughfcini oideal." He kisseS^the tips of 
 her tingers and she retired to change lur ball-dress for a travelling habit. 
 
 When she had closed the door, Uk •xpiession of Count Schulenberg's 
 face was not quite the same. 
 
 '•The fierce Countess is about to he tamed," thought h'e. "I shall 
 win my bet, and will'humble this insolent beauty, Let her rule if she 
 must, until we reach Paris, hut there 1 will repay her, and her chains 
 shall not be light. Really this is a piquant adventure. I am making a 
 delightful wedding-tour without the bore of the marriage-ceremony, at 
 the expense of the most beautiful woman in Europe; and to heighten 
 the piquancy of the affair. I am to receive two thousand louls d'ors oil 
 my return to Vienna. Here bhe comes." 
 
 " I am ready," said Margaret, coming in, followed by her maid who 
 held her mistress's travelling-bag. 
 \Count rfchulenberg darted forward to offer his arm, but she waved 
 him away. 
 
 " Follow me," said she, passing at once through the secret -Opening. 
 Schulenberg followed, " sighing like a furnace," and looking daggers at 
 the confidante, who in her turn looked sneeringly at him. A few mo- 
 ments after, they entered the carriage. *rhe windows of the hotel Ester- 
 hnzy were as brilliantly illuminated as ever, while the master of the house 
 slumbered peacefully. And yet a shadow had fallen upon the proud 
 escutcheon which surmounted the silken curtains of his luxurious bed. 
 The shadow of that disgrace with which his outraged wife had threaten- 
 ed him ! 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 JOSEPH IN FRANCE. 
 
 A LONG train of travelling carriages was about to cross the bridge 
 which spans the Rhine at Strasburg, and separates Germany from France. 
 It was the suite of the Count of Falkenstein who ■A'as on his way to visit 
 his royal sister. 
 
 Thirty persons, exclusive of Count Rosenberg and two other confiden- 
 tial friends, accompanied the Emperor. Of course the incognito- of a 
 Count of Falkenstein, who travelled with such a suite, was not of much 
 value to him j so that he had endured all the tedium of an official jour- 
 
MARIE AKTOlWhTl'i:. 235 
 
 ney. This was all very proper in the eyes of Maria Theresa who 
 thougln it impossible for Jove to travel without his thunder; but Jove 
 himself, as everybody knows, was much addicted to incognitos, and so 
 was his terrine representative, tiie Emperor of Austria. 
 
 The imperial cortege, then, was just about to pass from Germany to 
 France. It was evening, and the fiery gold of the setting sun was mir- 
 rored fn the waves of the Rhino which with gentle murmur were toying 
 with the greensward that sloped gracefully down to the water's edge. The 
 Emperor gave the word to halt, and rising from his seat, looked back 
 upon the long line of carriages that followed in his wake. 
 
 " Rosenberg," said he, laying his hand upon the Count's shoulder, 
 "tell me frankly, how do you enjay this way of travelling ?" 
 
 " Ah, sire, 1 have been thinking all day of the delights of our other 
 journeys. Do you remember our hunt for dinner in the dirty little 
 hamlet, and the nights we spent on horseback in Galicia 1 There was 
 no monotony in travelling then !" 
 
 "Thank you, thank you," said the Emperor with a bright smile. *' I 
 see that we are of one mind." 
 
 He motioned to the occupants of the carriage immediately behind 
 him, and they hastened to obey the signal. 
 
 The Emperor after thanking them for the manner in which they had 
 acquitted themselves of their respective duties, proposes a change in 
 their plans of travel. 
 
 " Then," replied Herr Von Bourgeois, with a sigh, " your Majesty has 
 no further use for us, and we return to Vienna." 
 
 *' Not at all, not at all," said the Emperor, who had heard and under- 
 stood the sigh wafled towards Paris and its thousand attractions. " We 
 will only part company that we may travel more at our ease, and once 
 in Paris, we again join forces. Be so good as to make yoilr arrange- 
 ments accordingly, and to make my adieux to the other gentlemen of 
 our suite." 
 
 Not long after, the imperial cortege separated into three columns, 
 each one of which was to go independent of the other, and all to unite 
 when they had reached Paris. As the last of the carriages with which 
 he had parted, disappeared on the other side of the bridge, the Emperor 
 drew a long breath and looked radiant with satisfliction. 
 
 " Let us wait," said he, " until the dust of my imperial magnificence 
 is laid, before we cross the bridge to seek lodgings for the night. Mean- 
 while, Rosenberg, give me your arm aud let us walk along the banks of 
 the Rhine." 
 
 They crossed the high-road and took a foot-path that led to the banks 
 of the river. At that evening hour every thing was peaceful and quiet. 
 Now and then a peasant came slowly following his hay-laden wagon, 
 and occasionally some village-girl caroled a love-lay, or softly murmur- 
 ed a vesper hymn. 
 
 The Emperor who had been walking fast, suddenly stopped, and gazed 
 with rapture upon the scene. , ' 
 
*' See, liosenberg,'' said lie, "see how beautiful (Jermany i^ today ! 
 As beautil'ul as a laughing youth upon whose brow is stamped the fu- 
 ture hero !" 
 
 ^' Your Majesty will transform the boy into a hero," said liosenberg. 
 
 The Enaperor frowned. " Let us forget fur a moment the mummery 
 of royalty," said he. "You know moreover that royalty has brought 
 jue nothing, but misery. Instead of reigning over otheis, 1 am contin- 
 ually passing under the Caudine forks of another's despotic will." 
 
 '• But. the; day will come when the Emperor shall reign alone, and then 
 the sun of greatness will rise for Germany." 
 
 " Heaven grant it ! I have the will to make of Germany one power- 
 ful empire. Oh, that 1 had the power, too ! My friend, we are alone, 
 and no one hears except God. Here on the confines of Germany the 
 poor unhappy Emperor may be permitted to shed a tear over the sev- 
 ered garment of German royalty — that garment >jvhich has been rent bv 
 so many little princes ! Have you observed, Rosenberg, how they have 
 soiled its majesty '? Have you noticed the pretensions of these mani- 
 Jkins whose domains we can span with our hands ? Is it not pitiable 
 that each one in his principality is equal in 'power to the Emperor of 
 Austria !" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Rosenberg with a sigh, "Germany swarms with 
 little princes !" 
 
 " Too u)any little princes," echoed Joseph, " and therefore their lord 
 and emperor is curtailed by so much of his o>vn lawful rights, and Ger- 
 many is an empty name among nations! If the Germans were capable 
 of an enlightened patriotism, if they would throw away their Angloma- 
 nia, Gallomania, Prussomania, and Austromania, they would be some- 
 thing more than the feeble echoes of intriguers and pedants.* Each one 
 thrusts his own little province forward, while all forget the one great 
 fatherland !" 
 
 " But the Emperor Joseph will be lord of all Germany," cried Rosen- 
 berg exultingly, "and he will remind them that they are vassals and he 
 is their Suzerain !" 
 
 "They must have a bloody lesson to remind them of that," said the 
 Emperor, moodily. " Look behind you, Rosenberg, on the other side 
 of the Rhine. There lies a kingdom neither larger nor more populous 
 than Germany' — a kingdom which rules us by its industry and its ca- 
 prices, and is great by reason of its unity, because its millions of men 
 are under the sway of one monarch." 
 
 "And yet it was once with France as it is today with Germany," 
 said Count Rosenberg. "There were Normandy, Brittany, Provence, 
 Languedoe, Bourgoyne and Franche-Comte, all petty dukedoms striv- 
 ing against their allegiance to the king. Where are their rulers now ? 
 Buried and forgotten", while their provinces own the sway of the one 
 monarch who rules all France. What France has accomplished, Ger- 
 many, too, can compass." 
 
 "The Emppmr'a own word', Bee Joseph II rorrPBpf.nd«Hioe, p. 1T6, 
 
MARIE ANTOINETI'E. 'J37 
 
 ■ The Emperor placed his hand affectionately upon Rosenberg's shoul- 
 der. " You have read my heart, friond," «Hid hi" smiling. " Do vou 
 know what wild wishes are purging within me now? VVishes which 
 Fredericlv of Prussia would condemn as uiihiwfiil, although it was quite 
 righteous for him to roh Austria ol' Silesia. I too have my Silesia, and 
 by the Lord above me! my title-deeds are not as mouldy as his !" 
 
 " Only that your Silesia is called Bavaria," said Rosenberg with a 
 significant pmile. 
 
 "For God's sake," cried Joseph, "do not let the rushes hoar yon, 
 lost they betray ino to the babbling wind, and the wind t)L-Hr it "to the 
 i\ing ot Prussia. Rut you have guessed. I'avaria is a portion of my 
 Silesia, but only a portion. Bavaria is mine by right i>t' inheritance, 
 and I shall take it when the time comes. It will be a con-vely patch to 
 stftp some of the' rents in my imperial mantle, P>ut my Silesia lies af; 
 every point of the compass. To the east lie Bosnia and Servia — to the 
 south see superannuated Venice. The lion of St. Marks Isold and blind 
 and will fall an easy prey to the eagle of Hapsburg, This will extend 
 dur dominions to the Adriatic sea. When the Duke of Modena is ga- 
 thered to his fathers, my brother, in right of his wife, succeeds to the 
 title, and as Ferrara once belonged to the House of Modena, he and I 
 together, can easily wrest it from the Pope. Close by are the Torton- 
 ese and Alessandria, two fair provinces which the King of Sardinia sup- 
 poses to be his. The^ once formed a portion of the Duchy of Milan, 
 and Milan is ours, with every acre of land that ever belonged to it. By 
 heaven, I will have all that is mine, if it cost me a seven year's war to 
 win it back ! This is not all. Look towards the vvest, beyond the spires 
 of Strasburg, where the green and fertile plains of Alsatia woo our com- 
 ing. They now belong to France, but they shall be the property (.f 
 Austria. Farther on lies Lorraine. That too is mine, for my faihor's 
 title was 'Duke of Lorraine.' What is ft to me that Francis the First 
 sold his birthright to France! AH that I covet I shall annex to Austria, 
 as surely as Frederic wrested Siiesiafrom me. ' 
 
 "And do you intend to let him keep possession of Silesia 1" asked 
 Rosenberg. 
 
 " Not if T can prevent it, but that may not be optional with me. I 
 will — but hush ! Let us speak no more of tho future, my soul faints 
 with thirst when I think of it. Sometimes I think I see Germany point- 
 ing to her many wounds, and calling me to come and heal her lacerated 
 body. And yet I can dq nothing ! I must stand with folded arms, nor 
 •wish that I were lord of Austria, foi» God knows that Ido not long for 
 Maria Theresa's death. May she reign for many years, but oh ! may I 
 live, to see the day wherein I shall be sole monarch not only of Austria, 
 but of all Germany. If it ever dawns for me, the provinces shall no 
 longer speak each <.>ne its own lanounge. Italians, Hungarians and A us- 
 trians, all shall be German, and we shall- have one people and one 
 tongue. To ensure the prosperity of my empire, I will strengthen my 
 pllianoft with Franc-e. I dislike the t rc-nch, but I mUet secure thciv nen- 
 
238 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 trality before I step into possession of Bavaria, and assert my claims to 
 my many-sided Silesia. Well — these are dreams ; day has not yet 
 dawned for me ! The future Emperor of Germany is yet a vassal, and 
 he who goes to France to day is nothing but a Count of Falkenstein. — 
 Come let us cro.ss the bridge that at once unites France with Germany, 
 and divides them one from another.'"'' 
 
 CHAPTER LX, 
 
 THE GODFATHER. 
 
 There was great commotion at the post-hou.se of the little town of 
 Vitry. Two maids in their Sunday best were transforming the public 
 parlor of the inn into a festive dining-room, wreathing the walls with 
 garlands, decking the long dining-table with flowers, and converting the 
 huge dresser into a buffet whereon they deposited the pretty gilt china, 
 the large cakes, the pastries, jelJies, and confections that were destined 
 for the entertainment of thirty invited guests. The landlord and post- 
 master, a slender little man with an excellent, good-humored face, was 
 hurrying from buffet to table, from table to kitchen, superintending the 
 servants. The cook was deep in the preparation of her roasts and warm 
 dishes, and at the kitchen door sat a little maiden, who with important 
 mien, was selecting the whitest and crispest leaves from a mountain of 
 lettuce which she laid into a large gilt salad-bowl beside her, throwing 
 the others to a delighted pig, who, like Lazarus, stood by to pick up the 
 leavings of his betters. In the yard, at the fountain, stood the man-of- 
 all-work, who, as butler ^jro tem.^ was washing plates and glasses, while 
 closely on the flags, sat the clerk of the post-office polishing and uncork-, 
 ing the bottles which the host had just brought from the cellar in honor 
 of his friends. 
 
 Monsieur Etienne surveyed his notes of preparation and gave an ap- 
 proving nod. His face was radiant as he returned to the house, gave 
 another glance of satisfaction around the dining-room, and passed into 
 an adjoining apartment. This was Uie best furnished room-in the post- 
 house; and on a soft lounge, near the window, reclined a pale young 
 woman, beautifully dressed, whose vicinity to a cradle, where lay a very 
 young infant, betokened her recent recovery from confinement. 
 
 " Athanasia, my goddess," said Monsieur Etienne^ coming in on tip- 
 toe, " how do you feel to-day 1" 
 
 She reached out her pale hand and answered in a languid voice : *' The 
 ♦ Those ar» Joteph'i own words, 6ee Lctt«re of Joeeph H, Pog» 175. 
 
MAlllE ANTOINETI'K ►. 239 
 
 doctor says that, so far, I am doing pretty well, and by great precau- 
 tions, I may be able, in a few wevks, Lo resume my household diilifs*." 
 
 Monsieur Etienne raised his eyebrows, and looked thoughtful. 'The 
 doctor is over-anxious my dear," said he, " he exaggerates your weak- 
 ness. Our little angel there, fs already three weeks old, and will be 
 standing on his legs before long." 
 
 " The doctor is more sympathising than you, Monsieur Etienne," be- 
 gan the wife. 
 
 " My treasure," interrupted her husband, " no one can wish to spare 
 you premature exertion more than I. But I do entreat of you, my an- 
 gel, to do your best to remain with the company to-day as lung as you 
 can." 
 
 "I will do all in ray power to oblige you," said Madame Etienne, 
 condescendingly, "and if you require it, I will set up from first to last." 
 
 "It will be a great festival for us, provided no passengers arrive to- 
 day. Good heavens ! if they should come, what could I do with them 1 
 Even the best of those we receive here are scarcely fit to introduce 
 among our respectable guests ; and then as for post-horses, I want every 
 one of them for the company. - Heaven defend us then from passengers, 
 for — oh! oh! is it possible ! Can it be!" — said Etienue, interrupting 
 himself. " Yes, it is the sound of a post-horn " 
 
 " Perhaps it is some of our guests," suggested Madame Etienne. 
 
 " No, no, for our postillions to-day play but one air, ' Je siiis pere, tin 
 pcrc heureux,'' " said Monsieur Etienne, listening with all his might to 
 the approaching horn. 
 
 "Jt is a passenger," said he, despondingly. " Athanasia, my angel, 
 we are lost !" 
 
 So saying, Monsieur Etienne darted out of the room, as if he were 
 rushing off to lose himself without delay ; but he stopped as soon as ' 
 he had reached his frontdoor, for there was no necessity to go further. 
 A dark caleche, with three horses, dashed up to the door, while not far 
 behind, came another chaise, whose post-horn was sounding " Je suis un 
 jpere^ un pere kevrcux.'''' 
 
 " Is it possible?" thought the discomfitted post-master. " Yes, — here 
 they come at the very moment when the guests are arriving." 
 
 Just then another horn was heard, and " Je suis un pere^ tin pere 
 AcMrcMA'," made the welkin ring. 
 
 On every side they came, but the unlucky passenger ca\cche blocked 
 up the passage. Monsieur Etienne, following the impulses of his heart, 
 rushed past the strangers, and ran to greet the most important of his 
 guests, the village-curate and the pastor of the next market-place. But 
 just then, the bewildered little man remembered his duty, and darted 
 back to the passengers. 
 
 There were two gentleinen in the carriage, and on the box, near the 
 postillion, a third, who had the air of a valet. 
 
 " The gentlemen wish to go on to the next Stage ?" said Etienne, 
 without opening the door. 
 
240 JOSEPU THE SECOND. 
 
 *' No, sir," said one of the passengers, raising his dark blue eyes to 
 the post house. ''Your house looks inviting, and we would like a room 
 and a cosy dinner/' 
 
 Monsieur Etienne scarcely knew what reply to make to this untimely- 
 request. '• You wish to dine here — here — you would " 
 
 jJown came another post chaise, thundering on the stones, and louder 
 than ever was the sound of " Je suis un pere, un pere heurettx.^^ 
 
 Certainly at that moment the song was a mockery, for Monsieur 
 Etienne was a moat unhappy and distracted father. 
 
 ' Gentlemen," said he, pathetically, " oblige me by going on to the 
 next town. Indeed I " 
 
 '• Why, will you not give ns dinner ?" asked the gentleman who had 
 spoken before. " I see a number of people passing us and entering the 
 house. How is that?" 
 
 " Sir, they are — that is — I am," — stammered the landlord ; then sud- 
 denly plunging into a desperate resolve, he said : " Are you a father '^" 
 
 A shade passed over the stranger's face as he replied, " I have been a 
 father. But why such a question ?" 
 
 " Oh, if you have been a father," answered Etienne, "you will sym- 
 pathise with me when f tell you that to-day we christen our first-born 
 child." 
 
 " Ah, indeed !" exclaimed the passenger, with a kind smile. " Then 
 these persons are " 
 
 " My guests," interrupted the landlord and post-master, " and you 
 will know how to excuse me if— — " 
 
 " If you wish us to the devil," returned the blue-eyed stranger, laugh- 
 in;' merrily, '■ But" indeed, 1 cannot oblige you, my excellent friend, 
 for I don't know where his Infernal Majesty is to be fot:^d, and if I 
 may be allowed a preference, I would rather remain in the society of 
 the two priests whom I see going into your house." 
 
 " You will not go further then " 
 
 "Oh, no, we ask to be allowed to join your guests and attend the 
 christening. The baptism of a first-born child is a ceremony which 
 touches my heart. And yours, also, does it not 1" said the stranger to 
 his oompaniou. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the other, laughing, " above all, when it is joined 
 to another interesting ceremony — that of a good dinner." 
 
 " Oh, you shall have a good dinner !" cried Etienne, won over by the 
 sympathy of the first speaker. " Come in, gentlemen, come in. As 
 the guests of our little son, you are welcome." 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
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GOETZEL'S LIST 
 
 MEW PIBLIC&TIOI 
 
 G35 
 
 
 HARDEE'S INFANTRY TACTICS. 9th Edition. 
 
 WHEELER'S CAVALRY TACTICS. 
 
 LADY AUDLEY S SECRET. 
 
 SILAS MARNER. 
 
 RAIDS AND ROMANCES OF MORGAN AND HIS 
 ^ MEN. 2nd Edition. 
 
 TANNHAUSER. .♦ 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE 
 CHAUDRON'S SPErJJNG BOOK. 
 
 do. 
 
 do 
 
 FIRST READER. 
 
 SECOND READER. 
 
^^^^y'^^^'cop^rishi secured. ^>%f*#,^ 
 
 J6V 
 
 JOSEPH II. 
 
 w 
 
 AMD HIS COURT. 
 
 
 ,/] 
 
 BY L. MUllLBACll. 
 
 IFrom t|)c ©crman, 
 BY ADELAIDE DeV. CMAUDKON. 
 
 ;<t^ 
 
 :'! fe 
 
 VOLUME in. 
 
 
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 ]M B I r. E : 
 
 s. II. GO ETZ K L. r u u 1 . 1 s 1 1 1-: i; . 
 
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JOSEPH II. 
 
 AND HIS COURT. 
 
 %n lltstorkal llobcl 
 
 BY L. MUHLBACII. 
 
 Jfvom tfjc CKcrmnju, 
 BY ADELAIDE Dc V. CHAUDKOiN. 
 
 VOLUME III. 
 
 MOBILE: 
 
 S. H. GOETZEL, PUBLISHEIi. 
 
 18G4 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 S. H. GOETZEL, 
 
 la the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Alabama, 
 
 for the Confederate States of America. 
 
 Farrow & Dennett, printers. 
 
JOSEPH 11. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTER r. 
 
 THE GODFATHER. 
 
 " We accept with pleasure," said the strangers, and they followed the 
 host into, the house. Tha door of the room where the guests were as- 
 sembled was open, and the strangers, with a selfpossession, which 
 proved them to be of the aristocracy, walked in and mingled at once in 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Allow me, gentlemen," said the host, when he had greeted the re- 
 mainder of his guests, " allow me to present you to Mac^ame Etienne. 
 She will be proud to receive two such distinguished strangers in her 
 house to-day." 
 
 Madame Etienne, with a woman's practiced eye, saw at once that these 
 strange guests, who were so perfectly unembarrassed and yet so cour- 
 teous, must belong to the very fi,-st ranks of society ; and she was hap- 
 py to be able to show off her savoir vivre before the rest of the company .- 
 
 She received the two strangers with much grace and affability, and 
 whereas the two curates were to have "been placed beside her at table, 
 she assigned then^ to her husband, and invited the strangers to the seats 
 instead. She informed them of the names and station of every person 
 present, and then related to them how the winter previous at the ball of 
 the sous-pr.efect, she had danced the whole evening, while some of the 
 prettiest girls in the room, had wanted partners. 
 
 The strangers listened with oblij:;ing courtesy and appcarcd*deepiy in- 
 terested. The blue-eyed stranger; however, mingled somewhat in the gen- 
 eral conversation. He spoke with the Burgomaster from Solanges of 
 the condition of his town, with the curates of their congregations, and 
 seemed much interested in the prosperity of French manufactures, about 
 which much was said at table. 
 
 All were enchanted with the tact and affability of the strangers. Mon- 
 sieur Etienne was highly elated, and as for Madame, her paleness had 
 been superseded by a becoming flush, alid she never onco complained of 
 •>ver exertion. 
 
4 .lOSErn tiif> second. 
 
 The brcakfost over, the company assembled for the baptism. It was 
 to take place in the parlor, where a table covered ■^iih a fine white cloth, 
 a wax candle, some flowers, a crucifix^ and an improvised font, had been 
 arranged for the occasion. 
 
 The noble stranger gave his arm to Madame Etienne. "Madame," 
 said he, " may I ask of you the favor of standing godfather to your son?" 
 
 Madame Etienne blushed with pWasiwe, and replied that she would 
 be most grateful for the honor. 
 
 " In this way," thought she, " we shall find out his name and rank." 
 
 The ceremony began. Tlie curate spoke a few impressive words as 
 to the nature of the sacrament, and then proceeded to baptise the infant. 
 The water was poured over its head, and at lash came the significanu 
 question. " What is the name of the godfather ?" All eyes were turn- 
 ed upon him, and Madame Etienne's heart beat hard, for she expected to 
 hear the word " Count" at the very least. 
 
 " My name V said he. " Joseph." • , 
 
 " Joseph," repeated the priest. "Joseph — and the surname?" 
 
 " I thought Joseph would be enough," said the stranger, with some 
 impatience. 
 
 " No, sir," replied the priest. " The surname, too, must be register- 
 ed in the baptismal records." 
 
 " Very well, then, Joseph the Second." 
 
 ".The Second ?" echoed the curate with a look of mistrust. 
 
 " The Second! Is that your surname ?" 
 
 " Yes, ray name is ' The Second.' " 
 
 I Well, be it so," returned the cui-ate with a shrug. " Joscph-The- 
 SeCond. Now what is your profession— ^excuse me, sir, but 1 ask the' 
 customary questions." 
 
 The stranger looked down and seemed almost c6nfused. 
 
 The curate i?iildly repeated his question. " What is your profession 
 or your station, sir?" 
 
 "Emperor of Austria," replied Joseph smiling. 
 
 A cry of astonishment followed this announcement. The pencil with 
 which the priest was about to record the " profession " ot the godfather, 
 fell from his hands. Madame Etienne in her eustacy fell almost faint- 
 ing into an arm-chair, and Monsieur Etienne, taking the child from the, 
 arms of the nurse, cameand knelt with it at the Emperor's feet. 
 
 This was the signal for a renewal of lite and movement iuthe room. 
 All followed the example of the host, and in one moment, old ifnd young, 
 men and women, were on their knees. 
 
 " Your Majesty," said Etienne in a voice choked with tears, " you 
 have made my child famous. For a hundred years, the honor you have 
 conferred upon him will be the wonder of our neighborhood, and never 
 will the people of Vi try forget the condescension of your Majesty, in 
 sitting among us as an equal and a guest. My sou is a Frenchman, but 
 at heart he shall also be a German, like our own beautiful Queen, who 
 ib both Austrian and Frejich. God bless and preserve you both ! Long 
 
MAJilh AiNTOJNE'lTK. 
 
 live onr Qiicon, Mnrie Autoinettc, and long live her noble brother, llic 
 Emperor of Anslri^, !" 
 
 The company echoed the cry, and their shouts aroused Madame 
 Ktienne, who rose and advanced towards her imperial visitirr. He has- 
 tened tu replace her gently in her arm-chair. ! 
 
 " Where people are buund together by the ties of parent and godfa- 
 ther," said. he, " there must be no unnecessary ceremony. Will you do 
 me ono favor, Madame?" 
 
 "Sire, my life is at your Majesty's disposal." 
 
 " Preserve and treasure it, then, lor the sake of my god-son. And 
 since you arc willing to do me the favor," continued .he, drawing from 
 \\\h bosom a snulF-box richly set with diamonds, "accept ihis as a re- 
 membrance of my pleasant visit to you to-day. My portrait is upon 
 ihe lid, and as I am told that all the lovely won)en in France take snulf, 
 perhaps you will take your snuff from a box which! hope will remind 
 you of the giver." 
 
 " And now," continued the Emperor to the happy Monsieur Etienne, 
 "as 1 have been admitted to the christening, pBrhaps you will accom- 
 uodalc me wilh a pair of horses with which 1 may proceed to the next 
 
 ,4 ', 5 7 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL AT VERSAILLES. 
 
 The French Court was at Versailles; it having been decided by the 
 King and Queen that there they would receive the Emperor's visit. A 
 magnificent suite of apartments had been fitted up for his occupation, 
 and distinguished courtiers appointed as his attendants. He was anx- 
 iously expected ; for already, inany an anecdote of his affability and 
 generosity had reached Paris. 
 
 A courier had arrived to sa}' that the Emperor had reached the last 
 station, and would shortly be in Versailles. The Queen received this 
 intelligence with tears of joy, and gathered all her ladies around her in 
 the room where she expected to meet her biother. The King merely 
 nudded, and a shade of dissatisfaction passed over his face. He turned 
 to his conhdeutial adviser, Count Maurepas, who was alone with him in 
 his Cabinet. 
 
 " Tell me frankly, what do you think of this visit 1" 
 
 The old Count raised his shoulders a hi Francaisc, "Sire, the Queen 
 has so often invited the Emperor, that I presume he has coiuc to grali/y 
 her lonj'inrs." 
 
JOSEPH THL 6t;UUxNl>. 
 
 • "Ah, bah!'' said Louis, impationtly. "lie is iiMt, so soft-hearted as 
 to shape his actions to suit the longings of his lauiily. Speak more 
 candidly." 
 
 "Your Majesty commands mfe to be perfectly sincere]" « 
 
 \'I entreat you, be truthful, and tell me what you think." 
 
 ''Then 1 confess that the Emperor's visit has been a subject of rhuch 
 mystery to your Majesty's ministers. You are right in saying that he 
 is not the man to trouble himself about the state of his relatives' affec- 
 tions, lie comes to Paris for something nearer to his heart th^n any 
 royal sistei'. Perhaps his hope is that he may succeed in removing me, 
 and procuring the appointment of de Choiseul in my stead." 
 
 "Never! — Austria cannot indulge such vain hopes, lor her watchful 
 spies must ere this have convinced the Hapsburgs that my dislike to- 
 wards this Duke, so precious in the eyes of Maria Theresa, is uncon- 
 querable. My father's shade banished him to Chanteloup, and I will 
 follow this shade whithersoever it leads. If my father had lived (and 
 perchance Choiseul had a hand in his death) there would have been no al- 
 liance of France with Austria. I am forced to maintain it, since my 
 wife is the daughter of Maria Theresa, so that neither the Austrian, nor 
 the anti-Austrian party in France, can ever hope to rule in France. Ma- 
 rie Antoinette is the wife of ray heart,, and no human being shall ever 
 dislodge her from thence. Bwt my love for her can never influence my 
 policy, which is steadfast to the principles, of my father. If Joseph has 
 come hither for political purposes, he might have spared his pains. 
 
 "He may have other views besides those we have alluded to. He 
 may come to gain your Majesty's sanction to his ambitious plans of ter- 
 ritorial aggrandizement. The Emperor is inordinately ambitious, and 
 is true to the policy of his house." 
 
 " Which nevertheless was obliged to yield Silesia," said Louis de- 
 risively. 
 
 "That is the open wound for which Austria seeks balsarft from Tur- 
 key. If your Majesty does not stop him, the Emperor will light the 
 torch of war and kindle a conilagration that may embrace all Europe." 
 
 " If I can prevent war, it is my duty to do so; for peace is the sacred 
 right of my people, and nothing but imperative necessity would drive 
 me to invade that right." 
 
 " But the Emperor is not of your Majesty's mind. He hopes for war, 
 in expectation of winning glory." 
 
 " And I for peace, with the same expectation. I, too, would win glo- 
 ry — the glory of reigning over a happy and prosperous people. The? 
 fame of the conqueror i^ the scourge of mankind ; that of the legislator, 
 its blessing. The last shall be my porti'bn — I have no object in view 
 but the welfare of the French nation." 
 
 " The Emperor may endeavor to cajole your Majesty through your very 
 love for France. He may propose to you an extension of French terri- 
 tory to reconcile you to his acquisitions in Turkey. He may suggest 
 the Netherlands as an equivalent for Bosnia and Servia." 
 
MA mi': ANTOINETTE. * 7 
 
 "I will not accept the bribe,"^cri^d Louis hastily. " Fraoce needs no 
 aggrandizement.- If her boundaries were extended, she would lose in 
 strength what she gained in size ; so that Joseph will waste his time if 
 he seeks to awaken in me a lust of dominion. I thirst for conquest, it 
 is true — the conquest of my people's hearts. May my father's blessing 
 and my own sincere efforts enable me to accomplish the one purpose of 
 my life !" 
 
 "You have accomplished it, sire,^' replied do Maurepas with enthu- 
 siasm. " You are the absolute master of your subjects' hearts and af- 
 fections." 
 
 "If so, I desire to divide my domains with the Queen," said Louis 
 with a searching look at de Maurepas. The Minister cast down his 
 eyes. The King went on : " You have something against her Majesty, 
 what is it 1" 
 
 " The Queen has something against me, sire. I am an eye-sore to her 
 Majesty. She thinks 1 am in the way of de Choiseul, and will try eve- 
 ry means to have me removed." 
 
 "You know that she would try in vain. I have already told you so. 
 As a husband, 1 forget that Marie Antoinette is an Archduchess of Aus- 
 tria, but as my father's son — never ! It is the same with her brother. 
 I may find himi agreeable as a relative, but as Emperor of Austria, he 
 will know me as King of France alone. Be his virtues what they ftiay, 
 he never can wiring the smallest concession from me. But hark ! — 1 
 hear the sound of wheels. You know my sentiments — communicate 
 them to the other Ministers. 1 go to welcome my kinsman." 
 
 When the King entered the Queen's reception room, she was stand- 
 ing in the midst of her ladies. Her cheeks were pale, but her large, ex- 
 pressive eyes were fixed with a loving gaze upon the door through whicli 
 her brother was to enter. When she saw the King, she started forward 
 and laying both her hands in his, smiled affectionately. 
 
 ", Oh, sire," said she, " the Emperor has arrived, and my heart flutters^ 
 so, that 1 can scarcely wait for him here. It seems to me so cold that 
 we do not go to meet him. Oh, come, dear husband, let us hasten to 
 embrace our brother. Good heavens! It is not forbidden a Queen to 
 have a heart, is it?" 
 
 " On the contrary, it is a grace that well becomes her royalty," said 
 Louis with a smile. " But your brother does not wish us to go forward 
 to meet him. That would be an acknowledgment of his imperial sta- 
 tion, and you know that he visits us as Count of Falkenstein." 
 
 " Oh etiquette, forever etiquette !" whispered the Qi^en, while she 
 opened her huge fan and began to fan herself. " There is no escape from 
 its fangs. We are rid of Madame de Noailles, but Madame Etiquette 
 has staid behind to watch our every look, to forbid us every joy " 
 
 Just then the door opened and a tall, manly form was seen upon the 
 threshold. His large blue eyes sought the Queen, and recognising her, 
 his face brightened with a bewitching smile. Marie Antoinette heedless 
 of etiquette, uttered a cry of joy and flew into his arms. " Brother , 
 
bfelovod brother!" murmured she, in accents of hcartf(,'U tenderness. 
 
 " My sister, my own dear Antoinette," was the loving reply, and Jo- 
 seph drew her head upon his breast and kissed her again and again. 
 ^ The Queen, overcome by joy, burst into tears, and in broken accents 
 welcomed the Emperor to France. 
 
 The bystanders were deeply alFected, all except the King — he alone 
 was unmoved by the touching scene. He alone had remarked with dis- 
 pleasure that Marie Antoinette had greeted her brother in their native 
 Longue, and that Joseph had responded. It was a German Emperor and 
 a German Archduchess who were locked in each other's arms — and i\ear 
 them stood the King of France, for the moment, forgotten. The posi- 
 tion was embarrassing, and Louis had not tact enoijgh to extricate him- 
 self gracefully. With ruffled brow and downcast eyes he stood, until 
 no longer able to restrain his chagrin, he turned on his heel to leave the 
 jooni. 
 
 At this moment a light hand was laid upon his arm, and the clear, so- 
 norous voice of the Queen was heard. 
 
 " My dear husband, where are you going?" 
 
 "I am here too soon," replied he sharply, " I had been told that the 
 Count of Faikenstein had arrived, and I came to greet him. It appears 
 that it was a mistake, and I retire until he presents himself." 
 
 " The Count of Faikenstein is'hei'e, sire, and asks a thousand pardons 
 for having allowed his foolish heart to get the better of, his courtesy," 
 said Joseph with the superiority of better breeding. " Forgive me for 
 taking such selfish possession of my sister's heart. It was a momenta- 
 ry concession from the Queen of France to the memories of her child- 
 hood ; but I lay it at your Majesty's feet, and entreat you to accept it 
 as your well-won trophy." . 
 
 lie looked at the King with such nn expression of cordiality, that 
 Louis could not withstand hini. A smile which he could not control, 
 rippled the gloomy surface of the King's face, and he came forward, of- 
 fering both hands. 
 
 " i welcome you with my whole heart, my brother," said he in reply. 
 *' Your presence in Versailles is a source of happiness both to the Queen 
 and to myself. Let me accompany you to your apartments that you 
 may take possession at once, and refresh yourself from the fatigues of 
 traveling." 
 
 ^ ■' Sire," replied Joseph, " I will follow your Majesty wherever you 
 please ; but 1 cannot aifovv vou to be inconvenienced by my visit. I 
 am a soldier, unaccustomed to magnificence, and not worthy of such 
 royal accommodation as you offer." 
 
 " How !" cried the Queen. " You will not be our guest 1" 
 
 " I will gladly be your guest at table if you allow it," replie(3 the 
 Emperor, " but I can dine with you without lodging at Versailles. 
 When I travel, I do not gio to castles but to inns." 
 
 The King looked astounded. "To inns'?" repeated he v/tth emphasis. 
 
 " Count Faikenstein means hotels, your Mnjesty," cried the Queen, 
 
l:uufliin<f, " My brotlicr is not quite .iccustoined to our French torm?, 
 ami we will have to teach him the difference between a hotel and an 
 inn. But to d^ this, dear brother, you must remain wit'n us. Your 
 apartments are ,ir retired as you could possibly desire them." 
 
 " I know that Versailles is as vjist as it is magnificent," said Joseph, 
 "■ but 1 have already sent my valet to take rooms for me in Parii!. Let 
 us then say no more on the subject.* I am very grateful to you for 
 your hospitality, but 1 have come to France to hear, to see, and to learn. 
 I must be out early and late, and that would not suit the royal etiquette 
 uf Versailles." 
 
 " 1 thought you had come to Paris to visit the King and myself," said 
 Marie Antoinette looking disappointed. 
 
 " You were right, dear sister, but I am not so agreeable that you 
 should wish to have me constantly at your side. I w.ish to become ac- 
 quainted with your beautiful Paris. Jt is so full of treasures of art and 
 wonders of ijidustry, that a man has only to use his eyes, and he grows 
 accomplished. 1 am much in need of such advantages, sire, for you will 
 lind me a barbarian for whose lapses you will have to be indulgent." 
 
 " 1 must crave then a reciprocity of indulgence," replied Louis. "But 
 come. Count — give your arm to the Queen and let her show you the 
 way to dinner. Wc dine to-day enfamille^ and my brothers find sisters 
 are impatient to welcome Count Falkenstein lo Versailles." 
 
 CIIAPTEPv HI. 
 
 COUNT FALKENSTEIN IK PAUK, 
 
 A modest haekney-eoach stood before the door of the little hotel de 
 Turenne, in the Rue Vivicnne. The occupant, who had just alighted was 
 about to enter the hotel when the host, who was standinrr before the 
 <loor, with his hands plunged to the very bottom of his breeches pockets, 
 stopped the way, and not very politely inquired what he wanted. 
 
 '' 1 want what every body else wants hero, and what your sign oflers 
 to everybody — lodgings," replied the stranger. 
 
 "That is precisely what you cannot have," said mine host pompously. 
 " I am not at liberty to receive any one, not even a gentleman of your 
 distinguished appearance." ^ 
 
 " Then take in your sign, my friend, . When a man inveigles travel- 
 lers with a sign, he ought to be ready to satisfy their claims upon his^ 
 hos pitality. I , therefore, demand a room." 
 
 * M«ninirH lU- M'me <le Caiupaii. Vol 1, P. \Tl. 
 
10 JOSiiPli IHt, M:.0UM* 
 
 " I tell you, sir, tluit you cannot have it. The hotel de Tiirenne has 
 been too highly hono)ed to entertain ordinary guests. The Emperor 
 of Austria, brothei- of the beautiful Queen, has taken lodgings here." 
 
 The stranger laughed. " If the Emperor were to hear you, he would 
 take lodgings with some one more discreet than yourself. He travels 
 incognito in France." 
 
 " But everybody is in the secret, sir, and all Paris is longing for a 
 sight of Count Falkenstein, of whom all sorts of delightful anecdotes 
 are circulated. He is affability itself, and speaks with men generally 
 as if they were his equals." 
 
 "And pray," said the stranger laughing^ " is he made differently from 
 other men '?" 
 
 The host eyed his interrogator with anger and contempt. " This is 
 very presuming language," said he, " and a§ his Majesty is my guest, I 
 cannot suffer it. The French think the world of him, and no wonder, 
 for he is the most condescending sovereign in Europe. He refused to 
 remain at the palace, and comes to take up his abode here. Is not that 
 magnanimous ?" 
 
 " I find it merely a matter of convenience. He wishes to be in a cen- 
 tral situation. Has he arrived ?" 
 
 "No, not yet. His Valet is here, and has set up his camp-bed. I am 
 waiting to receive the Emperor and his suite now." 
 
 " Is the valet Gunther here ?" 
 
 " Ah, you know this gentleman's name ! Then perhaps you belong 
 to the Emperor's suite." 
 
 " Yes," said the stranger laughing, " I shave him occasionally. Now 
 call Gunther." 
 
 There was something rather imperious in the tone of the gentleman 
 who occasionally shaved the Emperor, and the landlord felt ynpelled 
 to obey. 
 
 " Of course," said he respectfully, " if you shave the Emperor, you 
 are entitled to a room here," 
 
 The stranger followed him up the broad staircase that led to the finst 
 story of the hotel. As they reached the landing, a door opened, and the 
 Emperor's valet stepped out into the hall. 
 
 "His Majesty !" exclaimed he, quickly moving aside and standing 
 stiff as a sentry by the door. 
 
 His Majesty!" echoed the landlord. "This gentleman — this — 
 
 Your Majesty — have I- 
 
 " 1 am Count Falkenstein," replied the Emperor amused. " You see 
 now that you were wrong to refuse me, for the man whom you took for 
 an ordinary nnortal, was neither more nor less than the Emperor himself." 
 
 The landlord bent the knee and began to apologize, but Joseph stop- 
 ped him short. " Never mind," said he, " follow me, I wish to speak 
 with you." 
 
 The valet opened the door and the Emperor entered the room, the 
 frightened landlord following. 
 
f MAltll!. AMOlxNlil IK. 1 1 
 
 " Tliesc arc niy apartments?" -continued Josopli, looking arouriu., 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty." 
 
 •'{ retain four of them. An ante-room, a sitting-room, abed-room, 
 and a room for my valet, i will keep thorn for six weeks on one con- 
 dition." 
 
 " Your Majesty lias only to command here." 
 
 *' Well, then, 1 command you to forget what I am in Austria. In 
 France, 1 am Count Falkenstein, and if ever 1 hear myself spoken of by 
 any other name, 1 leave your house on the spot." 
 
 " I will obey your instructions. Count." 
 
 "You understand then that I desire to be received and regarded as an 
 ordinary traveller. From whence it follows that you will take in what- 
 ever other guests apply to you for lodging. You have proved to me 
 to-day how unpleasant it is to be turned away, and 1 desire to spare oth- 
 er applicants the same inconvenience." 
 
 " But suppose the Parisians should wish to see Count Falkenstein ?" 
 
 "They will have to submit to a disappointment." 
 
 "Should any one seek an audience of — the Count?" 
 
 "The Count receives visitors, but gives audience to no one. His 
 visitors will be announced by his valet, therefore you need give your- 
 self no trouble on that head. Should any unfortunate or needy persons 
 present themselves, you'are at liberty to admit them." 
 
 "Oh," cried the host, with tears in his eyes, "how the Parisians will 
 appreciate such generosity !" 
 
 "They will not have.the opportunity of doing so, for they shall not 
 hear a word of it. Now go and send me a barber, and take all the cus- 
 tom that presents itself to you whether it comes in a chariot or a hack- 
 ney coach." 
 
 The host retired, and as the door was closing, Count Rosenberg ap- 
 peared. The Emperor took his hand and bade him welcome. 
 
 "I have just been to the embassy," said Rosenberg, "and Count Von 
 Mercy says " ' 
 
 "That I told him I would take rooms at the hotel of the Ambassa- 
 dors ; but { also reserve to myself this nice little bachelor-establishment 
 to which I may retreat when 1 feel inclined to do so. The advantage of 
 these double quarters is, that nobody will know exactly' where to find 
 me, and I shall enjoy some freedom from parade. At the hotel of the 
 Ambassadors 1 shall be continually bored with imperial honors. Here 
 on the contrary I am free as air, and can study Paris at my leisure." 
 
 " And you intend to pursue these studies alone. Count 1 Is no one to 
 accompany you to spare you inconvenience, perchance to assist you in 
 possible peril ?" 
 
 " Oh, my friend, as to peri], you know that I am not easily frighten- 
 ed, and the Paris police is too well organised to lose sight of me. Mon- 
 sieur de Sartlnes doubtless thinks that 1 need as much watching as a 
 house-breaker ; for it is presumed at Court that I have come to steal 
 the whole country and carry it to Austria in my pocket." 
 
12 JuSEt'il iUL SKUU-SlJ. 
 
 " Thoj Know thnt, to Count Falkenstftin notlilng is impossible," re- 
 plied Uosenbcrg. "To carry nway France would not be a very hard 
 matter to a man who has robbed the- French people of their hearts." 
 
 '• Ah bah ! — The French people have no hearts ; they have nothing 
 but iinngination. There is but one man in France who has genuijie sen- 
 sibility, and that one is their poor timid young King. Louis has a heart, 
 but that heart 1 shall never win. Heaven grant that the Queen have 
 power to make if, hers!" 
 
 " The Queen ! — If Louis has a heart, it surely cannot be insensible to 
 the charms of that lovely young Queen !" 
 
 "-It ought not to be, for she deserves the love of the best of men, but 
 things are not as they should be here. I have learned i/iat in the few- 
 hours of my visit to Versailles. The Queen has bitter enemies, and 
 you and f, Rosenberg, must try to disarm them." 
 
 "What can i do, Count, in this matter?" 
 
 "You can watch an'd report to me. Swear to me, as an honest man, 
 that you willconcealnothingyouhear to the Queen^sdetrimentor to mine." 
 ■ " I swear it. Count." 
 
 "Tiiauk you, my friend. Let us suppose that our mission is to free 
 my sister from the power of a dragon, and restore her to her lover. 
 You are my truj-rty squire, and together we shall prevail over the mon- 
 ster, and deliver the Princess. 
 
 At that moment a knocking was heard at the door, it was opened, 
 and an elegant cavalier, with hat and sword, entered the room with a 
 sweeping bow. The Emperor stepped politely forward, and inq^uired 
 his business. 
 
 The magnificent cavalier waved his hat, and with an air of proud c^n- 
 s'ciousness, replied, " I was requested to give my advice regarding the 
 arrangement of a gentleman's hair." 
 
 "Ah, the barber," said the Emperor. "Then be so good, sir, as to 
 give your advice and dress my hair." 
 
 " P/irdon me, sir, that is not ray profession," replied the cavalier 
 haughtily. '• i an^ a physiognomist. Allow me to call in my subordi- 
 nate," 
 
 " Certainly," said the" Emperor, ready to burst with Laughter as he 
 surveyed the solemn demeanor of the artist. The latter walked majes- 
 tically to the door and opened it, 
 
 "Jean," cried he, with tiie voice of a field-marshal ; and a youth flut- 
 tered in, laden with powder-purse/, combs, curling-tongs, ribbons, poma- 
 tum and the other appurtenances of a first-rate hair-dresser. 
 
 " Now, sir, said the physiognomist gravely, " be so good as to take 
 a seat." 
 
 Joseph obeyed the polite command, upon which the physiognomist 
 retired several paces, folded his arms, and contemplated the Emperor In 
 solemn silence. 
 
 - " Be so kind as- to turn your head to the left — a little more — so — that 
 is If. — I wiiih to see your profile," said he after a while. 
 
MAliili A.VKJINEITE. [> 
 
 "My defir sir, prny inform me whcthcr'in France it is customary to 
 take a man's portrait before you rlress his hair." asked the Emperor, 
 scarcely able to restrain his inorea>,in;r Tnirth ; while Rosenberg, choking 
 with laughter, retired to the window, where Joseph could see him sha- 
 king wilh his- handkerchief bciore his tnouth. 
 
 "It is not customary, sir," replied the physiognomist with grave ear- 
 nestness, " 1 study your face that 1 may decide which style becomes 
 you best." 
 
 Behind the chair stood the hair-dresser in a fashionable suit of nan- 
 keen with lace cuffs and ruHies, hovering lilce a large yellow butterfly 
 over the Emperor, and ready at the signal to alight upon the imperial 
 head with brush and comb. 
 
 The physiognomist continued his study. lie contemplated the head 
 of the Emperor from every point of view, walkmg slowly around him, 
 and returning to take a last survc}' of the front. 
 
 Finally his eye rested majestically upon the butterfly which fluttered 
 with expectation. 
 
 " Physiognomy of a free-negro," said he with pathos. ''• Give the 
 gentleman the Moorish co/Z/H/r,""'- and with a courtly salute, he left the 
 room. 
 
 The Emperor now burst into shouts of laughter, in which he waa hear- 
 tily joined by Rosenberg. 
 
 Meanwhile the butterfly had set to work, and was frizzing with all 
 his might. 
 
 " How will you manage to give rac the Moorish coiffure ?" asked the 
 Emperor, when he had recovered his speech. 
 
 "1 shall divide your hair into a multitude of single locks', curl, frizx 
 them, and they will stand out from yonr head ill exact imitation of the 
 negro's wool," answered the butterfly triumphantly. 
 
 " 1 have no doulit that it would' accord charmingly with mynphysiog- 
 nomy," said the Emperor, once more indulging in a peal of laughter, 
 *' but to-day 1 must content myself with the usual European stylo. 
 Dross my hair as you see it, and be diligent, for 1 am pressed for time," 
 
 The hair-dresser reluctantly obeyed, and iu a few minutes the work 
 was completed and the artists gone. 
 
 "Now," said Joseph to Count Iloscnberg, •' I am about to pay some 
 visits. My first one shall be to Monsieur de Maurepas. He is one of 
 our most active opponents, and I long to become acquainted with my 
 enemies. Come, then — let us go to the Hotel of the Keeper of the 
 great seal." 
 
 *' Your Majesty's carriages are not here," replied Rosenberg. 
 
 "Dear friend, my equipages are always in readiness. Look on the 
 opposite side of the street at tliose hackney-coaches. They are my car- 
 riages, for the present. Now let us cross over and select one of the 
 neatest." \ 
 
 Perfe ct si lence reigned in the ante-room of Monnieur do Maurepas. 
 ' * MoDV'ircs il'un voynfjciu qui so repose. V "■ P 42, 
 
14. ' JOSEPH THE SRCON I ». v 
 
 V.K Jiveried servnnt with important mien walked forth and back before 
 the closed door of the receptiou-roon), like a bull-dog guarding his mas- 
 ter's sacred premises. The door of the first ante-room was heard to 
 opec, and the servant turned an angry look towards two gentlemen wlio 
 inade their appearance. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " the two gentlemen who just now alighted from the 
 hackney-coach ?" 
 
 " The same," said the Emperor. "Is Monsieur le Comte at home"?" 
 
 "He is," ^aid the servant pompously. 
 
 " Then be so good as to announce to him Count Falkenstein." 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. " 1 am sorry that I cannot oblige 
 you sir. Monsieur de Taboureau is with the Count, and until their con- 
 ference is at an end, I can announce nobody." 
 
 " Very well then, I shall wait," replied Joseph taking a seat and point- 
 ing cut another to Count Rosenberg. 
 
 The servant resumed his walk, and the two visitors in silence awaited 
 the end of the conference. 
 
 " Do you know, Rosenberg," said Joseph after a pause, " that I am 
 grateful to Count de Maurepas for this detention in his ante-room % It 
 is said that experience is the mother of Wisdom. 
 
 Now my experience of to-day teaches me that it is excessively tire- 
 some to wait in an ante-room. I think 1 shall be careful for the future, 
 when I have promised to receive a man, not to make him wait. Ah ! 
 here comes another visitor. We are about to have companions in en- 
 nui." 
 
 The person who entered the room was received with more courtesy 
 than "the gentleman who had come in the hackney-coach." The ser- 
 vant came forward with eagerness, and humbly craved his pardon while 
 informing him that his Excellency was not yet visible. 
 
 " I shall wait," replied the Prince de Harrai, advancing to a seat. 
 Suddenly he stopped, and looked in astonishment at Count Falkenstein, 
 ■who was sitting perfectly unconcerned in a corner of the room. 
 
 " Great Heavens, his Majesty, the Jlmperor !" cried he, shocked, but 
 recovering himself sufficiently to make a deep inclination. 
 '"Can your Majesiy, pardon this unheard of oversight"?" 
 
 " Still, Prince," replied the Emperor, smiling, "you will disturb the 
 Ministers at their conference." 
 
 " Why, man, how is it that his Excellency is not apprised of his Ma- 
 jesty's presence here?" said the Prince de Harrai to the lackey. 
 
 "His Excellency never spoke to me of an Emperor," stammered the' 
 terrified lackey. " He desired me to admit no one except a foreigrij 
 Count whose name, your Highness, I have been so 'unlucky as to forget." 
 
 " Except Count Falkenstein." 
 
 " Yes, your Highness, I believe — that is, I think it " 
 
 " And you leave the Count to wait here in the ante-room !" 
 
 " I beg Monsieur !e Comte a thousand pardons. I will at once repair 
 my error." 
 
MAlilE A^TOJNETTK. J o 
 
 *' Stay," said the Emperor imperatirely. Then turning to the Prince 
 do Ilarrai he contiuued good huniorcdly, '• If yonr Highness is made to"' 
 wait in the ante-room, there is no reason why the Count of Falkenstein 
 should not bear you company. Let us then wait together." 
 
 The ministerial conference lasted full half an liour longer, but at last 
 the door opened, and Monsieur de Maurepas appeared. IJe was coming 
 forward with inefTablc courtesy to receive his guest.';, when perceiviuLr 
 the Emperor, his self-possession forsook him at once. Pale, hurriecf, 
 and confused, he stammered a few inaudible words of apology, when Jo- 
 seph interrupted and relieved him. 
 
 He offered his hand with a smile, saying, " Do not apologize ; it is 
 unnecessary. It is nothing but right that business of state should have 
 precedence over private visitors."* 
 
 " But your Majesty is no private individual !'' cried tha Minister with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Pardon me," said the Emperor gravely. " As long as I remain 
 here, I am nothing more. 1 left the Emperor of Austria at Vienna ; he 
 has no concern with the Count of Falkenstein who is on a visit to Paris, 
 and who has come hither, not to parade his rank, but to see and to learn 
 where there is so much to be learned. May I hope that you will aid 
 Count Falkenstein in liis search ^fter knowlediie." 
 
 CHAPTER. IV. 
 
 THE QUKEN AND TUE " DAMES DE LA HALLE." 
 
 A brilliant crowd thronged the apartments of the Princess d'Artois. 
 The royal family, the Court, and the lords* and ladies of high rank were 
 assembled in her reception-rooms, for close by, an event of highest im- 
 portance to France was about to transpire. The Princess was giving 
 birth to a scion of royalty. The longiugs of France were about to hf 
 fulfilled — the House of Bourbon was to have an heir to its greatness. 
 
 The accouchement of a royal Princess was in those days an event that 
 concerned all Paris, and all the authorities and corporations of the 
 great capital had representatives in those reception-i-ooms. It being 
 only a Princess who was in labor, and not a Queen, none but the royal 
 family and the Ministers were admitted intQ her bed- chamber. The 
 aristocracy waited in the reception-rooms, the people in the corridors 
 and galleries. Had it been Marie Antoinette, all the doors would have 
 been thrown ope njoher subjects. The fishwives of Paris, the laborers, 
 
 ♦ The Ewperor's nwu words Dubner'n Life of Joseph' II, pnge 141, , 
 
16 Josp:rH the second. 
 
 the f/mnins, even the bccrf^ars had as much right to see the Queen of 
 France delivered, as the hii^'hest di<»nitary of the land. The people then 
 who thronged both palace and gardens, wore awaiting the moment when 
 the physician should appear upon the balcony and announce, to the en- 
 raptured populace that a Prince or Princess had been vouchsafed to 
 France. 
 
 From time to time one of the royal physicians came out to report 
 the progress of affairs, until linally the voice of the accoucheur proclaim- 
 ed that the Princess d'Artois had given birth to a Prince ! 
 
 A cry of joy followed this announcement. It was that of the young 
 mother. Raising her head from her pillow, she cried out in ecstaoy, 
 " Oh, how happy, how happy J am."* 
 
 The Queen bent over her and kissed her forehead, whispering words 
 of affectionate sympathy in her ear; but no one saw the tears that fell 
 from Marie Antoinette's eyes upon the laee-covered pillow of her fortu- 
 nate kinswoman. 
 
 She kissed the Princess again, as though to atone for those tears, and 
 with tender congratulations took her leave. She passed through the re- 
 ception-rooms, greeting the company with smiling composure, and then 
 went out into the corridors which led to her ovvn apartments. Here 
 the scene changed. Instead of the respectful silence which had saluted 
 her passage through the rooms, she encountered a hum of voices and 
 an eager multitude, all pressing forward to do her homage after their 
 own rough fashionl 
 
 Every one felt bound to speak a word of love or of admiration, and 
 it was only by dint of great exertion that the two ibotmen who prece- 
 ded the Queen, were able to open a small space through which she could 
 pass. She felt annoyed — even alarmed — and for the first time in her 
 life regretted the etiquette which once had required that the Queen of 
 France should not traverse the galleries of Versailles without the escort 
 of her ladies of honor. 
 
 Marie Antoinette had chosen to dispense with their attendance, and 
 now she was obliged to endure the contact of those terrible " dames de 
 la Halle," who for' hundreds of years had claimed the privilege of speak- 
 ing face to face v.ith royalty, and who now pressed around her, with 
 jokes that crimsoned her cheeks while they were rapturously received 
 *by the canaille. 
 
 Marie Antoinette felt the burning, while with downcast eyes and 
 trembling steps, she tried to hurry past the odious crowd o( poissardcs. 
 
 " Look, look," cried one, peering in her face, " look at the Queen and 
 sec her blushing like a rose-bud." 
 
 But indeed, pretty Queen, you should remember that you are not a 
 rose-bud, but a full blown rose, and it is time you were putting forth 
 rose-buds yourself." 
 
 * Madame (1« Oainran, vpl. 1 , pufjo 2' 6 The Prince whoso advent was a source of such trinmpli 
 to his mother was tho Duke dc Berry, fnUier of Uie present Countd.n Ohambord. )■ o it was who in 
 tS2T was stabbed ns he was about to enter the fheairc, and died in \Xv: arnisorLoiiijXYIII.fyrmcr 
 'Jo'iiit '1" rrcvcncc, "^ ■ 
 
MARIE ANTOlNEn'E. 17 
 
 \ 
 
 '• So it is, so it is," shouted the multitude. " The Queen owes us a 
 rose-bud, and we raust have it." 
 
 " See here, pretty Queen," cried another fishwife, " it is your fault if 
 ■we stand here on the staircases and out in the hot sun to-day. If you 
 had done your duty to France instead of leaving it to the Princess in 
 yonder, the lackeys would have been obliged to open the /oors to us as 
 . -well as to the great folks, and we would have jostled the dukes and prin- 
 ces, and taken*)ur ease on your velvet sofas. The ne.xt time we come 
 here, we must have a tramp into tlie Qaeen's room, and she must let us 
 see herself and a brave Dauphin, loo." 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried the fishwives in chorus, '• when we come back we 
 must see the young Dauphin." 
 
 The Queen tried to look as though she heard none of this. Not once 
 had she raised her eyes or turned her head. Now she was coming to 
 the end of her painful walk through the corridors, for heaven be prais- 
 ed ! just before her was the door of her own antc-roora. Once across 
 that threshold she was safe from the coarse ribaldry that was making her 
 heart throb and her cheeks tingle ; for there the rights of the people en- 
 ded, and those of the Sovereign began. 
 
 But the " dames de la Halle " were perfectly aware of this, and they 
 w^er-; determined that she should not escape so easily. 
 
 " Promise us," cried a loud, shrill yoioe, " promise us that we shall 
 have a young Dauphin as handsome jls his mother and as good as his 
 father." 
 
 "Yes, promise, promise," clamored the odious throng, and nten and 
 women pressed close upon the Queen to see her face afid hear her an- 
 swer. 
 
 Marie Antoinette had almost reached her door. She gave a sigh of 
 relief, and for the first time raised her eyes wfth a sad, reproachful look 
 towards her tormentors. 
 
 Just then a strapping wide-shouldered huckster pushed her heavy body- 
 between the Queen and the door, and barring the entrance with her 
 great brown arms, cried out vociferously " You do not pass until you pro- 
 mise. We love you and love the King : we will none of the Count of. 
 Provence for our King ; we must have a Dauphin." 
 
 The Queen still pretended not to hear. She tried to evade the pois- 
 so.rde and to slip into her room, but the w^oman perceived the motion, 
 and confronted her again. 
 
 "Be so kind, Madam," *«aid Marie Antoinette mildly, "as to allow 
 me to pass." 
 
 " Give us the promise, then," said the fishwife putting her arms a 
 kimbo. 
 
 The other women echoed the words, "Give us the promise, give us 
 the promise !" >■ 
 
 Poor Marie Antoinette ! .She felt her courage leaving her — she must 
 be rid of this fearful band of viragos at whatever price. She would 
 fiiint if she stood there much longer. 
 
1 8 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Again the'loud cry. " Promise us a Dauphin, a Danphin, a Dauphin." 
 
 " 1 promise," at last replied the Queen. " Now, madam, in mercy, 
 let me have entrance to my own rooms." 
 
 The woman stepped back, the Queen passed away, and behind her the 
 people sho'itedout in every conceivable tone of voice, "She has prom- 
 isc^. The Queen has promised a Dauphin." 
 
 Marie Antoinette walked hurriedly forward through the first ante-room 
 where her footmen waited, to the second wherein her ladies of honor 
 were assembled. 
 
 Without a word to any of them she darted across the room and open- 
 ing the door of her cabinet, threw herself into an arm-chair and sobbed 
 aloud. No one was there excepting Madame de Campan. 
 
 " Campan," said she, while tears were streaming down her cheeks, 
 " shut the door, close the portiere. Let no one witness the sorrow of 
 the Queen of Franco !" 
 
 With a passionate gesture, she buried her face in her hands and wept 
 aloud. 
 
 After a while she raised her tearful eyes and they rested upon Madame 
 de Campan, who was kneeling before her with an expression of sincerest 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Oh Campan, what humiliation I have endured to-day ! 
 
 The poorest woman on the s^i^eet is more fortunate than I ; and »f 
 she bears a child, upon her arm, sue can look down with compassion up- 
 on the lonely Queen of France, — that Queen upon whose marriage the 
 blessing of God does not rest, for she has neither husband nor child." 
 
 ''Say not so, your Majesty, foi" God has smitten your enemies, and 
 with His own tender haud. He is kindling the fire of love in the heart 
 of the King, your husband." 
 
 Marie Antoinette shoolc her head sadly. " No — the King does not 
 love me. His heart does not respond to mine — He loves me, perhaps, 
 as a sister, but no more — no more !" 
 
 " He loyes your Majesty with the passion and enthusiasm of a lover, 
 but he is very timid, and waits for some token of reciprocity before he 
 dares to avow his love." 
 
 " No, he does not love me," repeated Marie Antoinette with a sigh. 
 " I have tried every means to win his heart. He is indulgent towards 
 ray failings, and kindly anticipates my wishes ; sometimes he seems to 
 enjoy my society, but it is with the calm, collateral afTection of a brother 
 for his sister. And I ! — Oh, my God ! my whole heart is his, and craves 
 . for that ardent, joy-bestowing love of which poets sing, and which noble 
 \von]en prize above every earthly blessing. Such love as my father ga^vfe 
 to my happy mother, I would that the King felt for me." 
 
 " The King does not know the extent of his love for your Majesty," 
 said de Campan soothingly. " Some fortunate accident or dream of 
 jealousy will reveal it to him before long." 
 
 " God speed the accident or the dream !" sighed the Queen ; and forth- 
 with her tears b^gan to (low anew, while her hands lay idly upon her lap. 
 
MARIE AN,l•01^"E'lTK Q y 
 
 Those burnlug tears at last awakened her from the apathy of grief. 
 Suddenly she gave a start and threw back her head. Then she rose 
 from her seat, and like Maria Theresa began to pace the apartment. 
 Gradually her face resumed its usual expression, and her demeanor be- 
 came as it was wont to be, dignified and graceful. 
 
 Comina: directly up to Madame de Campan, she smiled and gave her 
 hand. "Good Campan," said she, "you have seen me in a moment of 
 weakness of which 1 am truly ashamed. Try to forget it. dear friend, 
 and I promise that it shall never be repeated. And now, call my tire- 
 women and order my carriage. Leonard is coming with a new coiffure 
 and i3ertin has left mc several beautiful hats. Let us choose the very 
 prettiest of them all, for I must go and show myself to the people. Or- 
 der an open carriage that every one may see my face, and no one may 
 say that the Queen envies the maternal joys of the (Jountess d'Artois. 
 To-night we are to have the opera of Iphigenia — it is one of my magni- 
 ficent teacher's chefs d^amvre. The Emperor and I are to go together 
 to listen to our divine Gluck's music, and Paris must believe that Ma- 
 rie Antoinette is happy, too happy to envy any woman ! — Come, Cam- 
 pan and dress me becomingly." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ADOPTED SON OF THE QUEEN. 
 
 An hour later, the Queen entered her carriage in all the splendor of 
 full-dress. Leonard had altered her coiffure. Instead of the three-story 
 tower, her hair was low, and she wore a most becoming hat, chiefly- 
 made up of flowers and feathers. She also wore rouge, for she was very 
 jl^le ; and to conceal the traces of weeping she had drawn a faint dark 
 line below her lower lashes which greatly increased the brilliancy of her 
 eyes. 
 
 She ordered her coachman to drive through the town. Wherever the 
 royal outsiders announced her coming, the people gathered on either side 
 of the streets to wave their hats, and handkerchiefs, and greet her with 
 •very demonstration of enthusiasm and love. 
 
 Marie Antoinette greatly enjoyed her popularity. She bowed her 
 head, and smiled and waved her hand in return, calling upon the ladies 
 who accompanied her to sympathise with her happiness. 
 
 " Indeed," said she to the Princess de Lamballe,* " the people love 
 
 * ThfiPrinfJcssdeLamballe wasfcubscquently bcbcaded, Bn<l her head W8» carri'-d Ihrough the 
 Btre«te of Pons on n pike — (Trans 
 
20 JOSEPH THE tSECOND. 
 
 me, I t!o believe. -They seem glad to see me, and I, too, like to see 
 them." 
 
 "Your ]\Iajesty sees that in Versailles, as in Paris, you have thou- 
 sands of lovers," replied the Princess. 
 
 " Ah," said the Queen, " my lovers are there to be seen ; but my en- 
 emies, who lie concealed are more active than my friends. And how do 
 J know that they are not now among the crowd that welcomes me ! 
 How di'eadful it is to wear a mask through life ! — They, perhaps, who 
 shout ' long live the Queen,' are plotting against her peace, and I who 
 smile in return, dare not trust them !" 
 
 The royal equipage had now reached the gates, and was passing into 
 the country. Marie Antoinette felt a sense of relief at the change. She 
 gazed with rapture, upon the rich foliage of the trees, and then looking 
 pensively above, for a few moments, she watched the floating clouds of 
 blue and silver, and then followed the flight of the birds that were soar- 
 ing in such freedom through the air. 
 
 " How 1 wish that I could fly," said she, sighing. " We mortals are 
 less privileged than the little birds — we must creep along the earth with 
 the reptiles that we loathe ! — Faster, tell the coachman to drive faster !" 
 cried she eagerly, "1 would like to move rapidly just now — Faster, still 
 faster !" ■ 
 
 The command we;it forward, and the outriders dashed ahead at full 
 speed. The carriage >whirled past the cottages on the ^yayside, while the 
 Queen leaning back upon her satin cushions gave herself up to the dreamy 
 enjoyment; which steals over the senses during a rapid drive. 
 
 Suddenly there was an exclamation and the horses were reined in. 
 The Queen started from her reverie and leaned forward. 
 
 " W hat has happened ?" cried she of the equerry, who at that moment 
 sprang to the side of the caleche. 
 
 " Your Majesty, a child has just run across the road, and has been 
 snatched from under the horses' feet." 
 
 " A child !" exclaimed the Queen, starting from her seat. " Is it kill- 
 ed"?'' "No, your Majesty, it is luckily unhurt. The coachman reined 
 up his horses iji time for one of the outriders to save it. It is unhurt — 
 nothing but frightened. Your Majesty can see him now in the arms df 
 the old peasant-woman there." 
 
 " She is about to return to the cottage with it," said tbe Queen. Then 
 stretching her arms towards the old woman, she cried out in an implo- 
 ring voice : " Give me the child — bring- it here ! Heaven has sent it 
 to me as a comfort ! Give it to me — I entreat you." 
 
 Meanwhile the old woman recalled by the equerry, was approaching 
 the carriage. " See," exclaimed the Queen to her ladies, " see what a 
 lovely boy !" And indeed he was a beautiful child in spite of his little 
 tattered red jacket, and his bare brown legs, as dark with dirt as with 
 sun-burn. 
 
 " Where is his mother'?" asked Marie Antoinette, looking compas- 
 sionately at the child. 
 
MAKlfc; ANTOlNErrE. . 21 
 
 " My daughter is dead, Madatne," said the peasant. " 8he died last 
 wintei and left me the burden of five young children to feed." 
 
 "They shall burthen you no lonj;er," e.\clain),ed the Queen kindly. 
 " f will maintain theni all, and this little angel" you must give to me. 
 Will you not?" 
 
 " Ah Madame, the child is only too lucky ! But my little Jacob is 
 so wilful that he will not stay with you." 
 
 "I will teach him to love me," returned the Queen. "Give hira to 
 me now." 
 
 She leaned forward and received the child from his grand-mother's arms. 
 It was so astounded, that it uttered not a cry : it only opened its gretit, 
 blue eyes to their utmost, while the Queen settled it upon her lap. 
 
 "Sec," exclaimed the delighted Marie Antoinette, '• he is not at all 
 afraid of me. Oh we are going to be excellent friends! Adieu, rav 
 poor old grand-mother. I will send you something for your children as 
 soon as I reach home. And now Monsieur de Vievigne, let us return 
 to Versailles. Tell your grand-mama good-bye little Jacob. You are 
 going to ride with me." 
 
 " Adieu my little one," said the grand-mothei* " Don't forget your 
 
 Her words were drowned in the whirr of the carriage which disap- 
 peared from her wondering eyes in a clould of dust. 
 
 The motion, the noise, and the air brushing hie curls into his face, 
 awakened the boy from his stupor. He started from the Queen's arms, 
 and looking wildly around, began to yell with all his might. Never had 
 such uuharmonious sounds assailed the ears of the Queen before. But 
 she seemed to be quite amused with it. The louder little Jacob scream- 
 ed and kicked, the closer she pressed him to her heart, nor did she seem, 
 to observe that his dirty little feet were leaving unsightly marks upon 
 her rich silk dress. 
 
 The calecke arrived at Versailles and drew up before the doors of the 
 palace. With her newly acquired treasure in her arms, the Queen at- 
 tempted to leave the carriage, but the shrieks and kicks became so vig- 
 orous that she was obliged to put the child down. The pages, gentle- 
 men, and ladies in waiting, stared in astonishment as her Majesty^ went 
 by, holding the refractory little peasant by the hand, his rosy cheeks 
 covered with many an arabesque, the joint production of tears and dirt. 
 Little cared Jacob for the splendor around him, still less for the caress- 
 es of his royal protectress. 
 
 " I want to go to my grandmother," shrieked he, " I want my brother 
 Louis and sister Marianne !" 
 
 " Oh, dear little one !" cried the Queen, "what an affectionate heart 
 he has ! He loves his relatives better than all our luxury, and the 
 Queen of France is less to him than his poor old grand-mother ! — Never 
 mind, darling, you shall be loved as well and better than you ever were 
 at home, and all the more that you have not learned to flatter !" 
 
 She bent down to caress him, but he wiped off her kisses with indig- 
 
22 JOSEPH THE SECOND, 
 
 nation. Marie Antoinette laughed heartily^ and led the child into her 
 cabinet where she placed him on the very spot where she had .been 
 weeping a few hours earlier. 
 
 "Campan," said she, '' see how good God has been to me to-day ! 
 He has sent me a child upon whom I can lavish all the love which is 
 consuming my poor, lonely heart. Yes my little one, I will be a mother 
 to you, and may God and your own mother hear my vow ! I^Iow, Cam- 
 pan, let us take counsel together as to what is to be done. Pirst, we 
 must have a nurse, and then his face must be washed and he must be 
 dressed as becomes my pretty little adopted son.'' 
 
 The child who had ceased his cries for a moment, now broke out into 
 fresh Shrieks. " i want to go home J 1 won't stay here in this big hou;ie! 
 Take me to my grand-mother !" 
 
 " Hush, you unconscionable little savage !" said Madame de Campan. 
 
 '• Oh Campan," cried the Queen deprecatingly, '• how can you chide 
 the little fellow! His cries are so many proofs of the honesty of his 
 heart which is not to be bribed of its love by all that royalty can be- 
 stow !"* 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 " GUAKTONS, CELEBR0N8 XOTRE REINE." 
 
 The opera-house was full to overflowing. In the lowest tier were the 
 ladies of the aristocracy, their heads surmounted by those abominable 
 towers of Leonard's invention. Above them sat the less distinguished 
 spectators, and the parquet was thronged by poets, learned men, stu- 
 dents and civil officers of various grades. Almost every class found 
 some representatives in that brilliant assemblage, and each one felt 
 keenly the privilege he enjoyed in being present on that particular oc- 
 casion. But it was not altogether for the sake of the music that all PariS' 
 had flocked to the opera. The Parisians were less desirous to hear ' 
 Ipheginia than to see the Emperor who was to be there in company 
 with his sister. 4 
 
 Since his arrival in the capital Joseph had been the theme of every 
 conversation. Every one had something to relate of his afl^abijity, his 
 condescension, or his goodness. His bo7i mots, too, were in every mouth; 
 
 • The Queen kept her wonl. TIir boy was brought up as her own child. lt« nlways breakfasted 
 and dined by her side, and she never called him by any other name save thatoi" my child " When 
 •Taeques £rr<"w up, he displayed a taste for painting, and of courso he had every ndvantaee ■which, 
 royal protection could afford him FTe wks privileged to approach the Queen unannounced. But 
 when the Revolution broke out, this miserable wretch, to avoi't unpopularity, joined tho Jacobine, 
 and wsw ODe of tfle Qneen's bitterest enemies and most frenzied accusers. 
 
MAlvlK AxNilJlMailfi. 2.i 
 
 and the Parisians who at every epoch have been so ad Jietod to wit, wero 
 so rouch the more enraptured with the impromptu good things which 
 fell from Joseph's lips, that the Bourbons were entirely deficient in 
 sprightliness. 
 
 Every man had an anecdote to relate that conce.rned Joseph. Yes- 
 terday he had visited thft Hotel-Dicu. He had even asked for admission 
 ' to the apartments of the lying-in women, and upon being refused en- 
 trance by the sisters, he had said " Do let me see the first scene of hu- 
 man misery." The sisters struck by the words as well as by the noble 
 bearing of the stranger, had admitted him, upon taking leave he had re- 
 marked to the Nun who accompanied him, " the sufferings which you 
 witness in this room, reconcile you without doubt to the vows you have 
 made." It was only after his departure that his rank was discovered, 
 and this by means of the gift he left in the hands of the prioress — a draft 
 upon the imperial exchequer of forty-eight thousand livres. 
 
 A few days previous, he had sought entrance to the '-Jardin des 
 Plantes ;" but the porter had refused to open the gates until a larger 
 number of visitors should arrive. So the Emperor, instead of discover- 
 ing himself, took a seat under the trees and waited quietly until the 
 people had assembled. On his return, he had given eight louis d'ors to 
 the porter, and thus the latter had learned his Majesty's rank. 
 
 Again — the Emperor had called upon Buffon, announcing himself sim- 
 ply as a traveller. Buffon, who was indisposed, had gone forward to re- 
 ceive his guest in a dressing-gown. His embarrassment, as he recognis- 
 ed his imperial visitor had been very great. But Joseph laughing, said, 
 "when the scholar comes to visit his teacher, do you suppose that he 
 troubles himself about the professor's costume ?" 
 
 That was not all — Ho was equally affable with artists. He talked 
 daily with the painters in the Louvre ; and having paid a visit to the great 
 actor Le Kain, whom he had seen the night before in the character of a 
 Roman Emperor, he found him like ButTon in a dressing-gown. 
 
 " When Le Kain would have apologised, the Emperor had said " Sure- 
 ly Emperors need not be so fastidious one towards the other!" 
 
 " The Emperor goes every where," cried a voice in the crowd. 
 
 " Yesterday he paid a visit to one of the tribunals and remained dur- 
 ing the sitting. He was recognised, and the President would 'have as- 
 signed him a seat among the council, but the Emperor declined and re- 
 mained in a trellised-box with the other spectators." 
 
 " How," cried another voice, '' the Emperor sat in a little common 
 trellised box ?" 
 
 " \ es," replied the first speaker, " he was in one of those boxes called 
 lanterns. Even Marsorio and Pasquin had something to say on the 
 subject."* 
 
 " What did they say ? Tell us what said our good friends, Marsorio 
 and Pasquin." 
 
 ♦Masnrirt and Pasqoin were the "nonvmons wits of the people, the authors of all tho epiRranri" 
 nnd pn«quinade8 which were paetpfl about tb-; streets and-orlgiuntod wUh— nobody. Masorio ami 
 Pasquin still exist in Ronii\ 
 
24 ■ JUSl!:PH THE SKOOND. 
 
 " Here ifc is. I found it pasted on n. corner of the Palais Royal and 1 
 tore it down and put it in my pocket. Shall I read it?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried the multitude ; and it was whispered among them 
 that this was Riquelmont, ihe author of the satires that were sung on 
 the Pont-Neuf, and were attributed to Marsorio and Pasc[uin, 
 
 " Now gentlemen listen !" \ 
 
 And with a loud voice, Riquelmont began to read: 
 
 Marsorio. — " Grand miracle, Pasquin, 
 
 Le soleil dans une lanterne ! 
 Pasquin. — AUons done, tu me bernes ! - 
 Marsorio, — Pour te dire io vrai, tifens : Diogene en vain 
 
 Cherchait jadws un homme, nne lanterne a la main, 
 
 Eh bien a Paris ce matin 
 
 11 rent trouve dans la lanterne." 
 
 " Good, good !" cried the listeners, "the Emperor is indeed a wonder- 
 ful " 
 
 Just then the bell for the raising of the curtain was heard, and the 
 crowd pressed into the parterre. Ainid the profoundest stillness the 
 opera began. Beiore the first scene had ended, a slight rustling of chairs 
 was heard in the King's box, and all eyes were turned thither. The 
 whole royal family, with the exception of the King, were there ; and in 
 their midst, loveliest of all, appeared the young Queen, brilliant with 
 youth, grace, and beauty, she bent her head, and with bewitching smiles, 
 returned the greetings of her subjects. 
 
 The audience broke out into a storm of rapturous applause, and Marie 
 Antoinette, kissing her fair Land, took her seat and prepared to listen to 
 the music. , 
 
 But the spectators were less interested in Iphigenia than in the impe- 
 rial box. Their eyes were continually seeking the Emperor, who, con- 
 cealed behind the heavy velvet draperies, was absorbed in the perform- 
 ance. At one stage of the representation, Iphigenia is led in triumph 
 through the Greek camp, while a chorus of Thessalians sing, 
 
 " Que d'attraits, que de majeste 
 Que de graces I que de beaute ! 
 Chantons, celebrons notre reine !" 
 
 The audience took the cue and transformed themselves into actors. 
 Every eye and every head turned to the royal box, and for the second 
 time every hand vras raised to applaud. From boxes, galleries and 
 parquet, the cry was '■ Da capo, da capo ! Again that chorus !" 
 
 The singer who represented Achilles comprehended that the enthusi- 
 asm of the spectators was not for the music. 
 
 Enchanted with the idea of being the mouth-piece of the people, he 
 stepped to the front of the stage, and raising his arm in the direction of 
 the royal box, he repeated the line, 
 
 Chantons, celebrons notre reine !" 
 
MAIUK ANTOINETlf. 25 
 
 The heart of the young Queen overflowed with excess of joy. She 
 leaned towards the Emperor and gently draw'ng him forward, the 
 brother and sister both acknowledged the graceful compliment. The 
 Emperor was saluted with shouts, and the singers began for the second 
 time, " Chantous, ceK-hrons notre reine !" The people with one Record 
 rose from their seats and now on e<>ery side, even from the stage, were 
 heard the cries of" Long live our Queen ! Long live the Emperor !" 
 
 Marie Antoinette, leaning on her brother's arm bent forward again ; 
 and for the third time, the singers, and with them the people sang 
 "■ Chantons, celcbrons notre reine !" 
 
 This time, every occupant of the imperial box rose to return acknowl- 
 edgements, and the audience began for the fourth time, 
 
 " Chantons, celebrons notre reine !" 
 The Queen was so overcome that she could no longer restrain her 
 tears. She tried to incline her head, but her emotion overpowered 
 her, and covering her face with her handkerchief, she leaned upon the 
 shoulder of her brother and wept. 
 
 The applause ceased. The emotion of Marie Antoinette had commu- 
 nicated itself to her worshippers, and many an eye was dimmed with 
 sympathetic tears. Suddenly in the parterre, a tall, manly form arose 
 from his seat, and pointing to the Queen recited the following couplet : 
 " Si le peuple pent espcrer 
 Qu'il lui sera pjcrmis de rire 
 Ce n'est que sous I'heureux empire 
 Des princes qui savent pleurer." 
 This happy impromptu was enthusiastically received. Marie Antoi- 
 nette had dried her tears to listen, and as she prepared to leave the thea- 
 tre she turned to her brother and said, 
 
 "Oh that I could die now ! Death would be welcome, for in this 
 proud moment, I have emptied my cup of earthly joy !"* 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THE HOTEL TURENNE. 
 
 - The host of the Hotel Turenne had punctually obeyed the orders of 
 Count Falkenstein ; he had taken every applicant for rooms, whether he 
 came in an ignominious hackney-coach or inv a magnificent carriage. 
 
 •MemoiresdeWebor, vol. 1, I'. 48,— Memoircs do Mme do Cmnpan, vol. 1, P. 12T,— Hubner, 
 Life of Joseph II, P. Wi. 
 
26 JOSEPH THK SKCOMa 
 
 But now every room was taken, and the host, fearful of con<5eqviences, 
 was waithig for the Emperor to appear, that he might be informed of 
 the important fact. In ten or fifteen minutes his imperial Majesty was " 
 seen coming down the staircase, and Monsieur Louis approached with a 
 low bow. 
 
 "May I have the honor of speaking with Count Falkenstein?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the Count. "What is it?" 
 
 " I wished to inform Monsieur le Comte that my hotel is full to the 
 garret. Should Monsieiir le Comte then see a traveller leaving my door 
 
 he will know that I am not infringing his imp his orders, I mean. 
 
 1 have not a single room left." 
 
 "Your hotel is popular; I congrata'ate you, but I am not at all sur- 
 prised, for you make your visitors exceedingly comfortable." 
 
 "A thousand thanks. Monsieur le Comte, but that is not the reason. 
 I have never been so thronged before. It is all owing to the honor con- 
 ferred upon me by your , I mean by Monsieur le Comte. It will be 
 
 a heavy disappointment to all who apply to hear that 1 have no room." 
 
 " Monsieur Louis," said the Emperor, "you are mistaken. There are 
 two empty rooms opening into mine." 
 
 " But Monsieur le Comte, it is impossible for me to let those rooms, 
 for not only every word spoken in your own room can be overheard 
 there, but yourself will be disturbed by hearing all that is said by the 
 occupalits. You see that these rooms cannot be occupied. Monsieur le 
 Comte." 
 
 " I see nothing of the sort," said Joseph, laughing. " Not only are 
 you welcome to let those two rooms, but I request you to do so. Let 
 no man be incommoded on my account. I shall know how to submit to 
 the inconvenience which may be entailed upon me." 
 
 " Well, he certainly is the most condescending and hi?mane prince 
 that I ever heard of," thought Monsieur Louis, as the Emperor's car- 
 riage drove olT, "and one thing is certain — I shall be careful whom I< 
 give him for neighbors. I do not believe a word of what the Count of 
 Provence's valet says, that he wants to take Alsatia and Lorraine, and 
 has come to France to change the ministry. The King's brothers are 
 not over-fond of the Qu-sen nor of the Emperor, but the people love 
 them, and everybody in Paris envies me, now that I have the great 
 Emperor as my guest." 
 
 And Monsieur Louis, with head erect and hands folded behind him, 
 went up and down his entrance-hall enjoying the sunshine of his favor 
 with princes. 
 
 " I do wish nobody else would come here," thought he, in an ecstacv 
 of disinterestedness. "Suppose that the enemies of his Majesty should, 
 introduce a murderer in ray house, and the Emperor should lose hfs life! 
 I should be eternally disgraced. I am rpally responsible to his Majes- 
 ty's subjects for his safety. I am resolved, since he has commanded 
 me to let these rooms,. to allow none but ladies to occupy them." 
 
 rilled with enthusiasm at this fortunate idea, the host walked to the 
 
\lAKlli ANTUlNErnt. . 27 
 
 door and shook his fist at mankind in general — above all to that segre- 
 gate of the male species who might happen to be entertaining thoughts 
 of lodging at the Jiotel Turenne. 
 
 Presently a travelling-chariot came thundering to the door. Mon- 
 sieur Louis peered with his keen black eyes into the vehicle, and to his 
 great relief saw two ladies. 
 
 The gentleman who accompanied them asked to be accommodated 
 with two rooms ; and the host, in his joy, not only opened the coach- 
 door himself, but took the huge silver candelabrum from the butler's 
 hand, and lighted tnc company himself to their apartments. 
 
 As they reached the landing, a carriage stopped before the door, and 
 a m<inly voice was heard in the vestibule below. 
 
 " How liicky for me that these happened to be women," thought Mon- 
 sieur Louis, "for there is the Emperor already returned from the 
 theatre !" 
 
 He opened the door of the ante-room and his guests followed him in 
 silence. Not a word had been spoken by either of the ladies, and 
 nothing was to be seen of their faces for the thick veils which covered 
 them. 
 
 " Do the ladies require supper ?" inquired the host. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the gentleman, whom Monsieur Louis took to be 
 the husband of the lady who had seated herself. "The best you can 
 provide ; and let it be ready in quarter of an hour." 
 
 " AVill Madame be served in this rooni?" 
 
 "Yes, and see that we have plenty of light. Above all, be quick." 
 
 " This gentleman is very curt," thought the host as he left the room. 
 " What if he Should entertain evil designs'? — I must be on my guard." 
 Then returning, he added, " Pardon, Monsieur, for how many will sup- 
 per be served ?" 
 
 The stranger cast a singular glance at the lady in the arm-chair, and 
 said in a loud and somewhat startling voice, "For two only." 
 
 " Right," thought the host, " the other one is a lady's maid. So much 
 the worse. They are people of quality, and all that tribe hate the Em- 
 peror. I must be on my guard." 
 
 So Monsieur Louis determined to warn the Emperor, but first he at- 
 tended to his professional duties. " Supper for the guests just arrived !" 
 cried he to the chief butler. "Plenty of light for the chandeliers and 
 candelabra ! Let the cook be apprised that he must be ready before 
 fifteen minutes," &;c. &c. 
 
 Having delivered himself of these orders, the host hastened to inform 
 the Emperor's valet, Gunthcr, of his uneasiness and suspicions. 
 
 Meanwhile, the f/arcojis were going hither aqd thither preparing sup- 
 per for the strangers. Scarcely ton minutes had elapsed before the. first 
 course was upon the table, and the butler with a bow announced the 
 supper, " Madame est servie.''^ 
 
 The singular pair for whom the costly preparations had been made, 
 spoke not a word to each other. The lady, motionless, kept within the-- 
 
'28 . JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 privacy of her veil, and the gentleman, who was watching the. waiters 
 with an ugly frown, looked vexed and impatient. 
 
 "Retire, all of you," said he imperiously. " I shall have the honor 
 of waiting on Madame, myself." 
 
 The butler bowed and with his well-bred subordinates left the rootii. 
 
 "Now, Mada0i," said the stranger, with a glance of dislike to the la- 
 dy's maid, " do you leave the room also. Go and attend to your own 
 wants. Good-niyht." 
 
 The maid made no reply, but remained standing in the window as 
 though nothing had been said. 
 
 " You seem not to hear," said the stranger. " I order you to leave 
 this room, and furthermore I order you to return to your place as a ser- 
 vant, and not to show you"seif here in any other capacity. Go, and 
 heed my words !" 
 
 The lady's maid smiled derisively and replied, " Count, I await my 
 lady's orders." 
 
 , The veiled lady then spoke. " Gratify the Count, my good Dupont," 
 said she kindly. " 1 do not need you to-night. Let the host provide 
 you with a comfortable room, and go to rest. You must be exhausted." 
 
 " At last, at last we are alone," exclaimed the Count as the door clos- 
 ed upon his enemy, the lady's maid. 
 
 "Yes, we are alone," repeated the lady, and throwing off her wrap- 
 pings, the tall and elegant form of the Countess Esterhazy was disclosed 
 to view. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE DENOUEMENT. 
 
 For a m.oment they confronted one another ; then Coiant Schulenberg 
 with open arms, advanced towards the Countess. 
 
 " Now, Margaret," cried he, " you are mine. I have earned this vic- 
 tory by my super-human patience. It is achieved— I am awarded — 
 come to my longing heart !" 
 
 He would have clasped her in his arms, but she stepped back, and 
 again, as in her dressing-room at Vienna, her hands were raised to ward 
 him off. " Do not dare to touch me," said she with a look of supreme 
 aversion. " Come no nearer. Count Schulenberg, for your breath is poi- 
 son, and the atmosphere of your proximity is stiffmg me." 
 
 The Count laughed. " My beautiful Margaret, you seek in vain to 
 discourage me by your charming sarcasm. Oh, my lovely, untamed 
 
MAIUE A^'T01NE'^TE, 29 
 
 angel, away with your coldness ! it enflames ray passion so much the 
 more. I would not give up the triumph of this hour for a kingdom !" 
 
 " It will yield you nothincr nevertheless, save my contempt. You 
 must renounce your dream of happiness, for I assure you* that it has been 
 but a dream." 
 
 " You jest still, my Margaret," replied the Count with a forced laugh. 
 " But I tell you that I intend to tame my wild doe into a submissive 
 Avoman, who loves her master and obeys his call. Away with this mask 
 of reluctance ! You love me, for you have piven me the proof of your 
 love by Ie^ving kindred and honor to follow me." 
 
 " Nay, Count. I have given you a proof of my contempt, for I have 
 deliberately used you as a tool. You, the handsome and admired Count 
 tSchulenberg — you who fancied you were throwing me the handkerchief 
 of your favor, you are nothing to me but the convenient implement of 
 my revenge. You came hither as my valet, and as I no longer need a 
 valet, I discharge you. You have served me well, and I thank you. 
 You have done admirably, for Dupont told me to-day that you had not 
 yet exhausted the money I gave you for the expenses of our journey. I. 
 am, thereff^re, highly satisfied with you, and will recommend you to any 
 other woman desirous of bringing disgrace upon her husband." 
 
 The Count stared at her in perfect w'onder. He smiled too — but the 
 smile was sinister aud threatened evil. 
 
 " How !" said the COuntess. " You are not yet gone ! True — true — 
 I forgot — a lady has no rigli~t to discharge her valet without paying him," 
 
 With these words she drew a purse from her pocket and threw it at 
 his feet. 
 
 A loud grating laugh was the reply. He set his foot upon the purse, 
 and folding his arras, contemplated the Countess with a look that boded 
 no good to his tormentor. • 
 
 " You do not go, Count Schulenberg ?" said she. 
 
 " No — and what is more I do not intend to go." 
 
 " Ah !" cried Margaret, her eyes glowing like coals, "you are dishon- 
 orable enough to persist, when I have told you that I despise you !" 
 
 " My charming Margaret, this is a way that womet\ have of betraying 
 thpir love. You all swear that you despise us; all the while, loving us to 
 distraction. You and I have gone too far to recede. You, because you 
 allowed me to take you from your husband's house ; J, because I gave 
 in to your rather exacting whims, .and came to Paris as your valet. But 
 you promised to reward me, and I must, receive my wages." 
 
 " 1 promised when we should reach Paris to speak the truth, Count 
 Schulenberg ; and as you are not satisfied with as much as I have vouch- 
 safed, hear the whole truth. You say that in consenting to accompany 
 you, I gave a proof of love. Think better of me, sir ! Had I loved 
 you, I might have died for you, bat never would I have allowed you to 
 be the partner of my disgrace. You have shared it with me precisely 
 because I despise you, precisely because there was no man on earth 
 whom ( was loss likely to "love. A3 the partner of my flight, j ou have 
 
30 . JOSEl'H THE SECOND. 
 
 freed me from the shackles of a detested union, to rupture which, I un- 
 derwent the farce of a ravishment. The tyranny of Maria Theresa had 
 compelled me to marriage with a wretch who succeeded in beguiling me 
 to the altar by a lie. 1 swore to revenge myself, and you have been 
 the instrument of ray revenge. The woman who could condescend to 
 leave her home with you, is so doubly-dyed in disgrace that Count Es- 
 terhazy can no longer refuse to grant her a divorce. And now Count ' 
 that I have concealed nothing, oblige me by leaving me — 1 need repose." 
 
 " No, m}' bewitching Margaret, a thousand times no !" replied the 
 Count, " But since you have been so candid, I shall imitate your charm* 
 ing frankness. Your beauty, certainly, is quite enough to madden a 
 man and embolden him to woo you, since all Vienna knows how the 
 Countess Esterhazy hates her husband. But you seemed colder to me 
 than you were to other men, all of whom complained that you had no 
 heart to win. I swore not to be foiled by your severity, and thereupon 
 my frieuds-staked a large wager upon the result. Fired by these united 
 considerations, I entered upon my suit and was successful. You gave 
 me very little trouble, I must say that for you. Countess. Thanks to 
 your clemency, I have won my bet, and on my return to Vienna, 1 am 
 to receive one thousand louis d'ors." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it, and I advise you to go after them with all 
 speed," replied the Countess quietly. 
 
 "Pardon me if I reject the advice — for, as I told you before, 1 really 
 love you. You have thrown yourself into my arms, and 1 would be a 
 fool not to keep you there. No, my enchantress, no ! Give up all hope 
 of escaping from the fvte you have chosen for yourself. Eor my sake 
 you have branded your fair fame forever, and you shall be rewarded for 
 the sacrifice." 
 
 "Wretch," cried she, drawing herself proudly up to her full height, 
 ■" you well know that you had no share in the motives of my flight ! 
 Its shame is mine alone, and alone will I bear it. To you I leave the 
 ridicule of our adventure, for if you do not quit my room, I shall take 
 care that all Vienna hears hov-r 1 took you to Paris as my valet." 
 
 "And I, Countess Esterhazy, shall entertain all Vienna with the con- 
 tents of your Album, which 1 have not only taken the liberty to read, 
 but to appropriate." 
 
 The Countess gaye a start. " True," murmured she, " I have missed 
 it since yesterday." 
 
 "Yes, and I have it. I think a lover has a right to his mistress's se- 
 crets, and I have made use of my right. I have been reading your hea- 
 venly verses to the object of your unhappy attachment, and all Vienna 
 shall hear them. What delicious scandal it will be to tell how despe- 
 rately in love is the Countess Esterhazy with the son of her gracious 
 and imperial godmother." 
 
 " Tell it then," cried Margaret, " tell it if you will, for I do love the 
 Emperor! My heart bows down before him in idolatrous admiration, 
 and if he loved me, I would not envy the angels their heaven ! He does 
 
MARIE AxNTOlNETfE. 31 
 
 not return my love — nor do I need that return to make me cherish and 
 foster my passion for him. No scorn of the world can lessen it, for it 
 is my pride, my religion, my life ! And now go and repeat my words, 
 but beware of me, Count Schnlenberg, for I will have revenge !'' 
 
 "From such fair hands, revenge would fall quite harmless,"' exclaim- 
 ed the Count, dazzled by the splendor of Margaret's transcendent beau- 
 ty, for never in her life had she looked lovelier than at tnat moment. 
 "Revenge yourself if you will, enchantress, but mine you are doomed 
 to be. Come, then, come !" 
 
 Once more he approached, when the door was flung violently open, 
 and a loud, commanding voice was heard. 
 
 "I forbid you to lay a finger upon the Countess Esterhazy," e."?claim- 
 ed the Emperor. 
 
 Margaret uttered a loud cry, the color forsook her cheeks, and clos- 
 ing her eyes, she fell back upon the sofa. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 The Emperor hastened to her assistance, but finding her totally in- 
 sensible, he laid her gently down again. 
 
 " She is unconscious," said he ; " kind nature has lulled her to insen- 
 sibility — she will recover." Then taking the veil from the Countess's 
 hat, he covered her face, and turned towards the terrified Count who, 
 trembling in every limb, was powerless to save himself by flight. 
 
 " Give me the Countess's Album !" said the Emperor sternly. Count 
 Schulenberg drew it mechanically forth, and with tottering steps advan- 
 ced and fell at the Emperor's feet. 
 
 Joseph tore the book from his hands and laid it on the sofa by the 
 Countess. Then returning, he cried out in a tone of indignation, " Rise ! 
 You have behaved towards this woman like a dishonorable wretch, and 
 you are unworthy the name of nobleman. You shall be punished for 
 your crimes." , 
 
 " Mercy, sire, mercy," faltered the Count. " Mercy for a fault whiq^ 
 
 " Peace !" interrupted Joseph. " The Empress has already sent a 
 courier to order your arrest. Do you know what is the punishment in 
 Austria for a man who flies with a married woman from the house of her 
 husband?" 
 
 " The punishment of death " murmured the Count inaudibly. " Yes, 
 
32 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 for it is a, crime that equals murder," returned the Emperor, " indeed it 
 transcends murder, for it loses the soul of the unhappy woman, and 
 brands her husband with infamy." 
 
 '" Mercy, mercy," prayed the wretch, 
 
 " No," said Joseph sternly, " you deserve no mercy. Follow me !" 
 
 The Emperor returned to his own room, and opening the door that led 
 to the ante-room he called Giinther. 
 
 When the valet appeared, Joseph pointe(^ to the Count, who was ad- 
 vancing slowly, and now stopped without daring to raise his head. 
 
 " Giinther," said the Emperor, " I give this man in charge to you. I 
 might require him on his honor not to leave this room until I return, but 
 no man can pledge that which he does not possess ; I must therefore leave 
 him to. you. See that he does not make his escape." 
 
 The Emperor then re-crossed his own room, and closing the door be- 
 hind him, entered the apartment of the Countess.' She had revived ; 
 and was looking around with an absent dreamy expression. 
 
 " I have been sleeping," murmured she. " I saw the Emperor, I felt 
 his arm around me, 1 dreamed that he was bending over me " 
 
 " It was no dream. Countess Esterhazy," said Joseph softly. 
 
 She started, and rose from the sofa, her whole frame tremulous with 
 emotion. Her large, glowing eyes seemed to be searching for the object 
 of her terror, and then her glance rested with inexpressible fear upon the 
 door which led into the Emperor's room. 
 
 " You were there, sire, and heard all — all "?" Stammered she, point- 
 ing with her hand. 
 
 '• Yes — God be praised I was there, and I am now acquainted with the 
 motives which prompted your flight from Count Esterhazy. I undertake 
 your defence, Countess ; my voice shall silence your accusers in Vienna, 
 and if it become necessary to your justification, I will relate what I have 
 overheard. I cannot blame you, for I know the unspeakable misery of 
 a marriage without love, and I comprehend that to break its fetters, you 
 were ready to brave disgrace, and to wear upon your spotless brow the 
 badge of dishonor. The Empress must know what you have undergone, 
 and she shall re-instate you in the world's estimation, for she it is who 
 has caused your unhappiness. My mother is too magnanimous to refuse 
 reparation where she has erred." 
 
 " Sire," whispered the Countess while a deep blush overspread her 
 face, " do you mean to confide all — all to the Empress ?" 
 
 " All that concerns your relations with your husband and with Count 
 Schulenberg. Pardon me that I overheard the .sweet confession which 
 was wrung from you by despair ! Never will I betray it to living mor- 
 tal; it shall be treasured in the depths of my heart, and sometimes at 
 midnight hour I may be permitted to remember it ! — Come'back to 
 Vienna, Countess, and let us seek to console each other for the agony of 
 the past!" 
 
 - " No, Sire," said she mournfully, " I shall never return to Vienna ; I 
 should be ashamed to meet your Majestv's eye." » 
 
MAIiJE ANTOINETTE. 3o 
 
 "Have you grown so faint-hearted?" said the Emperor gently. 'Arc 
 you suddenly ashamer] of a feeliug wfaich _>ou so nobly avowed but a few 
 tnoments since? * Or am 1 the only man on earth who is unworthy to 
 know it?" 
 
 "Sire, the judgment'of the world is nothing to nie. it is irom'7/onr 
 contempt that 1 would fly and be forgotten. Let other men judge me 
 as they will — I care not.. But oh ! J know that you despise me and 
 thai knowledge is breaking my heart. Farewell then, forever." 
 
 The Emperor contemplated her with mournful sympathy, and took 
 both her hands in his. 8he pressed tjiem to her lips, and when she rais- 
 ed her head, her timidity had given place to strong resolution. 
 
 "I shall never see your Majesty again," said she, " but your image 
 will be with me wherever I go. J hope for great deeds from you. and 
 I know that, you will not deceive me, sire. When all Europe shall re- 
 sound with your fame, then will 1 be happy, for my being is merged in 
 yours. At this moment, when we part to meet no more, I say again 
 with joyful courage, I love you. May the blessing nf that love rest 
 upon your noble head. Give me your hand once more and then leave 
 me." , 
 
 "Farewell, Margaret," filtered the Emperor, intoxic;ited by her ten- 
 der avowal, and opening his arms, he added in passionate tones, " come 
 to my heart, and let me, for one blissful moment, feel the beatings of 
 yours ! Come, oh come !"' 
 
 Margaret leaned her head upon his shoulder and wept, while the Em- 
 peror besought her to relent and return to Vienna with him. 
 
 " No, sire," replied she firmly. " Farewell !" 
 
 He echoed " farewell," and hastily left the room. 
 
 When the door had closed upon him, the Countess covered her face 
 ■with her hands and sobbed aloud. But this was for a moment only. 
 
 Her pale face resumed Its haughty expression as she rose from her 
 seat and hastily pulled the bell-rope. A few minutes later, she unbol- 
 ted the door, and Madame Dupont entered the room. 
 
 "My good friend," said the Countess, " we leave Paris to-night." 
 
 "Alone?" asked the maid, lookmg around. 
 
 " Yes, rejoice with me, we are rid of him forever. But we must leave 
 this place at once. Go and order post-horses." 
 
 " But, dear lady, whither do we journey ?" 
 
 *' Whither ?" echoed Margaret, thoughtfully. " Let the will of God 
 decide. Who can say from whence we come, or whither we go ?" 
 
 The faithful servant hastened to her mistress, and taking the hand of 
 the Countess in hers, pressed it to her lips, f Oh, my lady," said she, 
 *' shake off this lethargy — be your own brave self again." 
 
 " You are right, Dupont," returned Margaret, shaking back her long 
 black hair, which had become unfastened and fell almost to her feet, " I 
 must control rny grief that I may act for myself. From this day I am 
 ■without pr©tector, kindred of home. Let us journey to the Holy Land, 
 "'Dupont. Perchance 1 may find conwlation bv the grave of the Saviour.'" 
 
34 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 One hour later the Emperor, sitting at his window, heard a carriage 
 leave the Hotel Turenne. He followed the sound until it was lost in 
 the distance; for well he knew that the occupant of that coach was the 
 ben.utiful and unfortunate Countess Esterhazy. 
 
 Early on the following morning, another carriage with blinds drawn, 
 up, left the hotel. It stopped before the Austrian Embassy, and the valet 
 o^f the Emperor sprang out. He signified to the porter that he was to 
 keep a strict w\atch over the gentlemen within, and then sought the jore- 
 scnce of Count Von jMercy. 
 
 A quarter of an hour went by, during which ihe porter had been peer- 
 ing curiou!=ly at the pale face which was staring at the windows of the 
 hotel. Presently a secretary and a servant of the ambassador came out 
 equipped for a journey. The secretary entered the carriage ; the servant 
 mounted the box, and Count Schulenberg was transported a prisoner to 
 Vienna.* 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOSEPH AKD LOUIS. 
 
 T^E Emperor was right when he said that his sister would derive lit- 
 tle pleasure from his visit to Paris. Her happiness in his society had 
 been of short duration, for she could not but be sensible of the growing 
 dislike of the King for his imperial brother-in-law. Joseph's easy and 
 graceful manners were in humiliating contrast to the stiff and awkward 
 bearing of Louis ; and finally Marie Antoinette felt many a pang as she 
 watched the glances of aversion which her husband cast upon her bro- 
 ther, at such times as the latter made light c/f the thousand and one ce- 
 remonies which were held so sacred by the royal family in France. 
 
 The King, who in his heart had been sorely galled by the fetters of 
 French etiquette, now that the Emperor ridiculed it, became its warm- 
 est partisan, and went so far as to reprove his wife for following her 
 brother's example, and sacrificing her royal dignity to an absurd long- 
 ing for popularity. 
 
 The truth was that Louis was envious of the enthusiasm which Jo- 
 seph excited among the Parisians; and his brothers, the other members 
 of the royal family, and his ministers, took every opportunity of feed- 
 ing his envy by representing that the Emperor was doing his utmost to 
 alienate the affections of the French from their rightful sovereign ; that 
 
 ♦OKiint Schulenbers was sentencerl to death, and Maria Theresa, who was inexorable where a 
 brf'ach of morals was concerned, approved the sentence. But Count Esterhazy hastened to inter- 
 cede for his rival, acknowledging at last that Schulenberg had freed hlin from a tie which was a 
 
MAUlJi ANT^H^E■rrE. 35 
 
 he was meditating the seizure of Alsatia and Lorraine ; that he was seek- 
 ing to re-instate de Choiseul, and convert France into a luere dependen- 
 cy upon Austria. 
 
 Louis, who had l)egun to regard his wife with passionate admiration, 
 became cold and sarcastic in his demeanor towards her. The hours 
 which, until the Emperor's arrival in Paris, he had spent with Marie 
 Antoinette, were now dedicated to his Ministers, to Madame Adelaide, 
 and even to the Count de Provence — that brother whose enmity to the 
 Queen was not even concealed under a veil, nf courtly dissimulaiion. 
 
 Not satisfied with (illinir the King's ears with calumnies of his poor 
 young wife, the Count of Provence was the instigator of ;ill ihost.' scan- 
 dalous songs in which the Emperor and the (^ueen were daily ridiculed 
 on the Pont-Neuf, and of the multifarious Caricatures which, hour by 
 hour, were rendering Marie Ant<jinette odious in the eyes of her sub- 
 jects. The Count of Provence, who afterwards wore his murdered bro- 
 ther's crown, was the first to teach the French nation that odious epithet 
 of '■'■ V Autrichienne,^'' with which they hooted the Queen of France to an 
 ignominious death upon the scallbld. 
 
 The momentary joy which the visit of the Emperor had caused to his 
 sister had vanished, and given place to embarrassment and anxiety of 
 heart. Even she felt vexed not onl}' that her subjects preferred a fo- 
 reign prince to their own rightful sovereign, but that Joseph was so un- 
 restrained in his sarcasms upon royal customs in France. Finally she 
 was obliged to confess in the silence of her own heart, that her brother's 
 departure would be a relief to her, and that these dinners en famille to 
 •which he came daily as a guest, were inexpressibly tedious and heavy. 
 
 One day the Emperor came earlier than usual to dinner; so early in 
 fact that the King was still occupied holding his daily levee. 
 
 Joseph seated himself quietly in the ante-room to await his turn. At 
 first no one had remarked his entrance, but presently he was recognized 
 by one of the Marshals of the household, who hastened to his side, and 
 apologising, oflered to inform the King at once of Count Falkenstein's 
 presence there. 
 
 "By no means," returned the Eraperor, "I am quite accustomed to 
 this sort of thing. I do it every morning in my mother's ante-room at 
 Vienna."* 
 
 Just then the door opened, and the King, who had been apprised of 
 the Emperor's arrival, came forward tq greet him. 
 
 " We were not aware that we had so distinguished a guest in our ante- 
 room," said Louis, bowing. " But come, my larother," continued he cor- 
 dially, "the weather is beautiful. Let us stroll together in the gardens. 
 Give me your arm." 
 
 But Josfeph pointing to the crowd, replied, "pardon me your Majesty, 
 it is not yet ray turn, and I shoidd be sorry to interrupt you in your 
 duties as a sovereign." 
 
 Louis frowned, and all traces of cordiality vanishefl from his face. ** I 
 
 ♦ Memoirep de 'S^'ebcr Vol i . V 4$. , 
 
36 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 will receive tjiese gentlemen to morrow," said he with a slight nod to 
 his courtiers, and they, comprehending that they were dismissed, took 
 their leave. 
 
 "Now Count," pursued the King, trying to smile, but scarcely suc- 
 ceeding in doing so, " we are at liberty." 
 
 So saying, he bowed, but did not repeat the ofTer of his arm ; he walk- 
 ed by the Emperor's side. The usher threw open the doors, crying out 
 in a loud voice, 
 
 "The King is about to lake a walk!" 
 
 " The King is about to take a walk," was echoed from point fo point ; 
 and now from every side of the palace came courtiers and gentlemen in 
 waiting, to attend their sovereign, w hilo outside on the terrace the blast 
 of trumpets was heard, so that every budy in Versailles was made aware 
 that the King was about to take a turn in his gardens, and his anxious 
 subjects, if so disposed, might pray for his safe return. 
 
 The Emperpr looked on and listened with an amused smile, highly 
 diverted at the avalanche of courtiers that came rn^shing upon them from 
 corridor and staircase. Meanwhile the Sovereigns pursued their way 
 in solemn silence until the brilliant throng had descended the marble 
 stairs that led from the terrace to the gardens. Then came another 
 flourish of trumpets, one hundred Swiss saluted the King, and twelve 
 gardes de corps advanced to take their places close to the royal prome- 
 naders. 
 
 " Sire," asked Joseph, stopping, " are all these people to accompany 
 us?" 
 
 ',' Certainly, Count," replied Louis, " this attendance upon me when I 
 walk is prescribed by court-etiquette." 
 
 " My dear brother, allow me to say that it gives us much more the 
 appearance of State-prisoners than of free Sovereigns enjoying the fresh 
 air. In presence of God let us be simple men — our hearts will be more 
 apt to be elevated by the sight of the beauties of nature., than if we go 
 surrounded by all this 'pomp and circumstance' of royalty." 
 
 "You wish to go without attendants?" asked Louis. 
 
 " I ask of your Majesty as a favor to let me act as body-guard to the 
 King of France to-day. I promise to serve you faithfully in that capa- 
 city — moreover have we not this brilliant suite of noblemen to defend 
 us in case of danger?" 
 
 The King made no reply. He merely turned to the Captain of the 
 Swiss guard to inform him that their Majesties would dispense with mi- 
 litary escort. The officer was so astounded that he actually forgot to 
 make his salute. 
 
 At the gate of the park the King also dismissed the gardes de corps. 
 These were quite as astonished as the Swiss had been before them,>for 
 never until that day had a King of France taken a walk in his gardens 
 without one hundred Swiss and twelve body-guards.'"* 
 
 *nubner. I. P. 14S. 
 
.VlAKlf. ANTOINKITK. , .' j 7 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TFIE TROMKr^ADE AND THE EPIGUA^r. 
 
 The royal l)rothers-in-law then where allowed to promenade, alone ; 
 that is to say, they were attended by twenty courtiers, whose inestima- 
 ble privilege it was to follow the King wherever he went. 
 
 "It is not then the custom in Austria for princes to appear in public 
 wiih their escort 1" asked the King after a long pause. 
 
 " Oh, yes, we have our body-gup.rds but they are the people them- 
 selves, and we feel perfectly secuie in their escurt. You should try this 
 body-guard, sire; it is more economical than yours, for its service is ren- 
 dered for pure love." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the King carelessly, " it is a very cheap way of 
 courting popularity, but the price would be too dear for a Kiwj; of France 
 to pa} — he cannot aflbrd to sell his dignity for such small return." 
 
 The Kmperor raised his large blue eyes and looked full in the King's 
 ftice, " \h> you really think," he said " that a King compromises his 
 dignity by contact with his subjects ? Do you think that to be honored 
 by your people you must be forever reminriing them of your 'right di 
 vine V 1, on the contrary believe that the sovereign who shows himself 
 to be a man, is the one who will be most sincerely loved by the men 
 whom he governs. We are apt to become dazzled by the glare of flat- 
 tery, sire, and it is well for us sometimes to throw oif our grandeur and 
 mix among our fellows. There we will soon lind out that Miijesty is 
 not written upon the face of Kings, but resides in the purple, wliich is 
 the woric of the tailor and the crown which is that of the goldsmith. I 
 learned this not long ago from a shoemaker's apprentice." 
 
 " From a shoemaker's apprentice !" exclaimed Louis with a supercili- 
 ous smile. " Jt would be highly edifying to hear from the Count of Fal- 
 kenstein how it happened that the Emperor of Austria was taught the 
 nothingness of royalty by a shoemaker's lad !" " . 
 
 " It came quite naturally, sire. 1 was out driving in a plain cabriolet 
 when I remarked the boy, who was singing, and otherwise exei^pising his 
 animal spirits by hopping, dancing and running along the road bv the 
 side of my vehicle. J was much diverted by his drollery, and finally 
 invited him to take a drive with me. Tie jumped in without awaiting 
 a second invitation, stared wonderfully at me with his great brown eyes, 
 and in high satisfaction kicked his feet against the dashboard, and watch- 
 ed the motion of the wheels. Now and, then he vented his delight by a 
 broad smile, in which I could detect no trace o^ a suspicion as to ipy 
 rank or majesty. Finally I resolved to find out -what place I occupied 
 
38 , i<>>Kl'H IHh sKrnM> 
 
 in ilu' (.•sLiiT..'iiion of at\ unfledged shoemaker, so I quftslioned him on tho 
 subject. He contemplated me for a moment and then said, '• Perhapfi 
 you might be nn equerry. 'Guess higher,' replied I. ' W«;||, a Counti' 
 — I shook my head. 'Still hij'lier' — *A I'rince?' — 'Higher yet;' — 
 ' Well then yuu must he. the Kmperor.' — 'You have ^uessed,' said I. 
 fnstead of l>eii)jf overrome by the communication, the buy sprang from 
 the cabriolet, ;ind pointiii'; at me with njitllc linger that was lull (.f scorn 
 and dirt, lie cri^d out to the pu'-<;ers by, 'only look at hiin, he is trvin^ 
 to pa-«s himsi;lf clffor the Emptror !'"* 
 
 Louis had listened lo this ncital with gravo composure, and as his face 
 had not once rehixed from its solemnity, the faces of his courtiers all 
 wore a similar expression. As Joseph looked around he saw a row of 
 blank countenances. 
 
 Thcrr; was an awkward pause. Finally the King observed that he 
 could not see anythinr; diverting in the insolenco of the bc»y. 
 
 " 1 assure your Majesty," replied the Emperor, " that it was far more 
 pleai-iiug to me than thesubserviance of a multitude of fawning courtiers." 
 He glanced sharply at the gentlemen of their suite, who knit their brows 
 in return. 
 
 " Let us quicken our pace if it be agreeable to you. Cotmt," said Louis, 
 with son)h embarrassfment. The attendants fell back and the tMo mon- 
 archs walked on for some moments in silence. The King was wonder- 
 ing how he should manage lo renew the conversation, when suddenly, 
 hiB voice tremulous wiih emotion, Joseph addressed him. 
 
 '' My brother," said he, " accident at last has favored me, and I may 
 speak lo vou for once, without witnesses. Tell me then, why do you 
 bate me ?"' 
 
 •■ My brother," exclaimed Louis, " who has dared " 
 
 '•No one has iiuimated such a thing," returned .Foseph vehemently, 
 "but 1 see it, 1 feel it in every look of your Majesty's eyes, every word 
 that falls from' your lips. Acjain 1 ask, why d<> y^n hate me? I who 
 canic hither to visit >ou aa friend and brother! — Or do you believe the 
 idle rumors of your convtierff,' that 1 came to rob aught besides the heart 
 «if the King of France? — I Icnow that I have been represented as un- 
 scrupulous in my ambition, but I entreat of you, dear brother, think bet- 
 ter of me. I will be frank with you and confess that I do seek for ag- 
 grandizement, but not at the expense of my allies or friends. I strive 
 to enlarge my territory, but I shall claim nothing that is not righteously 
 iny own. Thcr(! are p; ovinces in Germa.iy which are mine by right of 
 iuheritance. others i)y the right which Frederic used when he took iSilesia 
 from the crown of Au-tria." 
 
 " Or that which .l.>>»'ph used when he took Galicia fron\ the King of 
 Poland," interrupted Louis, significantly. 
 
 " Sire, we did not take Galicia. It fell to us through the weakness of 
 Poland, and by reason of exigencies arising from an alliance between the 
 three po^iyers. My claim to Bavaria however, is of another na ture. It 
 • Cli»roeU'ri«»1cf n»>(1 An*rdot-< of .Toscpb II, and h's Vme». V. 105. 
 
MAKIK ANTOINKITK. ;^!) 
 
 is mine by inheritance — the more so that the Elector ofZweYbriipkon, the 
 successor of the Elector ot Davaria, is willing to conce.fle nie my right to 
 that province. The navarians themselves long for annexation to Aus- 
 tiia. for they know that it is their only road to prosperity. They look 
 with hope and confidence to Maria Theresa, whose goodness and great- 
 ness may compensate them for all that they have endured at the liands 
 of their pusillanimous little rulpr.s. The only man in (icrmany who will 
 oppose the succession of Austria to Bavaria, i.s Frederic who is as rcad^' 
 to enlarge his own domains as to cry ' Stop Thief !' when he sees others 
 doit(g likewise. But he will not raise his single voice unless he receive 
 encouragement from other powers. If my visit to France has any po- 
 litical significance, it is to obtain your Majesty's recognition of my right 
 to Bavaria. Yes, sire, I do wish to convince you of the justice of my 
 claim, and to obtain from you the promise of neutrality when 1 shall be 
 ready to assert it. You see that I speak without reserve, and confide to 
 you plans which heretofore have been discussed in secret council at Vi- 
 enna aU»ne." 
 
 ''And I pledge my royal word never to betray your Majesty's confi- 
 dence to living mortal," replied Louis, with undisguised embarrassment 
 and anxiety. " Believe me when I say that every thing you have spo- 
 ken is as though 1 had never heard it. I shall bury it within the recess- 
 es of my own heart, and there it shall remain." 
 
 The Emperor surveyed his brother-in-law with a glance of mistrust. 
 He thought that the a.^surance of his secresy was given in singular lan- 
 guage. He was not altogether satisfied to hear that what he had been 
 .saying was to be treated as though it had never been said at all. 
 
 " Will your Majesty then sustain me]" asked he of Louis. Th's di- 
 rect question staggered his Majesty of France. He scarcely knew what 
 he was saying. '* Ymi ask this question," replied he w-ith a forced smile, 
 *' as if the Elector were dead, and our decision were imperative. Fortu- 
 nately his Highness of Bavaria is in excellent health ami the discussion 
 
 may be deferred. Let us think of the present. Yon were wise, my 
 
 dear brother, whrn you remarked that the beauties of nature were cal- 
 culated to elevate our minds. What royalty can be compared to 
 hers !" 
 
 The Emperor made no reply. He felt the full significance of the Kinc's 
 ungracious words, and more than ever he was convinced th»t Louis re- 
 garded him with dislike and ill-will. Again there was painful silence 
 between the two, and every moment it weighed more heavilv upon 
 both. 
 
 At last Louis, awaking to a sense of what was due from host to guest, 
 made a desperate resoUuion and spoke. 
 
 "Have you made any plans for this evening, my brother?" askcJ he 
 timidly. 
 
 " No !" was the curt reply. 
 
 ""iou would be very amiable, if. instead of visiting the theatres, you 
 would join the Queen in. a game <-.f card!'." 
 
40 Jij:~>KVH nih. SLX:UiNl> 
 
 " I never play," returned Joseph. " A. toonavch who loses money at 
 cards, loses the property of his subjects."* 
 
 "Since you do not like cards, we have other recreations at hand. 
 How vvoujd you relish a hunt in the woods of Mendon '?" 
 
 " Noc at all," said Joseph. " Hunting is no recreation for a monarch. 
 His time is too precious to be frittered away in such idle sport." 
 
 " Ah," said Louis, whose patience was exhausted, " you imitate your 
 old enemy, the King of Prussia, who for twenty years has been crying 
 out against the sins of hunting and gambling." 
 
 The Emperor's face grew scarlet, and his eyes flashed. "Sire," re- 
 plied he, '• allow me to observe to you that 1 imitate nobody, and that 
 I am resolved now as ever to conduct myself as [ see fit." 
 
 To th*?, the King bowed in silence. He was so weary of his walk 
 that he led the way to a road by which a short cut might be made to 
 the palace. This road was crossed by an avenue of trees which border- 
 ed a large iron gate leading to the front entrance of the palace. Plere 
 the people were accustomed to assemble to obtain a view of their sovJ 
 ereigns, and to-dciy the throng was greater than usual, for they had learn- 
 ed from the Swiss Guard that the two mcnarchs were out together, and 
 thousands of eager eyes were watching for the glittering uniforms of the- 
 gardes de corps. 
 
 Great was their astonishment to see two individuals alone, apparently 
 independent of the courtiers at some distance behind them. 
 
 " Who could they be — these two gentlemen advancing together? 
 Certainly not the Em|)eror and the King, for the latter never tooic a step 
 Without his lifeguards." 
 
 '• But it is the Emperor !" cried a voice in the crowd. " I know his 
 handsome face, and his dark blue eyes." 
 
 " And the other is the King !" exclaimed another voice. 
 
 " It cannot be," said a third. " The King of France never moves in 
 his own palace without a wall of guards around him — how much less in 
 the open parks where he is exposed to the danger of meeting his sub- 
 jects!" 
 
 "1 suppose we are indebted to the Emperor for this bold act of his 
 Majesty today," said another critic. 
 
 '• Yes, yes, he it is who has persuaded the King to trust us," cried the 
 multitude, ■' let us thank him by a hearty welcome." 
 
 The two Princes were now quite near, and the crowd took oflf their 
 hats. The Emperor greeted them with an affable smile, the King with 
 several nods but without a shadow of cordiality. Suddenly the air was 
 rent with shouts, and a thousand voices cried out, " L^ng live the Em- 
 peror !" 
 
 The King reddened, but dared not give vent to his displeasure. His 
 eyes sought the ground, while Joseph, gently shaking his head, looked 
 at the people and pointed furtively at their soverigign. 
 
 They understood him at once, and eager to repair the inadverteDce, 
 
 " Joseph's own worjs Kubner. part l,p«ge IJ^l 
 
MAKih; A^'lul^E^'ni. 41 
 
 they shouted, " Long live the Emperor ! Long live our King, the father 
 of his people !" 
 
 The Emperor now smiled and waved his hand, while the King, still 
 displeased, bowed gr.avely and turned towards Joseph. 
 
 "You are quite fight,'" said he, in sharp, cutting accents, " popularity 
 is a cheap commodity. A king has only to ride about in hackney-coach- 
 es, and put on the people's garb, to becojne the idol of the lower classes. 
 The question, however, is, how long will a popularity of this sort last?" 
 
 "If it be called forth by a hackney-coach and an ordinary dress, sire, 
 it may be of short duration, but if it is to last, it must be accorded to 
 real worth," replied Joseph, sympathising with the discontent of the 
 King. 
 
 " Which no one would presume to deny in your Majesty's case," re- 
 joined Louis with a constrained and awkward bow. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Joseph blushing, " I had not understood that your 
 Majesty's irony was intended for me, else I should not have answered 
 as 1 did. I do not strive after popularity. My actions (low naturally 
 from my convictions. These teach me that my natural condition is not 
 that of an emppror but of a man, and I conduct myself accordingly."* 
 
 So saying, the Emperor turned once Toore to salute the people, and 
 then ascended the wide marble steps that led to the terrace of the pal- 
 ace. The two monarchs and the glittering courtiers disappearpd amid 
 the ^^ vivas " of the multitude, and now they became suddenly silent. 
 
 In the midst of this silence, the same voice which has so sharply crit- 
 icised the King, was heard. Again it spoke as follows : 
 
 " Marsorio has made another epigram, and mistaking me for Pasquin, 
 has just whispered it in my ear !" 
 
 " What did he say 1 Tell us what our good Marsorio says ! Repeat 
 the epigram !" saluted the speaker ou every side. 
 
 " Here it is," returned the voice. 
 
 " A nos yeux ctonncs de sa simplicite 
 Falkenstein a inontro la majestc sans faste, 
 Chez nous par un honteux contraste 
 Qu'a-t'il trouvo 1 Faste sans majeste."! 
 
 * The Emreror'aWn words. Kairshom's Joseph II, pago 14C. 
 t R.imshcrn, page 146. 
 
i'^ JUvSLt'h tllK >EL;(>N1) 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE DINNER Elf FAMILY. 
 
 TiiB King and the Emperor had meanwhile reached the apartment 
 which opened into the private dining-room of the royal family. The 
 Princes with their wives were already there ; but Marie Antoinette al- 
 ways came at the last moment. She dreaded the sarcasm of the Count 
 de Provence and the sullen or contemptuous j^lances of the King. She 
 would have given much to return to the old stiff, public ceremonial 
 which she had banished, but that she could not do. Ifc wou}d have been 
 too great a concession to the Court. Her only refuge was to stay away 
 as long as decorum allowed, and since tba Emperor's arrival she never 
 entered the room until he had been announced. 
 
 To day she was even later than usual, and the King, who like other 
 mortals, was hungry after his walk, began to grow sulky at the delay. 
 "When at last she entered the room, he scarcely vouchsafed her an incli- 
 nation of the head as he rose to conduct her to the. table. The Queen 
 eeemed not to perceive the omission. She gave him her hand with a 
 sweet smile, and despite his ill-hninor, Louis tould not suppress a throb 
 as he saw how brilliantly beautiful she was. 
 
 "You have made us wait, Madame," said he, " but your appearance 
 to-day repays us for your tardiness." 
 
 The Queen smiled again, for well she knew that-she was bewitchingly 
 dressed, and that the new coiffure which Leonard had contrived, was 
 really becoming, and would heighten her charms by contrast with the 
 hideous towers that were heaped, like Pelion upon Ossa, over the heads 
 of the princesses. 
 
 " I hope that your Majesty will forgive me for being late," said she, 
 secure in the power of her fascinations. 
 
 " My little Jacques is to blame. He is sick to day, and would have 
 no one to put him to sleep but myself" 
 
 "Your Majesty should feel flattered," cried the Count of Provence. 
 "You are expected to put off your dinner until a little peasant is pleas- 
 ed to go to sleep." 
 
 "Pardon me, your Highness," said the Queen, coloring, ''Jacques is 
 no longer a peasant — he is my child." 
 
 "The Dauphin, perchance, which your Majesty promised not long 
 since to the dames de la ImIUV sneered the king's brother. 
 
 The Queen blushed so deeply that the flush of her shame overspread 
 her whole face and neck, but instead of retorting, she turned to address 
 })er brother. 
 
MAIilli AN'luLNK'rri';. 4J 
 
 *• You have not « word of greeting for me, Joseph V 
 
 "My dear sister," said the Euiperor, "| am speechless with admira- 
 tion at; y<;ur coiffure. Where did you gtt such a wilderness of flowers 
 and feathers ?" 
 
 " They are the worll of Leonard," 
 
 " Who is Leonard ?" 
 
 "What!" interrupted the Countess d'ArtoI?, "your Majesty docs not 
 know who Leonard is — Leonard the Queen's hair-dresser — Leonard the 
 autocrat of fashion 1 lie it is who has imagined our lovei}" sister's 
 coiffure, and certainly these feathers are superb!" 
 
 " Beautiful indeed!" (jried the Countess of Provence, with an appear- 
 ance of ecstacy. 
 
 "Are these the costly feathers -which I heard your Majesty admiring 
 in the hat of the due de Lauzun?" asked the Count de Provence, point- 
 edly. 
 
 "That is a curious question," remarked the King. "How should the 
 fea'hers of the due de Lauzun be transported to the head of the Queen?" 
 
 " Sire, I was by, when de Gucmence, on the part of de Lauzuu, re- 
 quested the Queen's acceptance of the feathers." 
 
 "And the Queen?" asked Louis, with irritation. 
 
 " 1 accepted the gift, sire," replied Marie Antoinette, calmly^ " The 
 offer was not altogether in accordauce'with Court-etiquette, but no dis- 
 respect was intended, and I could not inflict upon Monsieur de Lauzun 
 the humiliation of a refusal. The Count de Provence, however, can 
 spare himself further anxiety in the matter, as the feathers that 1 wear 
 to-day are those which were lately presented to mo by my sister, the 
 Queen of Naples." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed the Emperor, " I was not aware that Caroline 
 gave presents, although I know that she frequently accepts them from 
 her courtiers." 
 
 "The etiquette at Naples, differs then from that of Pc;ris," remarked 
 the King. " No subject has the right to offer a gift to the Queen of 
 Prance." 
 
 "Heaven be praised !" cried the Count de Provence, "nobody here 
 pays any attention to Court-customs ! Since Madame de Noailles gave 
 in her resignation we have been free to do all things. This inestimable 
 freedom w» owe to our lovely sister-in-law, who in defiance of all pre- 
 judice, has had boldness erTough to burst the fetters which for so many 
 hundred years had impeded the actions of the Queens of France." 
 
 At that moment the lirst lady of honor, on bended knee, presented 
 the Queen her soup, and this relieved Marie Antoinette from the pain- 
 ful embarrassment which this equivocal compliment occasioned. But 
 tjie Emperor interposed. 
 
 " You have reason to be thankful to ray sister that she has had the 
 independence to attack these absurdities," said Joseph, warmly. "But 
 pardon me if I ask if etiquette at Versailles approves of the conversion 
 of the corridors, galleries and staircases of the palace Into booths for 
 
44 .JOSEPH THE SECONJJ. 
 
 the accommodation of shopkeepers and tradesmen. ""■■ 
 
 "It is an old privilege which custom has sanctioned," returned the 
 King, smiling. 
 
 "And which violates the sanctity of the King's residence," objected 
 the Emperor. "The Saviour who drove the money-changers from the 
 temple, would certainly expel these traders, were he to appear on earth 
 to-day." 
 
 This observation was received in snllen silence. The royal fjimily 
 looked annoyed, but busied themselves with their knives and forks. A 
 most unpleasant pause ensued, which was broken by the Queen, who 
 turning to her brother, asked him what he had seen to interest him since 
 his arrival in Paris. 
 
 " You well know," said he, " that Paris abounds in interesting insti- 
 tutions. Yesterday 1 was filled with enthusiasm with what I saw in the 
 course of my morning ramble." 
 
 " Where did yon go, Count?" asked Louis, appeased and flattered by 
 the Emperor's words. 
 
 "To the Invalides, and I confess to you that the sight of this noble 
 asylum filled me with as much envy as admiration. 1 have iiothing in 
 Vienna that will bear comparison v?ith this magnificent offering of France 
 to her valiant defenders. You must feel your heart stir with pride 
 whenever you visit those crippled heroes, sire." 
 
 " I have never visited the Invalides" said the King, coloring. 
 
 "What!" cried Joseph, raising his hands in astonishment, "the King 
 of France has never visited the men' who have suffered in his behalf! 
 Sire, if you have neglected this sacred duty, you should hasten to repair 
 the omission." 
 
 " What else did you seel" asked the Queen, striving to cover the 
 King's displeasure, and the contemptuous by-play of the Count de Pro- 
 vence. 
 
 " I visited the Foundling Hospital. To you, Antoinette, this hospi- 
 tal «niust possess especial interest.'' 
 
 " Oh yes. I subscribe yearly to it from my private purse," said tlie 
 Queen. 
 
 " But surely you sometimes visit the pious sisters upon whom de- 
 volves the real burthen of this charity, to reward them by your sympa- 
 thy for their disinterested labors ?" 
 
 "No, I have never been there," replied the Queen, confused. "It is 
 not allowed to the Queens of I'rance to visit public benevolent institu- 
 tions." 
 
 "And yet it is allowable for them to attend public balls at the Opera 
 house !" 
 
 Marie Antoinette blushed and looked displeased. This sally of the 
 Emperor was followed by another blank pause which finally was broken 
 by himself. 
 
 ♦This custom was subsequently abolished by Marie Antoinette, and the lower classes never f"r- 
 f'avc her f t withdrawiiifc this cxtraoiflinarv privilffre from ilie hucksters of Paris. 
 
MAKIE ANTOIKEITE. 45 
 
 " I also visited another noble institution," continued he, that of the 
 deaf mutes. The Abbe de I'Epee deserves the homage of the world for 
 this monument of individual charity; for I have been told that his insti- 
 tution has never yet received assistance from the crown. My dear sis- 
 ter 1 venture to ask alms of you for his unfortunate proteges. With 
 what strength of love has he explored the dark recesses of their jninds, 
 to bear ^fithin the light of intelligence and cultivation ! Think hnw he 
 has rescued ther% from a joyless stupor, to place them by the Bide of 
 thinking, reasoning and happy human beings! As soon as I return to 
 Vienna, I shall found an institution I'br the deaf and dumb; 1 have al- 
 ready arranged with the Abbe lo impart his system to a person who 
 shall be sent to conduct the asylum I propose to endow." 
 
 " I am ht^ppy to think that you meet with so many things in France 
 worthy of your approval, Count," remarked the King. 
 
 "Paris, sire," said Joseph, "is rich in treasures \if whose existence 
 you arc scarcely aware." 
 
 " What are these treasures then? Enlighten me, (-ount." 
 
 "They arc the magniticent works of art, sire, which are lying like 
 rubbish in your royal storehouses in Paris. Luckily, as \ have been 
 told, etiquette requires that the pictures in your palaces should, fronx 
 time to time, be exchanged, and thus these masterpieces arc sometimes 
 brought to view. In this matter, 1 acknowledge that Etiquette iS wis- 
 dom."* 
 
 "Etiquette," replied Louis, "is often the only defence which kings 
 can place between themselves and importunate wisdom^" 
 
 " Wisdom is so hard to find that I should think it impossible for her 
 to be importunate," returned Joseph. " 1 met with her yesterday, how- 
 ever, in another one of your noble institutions — I mean the military 
 school. I spent three hours there, and I envy you the privilege of visit- 
 ing it as often as you feel disposed." 
 
 "Your envy is quite inappropriate," replied Louis, sharply, "fori 
 have never visited the institute at all." 
 
 "Impossible!" cried the Emperor, warmly. "You are unacquainted 
 with all that is noblest and gi*eiatest in your own capital, sire ! It is 
 your duty as a King to know every thing that concerns the welfare of 
 your subjects not only here in Paris but throughout all France."! 
 
 "I disagree with you, and I am of opinion that wisdom is often exceed- 
 ingly offensive," replied the King frowning, as with a stiiT bow, he rose 
 from the table. 
 
 Marie Antoinette looked anxiously at Joseph to see the effects of her 
 husband's impoliteness, but the Emperor looked perfectly unconscious, 
 and began to discuss the subject of painting with the Count d'Artois. 
 
 Thfe Queen retired to her cabinet, heartily rejoicing that the dinner 
 enfamille had come to an end, and almost ready to order that the royal^ 
 meals should be served in the state dining-room, and the people of Pa- 
 
 ^ — ■ 'r 
 
 * The Emperor's words. Campan, Vol. 1, p. 1^8, 
 tThc liipreror's woris, Campan. Vol. 1, p, 79, 
 
46 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 j'is invited to resume their old custom of coming to stare at the royal 
 family ! 
 
 She sat down to her escritoire to work with her Treasurer and private 
 Secretary, that is to say to sign all the papers which he placed before 
 her for that purpose. 
 
 The door opened and the Emperor entered the room. The Queen 
 would have risen, but he prevented her and begged that he inighc not 
 feel himself to be an intruder. 
 
 "I came, dear feiste;-," said he, "to ask you to accompany me to the 
 Thecitre tonight. Meanwhile it will give me great pleasure to see vou 
 usefully employed." ^ 
 
 So tiie Queen went bxi signing papers, not one of which she examined. 
 The Emperor watched lor a time in astonished silence ; finally he came 
 up to the escritoire. 
 
 "• My sister," said he, " I think it very strange that you put your name 
 to so many documents without ever looking at their contents." 
 
 "Why strange, brother?" asked the Queen, opening her large eyes 
 in wonder. 
 
 " Because it is a culpable omission, Antoinette. You should not so 
 lightly throw away your royal signature. The name of a sovereign 
 should never be signed without deliberation — much less blindly, as you 
 are signing yours at present."* 
 
 Marie Antoinette colored with vexation at this reproof in presence of 
 one of her own subjects, " My brother," replied she hastily, " I admire 
 the facility with, which you generalize on the subject of other people's 
 derelictions. But unhappily your homilies are sometimes misapplied. 
 My Secretary, Monsieur d'Augeard, has my full confidence, and these 
 papers are merely the quarterly accounts of my household expenditures. 
 They have already been approved by the auditor, and you perceive that 
 I risk nothing by affixing my signature." 
 
 "T perceive farther," replied Joseph smiling, " that you are of one 
 mind with your husband, and find wisdom sometimes very offensive. 
 Forgive me if in my over-anxiety I have hurt you, dear sister. Let us 
 be friends, for itideed, my poor Antoinette, you are sorely in need of 
 friends at this Court." 
 
 The Queen dismissed her Secretary, and then came forward and took 
 her brother's hand. " You have discovered then," said she, " that I am 
 surrounded by enemies ?" 
 
 " I have indeed, and I tremble for your safety. Your foes are power- 
 ful and you — you are not sufficiently cautious, Antoinette." 
 
 " What is it in me that they find to blame!" exclaimed she, her beau- 
 tiful eyes filling with tears. 
 
 " Some other day, we must talk of this together. I see that you are 
 threatened, but as yet, I neither understand the cause of your danger nor 
 its remedy. As soon as I shall have unravelled the mystery of your 
 position I will seek an interview with you, and then dear sister, we must 
 
 >■ * The Emperors own ^ordB. 
 
MAlilE AiNTOlNJiTlTli. 47 
 
 forget that \re are sovereigns and remember but one thing — the tics that 
 have bound us together since tirst vre loved each other as the children of 
 one father and mother." 
 
 Marie Antoinette laid her head upon her brother's bosom and wept. 
 " Oh that we were children again in the gardens of Schonbrunn !" sob- 
 bed she, "for there at least we were innocent and happy !" 
 
 CHAPTER Xlll. 
 
 A VISIT TO JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAr. 
 
 Before the door of a small, mean house in the village of Montmorcn- 
 cy stood a hackney-coach from which a man, plainly dressed, but distin- 
 guished in appearance, had just alighted. He was contemplated with 
 sharp scrutiny by a woman, who with arms a-kimbo, blocked up the door 
 of the cottage. 
 
 " Does Monsieur Rousseau live here ?" asked the stranger touching 
 his hat. 
 
 "Yes, my husband lives here," said the woman sharply. 
 
 " Ah, you are then Therese Levasseur, the companion of the great 
 philosopher?" 
 
 " Yes I am, and the Lord knows that I lead a pitiful life with the phil- 
 ospher." 
 
 " You complain Madam, and yet you are the chosen friend of a great 
 man !" ^ 
 
 " People do not live ou greatness, sir, nor on goodness either. Jean 
 Jacques is too L'ood to be of any use in this world. He gives away 
 everything he has, and leaves nothing for himself and me." 
 
 The stranger grew sad as he looked at this great, strapping woman, 
 whose red face was the very representative of coarseness and meanness. 
 
 " Be so good as to conduct me to Monsieur Kousseau's presence, ma- 
 dam," said he in rather a commanding tone. 
 
 " I shall do no such thing," cried Therese Levasseur, in a loud, rough 
 voice. "People who visit in hackney-coaches should not take airs. 
 Monsieur Rousseau is not to be seen by everybody." 
 
 "A curious doctrine that, to be propounded before a philosopher's 
 door!" said the stranger, laughing. "But pray, madam, excuse me and 
 my hackney-coach and allow me to pass." 
 
 " You shall first tell your business. Do you bring music to copy ?" 
 
 " No, madam, I come merely to visit monsieur." 
 
 "Then you can go as yuu came," exclaimed the virago. "My hus- 
 
48 JOSEPH THE SECUiS'D. 
 
 band is not a wild animal on exhibition, and I am not going to let in 
 every idle stranger that interferes with his work and cuts off my bread. 
 God knows he gives nie little enough, without lessening the pittance by 
 Avasting his time talking to you or the like of you." 
 
 The stranger put his hand in hts pocket, and drawing it out again, 
 laid something in the palm of Therese's broad, dirty hand. He repeat- 
 ed his request. 
 
 She looked at the gold, and her avaricious face brightened. i^ "Yes, 
 yes," said she, contemplating it with a greedy smile, " you shall see 
 Jean Jacques. But first you must promise not to tell him of the louis 
 d'or. He would growl and wish me to give it back. He is such a fool ! 
 He would rather starve than let his friends assist him." 
 
 " Be at ease — 1 shall not say a word to him." 
 
 " Then, sir, go inAand mount the stairs, but take care not to stumble, 
 for the railing is down. Knock at the door above, and there you will 
 tind Jean Jacques. Whil^you talk to him, I will go out and spend this 
 money -all for his comfo.rt. Let me see — he needs a pair of shoes and a 
 
 cravat — and Well," continued she nodding her head, " farewell, don't 
 
 break your neck." 
 
 " Yes," muttered she as she went back to the street, " he wants shoes 
 and cravats, and coats too for that matter, but I am not the fool to waste 
 my money upon him. I shall spend it on myself for a new neck-hand- 
 kerchief, and if there is anything left, I shall treat myself to a couple of 
 bottles of wine and some fish," 
 
 While Therese stalked through the streets to spend her money, the 
 stranger had obtained entrance into the little dark room, where sat Jeaa 
 Jacques Rousseau. 
 
 It was close and mouldy like the rest of the house, and a few straw 
 chairs with one deal table were the only furniture there. On the wall 
 hung several bird-cages, whose inmates were twittering, and warbling 
 one to another. Before the small window, which looked out upon a no- 
 ble walnut tree, stood several glass globes in which various wprms and 
 fishes were leading an uneasy existence. 
 
 Rousseau himself was seated at the table, writing. He wore a coat 
 of coarse gray cloth, like that of a laborer, the collar of his rough linen 
 shirt was turned down over a bright cotton scarf, which was carelessly 
 tied around his neck. His face was pale, sad, and weary ; and his scant 
 gray, hairs, as well as the deep wrinkles upon his forehead wore the scroll 
 wherpon time had written sixty years of strife and struggle with life. 
 Imagination however still looked out from the depths of his dark eyes, 
 and the corners of his mouth were still graceful with the pencillings of 
 many a good-humored smile. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," said the stranger, " that I enter unannounced. I 
 found no one to precede me hither." 
 
 " We are too poor to keep a servant, sir," replied Rousseau, *' and I 
 presume that ray good Therese has gone out on some errand. How can 
 J serve you V 
 
A1AK1£ AJJTUlNErfE. 49 
 
 " I came to visit Jean Jacques Rousseau, the poet and philosopher." 
 
 " I am the one, but scarcely the others. Life has gone so roughly 
 ■with me that poetry has vanished long ago from my domicile, and men 
 have deceived rae so often that I have fled from the world in disgust. 
 You see, then, that 1 have no claim to the title of philosopher." 
 
 " And thus speaks Jean Jacques Rousseau, who once taught that man-, 
 kind were naturally good ?" 
 
 " I still believe in my own teachings, sir," cried Roiisseau warmly. 
 *' Man is the vinculum that connects the Creator with His creation, and^ 
 light from heaven illumines bis birth and infancy. But the world, sir, is 
 evil, and is swayed by two demons — selfishness and falsehood.* These 
 demons poison the heart of man, and influence him to actions whose 
 sole object is to advance himself and prejudice his neighbor." 
 
 "I fear that yoar two demons were coeval with the creation of the 
 world," said the stranger, with a smile. 
 
 " No, no ; they were not in Paradise. And what is Paradise but the 
 primitive condition of man — that happy state when in sweet harmony 
 with nature, he lay upon the bosom of his mother-earth and inhaled 
 health and peace from her life-giving breath ? Let us return to a state 
 of nature, and we shall find that the gates of Paradise have re-opened. 
 
 "Never ! We have tasted of the tree of knowledge and are forever 
 exiled from Eden." 
 
 " Woe to us all, if what you say is true ; for then the world is but a 
 vale of misery, and the wise man has but one resource — self destruction ! 
 But pardon me, I have not offered you a chair." 
 
 The stranger accepted a seat and glanced at the heaps of paper that 
 covered the rickety old table, 
 
 "You were writing?", asked he. "Are we soon to receive another 
 great work from Rousseau's hands?" • 
 
 " No sir," replied Rousseau sadly, " I am too unhappy to write." 
 
 " But surely this is writing," and the stranger pointed to the papers 
 around. 
 
 " Yes, sir, but 1 copy, music, and God knows that in the notes I write, 
 there is little or no thought. I have written books that I might give 
 occasion to the FrcBch to think, but they never profited by the oppor- 
 tunity. They are more complaisant now that I copy music. I give them 
 a chance to sing and they sing.f 
 
 " It seems to me that there is great discord in their music, sir. You 
 who are as great a musician as a philosopher can tell me whether 1 judge 
 correctly." 
 
 " You are right," replied Rousseau. " Tlie dissonance increases with 
 every hour. The voice which you hear is that of the people, and the 
 day will come when, claiming their rights, they will rend the air with a 
 song of such hatre d and revenge as the world has never heard before." 
 
 • This is not very philosophical. If tho fraction man, bo intriniica'ly good, how is it that the 
 ^holo (the world which it made up of nothing but men) is 80 evil ? Is there a deiDiargo responsi- 
 ble forth" introduction of these tw^) demons V 
 
 tThiB 18 Rousseau's own laoRuaco. Ramehoru, P. 140. 
 
 1 
 
;jy JOSEPH TiiH; 6KCUJSl>. 
 
 *' But who «icnies their rights to the people?" 
 
 "The property-holders, the priests, the nobles, and the King." 
 
 '■The King! what hus he done?" 
 
 " He is the grand-sou of that Louis Fifteenth, whose life of infamy is 
 a foul blot upon the fame of France ; and nothing can ever wash away 
 'the disgrace save an ocean oi' royal blood." 
 
 " Terrible !" exclaimed the visitor with a shudder. " Are you a pro- 
 phet that you allow yourself such anticipations of evil '?" 
 
 " No sir, I predict what is to come, from my knowledge of that which 
 has gone by." ' ' 
 
 " What do you mean V^ 
 
 Rousseau slowly shook his head. " Fate has threatened this unhappy 
 Kiuf^ from the day of his birth. Warning after warning has been sent 
 and disregarded. Truly the man was a wise one, who said ' whom the 
 Gods destroy, they first blind.' " 
 
 " I implore you, speak further. What evil omens have you seen that 
 lead you to apprehend misfortune to Louis Sixteenth?" 
 
 " Have you never heard of them ? They are generally known." 
 
 "No, indeed — I beseech you, enlighten me, for Lhavegood reason for 
 my curiosity." 
 
 " Louis was not born like his predecessors, and it is generally believ- 
 ed that he will not die a natural death. Not a single member of the 
 royal family was present at his birth. His mother by accident found 
 herself alone in the palace of Versailles, when she was overtaken by the 
 pains of childbirth, and some insignificant stranger received the heir of 
 France upon his entrance to life. The courier who was sent to announce 
 his birth, fell from his horse and was killed on the spot. The abbe de 
 Saujon, v.'ho was called in to christen the infant, was struck by apoplexy 
 while entering the chapel-door, and his arrti and tongue were paralysed.* 
 From hundreds of healthy women, the physician of the Dauphiness 
 chose three nurses for the Prince. At the end of a week, two of them 
 were dead, and the third one, Madame Guillotine, after nursing him for 
 six weeks, was carried off by small-pox. Eventhe frivolous grandfather 
 was terrified by such an accumulation of evil ofhens, and he was heard 
 to regret that he had given to his grandson the title of Duke of Berry, 
 ' for ' said he, ' the name has always brought ill-luck to its possessors.'! 
 
 " But the King has long since outlived the name, and has triumphed 
 bver all the uncomfortable circumstances attending his birth, for he is 
 now King of France." 
 
 *' And do you know what he said when the crown was placed upon 
 his head?" 
 
 " No — I have never h^ard." ■ 
 
 " He was crowned at Rheims. When the hand of the Archbishop was 
 withdrawn from the crown, the King moaned, and turning deathly pale, 
 murmured, ' on now it pains me I'J; Once before him, a King of France 
 
 * Memoires de Mme de Crcque, Vol. 3, P. 179. 
 
 t Creque. Vo', 8, P. 180, \ Catnpan, Vol. 1, P; ItS, 
 
MAKIE AJSTULKETTE. 51 
 
 had made the same exclamation, and that King was Henry Third." 
 
 " Strange," said the visitor. " All this seems very absurd and yet it 
 fills me with horror. Have you anything more ot the same sort to 
 point out?" 
 
 " jRemember all that occurred when the Dauphin was married to the 
 Archduchess Marie Antoinette. When she put her foot upon French 
 ground, a tent had been erected according to custom, where she was to 
 lay aside her clothing, and be attired in garments of French mafiufac- 
 ture. The walls of the tent were hung wiih costly Gobelin tapestry, all 
 of which represented scenes of bloodshed. On one side was the massa- 
 cre of the Innocents, on the other the execution of the Maccabees. The 
 Archduchess herself was horror-stricken at the omen. On that night, 
 two of the ladies in waiting, who had assisted the Queen in her toilet, 
 died suddenly. Think of the dreadful storm that raged on the Dauphin's 
 wedding-night, and of the fearful accident which accompanied his entrance 
 into Paris, and then tell mc whether death is not around, perchance be- 
 fore this unhappy King V 
 
 " 3ut to what end are these omens, since they cannot help us to avert 
 
 evil r ^ 
 
 " To what end ?" asked Rousseau as with a smile he contemplated the 
 agitated countenance of his guest, '" To this end — that the Emperor 
 Joseph may warn his brother and sister of the fate which threatens, and 
 which will surely engulph them, if they do not heed the signs of the 
 coming tempest." 
 
 " How, Rousseau, you know me ?" 
 
 " If I had not known you sire, 1 would not have spoken so freely of 
 the King. I saw you in Paris at the theatre and I am rejoiced to be able 
 to speak to your Majesty as man to man, and friend to friend." 
 
 " Then let me be as frank as my friend has been to me," said Joseph 
 extending his hand. " You are not situated as becomes a man of your 
 genius and fame. What can I do to better your condition 1" 
 
 " Better my condition ?" repeated Rousseau absently. " Nothing — I 
 am an old man whose every illusion has fled. My only wants are a ray 
 of sunshine to warm my old limbs and a crust of bread to appease my 
 hunger," 
 
 At this moment a shrill voice was heard without. " Put ^wn the 
 money and I will fetch the music, for we are sadly pressed for every 
 thing." 
 
 " (|Ood heavens !" exclaimed Rousseau, anxiously. " I am not ready, 
 and I had promised the music to Therese for this very hour. How shall 
 I excuse myself?" Here the unhappy philosopher turned to the Em- 
 peror. " Sire you asked what you could do for me, I implore you, leave 
 this room before Therese enters it. She will be justly displeased, if she 
 finds you here, and when my dear, good Therese is angry, she speaks so 
 loud that my nerves are discomposed for hours afterwards. Here, sire, 
 through this other door. It leads to my bed-room and thence by a etair- 
 case to the street." 
 
f)2 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 Trembling with excitement, Rousseau hurried the Emperor into the 
 jif^xt room. The latter waved his hand and the door was closed upon 
 him. As he reached the street, Joseph heard the sharp discordant tones 
 of Therese Levasseur's voice, heapivig abuse upon the head of her philo- 
 sopher, because he had not complcl«d l»is task and they would have not 
 a cent wherewith to buy dinner. 
 
 CHxAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 Thk visit of tlie Emperor was drawing to a close. He had tas4ed to 
 its uimo3t of the enjoyments of the peerless city. He had became ac- 
 quainted with its great national institutions, its industrial resources, its 
 treasures of art and of science. The Parisians were enthusiastic in his 
 jiraise ; from the nobleman to the artisan, every man had something to 
 yay in favor of the gracious and affable brother of the Queen. Even the 
 fish-wives, those formidable dames de lakalle, had walked in procession 
 to pay their respects, and present himaboquet of gigantic proportions."* 
 
 The Emperor was popular everywhere except at Court. His candoi* 
 was unacceptable, and his occasional sarcasms had stung the pride of the 
 royal family. The King never pardoned him the unpalatable advice he 
 had bestowed relative to the hospitals, the Invalides, and the military 
 schools. The Queen, too, was irritated to see that whereas her brother 
 might have expressed his disapprobation of her acts in private, he never 
 failed to do so in presence of the Court. The consequence was, that 
 like the King and the rest of the royal family, Marie Antoinette was re- 
 lieved when this long wished-for visit of the Emperor was over. This 
 did not prevent her from clinging to his neck, and shedding abundant 
 tears as she felt his warm and loving embrace. 
 
 The Emperor drew her close to his heart, whi^ering meanwhile, "re- 
 member that we must see each other in private. Send some one to me 
 to conduct me to the roo^i in the palace which you call your ' asylum.' 
 
 " How !" said the Queen with surprise, " you have heard of uiy asy- 
 lum! Who told you of it?" 
 
 '' Hush, Antoinette, you will awaken the King's suspicions, for all eyes 
 are upon us ! Will you admit me *?" 
 
 '■ Yes, I will send Louis to conduct you this afternoon," and withdraw- 
 ing herself from her brother's arms, the Queen and the royal family took 
 leave of Count Falkenstein. •^ 
 
 *0n lljis occasiou Madame Trigodin, one of the mostr»ounnciil of the poiasardot made an ad- 
 licas '^0 behalf "fUic- j'ri.erhood. Hubncrl. T. 151, 
 
■ Ills carriage.s and his suil^ had all loft Paris, and Joseph, loo, was sup- 
 posed to have gone long before the hour when he was conducted to the 
 Queen's " asylum " by her faithful servant Louis. This " asylum " was 
 in an obscure corner of the Tuillcrics, and to reach it, the Emperor was 
 introduced into the Palace by a side-door. He was led through dark 
 passages and up narrow stair-cases until they reached a small door which 
 Louis opened with a key which he took from his pocket. He clapped 
 his hand three times, and the signal being answered, he made a profound 
 inclination to the Emperor. 
 
 "Your Majesty can enter. The Queen is there." j. 
 
 Joseph found himself in a small, simple apartment of which the furni- 
 ture was of white wood covered with chintz. On the wall was a hang- 
 ing etagcrc with books; opposite, an open harpsichord, and in the recess 
 of the window a table covered with papers. The Emperor hastily sur- 
 veyed this room, and no one coming forward, he passed into another. 
 
 Here he found his sister — no longer the magnificent Queen whose* 
 rich toilettes were as proverbial as her beaufcy ; but a lovely, unpretend- 
 ing woman, without rouge, without jewels, clad in a dress of India mus- 
 lin, which was confined at the waist by a simple sash of pale lilac rib- 
 bon. 
 
 Marie Antoinette came forward with both hands outstretched. "I 
 am dre^s('d as is my custom," said she, " when the few friends I possess, 
 oome to visit me here — here in my asylum, where sometimes I am able 
 to forget that I am Queen of Franco." 
 
 "You have no right ever to forget it, Antoinette, :md it was express- 
 ly to remind you of this, that I asked for a private interview with my 
 sister." 
 
 " You wished to see this asylum of which you had h^ard, did you 
 not?" asked the Queen with a shade of bitterness. " 1 have been calum- 
 niated Xo you as I have been to the King and to the French people. 
 Oh! T know how my enemies are trying to make my subjects hate me! 
 1 know that about these very rooms, lewd sonps are sung on the Pont- 
 neuf, which make the Count de Provence hold his sides with laughter !" 
 
 '■' Yes Antoinette, 1 have heard these things, and I came hither ex- 
 pressly to visit this 'asylum '." 
 
 " Well, Joseph, it is before you. The room through which you passed 
 and this one form my suite. The door yonder, leads to the apartment:? 
 of the Princess de Lamballe, and I have never opened it to cntei* my 
 retreat except in her company." 
 
 "You had never the right to enter it at all. A retreat of this kind is 
 improper for you, and woe to you Antoinette if ever another man be- 
 side myself should cross its threshold ! It would give a coloring of truth 
 to the evil reports of your powerful enemies." 
 
 " Gracious God of Heaven !" cried the Queen, pale with horror, "what 
 do they say of me !" 
 
 " It would avail you nothing to repeat their calumnies, poor child. T 
 have com» hither to warn you thjit some dark clond hangs over the des. 
 
54- .oshll'H IHK SfCoNl). 
 
 ;iny I'f France. You must seek means to disperse it, or it will burst 
 and destroy both you and your husband." 
 
 " 1 have already felt a presentiment of evil, dear brother, and for that 
 very reason I eorae to these little simple rooms that [ may for a fev*" 
 hours forget the destiny that awaits me — the court which hates and vili- 
 fies rae — and in short— -my supremest sorrow — the indifference of my 
 husband." 
 
 " Dear sister, you are wrong. You should never have sought to for- 
 get these things. You have too lightly broken down the barriers which 
 etiquette, hundreds of years ago, had built around the Queens of France." 
 "This from you, Joseph, you vvho despise all etiquette !" 
 " Nay, Antoinette, I am a man, and that justifies me in many an indis- 
 cretion. I have a right to attend an opera-ball unmasked, but you have 
 not." 
 
 ^ " I had the King's permission, and was attended by my ladies of ho- 
 nor, and the princes of the royal family." 
 
 "An Emperor irsay ride in a hackney-coach, if the whim strike him, 
 but not a Queen, Antoinette." 
 
 *' That was an accident, Joseph. I was returning from a ball with 
 the Duchess de Duras, when our carriage broke, and Louis was obliged 
 to seek a hackney-coach or we would have returned to the palace on 
 foot." 
 
 " Let it pass then. An Emperor or a King, were he very young, 
 naight indulge himself in a game of blind man's buff without improprie- 
 ty, but when a Queen ventures to do as much, she loses her dignity. 
 Nevertheless, you have been known to romp with the other ladies of 
 the court, when your husband had gone- to his room and was souad 
 asleep." , 
 
 " But who ever went to bed as early as the King ?" said Marie An- 
 toinette, deprecatingly. 
 
 " Does he go to bed too early, Antoinette T Then it is strange that 
 on one evening when you were waiting for him to retire so that you and 
 your ladies might visit the Duchess de Duras, you should have advanced 
 the clock by half an hour, and sent your husband to bed at half past ten, 
 when of course he found no one in his apartments to wait upon him.* 
 All Paris has laughed at this mischievous prank of the Queen Can you 
 deny this, my thoughtless sister ?" 
 
 *' I never tell an untruth, Joseph, but I confess that I am astounded 
 to see •vi'hh what police-like dexterity you have ferretted out every little 
 occurrence of my private life." 
 
 "A queen has no private life. She is doonied to live in public, and 
 woe to her if she cannot account to the world for every hour of her exis- 
 tence ! If she undertake to have secrets, her very lackeys may misrep- 
 resent- her innocence and make it crime." 
 
 " Good heaven?!, Joseph," cried the Queen, " you talk as if I were a 
 criminal before ray accusers." 
 
 "Oampau. 19»- 
 
MAKIK AN'K.HNKTlK, .">,', 
 
 " Vou are a criminal, my poor yonn<j sister, i'n'oiir dpiiiioii ims ;\^^. 
 ruscd you, and accusation there is synonymous with jruill. But I — who 
 give you so much pain, come as your friend and brother, speakincr hard 
 truths to you, dearest, by virtue of the tie which binds us to onr motht^r. 
 In the name of that incomparable moiher, I implore yon to be discreet, 
 and to give no cause to your enemies for misconstruction of your youth- 
 ful follies! Take up the load of your royalty wit-h fr.rtitude, and when 
 it weighs heavily upon your poor young heart, remember that you were 
 not made a Queen to pursue your own happiness, but to strive for that 
 of your subjects, whose hearts are still with you in spite of all that your 
 enemies have done or said. Give up all egotism, Antoinette — set aside 
 your personal hopes, live for the good of the French nation, and one of 
 these days you will believe with me that we may be happy without in- 
 dividual happiness,'' (« 
 
 The Queen shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. " No 
 no, dear Joseph, a woman cannot be happy when she is unloved. My 
 heart is sick with solitude, brother. I love my husband and he does not 
 return my love. If 1 am frivolous, it is because I am unhappy. Believe 
 me when I tell you that all would be well if the King would but love 
 me." 
 
 "Then, Antoinette, all shall be well," said a voice behind them, and 
 starting with a cry of surprise and shame, the Queen beheld the'l^ing. 
 
 " I have heard all," said Louis, closing the door .and advanei>sfi: towards 
 Joseph. " With a bright, afTectionate smile, he held out his hand — say- 
 ing as he did, "Pardon me, my brother, if I am here without your con- 
 sent, and let me have a share in this sacred and happy hour." 
 
 " Brother !" repeated Joseph sternly. " You say that you have over- 
 heard us. If s6, you know that my sister is solitary j^nd unhappy. Since 
 you have no love for her, you are no brother to me, for she, poor child 
 — is the tie that unites m. Look at her, sire, look nt her sweet, inno- 
 cent, tear-stricken face ! What has she done that you should thrust her 
 from your heart, and doom her to confront alone the sneers &nd hatred 
 of your cruel relatives ! She is pure, and her heart is without a stain. 
 1 tell you so — I, who in unspeakable anxiety have watched her through 
 hired spies. Had I found' her guilty I \*ould have been the first to con- 
 demn her — but Antoinette is good, pure, virtuous, and she has but one 
 defect — want of thought. It was your duty to guide her, for you re- 
 ceived her from her mother's hands, a child — a young, harmless, unsus- 
 pecting child. What has she ever done that you should refuse her your 
 lover ■ ^ 
 
 "Ask, rather, what have I done, that my relatives .should have kept 
 us so far asunder?" replied Louis with emotion. "Ask those who have 
 poisoned my ears with calumnies of my wife, why they should have 
 sought to deny me the only compensation which life can offer to my roy- 
 nl station — the inestimable blessing of loving and being loved.— But 
 away with gloomy retrospection ! I will say but one word more of the 
 past. Your Majesty has been watched and your visit here discovered. 
 
56 JUStiPii I'Hfc Sl;:COI^l>. 
 
 1 was told that you were seeking to identify the Queen with her mother's 
 empire — using your influence to make her forget France and plot dis- 
 honor to her husband's crown. I resolved to prove the truth or false- 
 hood of these accusations myself. I thank heaven that I did so, for froia 
 this hour I shall honor and regard you as a brother." 
 
 " I shall reciprocate, sire, if you will promise to be kind to my sister.'* 
 
 The King looked at Marie Antoinette, who, seated on the sofa whence 
 her brother had risen, was weeping bitterly. Louis went towards her, 
 :ind taking both her hands in his, he pressed them passionately to his 
 lips. " Antoinette^" said he tenderly, " you say that I do not love you. 
 You have not then read my heart — which "filled' to bursting with love 
 for my beautiful wife, dared not ask for response, because I had been 
 
 told that you — you But no — I will not pain you with repetition of 
 
 the calumny. Enough that 1 am blessed with your love, and may at 
 ]ast be permitted to pour out the torrent of mine ! — Antoinette will yea 
 be my wife ?" • • 
 
 He held open his arms and looked — as lovers alone can look. The 
 Queen well knew the meaning of that glance, and with a cry of joy, she 
 rose and was pressed to his heart. He held her for some moments 
 there, and then for the first time in their lives, the lips of husband and 
 wife met in one long, burning kiss of love. 
 
 " My beloved, ray own," whispered Louis. •' Mine forever — Noth- 
 ing on earth shall part us now." 
 
 Marie Antoinette was speechless with happiness. She leaned her 
 head upon her husband's breast and wept for joy, while he fondly strok- 
 ed and kissed her shining hair, and left the trace of a tear with every 
 kiss. 
 
 Presently he turned an imploring look upon the Emperor, who stood 
 by contemplating the lovers with an ecstacy to which he had long been 
 a stfanger. 
 
 *' My brother," :^aid Louis, " for I may call you so now, — seven years' 
 ago, our hands were joined together by the priest, but the policy that 
 would have wounded Austria through me, has kept us asunder. This 
 is our wedding-day, this is the union of love with love. Be you the 
 priest to bless the rites that make us one till Seath." 
 
 The Emperor came forward, and solemnly laying his hands upon the 
 heads of the King and Queen, spoke in broken accents : 
 
 " God bless you, beloved brother and sister, — God give you grace to 
 be true to each other through good and evil report. Be gentle and in- 
 dulgent one towards the other, that, from this day forward, your two 
 hearts may become as one. Farewell ! I shall take with me to Aus- 
 tria the joyful news of your happiness. Oh, how Maria Theresa will 
 rejoice to know it, and how often will the thought of this day brighten 
 my own desolate hearth at Vienna ! Farewe}] ! " 
 
WiiiilJ'. AiMiarvKi ih, J, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DEATH OF THE ELECTOR OF BAVARIA. 
 
 A large and brilliant assemblage thronged the state apartments of the 
 imperial palace at Vienna. The aristocracy not only of the capital, but 
 of all Austria had gathered there to congratulate the Emperor upon his 
 safe return. It was th^iiftit of January, 1778, and as New Year's day 
 was the only festival which Joseph's new ordinance allowed, the court 
 took occasion to celebrate it with all the pomp of embroidery, orders, 
 stars, and blazing jewels. 
 
 The Empress had never thrown off her mourning, so that her dark 
 gray dress with its long train, was in striking contrast with the rich, ele-' 
 gant* costumes, the flowers and diamonds of the other ladies present. 
 Still, there was something in this tall, noble form which distinguished it 
 above the rest, and spoke to all beholders of the sovereign will that re- 
 sided there. Maria Theresa was still the Majestic Empress — but she 
 was now an old woman. 
 
 Time as well as disease had marred her beauty, and the cares, anxie- 
 ties and afflictions of sixty years had written their inexorable record up- 
 on the tablet of her once fair brow. Not only these, but accident also 
 had des^roj^ed the last lingering traces of Maria Theresa's youthful come- 
 liness. Returning from Presburg, she had been thrown from her carri- 
 age and dashed with such force against the stones on the road, that she 
 had been taken up bloody and to all appearances lifeless. Her face had 
 suffered severely, and to her death she bore the deep red scars which had 
 been left by her wounds. Her figure, too, had lost its grace, and was 
 now so corpulent, that she moved slowly and heavily through the rooms, 
 where in former years, she had stood by the side of her " Francis," the 
 most beautiful woman of her own or of any other European Court. 
 
 Her magnificent eyes, however, had defied time — they were large, 
 flashing, expressive as ever — as quick to interpret anger, enthusiasm, or 
 tenderness as in the days of her youth. On the evening of wliich we 
 spsak, the Empress was at the card-table ; but those great, glowing eyes 
 were roving from one side of the room to the other in restless anxiety. 
 Sometimes for a moment they rested upon the Emperor who was stand- 
 ing near the table in conversation with some provincial noblemen. Tho 
 cheerful and unconcerned demeanor of her son seemed the to reassure 
 the Empress, who turned to her cards, and tried to become interested ia 
 the game. Not-far ofi", the Archduchesses, too, were at cards, and the 
 hum of conversation subsided almost to a whisper that the imperial party 
 ial<'lit iKit bo disturbed, (.iraduallv the Eniprefis became ab^^orbed in 
 
Ob ,U)SE1'H I'Hh <KCOM; 
 
 her -cards, so f.hat, she was unobservant of the entrance of one of the 
 Emperor's lords in waiting, who whispered something iu Joseph's ear, 
 whereupon the latter, left the room in haste. 
 
 Not very long after, the Emperor returned pale and excited, and ap- 
 proached the card-tables. Maria Theresa at that moment had just re- 
 quested Count Dietrichst^in to deal for her, and she was leaning, back in 
 her chair awaiting the end of the deal. The Emperor bent over and 
 whispered something in her ear, when she started, and the cards which 
 she was just gathering, fell from her hands. With unusual agility she 
 rose, and taking the Emperor's arm, turned away without a word of 
 apology, and left the room. 
 
 The Archduchesses had not yet perceived their mother's absence, when 
 Co'unt Dietricnstein, on the part of the Empert>r|fcame forward and whis- 
 pered a few words to each one of them. Precisely as their mother had 
 done, the Princesses rose, and without apology, retired together. The 
 company started and whispered and wondered what could have happened 
 to discompose the imperial family, but no one present was competent to 
 solve the mystery. 
 
 Meanwhile, Maria Theresa had retired to her cabinet where she met 
 Prince Kaunitz, furred like a polar bear, by way of protection from th^ 
 temperature of the palace, which was always many degrees below zero, 
 as indicated by the thermometer of his thin, bloodless veins. The Min- 
 ister was shaking with cold, although he had buried his face in a muff 
 large enough to have been one of his own cubs. 
 
 The Empress returned his greeting with an agitated wave of her hand, 
 and seated herself in an arm chair at the large roi>nd table that always 
 stood there. Exhausted by the unusual haste with which she hjid walk- 
 ed, as well as by the excitement, which, in her old age, she was physically 
 inadequate to bear, she leaned back to recover her breath. Opposite 
 stood the Emperor, who, with a wave of his hand, motioned to Kaunitz 
 to enter also. 
 
 Maria Theresa's large eyes were fixed upon him at once. "Is it true," 
 said she, " that the Elector of Bavaria is dead ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty," said Kaunitz, " Maximilian reigns no longer in 
 Bavaria. Here are the dispatches from our Ambassador at Munich." 
 
 He held them out, but the Empress put them back *iying, " I am not 
 sufiiciently composed to read them. Give them to my son and have the 
 goodness to communicate their contents to rae, verbally." 
 
 The face of Kaunitz grew pale as he turned with the dispatches to the 
 Emperor. The latter at once comprehended the Prince's agitation, and 
 smiled. 
 
 "I beg of your Majesty," said he, " to excuse the Prince and to allow 
 me to read to you the particulars of Maxmilian's demise. His High- 
 ness must be fatigued, and doubtless your Majesty will allow him to 
 retire within the embrasure of yonder window until I have concluded the 
 perusal of the dispatches." 
 
 Kaunitz brightened at once as the Empress gave her consent, and he 
 
MAKit; ANioiNhriTii ;j9 
 
 • 
 
 gladly withdrew to the window which w^as far enough from the tiible to 
 be out of reach of the Emperor's voice. Joseph could r.ot restrain an- 
 other smile as he watched the tall, stift'form of the old Prince, and saw 
 how carefully he drew the window-curtains around hiin, lest a word of 
 what was going on should r^ach his ears. 
 
 "Pardon uie, your Majesty," ssid Joseph in a low voice, "hut you 
 know what a horror Kaunitz has of death and the small-pox. As both 
 these words form the subject of our dispatches, 1 was glad to relieve the 
 Prince from the necessity of repeating their contents." 
 . '' That you should have reinembered his weakness, does honor to your 
 heart, my son," replied Maria-Theresa. " In my agitation I had forgot- 
 ten it. Maximilian, then, must have died of small-pox." 
 
 "' He did, your Majesty, like his sister, my unhappy wife." 
 
 " Strange !" said Maria Theresa, thoughtfully. " Josepha has often 
 spoken to me of the presentiment which her brother had, that he would 
 die of the small-pox." 
 
 " It proves to us that man cannot fly from .his destiny. The Elector 
 foresaw that he would die of small-pox, and took every precaution to 
 avert his fate. Nevertheless, it overtook him." 
 
 The Empress sighed and slowly shook her head. "Where did he take 
 the infection?" asked she. ♦ 
 
 " From the daughter of the marshal of his household, who lived at the 
 palace and took the small-pox there. Every attempt*was made to con- 
 ceal the fact from the Elector, and indeed he reaiained in total ignorance 
 of it. One day while he was playing billiards, the marshal who had just 
 left his daughter's bedside, entered the room. The Elector shuddering, 
 laid down his cue, and turning deathly pale, murmured these words, 
 ' Some one here has the small-pox. I feel it.' He then fell insensible 
 to the floor. He recovered his consciousness, but died a few days after- 
 wards.* This is the substance of the dispatches. Shall I now read 
 them ?" 
 
 " No, no, my son," said the Empress gloomily. "Enough that the 
 son of my enemy is dead, and his house without an heir." 
 
 " Yes, he is dead," replied Joseph sternly. "The brother of my enemy 
 — of that wife with whom for two years 1 lived the martyrdom of an 
 abhorred union ! He has gone to his sister, gone to his father, both our 
 bitter, bitter foes. I hated Josepha for the humiliation I endured — as 
 the husband of such a repulsive woman — but to-day I forgive her, for 
 'tis she, who from the grave holds out to me the rich inheritance which 
 is the fruit of our marriage." 
 
 The Empress raised her eyes with an expression of Alarm. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed she, " another robbery ! Lies not the weight of 
 one injustice upon jny conscience, that you would seek to burthen my 
 soul with another ! Think you that I have forgotten Poland !— No ! 
 The remembrance of our common crime will follow me to the bitter end^ 
 and it shall not be aggr avated by repetition. I am Empre ss of Austria , 
 
 • 'Wraxall : Memolres of the Court* of Berlin, Yiennn. etc. Vol. 1 , P. 80fl. 
 
t>U JOSEPH THL JiECUNJ) 
 
 and wlillo J live, Joseph, you must restrain your ambition within the 
 bounds of justice and prhicely honor." 
 
 The Emperor bowed. " Your Majesty must confess that I have never 
 struggled against your imperial will. I . have bowed before it, sorely 
 though it has humiliated me. But as there is no longer any question 
 of death before us, allow me to recall Prince Kaunitz that he may take 
 part in our discussion." 
 
 Maria Theresa bowed. in silence, and the Emperor drew the Minister 
 from his retreat behind the curtains. 
 
 " Come, your Highness," whispered Joseph. " Come and convince 
 the Empress that Bavaria must be ours. We are about to have a 
 struggle." 
 
 " But I shall come out victor," replied Kaunitz, as he rose and return- 
 ed to the table. 
 
 Maria Theresa surveyed them both with looks of disapprobation and 
 apprehension. " I see," said she in a tremulous voice, "that, you are 
 two against one. I do not think it honorable in Kaunitz to uphold my 
 son against his sovereign. Tell me, Prince, do you come hither to break 
 your faith, and overthrow your ^impress ?" 
 
 "There lives not man or woman in the world, who cnn accuse Kau- 
 nitz of bad faith," replied the Prince. " I swore years ago to dedicate 
 myself to Austria, and I shall keep my word until your Majesty re- 
 leases me." » 
 
 V i suppose that is one of your numerous threats to resign," said the 
 Empress with irritation. " if there is difference of opinion between us, 
 I must yield, or you will not remain my Minister. But be sure that to 
 the last day of my life, I shall retain my sovereignty, nor share it with 
 son or minister ; and this conceded, we may confer together. Let the 
 Emperor sit by my side, and you. Prince, be opposite to us, for I wish 
 to look into your face that I may judge how far your tongue expresses 
 the convic3tions of your conscience. And now I desire the Emperor to 
 explain his words and tell me how it is that the succession of Bavaria 
 concerns the House of Hapsburg." 
 
 " Frankly then," cried Joseph with some asperity, " I mean that our 
 troops must be marched into Bavaria at once ; for by the extinction of 
 the male line of Wittelsbach, the Electorate is open to us as an impe- 
 rial fief and " 
 
 " Austria then has pretensions to the Electorate of Bavaria," interrup- 
 ted Maria Theresa with constrained calmness. 
 
 The Emperor in his turn looked at his mother with astonishment. 
 " Has your Majesty then not read the documents which were drawn up 
 for your inspection by the court historiographer f 
 
 " 1 have seen them all," replied the Empress sadly. " I have read all 
 the documents by which you have sought to prove that Austria has 
 daims upon X.ower Bavatia, because, in 1410, the Emperor Sigismund 
 enfeoffed his son-in-law, Albert of Austria, with this province. I have 
 .'•ead further that in 1614 the Emperor Matthias gave to the Archducal 
 
UAKIE AiNTOlKETTE. 61 
 
 House the reversion of the Suabian estate of Mindelhcim, which subsc- 
 queiitly, in 1706, when the Elector of Bavaria fell under the ban of the 
 Empire, was actually claimed by the Emperor of Austria. I have also 
 learned that the Upper Palatinate with all its counties, by the extinction 
 of the Wittelsbach dynasty, becomes an open feoff, to which the Empe- 
 )or of Austria thinks that he may assert his claims."' 
 
 "And your Majesty is not convinced of the validity of my claims?" 
 exclaimed the Emperor. 
 
 Aiaria Theresa shoek her head. " I cannot believe that wc are justi- 
 lied in annexing to Austria an Electorate, which not being ours by ?"»- 
 disputable right of inheritance, may be the cause of involving ' us in a 
 bloody war." 
 
 " But which, nevertheless, is the finest province in all Gerrdany," cried 
 Joseph impatiently, "and its acquisition the first step towards consoli- 
 dation of all the German principalities into one great empire. When the 
 Palatinate Suabia and Lower Bavaria are ours, the Danube will flow 
 through Austrian territory alone ; the trade of the Levant becomes ours ; 
 our ships cover the Black Sea, and finally Constantinople will be com- 
 pelled to open its harbor to Austrian shipping and become a mart for 
 the disposal of Austrian merchandize. Once possessed of Bavaria, South 
 Germany, too, lies open to Austria, which like a magnet will draw to- 
 wards one centre, all its petty provinces and counties. After that, we 
 approach Prussia and ask whether she alone Avill stand apart from the 
 great Federation, or whether she has patriotism and magnanimity enough 
 to merge her name and nationality in ours. Oh, your Majesty, I im- 
 plore you do not hesitate to pluck the golden fruit, for it is ours ! Think, 
 too, how anxiously the Bavarians look to us for protection against the 
 pretensions of Charles Theodore, the only heir of the deceased Elector. 
 The people of Bavaria well know what is to be their fate if they fall in- 
 to the hands of the Elector Palatine. Surrounded by mistresses with 
 swarms of natural children, his sole object in life will be to plunder his 
 subjects that he may enrich a progeny to whom he can leave neither 
 name nor crown. Oh, your Majesty, be generous, and rescue the Bava- 
 rians from a war of succession, for the Elector^Palatiue has no heir, and 
 his death will be the signal for new strife." 
 
 *'Nay it seems to me that the duke of Zwcibriicken* is the natural 
 heir of Charles Theodore, and I suppose he will be found as willing to. 
 possess his inheritance as you, or I, or any other pretender," replied Maria 
 Theresa. " But if, as you say, the Bavarians are sighing to become Aus- 
 trian subjects, it seems to mc that they might-have character enough to 
 give us some indication of their predilections, for I declare to you both 
 that I will not \imitate the treachery of Frederic — I will not bring up 
 mouldy documents from our imperial archives to prove that I have, a 
 right to lands which for hundreds of years have been the property of an- 
 other race ; nor will I, for mad ambition's sake, spill one drop of honest 
 Austrian blood." 
 
 'CaHed in KnKKsta Bistory. Dulc«orDcnx-pooU. [Tran*. * 
 
62 JOSEPH THE SECONV 
 
 " x\nd so shall Austria lose her birthright," i;eturned Joseph angrily. 
 " And so shall I be doomed to idle insignificance while History ignores, 
 the only man who really loves Germany, and who has spirit to defy the 
 malice of his cotemporaries and in the face of their disapproval to do that 
 which is best for Germany's. welfare. Is it possible that your Majesty 
 will put upon rae this new humiliation ? Do you really bid me renounce 
 the brightest dream of my life V 
 
 " My dear son," said the Empress, ''I cannot view this undertaking 
 ■with your eyes — I am old and timid, and I shudder with apprehension 
 of the demon that follows in the wake of ambition. I would not descend 
 to my grave amid the wails and curses of my people — I would not be 
 depicted in history as an ambitious and unscrupulous sovereign. — rLel 
 me go to my Pranz blessed by the tears and regrets of my subjects — let 
 me appear before posterity as an upright and peace-loving Empress. — 
 But I have said that I am old — so old that I mistrust my own judgment. 
 It may be that I~ mistake pusillanimity for disinterestedness. Speak 
 Kaunitz — so far you have been silent. What says your conscience to 
 this claim 1 Is it consistent with justice and honor?" 
 
 " Your Majesty knows that I will speak my honest convictions even 
 though they might be unacceptable to the ear of my Sovereign," replied 
 Kaunitz. 
 
 " I understand," said the Empress disconsolately. " You are of one 
 mind with the Emperor." 
 
 " Yes," replied Kaunitz, " I am. It is the duty of Austria to assert 
 her right to an inheritance which her ancestors foresaw hundreds of years 
 ago, would be indispensable to her future stability. Not only your 
 Majesty's forefathers, but the force of circumstances signify to us that 
 the acquisition is natural and easy. It would be a great political error 
 to overlook it; and believe me that in no science is an error so fatal to 
 him who commits it, as in the science of government. Bavaria is neces- 
 sary to Austria, and your Majesty may become its ruler without so much 
 as one stroke of the sword." 
 
 " Without a stroke of the sword !" exclaimed Maria Theresa impetu- 
 ously. " Does your Hi^ness suppose that such a stupendous acquisi- 
 tion as that, is not to provoke the opposition of our enemies ?" 
 
 " Who is to oppose us ■?" asked Kaunitz, " Not France, certainly ; 
 .she is too closely our relative and ally." 
 
 " I do not rely much upon the friendship of France," interrupted the 
 Empress, " Marie Antoinette is mistress of the King's affections, but 
 •his ministers guide his policy, and they would gladly see our friendly re- 
 lations ruptured." 
 
 " But France is not in a condition to oppose us," continued Kaunitz. 
 " Her finances are disordered, and at this very moment she is equipping 
 an army to aid the American rebellion. We have nothing to fear from 
 Russia, provided we overlook her doings in Turkey, and look away 
 while she absorbs the little that remains of Poland. England is too far 
 away to \)0 interested in the matter, and Frederic knows l\v dear- 
 
MAKIE AiNTOlNKTlK. 03 
 
 bought expei-ience that her alliance, in case of war, is perfectly worth- 
 less. Besides, Georjxe has quite enough on his hands with his troubles 
 in North America. Who then is to prevent us from marchinji; to Bava- 
 ria and taking peaceable possession of our lawful inheritance?" 
 
 " Who V exclaimed the Empress. " Our greatest and bitterest ene- 
 my — the wicked, and unprincipled jyarveiiu who* has cost me so many 
 tears, my people so many lives, and who has rubbed me of one of the 
 fairest jewels in my imperial crown." 
 
 Kaunitz shrugged his shoulders. " Your Mojesty is very magnani- 
 mf)us to speak of the Margrave of Brandenburg as a dangerous f<ie. ' 
 
 " And if he were a dangerous foe," cried Joseph vehemently, " so 
 much the more glory to me if I vanquish him in battle and pluck the 
 laurels from his head !" 
 
 Kaunitz looked a^ the Emperor and slightly raised his finger by way 
 of warning. "The King of Prussia," said he, "is no longer the hero 
 that he was in years gone by ; he dare not risk his fame by giving bat- 
 tle to the Emperor. He rests upon his laurels, plays on the flute, writes 
 bad verses, and listens to the adulation of his fawning philosophical 
 friends. Then why should he molest us in Bavaria? — We have docu- 
 ments to prove that the heritage is ours, and if we recognise his right to 
 Bayreuth and Anspach, he will admit ours to whatever we choose to 
 claim." 
 
 Maria Theresa was unconvinced. " You make light of Frederic,,Prince, 
 but he is as dangerous as ever, and after all 1 think it much safer to fear 
 our enemies than to despise them." 
 
 " Frederic of Prussia is a hero, a philosopher and a legislator," cried. 
 Joseph. " Let me give him battle your Majesty, that I may win honor 
 by vanquishing the victor." 
 
 "Never will I give my consent to such measures, unless we are forced 
 to adopt them in defence of right." 
 
 " Our right here is indisputable," interposed Kaunitz. " Copies of 
 our documents have already been circulated throughout Germany, and I 
 have received from Herr Von Kitter, the commissioner of Charles Theo- 
 dore, the assurance that the latter is ready to resign his pretensions in 
 consideration of the advantages we offer." 
 
 " What are these advantages ?" asked Maria Theresa. 
 
 " We ofler him our provinces in the Netherlands, and the privilege of 
 establishing a kingdom in Burgundy," replied Joseph. " We also be- 
 stow upon his multitudinous children titles, orders and a million of flo- 
 rins." 
 
 " And shame all virtue and decency !" cried the Empress, coloring 
 violently. 
 
 " The Elector loves his progeny and cares little or nothing for Bava- 
 ria," continued Joseph. " We shall win him over, and Bavaria will 
 certainly be o\irs." 
 
 *' Without the shedding of one drop of blood," added Kaunitz, drawing 
 from his coat pocket a paper which he unfolded and laid uj)on the table. 
 
64 JOSEPH THE 8EC0ND. 
 
 "Here is a map of Bavaria, your Majesty," said Kaunitz, " and here 
 is that portion of the Electorate which we claim through its cession to 
 Albert of Austria by the Emperor Sigismund." 
 
 " We must take possession of it at once," cried Joseph, " at once be- 
 fore any other claimant has time to interpose." 
 
 The Empress heaved a sigh. " Yes," said she, as if communing with 
 herseH" "it all looks smooth and fair upon paper. It is very easy to 
 draw boundary lines with your fmger. Prince. You have traced out 
 mountains and rivers, but you have not won the hearts of the Bavarians, 
 and without their hearts it is worse than useless to occupy their country." 
 
 " We shall win their hearts by kindness," exclaimed the Emperor. 
 " True, we take their insignificant Fatherland, but we give them instead, 
 the rich inheritance of our own nationality ; and future history will re- 
 cord it to their honor that theirs was the initiatory step which subse- 
 quently made one nation of all the little nationalities of Germany." 
 
 The Empress answered with another sigh and looked absently at the 
 outspread map, across which Kaunitz was drawing his finger in another 
 direction. 
 
 " Here," said he, " are the estates which the extinct house held in fief 
 from the German Emperor." 
 
 " And which I, as Emperor of Germany have a right to re->annex to 
 my empire," cried Joseph. 
 
 " And here finally," pursued Kaunitz still tracing with his finger, " hero 
 is the Lordship of Miudelheim, of which the reversion was not only 
 ceded to Austria by the Emperor Matthias, but actually fell to us and 
 w^as relinquished to the Elector of Bavaria by the too great magnanimi- 
 ty of an Austrian sovereign. — Surely your M&jesty is not willing to 
 abandoh your inheritance to the first comer'?" 
 
 Maria Theresa's head was bent so low that it rested upon the map 
 "whereon her Minister had been drawing lines of such significance to Aus- 
 tria. Close by, stood the Emperor in breathless anxiety, while opposite 
 sat Kaunitz, impassible as ever. 
 
 Again a deep sigh betokened the anguish that was rending the honest 
 heart of the Empress, and she raised her head. 
 
 "Alas for me and my declining energies," said she bitterly. "Two 
 against one and that one a woman advanced in years ! — I am not con- 
 vinced, but ray spirit is unequal to strife. Should we fail, we will be 
 made to feel the odium of our proceedings, should we triumph, I suppose 
 that the justice of our pretensions will never be questioned. Perhaps as 
 the world has never Ijlamed Frederic for the robbery of Silesia, it may 
 forgive us the acquisition of Bavaria. In the name of God, then, do both 
 of you what you deem it right to do ; but in mercy, take nothing that 
 is not ours. We shall be involved in war ; 1 feel it, and I would so glad- 
 ly have ended nfiy life in the calm moon-like radiance of gentle peace.* 
 
 " Your Majesty shall end your life in peace and prosperity, but far in 
 the fulmre be the day of your departure !" cried Joseph, kissing the hand 
 ♦ The Empress's own eentimcnta. Wraxall, 1, X^. 311. 
 
MARIE AMOINETIE. 65 
 
 of the Empress. " May you live to see Austria expand into a great 
 empire, and Germany rescued from the misrule of its legions of feeble 
 princes! — The first impulse has been given to-day. Bavaria is rescued 
 from its miserable fate, and becomes an integral portion of one of the 
 most powerful nations in Europe.'" 
 
 " May God be merciful and bless the union," sighed the Empress. 
 "I shall be wretched until I know how it is to terminate, and day and 
 night I shall pray to the Lord that He preserve my people from the hor- 
 rors of war," 
 
 " Meanwhile J^aunitz and I will seek a blessing on our enterprise by 
 taking earthly precautions to secure its success. You, Prince, will use 
 the quill of diplomacy, and I shall make ready to defend my right with 
 a hundred thousand trusty Austrians to back jne. To night 1 march a 
 portion of my men into Lower Bavaria.'' 
 
 " Oh," murmured the unhappv Empress, " there will be war and 
 bloodshed." 
 
 " Before your Majesty marches to Bavaria," said Kaunitz, inclining 
 his head, " her Majesty, the Empress, must sign the edict which shall 
 apprize her subjects and the world of the step we meditate. I have 
 drawn it up, and it awaits her Majesty's approbation and signature." 
 
 The Prince then drew from his muff a paper which he presented to 
 the Empress. Maria Theresa perused it with sorrowful eyes. 
 
 *'It is nothing but a resume of our just claims to Bavaria," said Jo- 
 seph hastily. 
 
 " It is very easy to prove the justice of a thing on paper," replied 
 Maria Theresa, " may God grant that it prove to be so in deed as well 
 as in word. I will do your bidding and sign your edict, but upon your 
 head be the blood that follows my act !" 
 
 She wrote her name, and Joseph, in an outburst of triumph, shouted, 
 " Bavaria is ours !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. ^ 
 
 A PAGE FROM HISTORV. 
 
 Maria Theresa's worst apprehensions were realised, and the march- 
 ing of the Austrian troops into Bavaria, was the signal for war. While 
 all the petty sovereigns of Germany clamored over the usurpation of 
 Austria, pamphlet upon pamphlet issued from the hands of Austrian ju- 
 rists to justify the act. These were replied to by the advocates of eve- 
 ry other German state, who proved conclusively that Austria was rapa- 
 
66 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 cious and unscrupulous, and had not a shadow of right to the Bavarian 
 succession. A terrible paper war ensued, during which three hundred 
 • books were launched by the jbelligerants at each other's heads,* This 
 strife was productive of one good result; it warmed up the frozen pat- 
 rioiisni of all the German races. Bavarians, Hessians, Wurten'jberger/^ 
 and Hanoverians, forgot thejir bickerings to join the outcry against Aus- 
 tria; and the Church, to which Joseph was such an implacable enemy, 
 encouraged them in their rejfsistance to the " innovator," as he was called 
 by his enemies. 
 
 ©f all the malcontents, taie noisest were the Bavarians. The Elector 
 Palatine, whose advent all had dreaded, was greeted upon his entrance 
 into Munich with glowing 'enthusiasm; and the people forgot his extra- 
 vagance and profligacy to lemember that upon him devolved the preser- 
 vation of their independence as a nation. 
 
 But Charles Theodore was very little edified by the sentiments which 
 were attributed to him by the Bavarians, He longed for nothing better 
 than to relieve himself of Bavaria and the weight of Austrian displeas- 
 ure, to return to the Palatinate and come into possession of the flesh- 
 pots that awaited his children in the form of titles, orders and florins. 
 He lent a willing ear to Joseph's propositions, and a few days after his 
 triumphant entrance into Munich, he signed a contract relinquishing in 
 favor of Austria two tliirds of his Bavarian inheritance. Maria Theresa, 
 in the joy of her heart, bestowed upon him the order of the golden fleece, 
 and on the third of January of 1778, entered into possession of her new- 
 ly acquired territory-. 
 
 Meanwhile in BaV'aria arose a voice which, with the fire of genuine 
 patriotism, protested against the cowardly compliance of the Elector 
 Palatine. It was t)iat of the Duchess Clemens of Bavaria, She hasten- 
 ed to give informatjion of his pussillanimity to the next heir, the Duke 
 of Zweibrucken, an<!l dispatched a courier to Berlin asking succor and 
 protection from the crown of Prussia. 
 
 The energy of this Bavarian patriot decided the fate of the Austrian 
 claim. The Duke of Zweibrucken protested against the cession of the 
 smallest portion of his future inheritance, and declared that he would 
 never relinquish Ho to any power on earth. Frederic pronounced himself 
 ready to sustain the Duke, and threatened A declaration of war unless 
 the Austrian troops were removed. In vain, Maria Theresa sought to 
 indemnify the Duk^by offers of orders, florins and titles, which had been 
 so successful with Charles Theodore — in vain she offered to make him 
 King of Burgundy — he remained incorruptible. He coveted nothing 
 she could bestow, but was firm in his purpose to preserve the integrity 
 of Bavaria, and called loudly for Frederic to come to the rescue. 
 
 Frederic responded. " He was ready to defend the rights of the 
 Elector Palatine against the unjust pretensions of the Court of Vienna,"f 
 and removed his troops from Upper Silesia to the confines of Bohemia 
 
 * ScMosser's Hi'itory of the Eighteenth Century. Vol. 4, pagr*! 868. 
 ' liohTn'!" Mpinolrs, vn\ ^ , page ''. 
 
MARIB ANTOINBTTE. 67 
 
 and Saxony. That was the signal for the advance of the Austrian ar- 
 my, and despite her repugnance to the act, Maria Theresa was compell- 
 ed to suffer it. She was al^o forced to allow Joseph to take command 
 in person. This time her representations and entreaties had been vairi ; 
 Joseph was thirsting for military glory, and he bounded like a war-horse 
 to the trumpet's call. The Empress lelt that her hands were now pow- 
 erless to restrain him, and she was so much the feebler, that Kaunitz 
 openly espoused the side of the ambitious Emperor. 
 
 With convulsive weeping Maria Theresa saw her son assume his com- 
 mand, and when Joseph bade her farewell, she satik insensible from his 
 arras to the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THB EMPEROR AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 
 
 The Emperor Joseph was pacing the floor of his cabinet. Sometimes 
 he paused before a window and with absent looks surveyed the plain 
 where his troops were encamped, and their stacked arms glistened to the 
 sun ; then he returned tR the table where Field-marshal Lacy was deep 
 in plans and charts. 
 
 Occasionally the silence was broken by the blast of a trumpet or the 
 shouts of the soldiery who were arriving at head quarters. 
 
 " Lacy," said the Emperor after a long, dreary, pause, "put by j'our 
 charts, and give me a word of consolation." 
 
 The Field-marshal laid aside his papers and rose from the table. 
 " Your Majesty had ordered me to specify upon the chart the exact spot 
 which Frederic occupies by Welsdorf, and Prince Henfy by Nienberg." 
 
 " I know, I know," answered Joseph impatiently. " But what avails 
 their encampment to-day when to-morrow they are sure to advance?" 
 
 " Your Majesty thinks that he will make an attack *?" 
 
 "I am sure of it." 
 
 " And 1 doubt it. It is my opinion that he will avoid a collision.^V 
 
 " Why then should he have commenced hostilities ?" cried Joseph an- 
 grily. " Have you forgotten that although the Elector Palatine is ready 
 to renounce Bavaria, Frederic opposes our claims in the name of Ger- 
 nffany and of the next heir ?" 
 
 " No, sire, but Frederic has spies in Vienna, who have taken care to 
 inform him that Maria Theresa is disinclined to war. He has therefore 
 declared against us because he hopes that the blast of his coming will 
 suflice to scatter the armies of Austria t,n the winds." 
 
gg JOSEPH THE SECOND. ' 
 
 « The time has gone by when the terror of his name could appal us," 
 cried Joseph, proudly throwing baclc his head. " I hope to convince him 
 ere long that 1 am more than willing to confront him in battle. Oh, 
 how weary is the inactivity to which my mother's womanish fears con- 
 demn me ! Why did I heed her tears, and promise that I would not 
 make the attack ? Now I must wait, nor dare to strike a blow, while 
 my whole soul yearns for the fight, and I long either to lead my troops 
 to victory, or perish on the field of battle." 
 
 " And yet, sire, it is fortunate that you have been forced to inactivity. 
 To us time is everything, for Frederic's army outnumbers ours. He 
 has seventy thousand men with him near the Elbe, and fifty thousand 
 under Prince Henry near Nienberg." 
 
 " Yes, but I shall oppose his hundred and twenty thousand men with 
 twice their number," cried Joseph impatiently. 
 
 " Provided we have time to assemble our men. But we must have 
 several days to accomplish this. At the end of a week, our army will 
 be complete in numbers and we can then await the enemy behind our 
 entrenchments and the natural defences afforded us by the steep banks 
 of the Elbe." ' 
 
 " Await— nothing but await," said Joseph scornfully. " Forever con- 
 demned to delay." >!■ • r 
 
 " In war, delay is often the best strategy, sire. The great Maurice ot 
 Saxony has said that fighting is an expedient by which incompetent 
 commanders are accustomed to draw themselves out of dlfiicult posi- 
 tions. When they are perplexed as to their next move, they are apt to 
 stumble into a battle. I coincide with the great Captain, although I 
 well know that I shall incur your Majesty's displeasure thereby. Our 
 policy is to remain upon the defensive and await an attack. Erederic 
 has been accustomed to win his laurels by bold and rapid moves, but 
 we have now for us an ally who will do better service iti the field 
 against him than ouf expertest generalship." ^ 
 
 " Who is that?" asked Joseph, who was listening in no amiable mood 
 to Lacy's dissertation on strategy. , . u j • x 
 
 " It is old age, sire, which hourly reminds Frederic that his hand is too 
 feeble to wield a sword or pluck new laurels. Frederic accompamed his 
 army in a close carriage, and yesterday, as he attempted to mount his 
 horse, he was so weak that he had to be helped into the saddle, in con- 
 sequence of which he reviewed his troops in an ill-humor, cursed the war, 
 and wished Austria to the devil." . « .3 t \ ji 
 
 ""And this is the end of a great military chieftain, said Joseph sadly, 
 _«the close of a magnificent career! May God preserve me from 
 such a fate! Sooner would I pass from exuberant life to sudden death, 
 than drag my effete manhood through years of weariness to gradual *id 
 ignominious extinction !" 
 
 « But " continued the Emperor, after a pause, these are idle mu. 
 siuffs Lacy. Your picture of the great Frederic has made me melan- 
 .holy ■ I cannot but hope that it is overdrawn. It cannot be that such a 
 
MAKit AiNlULNETit.. (,«, 
 
 » warrior has grown vacillating; he will surely awake, and then the old 
 lion will shaiie'his mane, and his roar " 
 
 At this moment a horseman at full speed was seen coming towards 
 the house. He stopped immediately before the window. A little be- 
 hind came another, and both di.smouffting, spoke several words, to the 
 soldiery around, which evidently produced a sensation. 
 
 " Lacy," said Joseph, something has happened, and from the counte- 
 nances of the men, I fear that these messengers have brought evil ti- 
 dings. Let us go out and see what has occurred." 
 
 As the Emperor was about to lay his hand upon the door, it opened 
 and one of his Adjutants appeared. 
 
 "Sire," said he, almost breathless, "a courier has arrived from the 
 borders of Bohemia and he brings startling uitelligence." 
 
 " Tell us at once what it is," said the Emperor. 
 
 "The King of Prussia has left the county of Glatz and has marched 
 into Bohemia." 
 
 The Emperor's face brightened instantaneously. " That is Morious 
 news !" cried he. 
 
 " Glorious news, sire ?" exclaimed the astounded Adjutant. " The 
 courier who brings the intelligence has no words strong enough to de- 
 pict the terror of the inhabitants. They were gathering their effects 
 and flying to the interior, while the Prussian troops occupied the villa- 
 ges without opposition." 
 
 " The Coiuit is correct," said Lacy, who just then re-entered the room. 
 " I have spoken with the man who brought the tidingj;. He is the 
 Mayor of his village, and he fled as the StaflTof the Emperor entered 
 the place." 
 
 " I must speak with him myself," cried Joseph quickly^ and the Ad- 
 jutant opening the door, the villager was introduced into the room." 
 
 " Did you see the King of Prussia ?" asked the Emperor. 
 
 " Yes, sire, 1 saw him," replied the man, gloomily. " I heard him or- 
 der his men to forage their horses from our barns, and to strip our gar- 
 dens of their fruit and vegetables. I heard him give orders to spare no- 
 thing, for, said he, ' the people must be made to feel that the enemy is in 
 their midst.' "* 
 
 " I shall remember the King's words," said Joseph, while his eyes 
 flashed with anger. " How did he look?" 
 
 " Like the devil in the likeness of an old man," said the peasant. 
 " His voice is as soft as that of a bride-groom ; but his words are the 
 words of a hangman, and his eyes dart tire like those of an evil spirit. 
 Even his own men have nothing good to say of him. His Generals 
 call him a selfish old man, who wants to do every thing and knows no- 
 thing. He has not even appointed a general stalf, and has no one to at- 
 tend to the wants of his army."f m 
 
 "Further, further," cried Joseph, as the man paused. 
 
 •Preaerlc'8 own words. Dohm's Memoirs. Vol. 1, P. 180. 
 t Historical— See Dohnj, Vol. l, p. 1«8. 
 
70 ;lost;i'ti nit: skcuwd 
 
 " J have nothiog furtheij to frolJ, sire. As the King and his people left 
 my house, it was growing dark, so 1 slipped out. ' The curates were in. 
 the churches with the woirten and children^ and we men ran to the next 
 village, where the people gave us horses, and I have come to entreat the 
 Emperor not to let the Kiag of Prussia take us, as he did Silessia." 
 
 "I give you my word that you shall not be given over to Prussia. 
 Remain true to your country, and oppose the enemy whenever and 
 wherever you can. Go back to your village, greet your friends for me 
 
 and promise them my protection Count, be so good as to see that 
 
 these men get some refreshment before they start." 
 
 The Adjutant bowed, and followed by the villager, left the room. 
 
 " Lacy," cried the Emperor, " the time for deliberation has gone by. 
 The hour for decision has struck and I am free to give battle. It is Fred- 
 eric who has thrown down the glove, and I too shall emerge from ob- 
 scurity and prove to the world that others besides the King of Prussia 
 are worthy to lead thftir men to victory. It would be dishonorable to 
 refuse the challenge, he has sent through his invasion of Bohemia. Let 
 orders be given to march to Jaromirs. We shall await the enemy there, 
 and there at last I shall measure swords with the greatest captain of his 
 aee !" 
 
 CHAPTER- XVIII. 
 
 SECRET NEGOTIATIONS FOR PBA.CE. 
 
 Since the departure of the Emperor for the seat of war, the Court of 
 Vienna had been supremely dull. All the state apartments were closed, 
 the gentlemen and ladies in waiting -went aboutvsilent as ghosts, the 
 Archduchesses were pale and sad, and the Empress disconsolate, spent 
 all her days in the solitude of her own apartments. 
 
 Not only at Court, but in the city, were alf sounds of joy hushed into 
 speechless anxiety. Above all, since it had,become known that Frederic 
 had invaded Bohemia, the Viennese were in a state of painful excite- 
 ment, convinced as they were that the warlike King would never stop 
 his marches until they brought him to the gates of Vienna. 
 
 Finally the panic reached the palace. The rich were conveying their 
 treasures to places of security, and the Archduchesses and ladies of hon- 
 or were importunin§ji|yie Empress to leave Vienna and remove the Court 
 to Presburg.* 
 
 Maria Theresa turned a deaf ear to these entreaties. Her eyes which 
 
 • Dohra'B M«nioiPi. Vo). ]. p. 18T, 
 
MAttlE AiNUihMiri'K / | 
 
 had grown dull through weeping, flashed with defiant courage as she replied, 
 
 " 1 remain herein Vienna, •and if the King of Prussia lays seige to my 
 capital, I shall die like an Empress in imperial panoply, and rot like a 
 fugitive who basely abandons her crowij, for the sake of the few short 
 days that remain to her on earth ! — I have never known what it was to 
 fear for my life, and if now my heart Ihrobswith uneasiness, 'tis for my 
 people, 'tis not for myself. I mourn for the fate of my subjects, should 
 Heaven ifc its wrath permit Frederic to prevail. For this it is that, my 
 life is spent in seclusion and prayer. Come, my daughters, come ladies 
 all, let us betake ourselves to the house of God." 
 
 And leaning upon the arms of the Archduchesses Elizabeth and Chris- 
 tina, the Empress proceeded to the chapel. Behind them with down- 
 oast eyes and reluctant steps, came the ladies of the Court, all of one 
 mind as to the weariness of too much godliness and too n.uch praying. 
 
 " When will the Empress's private chapel be completed ?" whispered 
 one of the ladies to another. " When will this daily martyrdom cease? 
 Is it not too bad to be forced to church five times a day." 
 
 "You may thank fortune for your headache yesterday. It was my 
 turn to accompany the Empress to the chapel, and we stayed so long 
 that the Archduchess Elizabeth told me that towards the end her senses 
 began to fail her, and she was scarcely able to utter the responses. How 
 is the Archduchess Mariana to-day ?" 
 
 " Her Highness," whispered the first lady, " is too pensible to recover 
 in a hurry. The wound in her cheek has re-opened, and she really suf- 
 fers a great deal at present. But she bears her pain with great fortitude. 
 Yesterday the English Ambassador was paying heravisit of condolence, 
 and as he was expressing his sympathy, the Archduchess interrupted hinti 
 with a laugh, ' Believe me,' said she, ' for a princess of forty who is 
 an old maid, even a hole in her own cheek is a godsend. Nothing that 
 varies the dull uniformity of my life, comes amiss.' "* 
 
 Both ladies tittered, but perceiving that the Empress was turning her 
 head, they resumed their sanctimonious faces and folded their hands. 
 
 " Was it you, ladies," said Maria Theresa with severity, " w^ho were 
 interrupting our solemn silence by frivolous whisperings?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty/' replied the first lady of honor. ".We were 
 preparing ourselves for prayer by edifying conversation." 
 
 The Empress smiled kindly upon the speaker. " I know that you are 
 inclined to religion," said she, " and I am glad that yon have'had so 
 good an induence over the Countess Julia ; for she is not wont to be too 
 zealous at prayer. I will remember you both for your piety, dear chil- 
 dren,, and will see that you are both well married. There is the young 
 Baron of Palmoden and Count " 
 
 But thi Empress, who, in her darling schemes of marriage, had forgot- 
 ten for s moment whither they were going, suddenly crossed herself, 
 saying, '■ Forgive me ladies ; let us hasten our steps." 
 
 • The A'chd'icheH-H own words. See Conrta of BuTope at the cl<i8e of the last centnry. By 
 Henry Swnbiirne, Vol. 1. p. 842. ^ 'y 
 
72 JuaEfM mii skcunu, 
 
 On this day, the Empress remained for three hours in the chapel, and 
 •while her attendants, worn out by ennui, were some sleeping, or others 
 whispering to keep themselves awake, Maria Theresa, before the altar, 
 was on her knees, praying with ail the fervor of her honest and believ- 
 ing soul. As she prayed, she heaved many a sigh, and many a tear fell 
 unheeded from her eyes upon her tightly clasped hands. 
 
 Certainly her prayers proved consolatory, for when they were ^ded, 
 she rose from her knees, calm and resolved. As she reached the door 
 of her own room, she turned to her favorite daughter. 
 
 " Is your heart still disconsolate, Christina'?" said she with a look of 
 supreme tenderness. 
 
 " How can it be otherwise, my mother," said Christine sabbing. 
 " Has not my cruel and avaricious brother forced my husband into this 
 wicked war 1 Oh, dearest mother, if you would but speak the word. 
 Albert might be relieved from the disgraceful contingency of appearing 
 in arms against his native land ! He has no alternative — he must either 
 become a traitor to his own country, or perjure himself by deserting his 
 colors. Oh, your Majesty, have mercy upon your subjects, and force 
 the rapacious Emperor to forego his unjust claims, and obey your im- 
 perial commands." 
 
 "Dry your tears," my daughter, replied the Empress kissing her ten- 
 derly, " 1 have prayed so fervently for wisdom in this matter that I feel 
 as if ray prayers had been answered. What He has commanded, 1 will 
 do, and may His grace strengthen and guide me ! Hope for the best 
 my child, and do not speak so unkindly of your brother. He is not as 
 cruel as you represent him, he has always been a dear, obedient son, and 
 I trust fmay find him so to the end. Go now, Christina, and remember 
 that God directs all things." 
 
 The Empress dismissed her daughters and entered her room, passing 
 rapidly to the place where hung the portrait of the Emperor Francis. 
 Eor a long, long while she looked at it without anything but a vague 
 yearning to be united to her adored husband. Einally, as was her cus- 
 tom, she began to speak to it. 
 
 " Franz, I have prayed from my soul for light. It seems to me that 
 God has spoken, but oh, my darling, if what 1 am about to do is unwise, 
 whisper me one word of warning and I shall be passive. ^ Sometimes I 
 think that you visit me, beloved, and whisper words of angelic sweet- 
 ness in my ear. Speak now, my Franz, speak if I am wrong — I will 
 obey your voice." 
 
 She clasped her hands and looked imploringly at the picture. Final- 
 ly she sighed. " Your dear face still smiles upon me," murmured she, 
 " and I must believe that I have decided for the best. 1 will act." . 
 
 So saying, she rang her bell, and a page answered the summons. 
 
 "Send hither my private Secretary, and let a carriage be di^atched 
 for Baron Thugut. I wish to see him immediately." \ 
 
 A few moments afterwards, Koch made his appearance, and aJialf aa 
 hour after a page announced Baron Thugut. \ 
 
AlAKlt AWTOlNliriK. 73 
 
 *' Baron," said the Empress, " I wish to put a serious question to you 
 — Remernber that God hears you, and answer me without reservation." 
 
 " Your Majesty has forgotten," replied Thugut, " that I haves been so 
 long in the Kingdom of unbelief that I am an unbeliever myself. I do 
 not know whether God hears me or not, but as I know that jour Majes- 
 ty exacts of me to be candid, I shall obey your fommands." . 
 
 " Then tell me what is your opinion of the war of the Bavarian suc- 
 cession. Do you think it an equitable one ?" 
 
 The Baron's small black eyes turned from the Empress to the Secre- 
 tary. Maria Theresa understood the glance. 
 
 " Speak without reserve. Baron Koch is loyal, abd knows all my se- 
 crets. Do you think then that our claims to Bavaria are just?" 
 
 "Just, your Majesty"?" repeated Thugut in his sharp, cutting tones. 
 " Their success or their failure must decide that question. He who wins, 
 will have proved his right. If we succeed in holding Bavaria, Germany 
 will uphold us ; for Germany never raises her voice against a fait ac- 
 compli. .Should Frederic unhappily defeat us, not only Germany but 
 all Europe will cry out against the greed and injustice of ambitious 
 Austria." 
 
 " I do not wish to expose myself to this contingency," replied the 
 Empress. " I must have peace with God, the world, and my conscience, 
 and you must come to my assistance, Thugut." 
 
 An ironical smile played over Thugut's face. " With God and your 
 Majesty's conscience, I would be a poor mediator," said he, " but to- 
 wards the world I am ready to serve your Majesty in any shape or 
 form." 
 
 " Then you shall mediate between myself and Frederic." 
 
 " Between your Majesty and the King of Prussia," said Thugut, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 The Empress nodded her head, and just then the door opened, admit- 
 ting a page who handed two letters on a golden plate. 
 
 " The answer of Prince Gallitzin," said he bowing and retiring. 
 
 Maria Theresa opened the letters which were unsealed, saying, " Now 
 we have everything requisite. Here is a passport for you as private 
 Secretary to the Russian Ambassador ; and here is a letter which you 
 are to bear from Gallitzin to the King. This is the pretext of your visit 
 to Frederic." 
 
 " And the real motive is " 
 
 "You will find it in the lettei: which I shall entrust to you for Wm. 
 Read my letter aloud, Koch." 
 
 The Secretary read as follows : 
 
 " Fit)m the recall of Baron Von Reidsel and the marching of your 
 Majesty's troops into Bohemia, I perceive with profoundest sorrow, that 
 we are on the eve of another war. My age and sincere love of peace, 
 are known to all the world, and I can give no greater proof of this love, 
 than I do by writing to your Majesty. My maternal heart, too, is sore 
 
74 lO^fcKJti IKK tfhiOOiNlJ. 
 
 ly grieved with the thought that 1 have two sods and a beloved ^on in- 
 law in the army. I have taken this step without the knowledge of the 
 Emjperor, and whatever its result, I exact that it shall remain a secret 
 between us. It is my desire to resume the negotiations which were brok- 
 en off by my sou. Barou Thugut who will deliver this into your Majes- 
 ty's hands, has received my instructions and is empowered to treat with 
 you. While 1 trust that your Majesty may deem it consistent with our 
 common dignity to meet my wishes in this matter, 1 hope that you also 
 correspond to the earnest desire which I cherish for a continuation of 
 friendly relations with your Majesty, and with this hope I remain, 
 Your Majesty's affectionate sister and cousin, 
 
 Mabia Theresa.* 
 ■ • 
 
 " Your Majesty wishes me to bring about a peace. But what sort of 
 peace, asked Thugut. A conditional one, or peace at any price ?" 
 
 Maria Theresa's eyes flashed fire. . "Is Austria so weak that she should 
 crave peace at any price ?" cried she proudly. 
 
 " No, indeed, your Majesty, she seems on the contrary so powerful that 
 she undertakes war at any price. But Bavaria is well worth a war with 
 Prussia. Allow me one more question. What is the Emperor to do 
 •with his army while we negotiate 1" 
 
 " They must await the result. I have written to Leopold to use all 
 his influence to reconcile Joseph, for he will be indignant when he hears 
 what I have done. But until it becomes evident that we cannot treat 
 with Frederic, the Emperor and his generals must remain passive. 
 Should 1 fail, my son may then give battle, while his mother intercedes 
 for him. If the medicine of diplomacy fails this time, we shall have to 
 resort to the knife to heal our political wounds." 
 
 " Your Majesty is right, said Thugut with a heartless laugh." When 
 medicine fails, we use the cold steel, and if that is not enough, fire is 
 the last resort. What are your Majesty's conditions with Prussia, medi- 
 cine, iron, or fire ?"f 
 
 " Balsam, I trust," replied the Empress. " Koch has drawn out my 
 propositions ; and now go and make your preparations to depart, for I 
 l ong for pea ce with the whole world." 
 
 • This letter was written in the French language and is to be found In Gross-HofBnger'B Life and 
 History -^f th« reign of Joseph 2d, Vol. 4, P. 39. 
 
 tThugut's own application of the old-fashioned method of cure. Bee Hormayer's Contributions 
 to the History of my Fatherland. 
 
MARlt ANTOIJSEITK l.j 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FRATERNAI. DISCORD. 
 
 Vert different were the preparations making by the Empress's war- 
 lilve son. In company with .Lacy and his staff, he hnd reviewed his 
 troops for the last time, and had ridden from one end of their encamp- 
 merjt to the other, that he might personally inspect the condition of his 
 army. He had found it cheerful, spirited and^eager foT the fray, the of- 
 ficers assuring him that their men were impatient to meet the enemy 
 and end the campaign by one decisive blow. 
 
 Even Lacy himself ceased to preach cairtion. He saw in th6 tri- 
 umphant smile and flashing eyes of Joseph that cownsel would be worse 
 than useless, and warning would only drive him to some deed of mad 
 daring which might peril his life, or the safety of his army. The Em- 
 peror himself had planned the attack, and his generals had approved hia 
 strategy. 
 
 On the olher side of the Elbe was the King of Prussia afraid to cross, 
 lest the Austrian army, from their secure heights on the opposite shore, 
 should annihilate his troops as they attempted the passage. But what 
 Frederic hesitated to undertake, Joseph was resolved to accomplish. 
 He had determined to cross the Elbe and force the King to give him 
 battle. His columns were to move under cover of night, to ford the 
 river below, and by rapid marches to reach the Prussian army at break 
 •f day. * 
 
 " We shall be victorious, I feel it," said the Emperor to Lacy on their 
 return from the encampment. " I have a joy within my heart that is 
 the forerunner either of victory or of death." 
 
 " Of death !" echoed Lacy with surprise. " Does your Majesty mean 
 to say that man can encounter death joyfully ?" 
 
 " Why tiot f said the Emperor. " When ii man dies, has he not won 
 the long and bloody battle of life ?" 
 
 "These are disconsolate words to fall from your lips, sire. To you, 
 life must present a bright array of hopes and useful deeds ; none butau 
 old and decrepid man should take such gloomy views of the world." 
 
 " I have suffered as much as older men, Lacy," returned the Emperor, 
 laying his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "But all m^ sufferings are 
 forgotten in the anticipated joy of the morrow. Let the dead past bury 
 its dead, the birth of my happiness is at hand. I shall no more rest my 
 title to the world's homage upon the station ta w^hich 1 was born. It 
 shall know at last that I am worthy to be the friend of Lacy and of Lou- 
 don. All the years that have intervened, have never yet sufficed to 
 
7t) JOSEPH VHt, SKCOJND. 
 
 blot out the remembrance of that fearful day on which the Empress re- 
 called the consent she had given for me to meet Frederic in the field. 
 I have never looked upon my mother since without feeling the wound 
 re-open. But to-day I can forgive her; I can even forgive the hated 
 priests who were the cause of my misfortune ! — Lacy I love the whole 
 world, I " 
 
 The Emperor interrupted himself to stare with astonishment at the 
 figure of a man who just then had opened the door. 
 
 " The Grand Duke of Tuscany !" exclaimed Lacy. 
 
 " My brother Leopold !" murmured Joseph in alow, tremulous voice, 
 but without rising from his seat, or offering his hand, 
 
 A cloud passed over the pale, sickly face of the Grand Duke, and the 
 smile vanished from his lips. 
 
 " Your Majesty does not invite me to enter ?" asked he reproachfully. 
 " You do not bid me welcome?" 
 
 The Emperor gazed, upon his brother in silence, and Leopold shrank 
 from the keen and searching; glance of Joseph's inquiring eyes. 
 
 " My brother," cried the Emperor suddenly, " you have come hither 
 to bring me some evil tidings," 
 
 " I have come to greet your Majesty and to enjoy a few hours of fami- 
 ly intercourse with you,^' replied the Grand Duke, while without await- 
 ing the courtesy which Joseph would not extend, he closed the door and 
 advanced into the room. 
 
 " No, no," cried the Emperor, '^ that is false. We are not such a pair 
 of loving brothers that you should seek me for affection's sake." And 
 approaching Leopold as he spoke, he stopped j ust before him and con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " I implore of you, be generous and tell me what you want. You 
 have letters from the Empress, have you not ?" 
 
 " I have. I have not only letters from our imperial mother to deliver 
 
 to your Majesty, but I am also the bearer of verbal messages but " 
 
 • " But what ?" cried Joseph as Leopold paused. 
 
 " But I must request of your Majesty to grant me a private interview.". 
 
 " With his Majesty's permission, I shall withdraw," said Lacy. 
 
 Joseph inclined his head and as Lacy disappeared, he turned his eyes 
 once more upon the pale, embarrassed countenance of his ufl welcome 
 relative. 
 
 - " Now we are alone," said he, breathing fast — "now — but no ! Give 
 me one moment to collect my«strength. My God, what evil has the 
 Empress in store for me now, that she should select you as the messen- 
 ger of her cruelty ! Peace — I do not wish to hear your voice, until I 
 am ready to hear its discordant sounds !" 
 
 " I await your commands," replied Leopold with a respectful inclina- 
 tion. 
 
 The Emperor crossed the room several times forth and back. 
 
 His cheeks were blanched, his mouth' quivered, while quick and gasp- 
 ing came the breath from his heaving chest. 
 
MAKIE ANTOINEITE." 77 
 
 " Air, air !" eaid he in a stifled voice. " I shall suffocate !" He ap- 
 proached the window, and leaning far out, inhaled the cold winter blast, 
 whose icy breath was welcome to his hot and fevered head. After a 
 while, he closed the window and turned to his brother who with folded 
 arms still stood near the door, 
 
 " Now," said Joseph gloomily, " I am ready to hear. Speak out your 
 infernal errand." 
 
 " I must first beg pardon of your Majesty if the intelligence .which I 
 am compelled to communicate, is unwelcome," began LeopoJ^ in a de- 
 precating voice. 
 
 Joseph cast a rapid searching look athwart the perplexed face of his 
 brother. " You are forgiven," replied he contemptuously. "'Your mes- 
 sage seems to be punishment enough of itself, if I judge by your coun- 
 tenance. Let us be quick then, and be done with one another. Give 
 me the letter, and say at once what you have to say." 
 
 The Grand Duke took from his coat-pocket a sealed dispatch which 
 he delivered to the Emperor. 
 
 " Here are the letters of the Empress, but she ordered me to accom- 
 pany them with a few words explanatory of her motives. She commis- 
 sioned me to tell what she found it difficult to write." 
 
 " She was afraid," muttered Joseph. 
 
 "Yes, she was afraid to commit an injustice," returned Leopold. 
 " She was afraid to offend her Maker by continuing a war whose object 
 was to break one of His holy commandments " 
 
 " Oh, my brother," interrupted Joseph sarcastically, " you are yourself 
 again — I recognise the dutiful son of the priests who denounce me be- 
 cause I would disturb them in their comfortable Bavarian nest. I see, 
 plainly that if I should be so unfortunate as to fall to-morrow on the 
 battle-field, you will throw yourself into the arms of Frederic and of 
 that frantic Amazon, the Duchess Clemens, beg pardon for my sins, and 
 hand over the fairest portion of Germany to Pope and Jesuits. -Oh 
 what a favorite you would become with the black-coats ! Doubtless 
 they would give you absolution for all the sins you are accustomed to 
 commit against your wife. — But, my virtuous brother, I shall outlive the 
 morrow, that I promise you, and shall gain such a victory over Frederic 
 as will astound you and the whole Popedom." 
 
 " You were about to give battle to Frederic 1" 
 
 " I am about to do sq," replied Joseph defiantly. 
 
 "Then it was time for me to come!" exclaimed Leopold solemnly. 
 " The mercy of God has sent me to stop the carnage ! — My brother, the 
 Empress earnestly entreats you, by the tears she has shed for your sake, 
 to desist from fighting ! — As your Empress she commands you to 
 sheathe your sword until you hear the result of the negotiations now 
 .pending between herself and the King of Prussia." 
 
 The Emperor uttered a cry of rage and the angry blood darted to Ws 
 very brow. " The Empress has opened negotiations without ray con- 
 sent!" cried he in a voice of mingled indignatiou and incredulity. 
 
78 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 "The Empress requires the consent of no one to regulate her state- 
 policy. In the supremacy of her own power, she has re-opened negotia- 
 tions with the King of Prussia and hopes to terminate the war honora- 
 bly without blood-shed." - 
 
 " It is false, I will not believe it !" again cried Joseph. '• My mother 
 would not offer me such indignity, when she herself placed in my hand 
 the sword with which I seek to defend my rights. It is a priest's lie, 
 and yOu have been commissioned to be its interpreter. Bub this time 
 your piogB frauds shall come to naught. Take back your packet. It is 
 not the Empress's handwriting." 
 
 " It is that of hev private Secretary," 
 
 " i am not bound to respect his writing and I have no time to listen, 
 to your stupid remonstrances. Wait until day after to-morrow. When 
 a man is flushed with victory, he is generous and ready to pardon. When 
 I have beaten Frederic I shall have leisure to inquire into the authenti- 
 city of your papers. Remain with me, not as the emissary of Priests 
 and Jesuits, but as the brother of the Emperor, who to-morrow i»to win 
 his first victory and his first budding laurels. Give me your hand, Oa 
 the eve of a battle, I am willing to remember that we are brothers." 
 
 " But this is not the eve of a battle, your Majesty. The Empress 
 commands you to await the result of her efforts to end the war." 
 
 " I have already told you that I see through your intrigues." . ' 
 
 " But I have the proofs of my veracity fn these papers. You will not 
 read them ?" 
 
 " No, I will not '." 
 
 "Then I shall read them myself," retursed Leopold, breaking the 
 seal. " The Empress commands you, and it is your duty as her subject 
 to obey." 
 
 " I shall obey when I am convinced that the Empress commands. 
 But in this case I am convinced that it is not my mother, the high-spiri- 
 ted Maria Theresa, w^io entrusts you with such an abject commission." 
 
 "You surely will riot deny her hand- writing," returned Leopold, ex- 
 tending an open letter to his brother. 
 
 Joseph looked imploringly at his brother's calm face. 
 
 " You are resolved to show me no mercy ?" said he. " You will not 
 understand my refusal to believe 1 Listen to me, Leopold. Show that 
 you love me for once in your life. Think of my joyless youth, my sor- 
 rowing manhood, my life of perpetual humiliation, and give me one day 
 of independent action !" 
 
 " What does your Majesty mean ?" asked the Grand Duke. 
 
 The Emperor came up to him and putting both his hands upon Leo- 
 pold's shoulder, he said in a voice of deep emotion, " Majesty asks no- 
 thing of you, but your brother entreats you to serve him this day. ' See, 
 Leopold, it is too late, I cannot retract upon the very eve of battle. The 
 army knows that we are about to engage the enemy, and my men are 
 wild with enthusiasm. The presence of Frederic upon Austrian soil is 
 an indignity which I am pledged as a man to avenge. If I allow him to 
 
MARFE ANTOINEITE. 79 
 
 atetreat from his present disadvantageous position my name is gone for- 
 ever, and all Europe will cry out upon my incapacity to command. 
 Remember, Leopold, that it concerns not my honor alone.Jljut the honor 
 of Austria that this battle should be fought. Rescue us both by a mag- 
 nanimous falsehood. Go back to the Empress. Tell her that you lost 
 her letters and that I would not take your word. Meanwhile I shall 
 have humiliated the enemy, and Maria Theresa will have been forced to 
 submit to an event which she cannot recall. Let us burn these papers, 
 Leopold," continued Joseph, passionately clasping his hands, "and God 
 will forgive you tfie innocent deception by which your brother shall 
 have won faniQ and glory." 
 
 "God will never pardon me for sinning so deeply against my con- 
 science," replied Leopold, quite unmoved by his brother's appeal and 
 representations. " You require of me to burn those papers and consign 
 thousands of your own subjects to death and worse than death — the lin- 
 gering agonies of the battle-field ? Never ! Oh, my dear brother, have 
 pity on yourself, and bethink you that you peril your own salvation by 
 such thirst of blood " 
 
 " Peace ! — and answer my question," cried Joseph stamping his foot. 
 " Will you do what I ask of you ?" 
 
 " No, Joseph, I will not do it. The Empress desires to spare the 
 blood of her people, and we mus^ obey her just demands." 
 
 " I ivill not obey !" crieti Joseph with such violence that his fi\ce was 
 empurpled with passion. " I am co-regent, and as a man and a com- 
 iwmder, it is my right to defend the honor of the crown. I will, not 
 ipkd those letters, and I choose to assert the superiority of my manhood 
 t.l doing that which they forbid. In your eyes and those of the Em- 
 p.'ess, I may be a rebel, but the world will acquit me, and I shall be hon- 
 ored for my just resistance. You wnll not destroy the papers as 1 im-t 
 plored you to do, then give them to me, and so satisfy your tender con- 
 science." 
 
 " No," replied Leopold, who had replaced the dispatches in his pock- 
 et, "for I see that you intend to destroy them." 
 
 " That need not concern you. Give me the letters !" 
 
 " No, Josepn, I will not give them." 
 
 The Emperor uttered a hoarse cry and darted towards his brother 
 with uplifted arm. 
 
 " Give me the papers," said he, with his teeth set. 
 
 " What ! you would strike me !" said Leopold retreating. 
 
 "Give me the papers !" thundered the Emperor, " or 1 felKyou to 
 the earth as I would a beast !" and he came yet nearer. 
 
 Pale and panting, their eyes flashing with anger, the brothers stood 
 for a moment confronting each other. 
 
 "•' Refuse me once again," hissed Joseph in a low, unnatural voice, 
 "refuse me once again, and my hand shall smite your cowardly face and 
 disgrace you forever ; for, as God hears me, you shall never have satis- 
 faction for the affront." 
 
80 josei'h'the second. 
 
 Leopold was silent, but, with his eyes fixed upon Joseph, he retreated^ 
 farther and still farther, followed by the Emperor, who, still with uplift- 
 ed )jand, threatened his brother's face. Suddenly Leopold reached 'the 
 door and, bursting it open, rushed into the aute-roona. With a tiger- 
 bound he sprang forward to Lacy who had remained there in obedience 
 to the Emperor's orders. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE DEFEAT. 
 
 " Field-marshal Lact," said the Grand Duke, " I claim your protec- 
 tion — the protection of a man whom the Empress has honored, and who 
 has sworn to obey her as his lawful Sovereign." 
 
 " Even unto death," added Lacy solemnly. 
 
 The Emperor groaned aloud, and his upraised arm fell powerless t0 
 his side. A triumphant smile flickered over^the pale features of Leo- 
 pold. He thrust his hand into his bosom and drew forth the dispatches 
 of the Empress, _^ 
 
 " The Empress charged me," said he, " in case the Emperor refasr \ 
 to read these letters, to deliver them to you, Marshal Lacy, and to tel 
 you, in my presence, read them to him. Come, then, your Excellenqjf, 
 let us obey the commands of our Sovereign." 
 
 Lacy bowed, and followed the Grand Duke in silence. The Empe- 
 ror retreated to his cabinet and sinking upon a sofa, buried his face in 
 his hands. Nothing interrupted the stillness save the measured foot- 
 steps of Lacy and the Grand Duke, who entered [and closed the door 
 behind them. A long pause ensued. The Grand Duke tetired to a 
 window where, with his arms folded, he awaited the development of at 
 fairs with recovered composure. Joseph still sat with his face hidden 
 by his hands, while Lacy with military decorum stood at the door with 
 his letters, silent, until the Emperor should signify that he might read. 
 Finding that Joseph would not speak, Lacy took a few steps forward. 
 *' Does your Majesty allow me to' read the letters which, in the name of 
 the Empress, his imperial Highness, the Grand Duke, has delivered to 
 -'ine ?" 
 
 " Read," said Joseph hoarsely, but without removing his hands. 
 Lacy approached the table, and from the various documents which <,ie 
 unfolded and examined, selected the letter which was in the Empreee's 
 own hand. 
 
MARlJi AiMUl>ErrF* Si 
 
 " My dearest Emperor and son. As eo-re^ent nnd heir to iiiy throne, 
 I hasten to advisu yva of the negotiations which have just been renewed 
 between the King of Prussia and inyseh'. 1 have eveiy hope that they 
 ■will terminate to our satisfaction, and thus not only save the livfes of 
 many of our subjects, but relieve my heart of the panj^s it has endured 
 durinjj; the absence of my beloved son. The King of l-'russia has prom- 
 ised that, pending our diplomatic correspondence, he will not attack our 
 armies. 1 therefore hope that you, my son, ^viil conceae as much, and 
 scrupulously avoid all collision that might interrupt our negotiations. 
 I send you copies of our correspondence and will continue to do so re- 
 gularly. Hoping that God in his goodness will restore to me my impe- 
 rial son, I remain now as ever, Your afljsctionatc mother and Empress, 
 
 Maria Tuerksa. 
 
 A deep sigh that was almost a sob was heaved by the Emperor. 
 Slowly his hands fell from his face, while with tearful eyes he turned to 
 Lacy, and said, " Is it really so '? Are my hopes of glory all frustrated ?" 
 
 Lacy answered with another sigh and a slight raising of the shoulder. 
 
 " Read on Lacy,*' continued the Emperor mildly, " my eyes are dim 
 and I cannot see." i 
 
 Lacy continued reading the correspondence. First the letter of the 
 Empress — then the reply of the King in which he promised that Mkria 
 Theresa should have nothing to fear for the life of her beloved son. 
 
 When the Emperor heard this he started ; the color iftounted to bis 
 face, then faded away and left it pale as before. His lips moved, but, 
 with a convulsive twitch, he closed them again, .and listened in silence. 
 Two more letters followed, full of mutual and distinguished considera- 
 tion, then came the propositions of the Empress and the <;omment3 of 
 the King. 
 
 Maria Theresa pledged herself, from that portion of Bavaria of which 
 Austria had possession, to retain only so much as would yield a reve- 
 nue of one million, oftering to cede the remairider to the Elector Pala- 
 tine^ or to exchange with him for territory Situated elsewhere. 
 
 Then followed Frederic's conditions. He stipulated that Austria 
 should renounce all pretensions to Bavaria, contenting herself with a 
 small portion of Upper Bavaria, and recognising and upholding the 
 claims of Charles Theodore, as well as those of his heir, the Du^e of 
 Zweibriioken. 
 
 " Further, further !" exclaimed Joseph, as Lacy paused. 
 
 " There is nothing further, sire ; the correspondence ceases there." 
 
 " And to these disgraceful propositions we are not permitted to make 
 the only answer of which they are deserving, — that is, to wipe them out 
 with blood ! Oh Lacy, Lacy, is it not (earfiif to be compelled like a 
 school-boy to submit to the punishment which my tormentor judges fit 
 to inflict!" ' 
 
 " It- is a painful duty, sire • but it is a duty, and your Majesty must 
 subujit.'' 
 
^-2 .XXiEi'b I'UJi dEUOiVD 
 
 '■ I inuso nubmit !" exclaiined Joseph in bitter anguish while he sprang 
 fioni the sofa. Hut sutldeuly his eager, lluttering ghuices were turned 
 to.vards the window where stood'the Grand Duke quietly surveying his 
 movements. 
 
 •' Have you not gone?" asked the Emperor. '"1 thought that your 
 mission being I'uitilied, your imperial Highness had nothing more to do 
 here,"' 
 ' " 1 awnit your Majesty's answer," replied the Grand Duke. 
 
 "Oh you wish to mock lue, *do you," cried Joseph, trembling with 
 passion, " lor well you knoVv j/aere is but one answer to the Empress's 
 commands, and that is— (obedience. But since yon are anxious to take 
 a message, here is one' and mark it well. Say U-y the Empress that I 
 submit as becomes her subject, and so long as it suits her witjiout my 
 knowledge aod behind my back to hold cojifcrences with the enemy, { 
 •will abstain from engaging him in battle, although by so .doing I shall 
 Tuin my reputation ibrever. Tell her furthermore that should she ac- 
 cept the dishonorable proposals made by Frederic and conclude a peace 
 upon the basis of his conditions, she need never expect to 9ee me again 
 in Vienna. I shall never' go near her so long as I live, but lake up my 
 abode in Aix la Chapelle, or in some other free cily, as it was once the 
 custom of the Emperors of Germany to do."'^" 
 
 ''Oh sire!" exclaimed Lacy, shocked, "retract those words I implore 
 of you !" 
 
 ''l will not retract them," replied Joseph imperatively, " I order the 
 envoy qf the Empress to repeat theqa lliithfuUy." 
 
 "I shall obey your Majesty, the co-regent of the Empress," said the 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany. '• Has your Majesty any other commands ?" 
 
 "Yes!'' shouted the Emperor fiercelvi "When you shall have ac- 
 complished your mission in Vienna, go home to your Priests in Tuscany, 
 and bid them say a mass for the repose of your brother's soul, for from, 
 this day you have lost him who was called Joseph. He is dead to you 
 forever." . ' 
 
 The Grand Duke returned his brother's look with one of equal hatred. 
 " I can scarcely lose that which I have never possessed, " replied he with 
 Composure. '• Had the affront which your Majesty has put upon me to- 
 day come from a brother, we should have measured swords together be- 
 fore the sun had set upon the insult. But he who stands bef(jre me is 
 my Emperor, and of him I am prohibited fi'om demanding satisfaction." 
 
 "Our paths in life lie apart, and I trust that we shall never be forced 
 to look upon each other again," said Joseph in reply. ; 
 
 "I am compelled to echo the wish since we can never meet as bro- 
 thers," returned Leopold. " Farewell !" 
 
 " Farewell — and let it' be farewell forever !" • 
 
 The Grand Duke crossed the room and opened the door, while Joseph 
 watched his disappearance, with glaring eyes and stormy brow, and Lacy 
 in angntsh of heart looked first at one brother, then at the other. Th e 
 
 ».T'>pf[.ti'f 'nv! ^onij ?cc Dohm's Memoirs, vol 1,i>-''*8i 
 
makie ANTohNErrii. ^;; 
 
 door closed, ai]d the jar it made caused Lacy to start. IJe recovered 
 himself and hastened to tlie Emperor's t^ide. 
 
 '• Call him back, sire," .implored he. *' Call him b.ack. . He is your 
 brother and the son of your mother. He is also the hope of those who 
 tremble with appreliension of your Ifajesfy's reign." • 
 
 "Oh, yes — he is the leader of my encmres, the head of the pious con- 
 spirators who have cursed my life by their diabolical opposiiiou. But 
 u day will come when 1 shall crush the whole brood in their owl's nest, 
 and put my house in order. In that day 1 shall remember this intei- 
 view with the Grand Duke of Tiifcauy.'""" 
 
 '*Sire," insisted Lacy, " I cntrfiat of you, recall him — if not as your 
 brother, as the envoy of your Sovereign. Before it is too late, retract 
 
 those f^>arful words, which in a moment of " 
 
 ."Lacy!" interrupted the Emperor in a loud, angry voice, " I have 
 this day lost a brother and a battle. Am 1 also to iose a friend 1" 
 
 The tears rose to Lacy'.s eyes. " Sire," said he in a voice of emotiou, 
 "forgive your truCvSt friend if he has presumed to oppose you. I have 
 no kindred to love; my heart is bound to you, and if i lose your regard, 
 I am desolate and alone in the world !" 
 
 " You shall not lose it, my dear, dear friend," exclaimed Joseph, 
 throwing his arms around Lacy's neck. "Oh, God, you do not know 
 how I suffer ! I feel as if 1 had lost somo beloved friend. And is it 
 not so ? IL'ive I not buried to-day the hopes cf a whole life? The 
 hopes which from ray youth I had cherished of winning glory and fame 
 through Frederic's humiliation ! — i would give years of my life to have 
 measured swords with him, for— let me tell you a secret, Lacy — I hate 
 that man as much as I once fancicd'that 1 loved him. He is the *causc 
 of every misfortune that has befallen our house for forty years past; his 
 fame is our shame, his splendor, our obscuration. 1 might forgive him. 
 his robbery of Silesia, but that he has reduced me to the role of an imi- 
 tator, I can never forgive ! Everything on earth that I imagine, he exe- 
 cutes before me. If 1 desire to free my people from the dominion of 
 the clergy, he has already liberated his; if 1 seek to a(j(vance art, litera- 
 ture, or manufactures, he has just afibrded them protection in Prussia- 
 if I recommend toleration, lo ! he has removed the disabilities of the 
 Jews, and has pronounced all .sects equal before the law. Would I ex- 
 cel in music, or yearn for military glory % The world has long since 
 pronounced him a hero, and his flute was heard before 1 learned the vio- 
 lincello. Oh, 1 hate him, 1 hate him, for his greatness is C^e rock upon 
 which my originality is iated to split; and his shadow projects forever 
 before me and my unborn deeds. He forces me to pass for a counterfeit 
 of his true coin, and yet 1 feel that my individuaiity is as marked as his ! 
 He is the evil genius of my destiny, vanquishing me even in all that I 
 
 ♦The two b'oniers never met atrain. Althoujrh Leopold was next heir to the crown, Joseph 
 •would not allow him to receive th" tiUe of Kinf; of liome, but bestowed it upon Lcoiwld'a son and 
 heir, Francis. Even upon his doatli-bcd, the Kmpnror rpfnsed to see his brother. By his explicit 
 commands, it was only when hie death had taken place that a courier was sent to inform Leopold 
 of his accession lo the throne , 
 
^4 • JUiSEPH MIE iiEUOlS'D. 
 
 * 
 ^vou^c^ have done for the good of ray subjects and the advancenaent of 
 the world !" 
 
 " Yoiu- Majesty goes too far," said Lacy siniling. " There is. one thing 
 which Frederic has never dreamed of doing, and it is precisely there that 
 you are destined* to eclipse him. He has never sought to do anything 
 for Germany. A German Prince, the ruler of a German people, he is 
 the patron of foreign industry-, literature ah d art. The most insignifi- 
 cant writing in France is boLLcr known to him than Lessing or Winlde- 
 raann ; and while he is perfectly familiar with the composers of Italy, 
 he has blundered into depreciation of Gluck's inspired music. That is 
 the great and glorious contrast which your Majesty presents, to Frederic 
 of Prussia, and the German peopic! whom he has despised will look up 
 to you, sire, as to the Messiah of their. decaying greatness." 
 • " He Vv'ill foil me there as in all else," replied Joseph disconsolately. 
 " Has he not already guessed my plans for Germany, and has he not torn 
 my banner from, my hand to flaunt it above his own head, as the defen- 
 der of German liberties! And Maria Theresa, too, is deceived by his 
 internal logic! Oh, Lacy, I hate him beyond expression. 1 hate him 
 for the letter \yherein he promises to spare her son, a man whom he 
 loves, although he diflers with hini on the subject of German national- 
 ity.* The cowardly remnant of a warrior ! He takes refuge under the 
 rosaries and scapulars that lie beneath my mother's hooped petticoat, 
 and v;hispers in her credulous ear that this war is a great sin ! — ^Do you 
 really think that I am bound to sheaihe my sword at the'-Zpse dixit of 
 my mother V 
 
 Your mother is the reigning Empress, sire, and it is for you to give 
 to her other subjects an example of loyalty and obedience."* 
 
 "Ah,'' sighed Joseph, '-I must still the. throbbings of my bursting 
 heart, and suffer in silence." 
 
 For a while he paced the room with hasty, uncertain steps, murmur- 
 ing inaudible words, and darting despairing looks towards the window, 
 whence gay throngs of soldiery were to be seen preparing to leave the 
 encampment, while they sang their martial songs, and speculated togeth- 
 er upon the events of the morrow. Suddenly the Emperor turned his 
 head towards Lacy and said, 
 
 " Field-marshal, 1 withdraw my plans of battle. The Ernpress-queen 
 has spoken, it is for us to obey. Apprise the army of the change. We 
 remain where we are." 
 
 - " Sire," exclaimed Lacy enthusiastically, " your victory has been won 
 to-day. A victory over self !" 
 
 The Emperor raised his eyes with a sad, weary expression, and shook 
 his head. '' It was harder to win than would have been that which I con- 
 templated for to-morrow. Go, Lacy, go, we must still hope and pray — 
 pray God to grant that at some future day we may be revenged." 
 * GrosB-Hoffingor, Kecords <}f the life of Joseph Second. P. 41, 
 
II A.J t. ^;-. 1"1M-.1 1 
 
 CITAPTEII XXI. 
 •rriK nKVKic(jF-. 
 
 Laoy had a?stml>led the generals and the st.HlT-officers to conn muni. -.itf 
 the dec^^ion of the Emperor, while the l:v»;ter, overcome by this supreme 
 disappoi^tmen^, was pacing his •abinet with heavy and measured step. 
 Then he stood at the window and watched the movements of his sol- 
 diers. 
 
 '• They have heard it now," thoup;ht he, " and the word has gone forth, 
 'The Emperor is afraid to meet the old hero.' Yes, my brave soldiers, 
 1 know fill! well that you despise me! Your songs have ceased — your 
 spirit is cru'^hed and ah! — min« also. This unfuught battle is worth a 
 victory to Frederic; for the army will think that; my courage failed me, 
 iind the King of Prussia will still remain in their estimation, the invin- 
 cible foe of Austria! Oh, when will the hour ofretributiou ^oln■!d !'" 
 
 At thi.-^ moment a knock was heard at the door and an Adjutant an- 
 nouncco U) the Emperor that a Iiuzzar belonging to a Gallician regiment, 
 stationt'd directly opposite to the Piiissinn encaniprnent, wished lo coni- 
 muni^ute something, of importance. 
 
 "/Ldmit him," said Joseph, wearily. 
 
 The Adjutant bowed and returned, accompanied by a st.ihvart figure 
 attired in the fanciful imd becoming costume of a Gallician hugzar. The 
 Emperor returned his salute with a slight bend of the head and motion- 
 ed him to approach. The Adjutant withdrew, and Joseph was alone 
 ■with the huzzar. 
 
 " Now speak," said Joseph, "and if you have important tidings let 
 me hear them.*' 
 
 The soldier raised his head^'nnd spoke. " I have come to do your 
 Majesty a service, but first you must ^jromise to reward me as becomes 
 an Emperor."' • ' 
 
 "If your servijce is great, your reward shall be in proportion." 
 
 The soldier bow^Sd. " I am on picket duty immediately on the banks 
 of the Elbe. As I have lain among ihe bushes, 1 have m.ort^ than once 
 seen the King of Prussij^ just opposite to ine taking a survey of our 
 strength. Little thinks he as he reins in, his horse that a sharpshooter's 
 ball is not too far off to bring him dowiu But I have thought, of it." 
 
 "You have thought of w'hat?" exclaimed Joseph, shocked. 
 
 " I have thought that my ball has never yet missed its man, and what 
 a rich man I might become if I were to free Austria from its worst" ene- 
 my. 1 was turning this over ih my mind yesterday, w^hen here comes 
 the King on his grtiy horse and halts directlv in front hf me. He held 
 
86 liVslil'H I'HK SKCUNI) 
 
 a c;"ine in his hanJ, and pointed with it toward;? our encampment nnd 
 be;it the air with it, as though he were showing his officers how he was 
 going to thrash the Austrian-army. When I saw this, my blood began 
 to boil, and I ros« half up and'cocked my "gun. Many a Boenian have I 
 brought down -with it." 
 
 "Go on,"' said the Emperor, as the soldier paused and threw an ad- 
 miring glance upon his musket. 
 
 " Yes sire, I raised my gun and took aim, when I began to reflect that 
 
 ' "That what V exclaimed Joseph, upon whose forehead great drops of 
 sweat had begun to gather. 
 
 " That it woiild be bettf^r first to asR the Emperor's permission and 
 get the promise of a reward," said the'huzzar witl\ a salute. 
 ^ " Ah," cried the Emperor, breathing freely, " that was a lucky thought 
 of yours I" 
 
 The soldier bowed low, " I put down ray musket, ajid when the hour 
 came around for, me to: be relieved, I asked leaveof my Captain to come 
 here to see an old acquaintance. And indeed 3'Our Majesty I was not 
 telling a lie, for you once slept under my fjithqr's- roof, and paid him so 
 well for the night's lodging that he was able to buy some land, to settle 
 me upon it, and thereupon 1 married my sweetheart. .Bo that I did corfte 
 to see an old acquaintance, and now your Majesty, 1 have a firm hand 
 and a sharp eye, and if you saj so, Frederic shall bite the dust before 
 this day week." 
 
 " What said your Captain to such a proposal?" 
 
 " Does your Majesty suppose that I am such a fool as to give another 
 man the chance of stepping in my shoes?" 
 
 "It follows thence that lam' the only person in your confidence,'^ said 
 Joseph, much relieved. 
 
 "The only one, sire, and I believe that you will not misuse it." 
 
 " No, 1 will not, and as a reward for your trust in me, here are two 
 gold pieces." , 
 
 At first the soldier smiled as he received the gold, but presently his 
 brow darkened, and casting a dissatisfied'Iook at the Emperor from be- 
 hind his bushy eye-brows, he saifj, "Is the life of the King of Prussia, 
 worth but two ducats?" 
 
 "It is worth more than all the gold in my imperial treasury," replied 
 the Emperor with energy, " and no man on earth is ri^ih enough to pay 
 for it." I gave you these ducats to repay what you spent in coming 
 from your camp hither. But I shall reward yon still further if you will 
 promise not to divulge what you have confided to me. Not only that, 
 but I will also give you your discharge from the army, send. you home 
 and give you a situation as imperial huntsman. If you break your pro- 
 mise, I punish you with death." 
 
 "Sire, I promise, and I shall nev.er break my word." 
 
 " Swear it in the name of Grod and of the Blessed Virgin." 
 
 " I swear," saivt the soldier raising his right h?ind to heaven. "And 
 
>\A Kl I' \ > 1 < 11 > t 1 1 r, > ^ 
 
 now, voiir Maj^^sty, N'i;it no one Is to know it ex<'*epi wi Iwc, wii'ii shall 
 1 shoot the King of" rrnssia nnd return to my home "?" 
 
 The Emperor looked sternly npon the uneonsoions hnzznr. "Soldier," 
 said be, in loud and solemn tones, '* keep the gold I have given yon in 
 rd^ieVnhrance of the warning whieh yoiir good angel whimpered when 
 you forbore to murder the King of Prussia. 1 hope and believe that 
 everv man among you would ris-k his life in Hattle to talvehim prisoner, 
 but God forbid tliat any one of yon should stoop so low as co becom.e 
 his murderer !" 
 
 |[rhe hnzzar stared at the Emperor in utter licwilderment, and not a 
 word of reply was he abb; to make to this incomprehensible harangue. 
 
 The Emperor continued, "■ 1 pardon yjour evii thought because itdid 
 not germinate' into an evil deed, but hud you followed your impulse to 
 murder tlie King, I would have hung yon withoj-it giving you time to 
 see a priest. Thank God for your escape, and let us dismiss the dis- 
 gracernl subject foi'evcr. You cr.a remain htre for the night." 
 
 " Cut I have only six hours leave of absence, sire." 
 
 The Emperor looked distrustfully at the soldier. "I have discharged 
 you from the service, and will see that you are not molested." 
 
 '■'And 1 am really to go home ?" cried the man overjoyed, "and the 
 Emperor really menn* to fulfil his promise in spite of the dreadful repri- 
 mand I have received !" 
 
 "Yes, 1 mean to fulfil my promise; but you also must swear to live 
 ,a peaceful life and never try to kill another man save in open fight, were 
 he even a Bosnian." 
 
 "From my heart I swear," replied the soldier, solemnly. 
 
 "Now you can go." The Emperor then rayg his bell, when the door 
 opened, and Giiuther entered the room. " Giinther," saiJl he, " give this 
 man his supper and a bed in your room, and while he remains here, see 
 that his wnnis arc attended to." 
 
 Giinther bowed, and retired with the hnzzar. The Emperor followed 
 the gigantic figure of th(j soldier until the door closed upon him, then he 
 raised his eyes to heaven with a look of unspeakable gratitude. 
 
 "Lord," said he, "I have snflered cruelly since the sun rose to-day, 
 but oh how 1 thank Thee that 'J'hou hast preserved my name from eter- 
 nal infamy ! How would the world have spurned me, if, rcfuf;ing to 
 give him battle, I had taken the life of my enemy through the hnnds of 
 an Austrian soldier! My God, iriy God. the life of Frederic has become 
 more precious to me than my own, for his life is one with my honor !" 
 
 '• But what if another should execute what this Gallacian has conceiv- 
 ed ?". continued the Emperor, shudderinu. " What if in his ignorance, 
 "another one of the'se wild huntsmen should docm it his duty to taire tho 
 life of Frederic!" The Emperor grew nsle with the thought, nnd his 
 hand w:is lifted as if to p^otost against the crime* " "I must find means 
 to shield mysfdf from such di -gra.ee, f^u- his safety and my honor are cast 
 "on the same die !" 
 
 Far into (he night, Giinther heard the tread of his imperiar master. 
 
and lis Wiiit-cJ in vain to be called in to attend him. He watched until 
 the dawn of day, and when at last, unable to contain his anxiety, he 
 opened the -door of the cabinet, he saw the Emperor Vsleep in an arm- 
 chair. He was in full uniform, and the rays of the rising sun lit up his 
 pale fAce, which even in sleep wore an anxious and piiinful expressi»on. 
 
 Gtirither approached and touched him lightly. "Sire," said he in a 
 voice of tender ontreaty, 'Met me assist you. to undress. This is the 
 foiirUi night thai yonr Majesty has sl^pt In your uniform. You must 
 lie down, indeed you must.'" 
 
 Joseph opened his eyes and looked at Giinthnr. " Ah!" sighed he, 
 " during three of these nights, I might just as; well have slept in my bed 
 as -any re<?pectab]e burgher who has nothing to trouble him but his grow- 
 ing corpulence. But last night 1 dared not undress, for I have much to 
 do this m^)rning. Good heavens, Giinther," continued the Emperor, . 
 suddenly I'emembering'thR huzzar, "what has become of the man whom 
 J gave vita your custody la^t evening?" 
 
 •'Your Majesty's second valet is in the same bed with him and they 
 are both ar>leep. The door between our sleeping-room and the ante- room 
 ha!< been open all night, so that while I sat there awaiting your Majes- 
 ty's call, I had ihe huzzar directly under my eyes. He seems to have 
 pleasant dreams, if! judge by bis smiles and snatches of songs." 
 
 " Let him sleep, Giinther, nnd when he awahes, allow no one to hold 
 any cxmversation with him. Now give me a glass of fresh water for 
 my breakfast.", 
 
 Giinther hastened to obey, and returned in a ver^"- few minutes. The 
 Emperor emptied the glass" at a draught, "Oh," e.xclaimed he, refresh- 
 H.d, ''how delightful it is! 1 have not a cook in my palaces capable of 
 brewing me such a 'beverage !" 
 
 ":And yet the meanest of your subjects, sire, would grumble if he had 
 nothing. better than .'♦gla'^s of water lor breakfast." 
 
 '•No doubt of it, Giinther. Men set no value upon that which is ea- 
 sily obtained. If T were to close up the fountains and forbid them to 
 drink water for breakfast, they would raise a howl, and protest that they 
 oould drink nothing else ; and if I desired to give thern a taste for assa- 
 fcetida, 1 would have nothing to do but forbid its use. Once forbidden 
 to the multitude, the multitude would go mad for it. But see! The 
 sun has sent a ray through the window to bid us good morning, and to 
 warn me that it is time to depart. Order my horse to be saddled, tell 
 some of the Stair to prepare to accompany me, and then go to Field 
 Marshal Lacy and request him to go with me this morning on a toUr of 
 inspection." ,, 
 
 '• Lacy," said the Emperor, as they gallbped off together, " you must • 
 prepare yourself for a long ride. We had anticipated an early start to- 
 day, ^j^d we are punctual. To be sure we are minus an army, and nei- 
 ther oiir hearts nor our trumpets are sounding triumphant blasts of vic- 
 tory. Ah, friend ! what miserable puppets we are in the hands of Al- 
 mighty <^d ! Yesterday I was gazing exultingly upon the heaven of 
 
tbe future, to clear, so blue, so siivcr-brigbt — vJ^ion lo! llierublllug of a 
 woman's dress is heardj and the sky f>f iny destiny ffrows black as night. 
 Yesterdav I fancied niyf^elf a man, today I am a schuol boy in di-grace 
 upoij my knee?. Oh, Lacy ! tho&e. weary knees ache mo tf-o that 1 coisld 
 8ob for pain, were it not laughable for a conimandcrin-«;hief to put his 
 handkerchief to his eyes. — Good God, Lacy," shouted the Emperor, sud- 
 denly, while he reined in iiis horse until the animal almost fell upon his 
 haunches, "why do you not laugh! You .see that I am doing my best 
 to divert ^ou !" 
 
 " I cannot laugh, sire, when -you yourself jire suflTering almost to mad- 
 ness I" 
 
 The Emperor made no reply, but rode on, relaxing his speed until 
 his horse ambled gently over the rond. " Lacy," said he finally, " 1 am 
 unreasonable when 1 murmur aga.nst destlnv, for yesterday Providence 
 was most benign towards me. Some other time, you shall hear in what 
 manner. — Let us quicken our pace, fur today 1 must vi>it all the out- 
 posts. I have an order to promulgate to the pickets, of which I shall 
 e:<plain to you the reason when we return." 
 
 V Shortly after the Emperoi' had spoken, they reached the front. Jo- 
 seph sprang forward to the very edge of the river- bonk, and looked earn- 
 estly towards the opposite shore. Nothing was to be seen save faraway 
 on the horizon a few black specks which showed the outposts of the en- 
 emy. The Emperor signed to the officer on duty to approach. 
 
 "Do the Prussians ever venture any nearer?" asked he. 
 
 "Yes, sire. They seem to be oflicers of high rank making a recon- 
 noissance probably with a view to finding a crossing for their army. 
 They sometimes approach so close that the sharpshooters, who have 
 eyes like telescopes, recognise the King of Prussia in the group."' 
 
 " It is quite possible that in the exi;itenient of a survey, the King may 
 approach the ijhore. In the event of such an accident, I have a com- 
 mand to give to your men. As soon as they recognise the King, they 
 shall present arms and remain thus until he is entirely out of sight. I 
 desire, through this courtesy, to express the respect due to a. crowned 
 head, a great general, and a personal friend of my own. This order 
 must be strictly enforced by the officer of the day."* 
 
 The Emperor then incluied his head and rode off v^ith his staff. At 
 each outpost the order for presenting arms to Frederic was repeated, 
 and the officers charged with its execution to the letter. 
 
 Late in the day Joseph returned from his long and tiresome visit of 
 inspection. But so flir from suffering fatigue,- he sprang from his horse 
 with a light bound, and his countenance was as free from gloom as it had 
 been before the arrival of the .Grand Duke of Tuscany. 
 
 "Lacy," said he, taking the arm of the Field Marshal, "I am about 
 to explain to you the cause of my over-politeness to my abhored ene- 
 my. You must have been astounded at the orders I have been giving 
 to-day." 
 
 * The Kmppror's own wordo. Soe Ornj^-Hofflnafo.r I, p. 4^1. 
 
'•To tell the truth, I was purprised. P>ut I thought that in tlie noble- 
 ness of your heart, sire, you were proving to me that }-ou had relinquish- 
 ed all thoughts of reveiijjje." 
 
 "Nevertheless, Lacy, my hate is unappeascJ and 1 have k-pt i;ny word. 
 I liave alrciidy had iny revenge. 1 have saved the King of i'rusbiafrom 
 the bullet of an assassin. "* 
 
 CHAPTER XXIf. 
 
 A LETTER TO THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA. 
 
 With flushed face and panting bosom Maria Theresa paced her cabi- 
 net, sometimes glancing with angry eyes at the heap.s of papeiis that co- 
 vered her escritoire, then wandering hastily to and fro, perfectly insensi- 
 ble to the fatigue which in her advancing years generall}'' overwh^jlmed 
 her whenever she attempted to move otherwise than Iwsurely. The 
 Empress had received bad news from every Cj.uarter, but worst of all 
 were the tidings that came. from Bohemia. For more than a. year the 
 Austrian and Prussian armies had threatened one auother ; and yet no- 
 thing had been accomplished towards the settlement of the Bavarian 
 succession. 
 
 Maria Theresa, shocked by the threat which Joseph had made to her 
 through the Grand Duke of Tuscany, had broken off her negotiations 
 ■with jbVederic, and had sacrificed the dearest wishes of. her heart to ap- 
 pease the fury of her ircpeiial son. Notwithstanding this, no battle had 
 been fought, for Frederic was quite as desirous as the Empress could 
 be, to avoid an engngement. He had declared war against his old ad- 
 versary with the greatest alacrity ; but when it became necessary to ma- 
 Bouvre his army, the hero of so many fights was obliged to confess in 
 the secresy of his owii heart that his gou'y hand was impotent to draw 
 the swOrd, and his tottering Irmbs were (itteir to sink into an arm phair 
 than to bestride a v,'ar-horse. 
 
 Irritable, crabbed, and low-spirited, his campaign had proved a disas- 
 trous ftiilure ; instead of planning battles he had planned pillaging and 
 foraging expeditions, and his hungry and disaffected army had converted 
 the lich fields of Bohemia into a gloomy and- desolate waste. At last 
 succoring wnnter came to the help of the oppressed Bohemians, and both 
 armies went into winter quarters. 
 
 Maria Theresa had employed the season which forced her ambitious 
 
 * This whole chapter is hostorical See Eied'er's archives for 1881, and Qro8»-IIcrfBn{jer I, p 
 427. 
 
son to inacfivity in now negotiations for peace. (,oiint \"on Meicy had 
 sou-^ht for intervention on the part of France, and Baron Thugut Imd 
 made new proposals lo Piuss^ia. Until to-day the Empress bad indul 
 •^ed the hope of terminating this unhappy and ridiculous war; but her 
 hopes had been frustraliMi by the dispatches she had jui-t luceived from • 
 France and Bohemia. Coupt Von Mercy wrote that so for from accept- 
 ing the role of mediator, the French King expostulated with him upon 
 the injustice of the claims of Austria, and earnestly rccommenc'ed their 
 total relinquishment as the only road to peace. 
 
 Another courier from Joseph announced that the winter season hav- 
 ing almost closed, he hoped that he might now be permitted to prose- 
 cute the war with ftrntncss and vigor. Circumstances were favorable to 
 Austria, for Geneial Wurmser had succeeded in surprising the Prince of 
 Philippsthal, and iu driving the Prussian ^rarrison from their stronghold. 
 The Emperor therefore declared his intention of giving battle to Frederic 
 that he might at one stroke free Bohemia from the presence of a tyran- 
 nical and merciless enemy. 
 
 These were the tidings which had flooded the heart of the Empress 
 with anguish. 
 
 " I must have peace," thought she, as perfectly unconscious of the fact, 
 she still paced the floor of her cabinet. " 1 cannot go to my grave bur- 
 thened with the crime of an unrighteous war. Peace ! Peace ! Heaven- 
 ly father, send us peace ! Something I must do, and that at once ; and 
 if my son still vituperates his unhappy mother, 1 know that ray subjects, 
 the people of Germany and of all-Europe will sustain me by their ap- 
 probation." . 
 
 Filled with the idea, she approached her escritoire and again her eyes 
 rested upon the papers and pamphlets that ky there. Rer cheeks flush- 
 ed and her eyes flashed fire,'as lifting from the df)«k a heavy package, 
 she threw it down with violence, exclaiming, 
 
 " Has that Schrotter been printing another absurd pamphlet, braying 
 to the world of our rights to BavAria'? 1 must stop. that man's mouth, 
 and teach him discretion !" 
 
 Here the Empress rang and gave two n'ossages^il^tbe pBge who an- 
 swered the summons. " Let Prince Kaunitz be informed that I would# 
 be happy to see his Highness 'as soon as possible. — Send a messenger 
 to Counsellor Von Schrotter, and let him be here in an hour." 
 
 So saying, the Empress, at last feeling that she.i"w'as exercising her 
 limbs beyond all power of endurance, sank into an aim-chair and con- 
 tinued her reflections; They were any thing iDut consolatory. She could 
 not humble herself to make any more proposals to Frederic. He was 
 ,so' arrogant that lie might answer in such a way as to make war the only 
 alternative for Austria. But where to go for a mediator'? France had 
 refused, and Marie Antoinette had with difhculty obtained from her hus- 
 band a promise not to sustain Prussia. 
 
 "I have a most disobliging son-in-law in Louis," thought the Em- 
 press, .*'and if Marie Antoinette were not in a condition where anxiety 
 
(A' luiii.l migliL be latal to her life, 1 should very soon speak philnly to 
 the KitJg, and let him understand distinctly liow little. 1 care ibr his ap- 
 proval or disapproval ! — Br.t I must be patient for my daiighter's sale; 
 ;iad if she gives birth to a Dauphin, ! shall be too happy to quarrel with 
 her f tubborn lung.--7-I h.id reckoned upon Frajnc^, hovr.ver. nnd 1 am 
 disappointed and grieved." 
 
 So saying tlie Kmpress bent her Uead once more among her papers, 
 find this time she opened a dispatch from her Ambassador nt St. Peters- 
 burg. She began to read. 
 
 "The King of Prussia is asking succor from Eussia. The Empress 
 is quite ready to grantit, and has already marched an auxiliary force in- 
 to Gallicia, But she exacts that her troops . shall act independently of 
 Frederic, and requires of him for the prosecution oY her war with Tur- 
 key, a subsidy of two million of thalers. The King is. indignant at her 
 exactions, so that the opportunity now offers to dissolve this dangerous 
 alliance. ]f the Empress-queen could bring herself to pen 'a letter to 
 Catharine requesting hi^r int<^rvention -" -;;, 
 
 " No," exclaimed Maria Theresa, interrupting herself, " to such de- 
 gradation I 9annot stoop ! It would be too base!" She threw down 
 the letter and frowning leaned her head upon her hand.. '-How," thought 
 she, "could a virtuous woman write to ihat abandoned wretch who de- 
 grades the divine birthright of ro>:ilty by a dissolute life ! How could 
 Alaria Theresa so humiliate herself as to ask succor of such a Messalina !" 
 
 The entrance of a page interrupted the Empress's meditations. His 
 Highness, Prince Kaunitz, regretted tKat he was unable to obey licr Ma- 
 jest)- 's commands, as he was sick and not able to leave his room. 
 
 The Empress dismissed the page and frowned anew, 
 
 "I know perfectly well the nature of his malady," thought she. 
 " Whenever he desires to consult with the Emperor before seeing me, 
 he falls sick. Whenever danger is ahead and affairs look stormy, he re-, 
 treats to his hole like a discreec fox. I wish to heaven that 1 too could 
 take to my bed and shut my .eyes to all that is transpiring around us ! 
 — But no — " continued the Empress with a pang of self-reproach, " I 
 have no right to retire from the post of danger. I must act, and act 
 lliuickly, or Joseph will be before me. Oh, my God, help me in my great 
 need 1" • 
 
 . She re-read the dispatches from her different Ambassadors, and each 
 one breathed the same spirit. From every court in Europe came dis- 
 approbation and. blame. Every one of the great powers counselled 
 peace — speedy peace, lest all should be drawn into the sUife, and Aus- 
 tria left to the humiliation of struggling single-handed against every 
 other nation in Europe. 
 
 The tears of the Empress flowed fast. She could see no help on earth, 
 and how could she feef otherwise than resentful towards the Minister 
 and the. son who had brought her into this mortifying position? Sud- 
 denly she dried her tears and once more took up the dispatch from St. 
 Petersburir. The silence in that little room was broken only bv her 
 
MAJUli AMUlNtriTE. 
 
 1)3 
 
 sighs, and The rustling of the papers which she he'd in her hand. She 
 paused, and those trembling hands Jell into her lap. She threw back 
 Pier head as if trying to make a difficult resolve. 
 
 " There is one way — but oh, how disgraceful ! ' rnurinured she. Again 
 the gathering tears were dashed from her eyes, and she tried to read. 
 . "It must be," sighed she, as «l)e replaced the paper on the desk, "and 
 if so, it must be done quiclily. Oh, my Creator ! Thou alone knowest 
 how fearful to my heart is this sacrifice of womarly pride; but thou 
 wiliest my humlNation, and 1 ^ubuIit ! — Let tne drink the chalicef 
 
 She took up her pen and began to write.' Ofien she hesitated— Ithrew 
 aside her sheet and took another. Sometimes she read aloud wSnt she 
 had written ; then starting at the sound of the words, resumed h^r wri- 
 ting in silence. At last the task" was accomfilishedand her^yesscanned 
 the concluding paragraph. / 
 
 With the conviction that my honor could be entrusted tc no abler 
 hands, 1 leave it to your Majejity, in conjunction with France, to make 
 such propositions as you may esteem best calculated to promdte peace. 
 In this trust 1 remain, - I 
 
 Your Majesty's true and devoted sister, 
 
 Maria Thirksa.* 
 
 As she read the?e words, the cheeks of the Empress crimstied with 
 shame, and bur}ing her face in her hands, she sobbed aloud. IVhen the 
 paroxysm cif her grief was over, her face was very pale .and.'her eyes 
 dim and swollen, , 
 
 " 1 must complete the humiliation," thought she ; then foldhg the let- 
 ter, it was directed "To her Majesty the Empress of Russia.' 
 ^ She took up a tiny gold bell, and ringing it so that it gaveiut but a 
 few strokes, a portiere was raised, and Koch entered the roonr 
 
 "Take a copy of this letter, and send a couriei*Vith it to t. Peters- 
 berg. 1 have at last yielded to the wishes €f my counselloriand have 
 written to the Empress of Russia, Still Koch — not a word !-My heart 
 is not yet strong enough to bear the grief and shame of this bur." 
 
 The private Secretary had scarcely left the room when thl page re- 
 entered announcing Counsellor Von Schrotter. 
 
 " Ah." said the Empress, " he comes at the right moment.; I am just 
 in the mood to castigate those who have displeased me," 
 
 * This letter of the Empress l»-^t In the archives of St. Petersburg. Coxe, who ipleg it word 
 for word, saw inhere himeelf. See Coxe's History of th« House of Austria. Vol 4We 892. 
 
.(OSEI'H I'Uli SKCOiM). 
 
 CHAPTER XXI n. 
 
 THE GRATITUDE OF PRINCES. 
 
 • Ti:e messnf!;e of the Empress had been received by Counsellor Von 
 Schroder Avith rapture. His heart throbbed so joyfully that its every 
 beat still fc the quick blood bounding.; through his veins. The hour for 
 ackno^'ledgement of his long tried services had arrived. For years he 
 had lived, a life of labor, research, and patient investigation. Among 
 the '"leecs, parchments and dusty green tables of the Chancery, his youth 
 had fad(d to middle age; and of its early hopes had retained but one 
 single. eirthly ambition ; it was that of Uiking a place among learued 
 men ah( becoming an authority of some vpeight in the judicial world. 
 His panphlets on the Bavarian succession had lifted him to fame,, and 
 now am'Ug his countrymen his name was beginning to be quoted as that 
 of a grest and accomplished jurist. Nothing was needed to complete 
 tlje meaure of his simple joys, save the approbation of the Court and 
 some acnowledgement on the part of his Sovereign of the fidelity with 
 which h(had labored for so many years in her behalf 
 
 This fecious tribute he was called upon to receive! He was to 
 speak hiiself with the Empress of Austria! So excited was he by the 
 thought* 'lat the strong man trembled from head to foot; he was even 
 more agiated than he had been twenty years before, when he had re- 
 ceived hi diploma as doctof of laws. Pale, but inexpressibly happy, 
 he stoodupon the threshold oFthe Empress's cabinet, and awaited her 
 permissin to approach and kiss her beloved and honored hand. 
 
 MariaFheresa saw him and spoke not a word. She sat immovable 
 in her an-c^air, darting lightning glances upon the unconscious Coun- 
 sellor, aii growing every moment more enraged at the thought of his 
 impertinnt researches, until the storm burst with all its fury upon his 
 bead, .^le Empress clutched the pamphlets which lay near her upon 
 the tabu and rising from her chair, strode through the room to the door 
 where thunhappy author stood. 
 
 "Did'Ou write these broclmres ?''^ asked she. 
 " Yesyour Majesty," said Von Schrotter with ahappy smile. 
 " Rea the title page." 
 
 Von ^hrOtter read : " The rights and measures of her imperial, royal 
 and aposolic Majesty in reference to the Bavarian succession." 
 " Novread the title of your first pamphlet." 
 
 " Imp-tial thoughts on the various questions arising from the succes- 
 session (Maximilian Joseph." 
 
 " Youicknowledge the authorship of these two brochures ?^^ 
 
MARJE ANTOINEITR. 95 
 
 " ! am proud to acknowledge them, your' Majesty." 
 
 " Whence it follows that vou are proud to be the cii'Jse of the unholy 
 war which now rajrcs throughout Germany," said the Empress in a voicft 
 of indignation. '' It is you, then, whose pen hjis metaniorphosod itself in- 
 to a sword wherewith lo take the lives cif thousands *if f^ood and honest 
 riKU ! What light h;vd yon to publish ' impartial ti^joutihts'upon the Ba- 
 varian siicco-^sion f I suppose you had an idea that in so doing you 
 •were proving to the world, what an important part you play iii the afiiiirs 
 «jf the nation !" 
 
 '• Your Majesty," stammerefl Von Schrittter, utterly at a loss to under- 
 stand his crime, '• Yoiir Majesty through i'rince Kaun it/, conveyed to me 
 your entire satisfaction with my researches into the imperial archives^ 
 and the Emperor himself requested lae lo wiile the second pamnhlct,'* 
 
 " I am in no wise indebted (o you for your complaisance," replied the 
 Empress, "for y«nr ink has changed itself into bJood and your stupi<l 
 •vagaries, hatched in the comfortable quiet of your own room, have driv- 
 en my poor soldiers from their homes out into the pitiless storm of har(i- 
 ship, danger, and death. What right had you to meddle with the diQi- 
 culties of the succession"? Did you expect that, in gratitude for your 
 valuable services to the crown, 1 would reward you with a tiite and an 
 estate in Bavaria?" 
 
 "No, your Mftjesty," replied Von Schrottf>r blushing, " I was but do- 
 ing my duty as a jurist and a civil officer of the crown." • 
 
 "And do yoii suppose thati you have succeeded in proving anything 
 •with your rubbish T' asked the Empress scornfully. " Do you imagine 
 that any one would take the trouble to read your balderdash?" 
 
 " In defending the claims of the ciown, I was performing an act of sa- 
 cred duty towards my country," replied Von SchroLter, emboldened td 
 reply V)y a just sense of the indignity offered him. 
 
 " Oh, yes, 1 know something (jf the vanity of authors," said the Em- 
 press, "They imagine themselves to be Atlas, each one •with the world 
 upon his shoulders, which niust certainly fall,, if they are not there to up- 
 hold it. ], however, take the liberty of judging that if they were all to 
 be blown to atoms, nobody would be the worse for their disappearance. 
 What has come of your writings ? A paper war of such dimensions that 
 I think the foul fiend must have plucked alLlhe geese in Avernus, and 
 have thrown their quills at your heads. "What with your imbecile pens, 
 nobody knows who is right !" 
 
 " But your Majesty," remonstrated Von Schrotter, " discussion is iii- 
 dispen.^able to the discovery of truth, and as 1 am sure that I have con- 
 tributed to this discovery, 1 cannot regret what 1 have done." 
 
 "Ah indeed !" exclaimed the enraged Empress. " You think you havo 
 contributed to the discovery of truth ! — I will tell you to what you have 
 contributed, sir. You are the cause that the Emperor became so head- 
 strong on the subject, that sooner than give up Bavaria, he has involved 
 me in war — you are the cause that tho whole world has had something 
 to oay on tho sirliject of our claims, whereas had you held your tongue, 
 
1)6 ^ JObEl^H THE ."SECOND. 
 
 they might have passed .for what they ate not — ^ja=!t. You are the c^use 
 that in) day.s are spent in sorrow, and ray nights arc sleepless ; that in 
 the de.spair of my heart, I htive been reduced to write to a woman whom 
 1 despise! Ye?, of ail, this, you are the cause, and more than this — ^you 
 will be guilty of" my death, for I repeat to you that this war has broken 
 my heart, and will be the last nail in my coffm.* M^hen my people 
 then mourn for my death, (and I hcfpe that they will- regret me.) you 
 may boast of having compassed it yourself, and from my grave 1 shall 
 arise to " 
 
 " No more, your Majesty, no more. Spare me, in mercy, sobbed 
 he, " if you would not see me die at your feet." 
 
 " And I presume you would consider it a great misfortune for Austria 
 iTyou were no longer able to unsheath your goose-qnili in her defence. 
 There is no danger of your dying from the wounds inflicted by my ton- 
 gue, but I am resolved that you shall. carry their marks to the grave 
 witn you. This ie all 1 had to say to you, you are dismissed." 
 
 " But, your Majesty," replied Von Schrotter, " 1 have some thing to 
 say — 1 must defend myself." 
 
 *' You must defend yourself !". cried Maria Theresa surveying him with 
 a look of ineffable disdain. "Defend yourself to God — I am not dis- 
 posed to listen to your defence." . . 
 
 " But your Majesty " 
 
 " Peace !" thundered the Empress. " Who dares speak when I have 
 orrlered him from my presence'? Go home and ponder' my words." 
 
 So saying she walked back to her seat. But seeing that Von Schrofc- 
 tet's lips were parted as if in an attempt to say something, she snatched 
 her bell and rang it so loud that in its clang, his words were lost. 
 
 " Counsellor Von Schrotter is dismissed," said she to the page. 
 " Open the doors that he may pass." 
 
 Von Schrotter gasped out a convulsive sigh, and scarcely knowing 
 what he did, turned one last sad look upon his cruel Sovereign, and bow- 
 ing his head, left the room. 
 
 When hia tali, majestic form had disappeared from her sight, the Em- 
 press said, 
 
 " Ah ! — That outburst has done me good. And now that I have dri- 
 ven away humiliation by ^ger, 1 shall go and pray to God to bless the 
 sacrifice 1 have made to-day for the good of my people " 
 
 She rang the bell, assembled her ladies of honor, and with them en- 
 tered the private chapel which had lately been added to her own apart- 
 ments. She knelt before the first prie-Dieu that presented itself, and 
 her attendants knelt around her. 
 
 Whilst the Empress was praying, Von Schrotter returned to the home 
 which an hour sooner he had left with a heart so full of hope and ecstaoj. 
 He had not a word for his old housekeeper, who opened the door to ad- 
 mit him, and motioning away the servant who would have shown him 
 into the dining-room, he ascended, the stair-case with slow, uncertain 
 * Maria Thvreea'a ov ii ircrde. 
 
EMl'KKUK UK AUbTKLft 97 
 
 steps, his hands clinging to the balustrade, his head so heavy that he 
 scarce could bear its weight. The servants stood below in sorrowful 
 aniazenaent. They had never seen their master so agitated in his life 
 before ; they could scarcely believe that this ghastly being was the dig- 
 nified and stately man who had left them but an hour before. Sudden- 
 ly they started, for surely they heard a loud laugh from the study, but 
 what a laugh ! — so wild, so unearthly that it sounded like the dreadful 
 mirth of a madman ! — Then all wr.s silent. Presently there came the 
 sound of a heavy fall. 
 
 "That is our master! Sonne misfortune has befallen him," cried the 
 servants, hurrying up the stairs and bursting into the room. 
 
 On the floor, surrounded by the books which had been the pride and 
 solace of a harmless life, Iny the Counsellor weltering in his blood. 
 
 " He has broken a blood-vessel !" cried the housekeeper with a sob, 
 while the other servant ran for a physician. The old woman raised her 
 dear master's head and his bloody lips parted with a ghastly smile. 
 
 " This is the gratitude of princes!" murmured he almost inaudibly. 
 *' Such is the reward of him who loves his country !" 
 
 " What is it, my dear, dear, master ?" faltered the faithful servant, in 
 vain seeking to penetrato the meaning of his words. " Why do you 
 stare at me so horribly ? What has distressed you?" 
 
 He moved as though he would have raised his head. " This is Aus- 
 tria's gratitude," cried he in a loud voice ; then forth from his lips gur- 
 gled the purple stream of life, and his words died into hoarse, inaudible 
 mutterings. 
 
 The physician came in, followed by the valet, and together they raised 
 the sufferer and placed him upon his bed. The doctor then felt his pulse 
 and his chest, and bent down to catch his lireathings. He shook his 
 head mournfully and called to the weeping servants. 
 
 "He is dying," said he. "Some fearful shock that he has received 
 has inducfd a hemmorrhage, which in a few hours will end his life." 
 
 Maria Theresa rose from her prayers, comforted and light of heart. 
 And as she left the chapel, the man whom she had crushed to the earth 
 by her unjust anger, drew his last sigh.* 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 
 
 Ktng Frsdekic and his Prussians were still encamped at Wildschiitz. 
 His army was weary of inactivity, and every morning the longing eyes 
 of his soldiers turned towards the little gray house at the end of the vil- 
 * Th'B whole chapter is historical. Hormayr, Austrian Plutarch, vol .8. 
 
98 JjOSEf'B I'HP^ SECOND. 
 
 \me where the King and bis staff were qnartered, vai'ily hoping to see 
 t'lioir Fritz in the saddle, eager, bold and daring as he had ever been un- 
 til now. The men were destitute of every thing. Not only their food 
 was exhausted, but their forage also. Bohemia had been plundered iin- 
 tii nothing remained for man or beast. The inhabitants had fled to the 
 interior, their villages and (/arms were a waste, and still the King of 
 Prussia insisted that his army should subsist upon the enemy. 
 
 The men were in despair, and the ofiicers began to apprehend a mu- 
 tiny, for the former were surly, and no amount of conciliatory words 
 could appease their hunger or feed their horses, 
 
 " We must see the King, we must speak to old Fritz !" cried the mal- 
 contents, and with this cry a crowd of artillerymen made their way to 
 headquarters. 
 
 ■" We must see the King ! Where is old Fritz? Has he ceased to 
 care for his soldiers'?" repeated the crowd. 
 
 '• No friends, I am ready to listen," said a soft voice, which neverthe- 
 less was heard above the din, and the King, clad in his well-known uni- 
 form, appeared at the window. 
 
 ■ The soldiers received bini with a cheer, and at sithfc of the well-belov- 
 ed countenance, they forgot their jieed and shouted for joy. 
 
 *' What js iti" said Frederic, when the tumult had died away. 
 
 One of the men, as spokesman, stepped forward. " We wanted to 
 see our old Fritz once more ; v/e can scarcely believe that he sees our 
 wants and will do nothing to relieve them." 
 
 " You see wm(?," said Frederic, smiling, "and, as you perceive, I am . 
 scarcely better oiF than yourselves. Do you think this a fit residence 
 for a King?" 
 
 " Jt is a dog-kennel !" crif^d the soldiers. . ■* 
 
 " And is that all you have to say to me ?" , 
 
 " No, sire, it is not. If our King can do nothing for us, at least let 
 him rescue our horses from starvation. We are men, and our reason^ 
 helps us to bear privations, but it is a sin to keep our horses here with- 
 out food. We beseech your Majesty, give us forage for our horses !" 
 And the others repeated in chorus : "Forage, forage, give us forage for 
 our horses !" 
 
 Meanwhile, the King had closed his window and had retired to the 
 other end of his house. This made the soldiers frantic, and they scream- 
 ed and shouted louder than ever, 
 
 " Give us forage for our horses !" . . 
 
 Suddenly the voice which had so often led them to victory, was heard 
 at the door, 
 
 ^* Peace, you noisy rebels, peace, I say '!" 
 
 And on the steps before his wretched cabin, stood Frederic, surround- 
 ed by the principal oificers of his army. 
 
 " Sire," said one of the King's staff, " shall we disperse them 1" 
 
 " Why so 1" replied Frederic curtly. " Have my poor soldiers not the 
 right to appeal t^) ti^ie for help. Speak, my children, speak without fear." 
 
/ 
 
 ^J.VJl'KilUh Of AUSTRIA : I 
 
 *' Eorage, sire, forage — our horses are dying like flies !" 
 
 " You, see," said the King to his ofilcers, tlicse poor fellows ask noth- 
 ing for themselves. Why is it that they have no forage for their horsed 1" 
 
 " Sire," replied the officers deprecatingly, " as long as there remained 
 a hay-stack, or a store-house, in this part of Bohemia, your Majes- 
 ty's array was fed by the enemy. iJut the country is stripped of every- 
 thing. The inhabitants themselves have beeniobliged to fly from starva- 
 tion." 
 
 "Starvation!" echoed the King. " I will warrant that while the horses 
 of the privates arc sulToring for lood, those of the ofiicers are well pro- 
 Tided." 
 
 " Your Majesty !" 
 
 " Do not interrupt me, but let all the forage belonging to the chief 
 officers of the army, be brought at once and placed before these men. 
 They can wait here until it comes, and then divide it between them. Are 
 you satisfied, my. children?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried the men shouting for j6y at the prospect of the 
 abundance about to be vouchsafed to them. 
 
 The officers on the contrary were deeply humiliated, and beheld the 
 proceedings with gloomy discontent. 
 
 Frederic pretended not to perceive their dissatisfaction. Ha stood 
 with his hat drawn down over his brows, leaning for support upon the 
 crutch-cane which of late had been his inseparable companion. Occa- 
 sionally when a soldier came up with his bundle of hay, the King glan- 
 ced quickly around, and then looked down again. The artillerymen 
 gradually ceased their noisy demonstrations, and now with anxious ex- 
 pectant faces, they looked at the King, the officers, and then at- the very 
 small amount of forage which was being placed before them. Just then 
 an Adjutant bowed to the King and announced that the last bundle of 
 hay had been set before his Majesty. 
 
 Frederic raised his eyes'and sadly contemplated the miserable little 
 heap of forage which betokened Avitlr so much significance the destitution 
 of his brave army. " Is this all ?" said he. 
 
 " Yes, sire, all " ' 
 
 " It is well — Now," continued he to the artillerymen, " divide this 
 between you. Had my officers been more selfish, 'your horses would 
 have fared better. But you see that my Generals and adjutants are as 
 noble and self-sacrificing as yourselves; and unless you manage to for- 
 age for us all, we shall all starve together. I have called for this hay to 
 prove to you that your officers were not reveling in plenty while you 
 were suffering for want. Take it, and do not ask for that which I can- 
 not give you." 
 
 The artillerymen lookedalmost ashamed of their clamor, while the 
 faces of the officers brightened, and their eyes turned with love and ad- 
 miration upon the man whose tact had so entirely justified them to their 
 men. ' • 
 
 The King pretended to see their delight, as little as he liacl feigned to 
 
lOO JOSEPH THii 6ECOKD. 
 
 see their mqrtiticatioD. He seemed wjiolly absorbed watching the sol- 
 diers, wljo were now striving together as to who was to have the rem- 
 nants of forage that was far from being enough to allow each man a 
 bundle* 
 
 Finally Frederic withdrew to his cabin, and once alone, he fell iuto 
 the leathern arm-ch^fir which was the only piece of furniture iu the room 
 besides a bed and a table. 
 
 " This will never do," thought he, sorrowfully. " We must either re- 
 treat or advance. This war is a miserable failure — the impoteot eifurt 
 of a shattered old man whose head is powerless to plan and his hand to 
 execute. Ilow often since I entered upon this farcical campaign, have 
 I repeated those words of Boileau, 
 
 ' Malheureux, laisse en paix ton cheval vielllissant 
 De peur que tout a coup essoufle, sans haleine, 
 11 ne laisse en tombant, sou maitrc sur I'arene.'f 
 
 Why did I undertake this war? Why had I not discretion enough to 
 remain f.t home, and secure the happiness of my own people." 
 
 The King sighed, and his head sank upon his breast. He sat thus for 
 some tirae in deep discouragement ; but presently he repeated to him- 
 self, " why did I undertake this war?" 
 
 " Why ^" echoed he aloud. " For the honor and safety of Germany. 
 Hov/ sorely soeyer war may press upon my age and inhrmities, it is 
 my duty to check the ambition of a house whose greed has no bounds 
 save those which are made for it by the resistance of anothei: power as 
 resolute as itself.'' 
 
 ^ " I am, therefore, the champion of German liberties, and I cannot — 
 must not sheathe ray sword. But this inactivity is demoralising my 
 army, and it must come to an end. We must retreat or advance — then 
 let us advance !" 
 
 Here the King rang his bell. A valet entered, whom he ordered to 
 go at once to the Generals and staff-officers and bid them assemble at 
 head- quarters in fifteen minutes from that time. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the King, "we cross the Elbe to-morrow." 
 
 At these words every countenance there grew bright, and every voice 
 was raised in one hang shout. " Long live the King ! Long live Frede- 
 ric the great !" 
 
 The King tried his best to look unmoved. *' Peace, you silly old fel- 
 lows," said he. "What do you suppose the boys will do out there, if 
 you raise such a clamor in doors? Do you approve of the move? 
 Speak, General Keller." 
 
 " Sire, while out on a reconnoissance yesterday, I discovered a cross- 
 ing where we may go safely over without danger from the enemy's 
 bullets." 
 
 • Dohra's Memoirs, Vol. 1, P. 168. 
 t Frederic's r,y(Q words. 
 
' CMfKKUH vr AUSTKlA 1 (J I 
 
 " Good. Arc you all of ono mind ?'" 
 
 A long shoal was tho answer, -Mid when ii: l)«cl subsided, the King 
 nodded his head. " We nrc all of one mind, tlit-n. I'o-morrow, we en- 
 gage the enemy. And now, to horse ! We iniiht, reconnoitre the posi- 
 tion which General Keller has chosen, and j>art of our tro-jps ii»ust cross 
 tonight." 
 
 CHAPTER XX\'. 
 
 " THE DARKEST IIOUK IS BEFORE DAY." 
 
 A few moments later, the officers were mounted, and the King's horse 
 stood before his door. Frederic, coming jorward with soniething of his 
 yguthful elasticity, tried to raise himself into the saddle; but he stopp- 
 ed, and with an expression of great suftisring, withdrew his foot froni the 
 stirrup. Tlie old hero had forgotten that the gout was holding him pris- 
 oner. His face flushed with disappointment, as he called his lackeys to 
 his help. But once in the saddle, the King struck his spurs with such 
 violence into his horse's flanks, that the animal leaped into the air, and 
 bounded off in a swift gallop. 
 
 Whether Frederic had intended to prove to his officers that he was as 
 bold a horseman as ever, or whether he had yielded to a momentary 
 impulse of .anger, he suffered keenly for his bravado ; for at every bound 
 of the horse, his agony increased. Finally he could endure no more : 
 be came to a complete stand, and requested his at/ile to slacken ihcir 
 pace. They rode on in perfect silence, the officers casting stolen glances 
 at the King, whose lips quivered, while his face grew every moment 
 paler with suppressed anguish. But he bore it all without a sigh until 
 they had reached the point for which they started. Having accurately- 
 surveyed it, Frederic turned his horse's head arid rode back to his quar- 
 ters. 
 
 This time he had not only to be lifted froraTiis horse, but to be car- 
 ried to his room. Once there, he signed to his attendants to leave him. 
 He felt the imperious necessity of being alone with hrs nfllicted mind 
 and body. He leaned his head back and murmured 
 
 " Malheureux, laisse en paix ton cheval vieillissant !" — Then closing his 
 eyes, he quoted the sacred scriptures for the first time in his life without 
 irrevertjnt intention, "The spirit is willing," sighed the wretched unbe- 
 liever, " but the flesh is weak." He remained pondering over those 
 truthful words for several moments ; then casting his eyes over the va- 
 rious objects that lay upon his table, they lit upon the little leather-cov- 
 
102 JUSIJI'U lUB SECUNU 
 
 ered box which contained his flute. For some time past, his perplexi- 
 ties had been so greet that he had held no intercourse .with this object 
 of his life-long affection ; but now he felt as if its tones would be con- 
 solatory, and with trembling, eager hands, he unfastened the ease, and 
 raised the instrument to his lips. But alas ! the flute, like its adorer, 
 was Superannuated. Wearily came its feeble notes upon the air, each 
 one hoarse as the wind .whistling thr0u.<Th a ruined Abbey..* Frederic 
 had played but a few bars of his Adagio when his hands fell slowly, and 
 the flute rolled upon the table. He contemplated it for a while; then 
 his eyes filled with tears which fell rapidly down his cheeks. 
 
 A mournful smile flickered over his countenance. " Well," said he in 
 a low voice, " I suppose there is nothinjj disgracefol in the tears of an 
 old man over the last, faithful friend of his youth." With these words, 
 he replaced the flute in the case and locked it, murmuring, 
 
 " Farewell forever, my life-long solace !" 
 
 ?iist then a thousand voices shouted, '• Long live the King ! Long live 
 old Fritz !" 
 
 They are rejoicing over the approaching battle," thought Frederic. 
 " But their hopes, like mine, 'ire destined to be crushed. Instead of 
 crossing the Elbe; we must retire to Silesia — Old age has vanquished 
 me, and from such a defeat, no man can ever rally."" 
 
 " Well, well ! We must take the world as it comes, and if I can nei- 
 ther fight nor play on the flute, I can still talk and write. My eulogy 
 on Voltaire is not yet completed ; I must finish it to-day that it may be 
 read before the Academy at Berlin on the anniversary of his death."f 
 
 Selecting from among his papers the manuscript he wanted, Frederic 
 took up his pen and began to write. Gradually the songs and shouts of 
 the soldiers ceased, and the King \tas consoling himself for the loss of 
 music by flinging himself into the arms of pbetry, when a knock was 
 heard at his door, and his valet announced the Secretary of Count Gal- . 
 litzin. 
 
 Frederic's heart throbbed with joy, and his great, eagle eyes were so 
 strangely lit up, that the valet could not imagine what had caused such 
 an illumination of his royal master's features. 
 
 "Thugut," cried the King, "IsThugut here again? Admit him im- 
 mediately." 
 
 By the time that Baron Thugut had appeared at the doorj Frederic 
 had forced down his joy so that he received the Envoy of the .Empress- 
 Queen with creditable indifference. 
 
 " Well, Baron," said he, with a careless nod, " you come again ! When 
 the foul fiend comes for the third time, he must either bag a man's soul, 
 or give it up forever." 
 
 " I feel flattered, sire, by the comparison your Majesty makes of me 
 to so great and powerful a potentate," replied the Baron, laughinig. 
 
 • It was during the w.'ir of the Bavarian succession that Frederic found himself compelled to 
 give up the flute. His cmltouchure liad be^n destroyed by the loss of his front teeth, and his bands 
 treinb ed so that he could scarcely hold hie instniment ' 
 
 t Voltaire died in May, 1798, and Frederic wrote a poem on his death while in camp in Bohemia. 
 
Kvit'KKi.iK ih aU^rUlA ]03 
 
 " You believe 'm the devil, then* although you deny the Ijord. " 
 
 " Certainly, sire, for I have never yet seen a trace of the one, and ihi- 
 othor 1 meet everywhere." 
 
 "For an Ambf.=sa(Jor of !^faria Theresa, your opinions are tolerable 
 heteredox," said Frederic. *' But tel! mc. what brings you hith3r 1 Yrni 
 inust not expect me to continue our iniorrupted n-igutiations. Jf the 
 Empfe?s-queen sends you to claim ever so small a portion of Bavariii, 
 I tell you beforehand that it is useless to say a word. Austrfa must re- 
 nounce her pretensions, or coptinne the w'ar." 
 
 "Sire, I come with new propositions. Here are my credentials, if 
 your Miijesty is at leisure to examine them, and hoie is a letter from the 
 hand of my revved Sovereign." 
 
 " And what is that 1" asked Frederic, pointing to a roll of paper:; tied 
 up with twine. 
 
 "Those are my documents, together with the papers relating to the 
 past negotiations." 
 
 " I Ihiniv that I have already refused to go over those negotiations," 
 said Frederic, sharply ; and without furlhcr ceremony, he broke the seal 
 of the Empress's letter. While the King read, Thugut busied himself 
 untying his roll aiid spreading his papers out upon the table. 
 
 "This is nothing but a letter of eredentirls," observed the King, put- 
 ting it down. " The limpress refers me to you for verbal explanations. 
 I am ready to hear them." 
 
 " Sire, the Empress-queen, animated by a heartfelt desire to restore 
 peace to Germany, has called upon France and Russia to settle the diffi- 
 culties which, to her sincere regret, have arisen between herself and "J'our 
 Majesty. These two powers having responded favorably to my Soyer- 
 eign's request " 
 
 "Say, rather," interrupted Frederic, "that these two powers havincr 
 given to her Majesty of Austria, the somewhat peremptory advice to 
 relinquish her pretensions to Bavaria " 
 
 Baron Thugut, bowed and resumed : " That the two powers may have 
 the opportunity of conducting their negotiations without any new com- 
 plications from military movements, her Mojesty, the. Empress, proposes 
 an arniistice to begin from to-day." 
 
 Up to this moment, the King's eyes had been fixed upon Thugut; but 
 as he heard these few last words, ho dropped them suddenly. He was 
 so overjoyed that he was afraid to betray his raptures to the diplomatist. 
 He recovered himself in time. " Did you come through my caujp?" 
 asked he of the Baron. 
 
 " Yes, sire." 
 
 " You heard the shouts and songs of my Prussians. Were you told 
 that I shall cross the Elbe, and offer battle to your Emperor to-morrow?" 
 
 " Yes, tir^, I was told so." 
 
 " And at the very moment when I am prepared to fight, you come to 
 me with proposals of armistice ! — You perceive that I could only be 
 brought to consent to a truce through rny consideration IhrtheE.mpress, 
 
104 JUSKPB rUK SEC0N1>. 
 
 provided she offered sound guarantecis for the conclusion of an honorable 
 peace. Let us hear j*our proposals." 
 
 " The interview between the King and the secret envoy of the Empress 
 was long and animated. V/hen 'the latter was about to take leave, 
 Frederic nodded condescending, saying, 
 
 "Well — I consent to make this sacrifice to the wishes 'of the Empress. 
 You can inform her, that instead of giving battle to the Emperor, as I 
 had hoped to do on the morrow, I shall retreat to Silesia, and retire into 
 winter quarters." • 
 
 " And your Majesty, promises equitable conditions, and will consult 
 with the Kussian Ambassador?" 
 
 " I promise ; — and the Etnpress-qiieen may rely upon me. Fare- 
 well." The envoy turned tn depart, but before he reached the door, the 
 King called him^ack. 
 
 "Baron," said he with a significant smile, "you have forgotten some- 
 thing." Here he pointed to the twine which had fallen on the floor and 
 lay near the Baron's chair. " Take what belongs to you, I never enrich 
 myself with the possession of others." 
 
 When the door had closed, the King raised his eyes to heaven. " Is 
 it chance, or Providence, that l^as succored me to-day ?" thought he. 
 " Which of the two has vouchsafed nae such honorable deliverance from 
 my extremity !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE EMPEROR AND HIS MOTHER. 
 
 It was a day of double rejoicing in Vienna, at on'ce the celebration 
 of peace, and of Maria Theresa's sixty-second birth-day. For three 
 months tlie seven envoys of Austria, Prussia, Russia, France, Bavaria, 
 Zweibrticken, and Saxony, had been disentangling the threads of the Ba- 
 varian succession. For three months Joseph had hoped and prayed that 
 the debates of the peace congress might come to naught, and its delib- 
 erations engender a veritable war. But he was destined to new disap- 
 pointment. The love of peace had prevailed. Austria had renounced 
 all her inheritance in Bavaria, saye the Innvierte!, and had declared her 
 treaty with Charles Theodore to be null and vo}d. 
 
 The people of Vienna were overjoyed. They, like their Empress, 
 preferred peace to increase of domain ; and they hastened to offer her 
 their sincerest congratulations. All the European Ambassadors were in 
 full uniform, and Maria Theresa was seated on a throne in all her impe- 
 rial regalia. 
 
EMPJttHUh III* flUblKlA- l05 
 
 She was radiant with smiles, and happiness flashed from her still 
 bright eyes y but on this day of rejoicing there was one void that pained 
 the Empress: — it was the absence of her eldest son, since his return to 
 Vienna, three months before, there had never yet been a word of ex- 
 planation between Joseph and his mother. He had studiously avoided 
 being alone with her, had never made his appearance in council, and^ 
 when documents had been presented to him lor signature, he had uo 
 sooner perceived the sign-manuil of the Empress, than he had added his 
 own without examination, or coinm«nt. 
 
 It was this cold submission which tortured theheart of Maria Theresa. 
 She would have preferred recrimination to such compliance as this — nt 
 seemed so like aversion, so like despair ! 
 
 When the ceremonies of the day were over, the Empress sent a mes- 
 senger to request the presence of her son, iu her own private apartments. 
 The messenger- returned, and a few moments after, was followed by the 
 Emperor. 
 
 He entered the room, and his mother came eagerly forward, her two 
 hands outstretched to greet him. "Thank you, my dearest son," said 
 she, allectiouately, "for comiug so promptly at my request. My heart 
 has been yearning for my son, and 1 have longed all day to see my co- 
 regent and Emperor at my side." 
 
 She still held out her hands, but Joseph affecting not to see them, 
 bowed with grave ceremony. " I ahi neither Emperor nor Co-regont," 
 replied he, " I am but the son and subject of tlae Empress, and as such, 
 f have already congratulated yonr Majesty with the rest," 
 
 " Were your congratulations for my birth-day, or for the restoration 
 of peace, my son ?" 
 
 "The birth-day of my Empress is above all others, a day of gratula- 
 tion for me," replied Joseph evasively. 
 
 " Then peace is not agreeable to you ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, I have" every reason to be satisfied. Have v^e not ex- 
 changed compliments with all the powers of Europe, and have not the 
 people of Vienna sung ninety-nine thousand To Deums in houoi- of the 
 peace of Teschen ?"^'' ' " ^ 
 
 " I see that you do not approve of it, Joseph," said the Empress, who 
 was anxious to come to an understanding on the subject. 
 
 "I was under the impression that I had signed all your Majesty's acts 
 without giving any trouble whatever," was the cold reply. 
 
 " But you did it unwillingly, Ifear, and thought of your mother as a 
 weak and timid old woman. Is it,' not so, my son?" 
 .^ " When I signed the treaty I thought of my ancestor, Charles V. Af- 
 t6r a disastrous campaign in Africa, he was obliged to return with his 
 fleet to Spain. He sailed, it is true, but he was the last man to go on 
 board. So with me — I signed the articles^ of peace, but was the last one 
 who signed."* 
 
 "Have you nothing more to say on the subject? Are yo u not glad 
 ♦ Joseph's own wards, 
 
that thf re is to be no bloodshed ?" 
 
 " A sou and subject has no right to sit in jiidgiuent upon the actions 
 of hi-} mother and Empress." 
 
 " But you are more than a subject', you arfe an Emperor." 
 
 " NOj yoivr Majesty, [ am like the Venetian j^enerals. Ji war, they 
 cnminanded the armies, .-j-nd received their salaries from the Republic. 
 When their campaigns were over, their pensions were paid, and they 
 ?ank back into obscurity." 
 
 *' Oh, my son, these are hard and bitter words," exclaimed the Em- 
 press, pressing her hands upon hpr heart. " I see plainly that you are 
 displeased because I have exchanged a doubtful war for an honorable 
 peace." 
 
 '"I am not so presuming as to be displeased with your Majesty's acts, 
 and if you have obtained an honorable peace, I wish you joy of it." 
 
 Maria Theresa sighed heavily. " I perceive," said she disconsolately, 
 " that you are resolved not to let me see into your heart." 
 
 *' Oh, your Majesty," cried Joseph with a bitter smile, " 1 have no 
 heart. Where my heart once was, there stands an open grave, and one^ 
 by one, my hopes have all been buried there." 
 
 " I think it strange that the' future Emperor of Austria should speak 
 of buried hopes." • 
 
 " I said nothing of an Emperor, your Majesty, I spoke of poor Joseph- 
 of Hapsburg and of his personal wishes. As regards the future Empe- 
 ror,'he of course has many hopes for Austria. Eirst among them is ther 
 wish that the epoch of his reign may be very far off! Second, is his de- 
 sire to serve his country. As we are now to enjoy, the blessings of . 
 peace, and I am on the list of your Mdjesty's pensioned officers, I should 
 like, if it do not conflict with your views, to receive an appointment as 
 Minister to some foreign power." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Maria Theresa sorrowfully, "would you leave me 
 so soon asrain 1" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, I desire a. long leave of absence." 
 
 "Whither would you journey, my dear child?" 
 
 " I desire to visit the Empress Catherine." 
 
 "The Empress Catharine !" echoed Maria Theresa, starting and color- 
 ing violently. "You would visit that woman ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty. I would visit that woman asBaron Thugut did 
 the King of Prussia ; with this exception, that I do not go secretly — 1 first 
 consult your Majesty." 
 
 Maria Theresa would not notice this thrust of her son. She contented 
 herself with replying, " What object can you have in going on a mission 
 to Russia?" 
 
 " I propose to win the friendship of the Empress." 
 
 " The friendship of that degraded woman ! I do not covet it." 
 
 "And yet your Majesty was the first to request her mediation in our 
 affairs \^jt:h Germany. As you have raised tiie foul fiend, a'nd he has 
 oome at your call, you must abide the consequences; and accept him as 
 
Elttl'KKUK 0)f AIISTKIA. I(j7 
 
 a friend. Since Russia is to have a voice iu German politics it -s bel- 
 ter that she speak for us, than be allowed to sustain our enemy, Prus- 
 sia." 
 
 "But shft has long.be^ the ally of Pnissia," objected the Empress. 
 
 "So much theTQore incumbent is'it ujiou us to disturb the alliance. 
 To do this, is the purpose of my journey to Russia. I repeat my re- 
 quest for your Majesty's consent." . 
 
 For some moments Maria Theresa contemplated her son with inex- 
 pressible tenderness. At length she said with a sigh, "You really de- 
 sire then to go to Russia." • ^ 
 
 " Such is my wish, your Majesty." 
 
 " Well, my child, since you desire it, I consent, but I do it unwilling- 
 ly. I wish to prove to my son hov gladly I gratify him, when I can do 
 so without conflicting with my duties as a sovereign.'* ■ ^^v 
 
 The Emperor bowed, but spoke not a word. Maria Theresa ij^bed 
 again, and an expression of deep pain crossed her face. ^ 
 
 " When do you expect to start V said she, sadly. 
 
 "As soon as possible ; for if I am not mistaken, the time now is pro- 
 pitious for stepping in between Prussia and her beloved ally." 
 
 "Then I am to lose my dear son at once?" asked the mother with 
 tearful eyes. "I fear that he leaves me without a pang, and will sel- 
 dom bestow a thought upon the mother whose anxious heart follows his 
 every movement with love." 
 
 "1 shall bestow my thoughts upon ray sovereign, and remember that 
 I am pledged to obtain for her a powerful ally. But I have much to do 
 before I start. Above all things I mu^t see Prince Kaunitz. I beg 
 therefore of your Majesty the permission to retire." ' 
 
 " As the Emperor pleases," said Maria Theresa with quivering lip. 
 
 Joseph bowed, and without a word or look at his mother's sorrcAving 
 countenance, turned towards the door. Up to this moment, the Em- 
 press had controlled her distress, but she could master her grief no lon- 
 ger. She looked at the Emperor with dimmed eyes and throbbing 
 heart, and in the extremity of her maternal anguish, she cried out, 
 
 " Oh, my son, my precious boy!" 
 
 The Emperor who was opening the door, turned around. He saw his 
 mother, her tear-s falling like rain, standing close by with o\iistretched 
 arms. But he did not respond to the appeal. With another ceremo- 
 nious bow, he said, "I take leave of your Majesty," and closed the door 
 behind him. 
 
 Maria Theresa uttered a loud cry and sank to the floor. " Oh," sob- 
 bed she, " I am a poor desolate mother. My child loves me no longer !" 
 
I 06 JUtSKI'H THK SKC()N1> 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 • ■ .-* . 
 
 rKINCJK POTEMKIX. 
 
 Prince PoTEMKix was just out of bed. In front of him, two pftges, 
 ri6hly dressed, bowed down to the floor as they opened the door for lilni 
 to pass into his cabinet. Behind him, two inore pages held up the train 
 of his ve.vet dressing gown which all bedecked with jewels came trail- 
 ing ^]i-|;hind his tull^ graceful figure. Behind the pages were four valets 
 with ^jjreakfast and Turkish pipes. 
 
 Av,^ in this wise, Prince Potemkin entered his cabinet. He threw 
 himself upon an ottomati covered with India cashmere shawls, and re- 
 ceived from a kneeling page a cup of chocolaiie, which was handed to his 
 Highness upon a gold waiter set with pearls. Then, as if the cup had 
 been too troublesome to hold, he replaced it on the waiter and ordered 
 the page to pour the chocolate down. 
 
 The page apparently was accustomed to the order, for he rose brjskly 
 from his knees, and approaching tho cup to Potern kin's lips, allowed the 
 chocolate to trickle slowly down his princely throat. Meanwhile the 
 three pages, four valets and six officers, v/ ho, had been awaiting him iiv 
 his cabinet, stood around in stiff, military attitudes, each one uncom-. 
 ibrtably conscious that he was raoraentariiy exposed to the possible dis- 
 pleasure of the mighty favorite of the mighty Czarina. 
 
 Potemkin, meanwhile, vouchsafed not a look at any one of them. 
 After he had sipped his chocolate, and the page had dried his mouth 
 with an embroidered napkin, he opened his lips. The valeJ: whose duty 
 it was to present it, Stepped forward with the Turkish pipe, and deposit- ' 
 ing its magnificent golden bowl upon the Persian carpet by the. otto- 
 man, placed the amber mouth-piece between the lips of his master. 
 
 Again, a dead silence — and again, those stiff forms stood reverential- 
 ly around, while Potemkin, with an air of ennui and satiety, watched 
 the blue wreaths that rose from his pipe to the ceiling. 
 
 " What o'clock is it ?" asked he inoodily. ^ 
 
 " Mid-day, your Highness," was the prompt reply. 
 
 " How many people in the ante-room V . 
 
 "A multitude of nobles, generals, and lesser petitioners, all awaiting 
 your Highness's uppearancef" 
 
 " How long have they been there "?" 
 
 "Three hours, your Highness." ' 
 
 His Highness went on smoking, impelled probably by the reflection 
 l^at three hours was too short a time for the court of Russia to wait 
 ior th /:^,.effable blessing of his presence. 
 
EiLPblKUH OP ALiyTKlA 1U9 
 
 After a while he became weary of the pipe^ and raised his head. Three 
 valets rushed forward, each with an embroidered suit, to inquire wheth- 
 er his Hifihness would wear the uniform of a Field-marshal, that of a 
 Lord Chamberlain, or the magnificent costume of a Russian Prince. 
 Potenrivin waved them off, and rose frotn the ottoman. Ilis long brown 
 hair, which flowed like the maqe of a lion around his handsome face, 
 bore here and there the traces of the down pillow upon which he had 
 skpfc ; his open dressing gown exposed to view his slovenly under-gar- _ 
 luents ; and his pearl-embroidered slippers were worn over a pair of 
 soiled stockings which hanging loosely around his legs, revealed his 
 powerful and well-shaped calves. 
 
 In this negUje, Potemkiu approached i\\Q door of his ante-rqcm. As 
 soon as he had been announced, a hundred weary fices grew bright with 
 expectation, and princes, dukes, and nobles, bowed before the haughty 
 man who was even mightier than the Empress ; for he bent before bo 
 mortal, while she was the slave of one will — of Potcmkir's. 
 
 Silent and disdainful, Potemkin walked through the lines of obsequi- 
 ous courtiers that fell back as he passed, here and there condescending 
 to greet some nobleman of wealth, or influence. As for the others who 
 raised their imploring eyes to his, he afiected not to know of th?^r insig- 
 nificant presence, and returned to his cabinet without having vouchsafed 
 a word to anybody. 
 
 "Is the jeweller there?" asked he, of the officer at the door, and as 
 the latter bowed his head, Potemkin added, ".Admit him, and after 
 him, the Minister of Police." 
 
 With these words he passed- into his cabinet, and his valets began to 
 dress him. While his long mane was being combed into order, Potem- 
 kin amused himself playing like a juggler with three little golden balls, 
 while the pale and trembling jeweller stood wondering what new rob- 
 bery awaited him now. * 
 
 *' Ah, Artankopf, you are there f said the Prince, when his toilet had 
 been completed. " I have an order for you." 
 
 The jeweller made a salaam, and muttered some unintelligible words 
 of which Potemkin took no notice. 
 
 "I saw a magnificent service of gold yesterday in your show-case." 
 
 " It is an order, your Highness," said Artankopf,^quickly. 
 
 " Then, I cannot buy it ?" 
 
 " Impossible, your Highness." 
 
 " Then, I order one exactly like it, above all, in weight. The statu? 
 ettes that ornament that service, are exquisitely moulded. How much 
 gold is there in it ?" 
 
 "Sixty thousand rubles, your Highness," 
 
 Potemkin's eyes sparkled. "A considerable sum," said he, stroking 
 his mane. *' I order two services of the same value. Do you hear ? 
 They must be ready on this day week." 
 
 " And the payment 1" Artankopf ventured to inquire. 
 
110 .lOSKPB THE SECOND. 
 
 " 1 shall pay you in advance,"' replied Potemkiu, with a laugh. 1 ap- 
 point yna first court-jcwelier to the Empress." 
 
 The jeweller did not appear to appreciate the mode of paynoent; he 
 seemed terrified. 
 
 " Uh, your Highness," said he, trembling, " I implore you nottomkke 
 such fearful jests ! 1 am the father of a large family, and if you exact 
 of rhe to furnish you a service worth a fortune, the outlay for the gojd 
 alone will ruin me." 
 
 " You will be irretrievably ruined if you do iiot furnish it," laughed 
 Potemkin, while he went on throwing his balls and catching them. " If 
 those two services are not here on the day, you take a journey to Sibe- 
 ria, friend Artankopf." 
 
 '• I will be punctual, your Highness," sighed the jeweller. "But the 
 payment — I must buy the gold." 
 
 "The payment! What, the devil — you are not paid by the appoint- 
 ment I give you? Go, and if you venture to murmur, think of Siberia, 
 and that V;ill cure- your grief" 
 
 With a wave of his hand, Potemkin dismissed the unhappy jeweller, 
 who left that princely den of extortion a broken-hearted, ruined man. 
 
 The 'i'obber, meanwhile, was counting his gains and donning his field- 
 marshal's uniform. " One hundred and twenty-thousand rubles worth of 
 gold," said he to himself " I'll have the things melted into coin — it is 
 more portable than plate." 
 
 The door opened and Narischkin, the Minister of Police, entered. 
 
 *' Out ! — the whole gang of you !" cried Potemkin ; and there was a 
 simultaneous exodus of officers, pages and valets. When the heavy, 
 gold-bordered silken joor^iere h'ad fallen, the tyrant spoke. 
 
 " Now let us hear your report," said he, seating himself before his 
 toilet-mirror, where first he cleaned his dazzling white teeth, and then 
 pared his nails. ■* » 
 
 Th^Minister of Police, in an attitude of profound respect, began to 
 go over the occurrences of the past two days in St. Petersburg. 
 
 Potemkin listened with an occasional yawn, and finall;^ interrupted 
 him. "You are an old fool. What do I care for your burglars and 
 bankrupts'? — you have not so much as a murder to relate to me. Can 
 you not guess that there are other things of which I wish to hear." 
 
 " Doubtless, your Highness wishes me to report the doings of the Em- 
 peror of Austria." 
 
 "You are not quite such a dunce then as you seem to be. Well — 
 what hai^ the Emperor been about these two days past ?" 
 
 " He leads the same life as he did in Moscow," said Narischkin. "He 
 goes about as Count Falkenstein." • 
 
 "He comes as his own ambassador," cried Potemkin, laughing, "and 
 he could not have chosen a worse one than Count Falkenstein.* What 
 a wretched country Austria must be when its Emperor travels about 
 like an ordinary Russian gentleman!" 
 
 ♦ rotemkin'e own words. 
 
EM?EROR,OF AUSTIUA 1 1 I 
 
 " He arrived in St. Petersburg •with one servant carrying his port- 
 manteau, and engaged two rooms at a hotel." 
 
 " Oh,_ves, I have, heard of his passion for livico- at hotels. It all pro- 
 rceds from avarice. Were. he the guest of the JL^n»pres^ he would be 
 obliged to make some imperial presents here and there. When our 
 great Czarina invited him to Surskoe-Selo, he accepted, on condition that 
 lie clunild be allowed to lodge at an inn. Now there happens to be no 
 inn at Sarskoe-Selo, so the imperial gardener has hung out a sign and 
 the little Count of Falkcnstein is to take up his lodging with him. He 
 will be never the wiser, and will fancy himself at an inn. So that in 
 trifles, as in matters of state, the Czarina s^hall befool Austria, and lead 
 him by the nose. Tell me something more of his eccentricities. Xlave 
 you dazzled him with a sight of our wealth?" 
 
 "lie is not to be dazzled, your Highness. Even the homage he has 
 received, seems to give him no pleasure." 
 
 "Ah ! Has he then been the object of so much considei"ation1" 
 
 '* Her Majesty ordered it, and she has even devised some delicate 
 compliments wherewith to surprise him." 
 
 '•Ah ! — Slie seems to be inclined towards this little Emperor," mut- 
 tered PotemWn. "She indult^es in fanciful projects of aggrandisement 
 
 v.'ith him, and forgets , Well — what were the surprise which the 
 
 Czarina prepared tor his Countship?" 
 
 " Day before yesterday, he visited the Academy of Sciences. An at- 
 las was presented to him, and when he opened it, he found a map of his* 
 own journey from Vienna to St. Petersburg, with engravings illustrating 
 the various details of the journey."'* 
 
 " Pretty good," sneered Potemkin, " but unfortunately not original, 
 for the little Count received a similar compliment in Paris. Go on." 
 
 "Then the Emperor visited the Academy of Arts, and there he found 
 a portfolio of engravings, among which was an excellent portrait of him- 
 self with this inscription : " MuUorum j^rovidus urbes et mores hominum 
 insjiexii. 
 
 " Who wrote the inscription ?" asked Potemkin, hastily. 
 
 " Her Majesty's self." replied Narischkin, with a deep inclination at 
 the name. " But the Emperor greets everything with a quiet smile. 
 When he visited the Mint and saw the enormous piles of bullion there, 
 h^ merely said : " Have you always as muoh silver in the Mint as there 
 is to-day V " 
 
 Potemkin laughed aloud. " That was a sly question, and shows that 
 little Ealkenstein has been peeping behind the scenes and has discovered 
 that we were prepared for his coming." 
 
 "Yes, your Highness. It would appear that Count Ealkenstcin does 
 not quite believe in our enormous wealth, for after seeing ihe Miut, he 
 put on that mocking smile of his and asked whether the Imperial Bank 
 was in a condition to redeem its issue." ' . • 
 
 "What was tlio^answer?" 
 
 ♦Theodore Mun(Jt. Conflicts for tho Black Sea, P. 141, 
 
1(2 ■ JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 "Yes, of course, your Highness." 
 
 *' It was a Tuasterpiece of effrontery then, and I shall take the oppor- 
 tunity of testing its truth. Go to the bank, Narischkin, and say that I 
 need one hundred thousand rubles for an entertainment I propose to give 
 to the Czarina. I must have it in coin. Quick — begone." 
 
 " I fly, your Highness, but first be so kind as to give me the imperial 
 order. You well know that no coin can leave the Bank without the sig- 
 nature of the Empress." 
 
 " I should like to see whether they will dare to return my signature," 
 cried Pofcemkin fiercely. 
 
 He wrote the order, and handing it to Narischkin, said : " Take this 
 to the Bank directors, and if they ask for the signature of the Empress, 
 toll them she will send it to-morrow, but I must have the money to-day." 
 
 Narischkin bowed lower than he had ever been seen to do towards 
 the son of the Empress himself, and left the room on reverential tiptoes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVJII. 
 
 TilE PRUSSIAN AMBASSADOR. 
 
 When Potemkin felt himself quite alone, he leaned back in his arm- 
 chair with an ugly frown. - 
 
 " Something is going on to my disadvantage here," muttered he. " I 
 saw it yesterday irl Panin's exulting countenance. How I hate that 
 man ! Almost ^s much as I do OrlofF! It is a blessing for me that both 
 are not here to plot together. Singly, I do not fear them, but together 
 
 Orloff'is the loaded cannon,- and Panin, the lighted match, and if I 
 
 am not wary " 
 
 Here, as though he had felt the shock of the ball, Potemkin sprang 
 from his seat, and swung his hands above his head. But presently he 
 sank back into the chair, and continued his meditations. " I must spike 
 OrloflT before he destroys me. But to spike a cannon, one must be able 
 to reach it, and Orloff is far away on his estates, like a spider in her 
 wicked web. Oh, if I could but reach it, I would soon tear it to pieces. 
 But where are its threads'? How shall I find them? — Panin, too, is 
 getting intimate with the Grand Duke, and so, i« currying favor with the 
 Empress. Yesterday when I entered the parlor without saluting him, 
 Paul called after me with an oath, and turned to his mother with a com- 
 plaint of my insolence. And the Empress did not utter one word of 
 reproof, although she saw me near enough to hear. That is significant 
 — it means that Gatharine fears me no longer. But, by the eternal 
 
KM l-fc:KU» <>/ AUSTRIA. J 13 
 
 God ! she shall learn that she has a inartcr, and that her master is. Po- 
 temkin!" • 
 
 " How dare she take Pania into her cnnfiderice ? He it is, who in- 
 clines her to the Kiug of Prussia. This lancy for 'Prussia, is the only 
 thing she has in common with the Grand Duke. Love of Frederic, is 
 the bridge which Panin has built to unite thoni. I must try to lead her 
 into another road of policy, and so remove OrlotV and Panin. OrlolV 
 
 hates Austria, and if Pshaw ! Why is that Joseph so niggardly 
 
 that one cannot feel the slightest interest in him? If after refusing all 
 
 other invitations, he had paid me the compliment of accepting mine 
 
 But, no ! — This. haughty Austrian treats me with as little consideration' 
 as he does the rest of the world, and forces me, iu spite of myself, to the 
 side of Frederic. But there I fiud Orloff and Panin, and we cannot work 
 together. They must be disgraced, and Catharine made to follow me 
 "How shall I comniehce? What shall 1 do?" 
 
 A knock at the door put an end to his communings. 
 
 " His Excellency, the Count Von Gurtz, Ambassador of his Lfajesty, 
 'the King of Prussia," said the officer, who announced the visitors of 
 Potemkin. 
 
 " fehow his Excellency i«to the little parlor,"' said the latter careless- 
 ly, " and tell him that I will receive him there." 
 
 "Ah! — Count Von Gortz," thought Potemkiiv "That signifies that 
 my enemies have not .yet triumphed, and that the King of Prussia 
 thinks me powerful enough to conciliate. '• Well — I must have ttoie 
 tor reflection." 
 
 And without the slightest regard to the station of his visitor, Potem- 
 kin sat for half an hour, revolving in his mind what sort of reception 
 he should give to Frederic's overtures. In spite of the slight, Count 
 Von Gurtz came forward with a gracious smile, as Potemkin, slightly 
 nodding, passed on to a seat, and waved his hand for the Count to take 
 another. 
 
 "I am commissioned by ray Sovereign, the King of Prussia, to re- 
 quest an interview of your Highness," began Von Gortz. 
 
 Potemkin nodded, but said nothing. 
 
 " His Majesty has entrusted me with a most flattering commission '* 
 continued the Ambassador. 
 
 "Let us hear it," replied Potemkin, with indifference. * 
 
 Count Von Gurtz bowed, rose^ and drew from his bosom a rich vel- 
 vet Hni which he handed to the Prince. 
 
 *' His Majesty, my august Sovereign, iu acknowledgement of your 
 Highness's great and glorious deeds, wishes to convey to you a token of 
 his admiration and friendship," said Count Von Gortz, solemnly. " He 
 has bestowed upon your Hjghness the order of the Black Eagle, and I 
 have the honor to present you with the insignia." 
 
 Potemkin took the etui and without opening it laid it on the table 
 beside him. " Ah," said he, with ashrug, " his Majesty sends me the 
 Black Eagle. I am much obliged to him, but really 1 have so marly 
 
j[4 JUSEI'H rilEj^IiOONl) » 
 
 orders tbat I' scarcely know whr-.re to wear (hem, and how to dispose cf 
 this new one, I scarcely knaw : See for yourself," continued he snniling, 
 and pointing to his breast, which indeed was covered with cros?es, " do 
 1 not look, like a vender of orders, carrying about his samples'?"'^' 
 
 " If I nmy be allowed to use your Excellency's words, you carry 
 'about samples, not only of your treasures, but of your heroism and 
 statesmanship. It would bo a pity if among them, you should not wear 
 a decoration of my august Sovereign.'^^ 
 
 " Very well, then, to oblige ^he King of Prussia, I shall wear the 
 cross and I beg you to return him my thanks. Have you any thing 
 'more to say, Count r' 
 
 Count Yon Gortz cast a searching glance around the apartment, es- 
 pecially upon the heavy velvet window-curtains. -i 
 
 " Get up and look ibr yourself, if you suspect the presence of any- 
 body," said the Prince. 
 
 Your Highness's word is sufficient. Allow me then to speak openly 
 and confidentially. 
 
 "In the name of your Sovereign?" ■ 
 
 " Yes your Highness. Y"ou know that the treaty, which for eight 
 years has "allied Kussia to Prussia, is about to expire." 
 
 " Is it?" said Potemkin carelessly. " I was not aware of it, for I take 
 no interest in minor politics." . ' ' 
 
 " Your , Highness has in view the great wlwlp only, of the field of di- 
 plomacy " replied the complaisant minister. "But for Prussia this al- 
 liance is a most important one, and my sovereign has nothing more at 
 heart than the renewal of his alliance with Russia. Pie knows how 
 much his interests here are threatened by the visit of the Emperor Jo- 
 seph and he desired me to ask of your .Highness whether it would be 
 advisable for him to send Prince Henry to counteract it." 
 
 Potemkin replied to this question by a loud laugh, " What a set of 
 timid people you are!" said. he. "What formalities about nothing! 
 When the Emperor was about to visit us, the Czarina must know whe-' 
 ther it was agreeable to the King of Prussia;* now the King wishes to 
 know from me whether the visit of Prince Henry is expedient." 
 
 " Y^es. His Majesty wishes advice- from your Highness alone, al- 
 though there are others who would gladly be consulted by him." 
 
 " Others ? you mean Panin — have you theri asked counsel of no one, 
 
 Count?" 
 
 " Of no one. My sovereign wishes to consult with no one excepting 
 
 ypur Highness." v 
 
 For the first time Potemkin betrayed his satisfaction by a triumphant 
 smile. " If your King comes to me exclusively, — mark me well, exclu- 
 sively, — for advice, I am willing to serve him." 
 
 "Your Highness may see that my sovereign addresses himself to you 
 alone " replied the Minister, handing him a letter in Frederic's own 
 handwriting^ . . ; ' __^ " 
 
 • AU Potonikin's own words. Dnbm's Memoirs, Vol, 1, P. 413. 
 
E.VM'EKi.m dyP AU81KIA 1].") 
 
 Potemkin, ■without any appearance of surprise, took it and broke tl>v. 
 sea). The King bc^an bv sayinjr tha& he had every reason to beiiew. 
 that the object of Joseph^s visit to lliissia was to alienate lius?ia irom 
 her old ally. Then he went into ecstasies over the f»enius and states- 
 manship of Potemkin, and besought him to uphold the interests, of Prus- 
 sia. Furthermore he promised his interest and influence to the Prince, 
 not only for the presept, bur, for the future, when it was probable that 
 he (Frederic) could serve Potemkin substantially/'- 
 
 A long pause ensued after the reading of this letter. Potemkin threw 
 himself back, and in an attitude of thonghtfulness raised" his eyes to the 
 rich, pictured ceiling above him. 
 
 "I do not entirely understand the King,'* said he, after some time of 
 reflection. " Whr.t does he mean by saying that he. will try to make 
 that possible which seems impossible"?" 
 
 '■ llis Majesty has learned that your Highness is desirous of being 
 created Duko of Courland. He will use all his interest with Stanislaus 
 to this effect, and indemnify the Duke de Biron, who would lose Cour- 
 land, by augmenting his possessions in Silesia. The Ring also means 
 that he is ready to find a bride for the future Duke of Courland among 
 the ^Princesses of Germany." 
 
 "Really," said Potemkin, laughing, "the mysterious phrase is signifi- 
 cant. But the King lays too much stress upon that little Duchy of 
 Courland; if I wanted it, I could make it mine without troubling his 
 Majesty in the least. As to the bride, I doubt whether it would be 
 'agreeable to the Qzarina for me to marry, and this matter I leave to her- 
 self. What does the King mean by a profier of friendship for the future ?" 
 
 Count Gortz leaned forward and spoke scarcely above his breath. 
 "His Majesty means to promise his influence with the Grand Duke, so 
 that in the event of his mother's death, your Highness would be secure 
 of your person and property."! 
 
 This time the Prince was unable to suppress his real feelings; he 
 started, and a deep flush overspread his face. 
 
 "Howl" sa"id he, in a whisper, "kis the King the power to read my 
 thoughts " 
 
 He did not conclude his sentence, biit sprang from his seat and paced 
 the room in hurried excitement. Count Von Gortz also had risen and 
 contemplated him in anxious silence. 
 
 " Did the courier from Berlin bring any letters to the Czarina 1" asked 
 Potemkin, as he ceased walking and stood before Von Gortz. 
 
 "Yes, your Highness, and 1 shall deliver them, as soon as 1 receive 
 the assurance of your influence with the Empress." 
 
 " Very well, yon have it. I will go at once to her. Meanwhile go to 
 Count Panin, to whose department this affair belongs, and induce him to 
 lay before the Czarina a proposition for the renewal of the Prussian al- 
 liance. Tben ask an audience of the Empress, and present yourcredcn- 
 
 •Thi" letter is hlstoricp), and is to be fnnnd in Dohm'a Memoirs. Vol. 1, p. 412. 
 * Bnnmer's '^OBfribntionfi. &o. Vol. 5, p. <8.V 
 
J 1(1 JOSEPH TUB SECOND. 
 
 tials. You see that I am in earnest, for I work in conjunction with my 
 enemy • but before 1 make one step, you must write out the King's last 
 promise to me, addinj^ that you are empowered to do so, by his Majes- 
 ty of Prussia, and having signed the r-romise, you must deliver me the 
 paper." 
 
 " May I inquire the object of tiiese papers V 
 
 Poterakin approached the Count, and whispci^d in his ear. '• It is a 
 matter of life and death. It' the Grand Dnke should come to the throne, 
 from the unbounded regard which he has for the King of Prussia, 1 know 
 that this paper will protect me from his vengeance." 
 
 " Your- Highness shall have it." 4 
 
 "At once "? For you understand that I must have some guarantee 
 before I act. . Your King's words urn not explicit." 
 
 "I shall draw up the paper, and. b-eud it to your Highness before I 
 ask an audience of the Czarina." 
 
 "Then the King of Prussia may reckon upon me, and I fihall serve' 
 him to-day, as I hope that in future he will serve me. Go now and re- 
 turn with the paper as soon as it is ready." 
 
 " I believe that Prussia m^ans fairly," said Potemkin, when he found 
 himself once more alone. " But that only means that Prussia needs- me, 
 and that," cried he exultingly, " means that I am mightier than Panin, 
 
 mightier than the Grand JJuke But am T mightier than Orloif ? — Oh, 
 
 this Orlolf is the spectre that forever threatens my repose ! He, or 1, 
 must fall, for Russia is too small to hold us both. But which one ? 
 
 Not I- By the Eternal— not I !" 
 
 Just thpn there was a knock at the door, and Potemkin, who was 
 standing with his fist clenched, and his teeth set, fell back into his seat. 
 
 " How dare you disturb me *?" cried he savagely. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Highness, but this is your day for I'eceiving the 
 foreign Ambassadors, Siud his Excellency of Austria craves an audience." 
 
 "Cobenzl? Is he alone'?" 
 
 '• Yes, your flighness." 
 
 ■• In ten minutcp. admit hli^i h^^v.' 
 
 CUAPTEli XXLX. 
 
 ruii AUSTRIAN AMBASSADOK. 
 
 Ten minutes later the door was opened, and Count Cobeozl, on the 
 point of his toes, tipped into the room. Potemkin, on the sofa, was 
 looking the picture of indifference ; bis eyea half-shut, and his tall form 
 
slreU'lu'd out :it. lull Icuglli, he socniod just, to hitveawuKoiieJ lif.m sleep. 
 But during those ten minuies he had been doing anything but .sleepingl 
 lie had. been docorating himself T\iLh the cross of the Hlack ]iagle, and 
 liad allowed the broad riband to which it was attached Lo trail upon the 
 carpet. 
 
 '■ It is well, Count Cobcnzl," said i'otcuiUin, greeting ihe Li.inister, 
 "•(hafc you did not come live minutes later, for you would not have met 
 me at all." 
 
 '• Pardon me, I should then have had but five minutes to wait in your 
 •ante-room, replied Cobenzl. "J detest ante-rooms, and wish that.l had 
 come ton minutes later, that 1 might have been introduced to your pre- 
 sence at once." 
 
 " You would not have seen me at all, I tell, you ; for I am about to 
 have an audience of the Empress." , 
 
 '• Ah, iiKleed !" cried Cobenzl. " That accounts for all these brilliant 
 decorations then." 
 
 '•You certainly did not suppose that I was wearing theniiii honor of 
 yo7«?- visit, did you ?■' asked Poternkin, with quiet iasolence. 
 
 "Oh, no, 1 thought it a mere mise en schte.'^ 
 , ''•Ah, Count Cobeuzl, is still mad on the fjubject of the dranin," re- 
 pli-ed Potemkin, laughing. *' What new comedy are you about to get; 
 lip at liM. Austrian Embassy, heh ?' 
 i "A very pretty thing just from Paris, your Highness. It is called, 
 \ '• The disgraced Favorite, or the Whims of Fortune.' "' 
 
 Potemkin's eyes fla.slied fire, but he controlled himself and said, 
 '• Where is tke scene of the drama laid ?" 
 
 " 1 do not precisely remember. In Tartary, or Mon2olia, or- — — " 
 
 "Or in the moon," interrupted^ ]fjM;emkin, Jaugljing. " I>ut come— 
 be sealed and let us be serious." -''Jiso saying, Potemkin threw himself 
 back again upon the divan, ai^d pointed to an arm-chair which Cobenzl 
 quietly accepted. The chair happened to be close to the spot where the 
 riband of the Black Eagle was lying. Cobenzl seeing that it was under 
 his feet, picked it up and presented it to the Prince. 
 
 " You know not what you do, Count. You raise your enemy when 
 you raise that riband. It has just been sent to mc by the Kiiig of Prus- 
 sia. 1 am quite in despair at being obliged to wear it, lor it ty,k<»s up so 
 ' much room. The star of the Black Eagle is vcrv large. Do vou not 
 think so?" 
 
 " "ies, your Highness, and I congratulate you «pon its possession, for 
 the close King of Prussia does not often give away his diauionds." 
 
 "lb would appear that dianionds do not abound in Prussia," leplied 
 Potemkin, with a gesture of slight towards the cross on his breast. 
 *' These brilliants are rather yellow." 
 
 " Dp you prefer Austrian diamonds?" asked Cobenzl significantly. 
 
 " I have never seen any," answered. Potemkin with a yawn. 
 
 "Then 1 am happy to be the first to introduce them to your notice," 
 said Cobeuzl rising and taking from his pocket a Turkey-morocco case. 
 
/' My august Emperov has cooimfssioned me to present youthis little 
 caskos." . . 
 
 "Another order!" cried Polerakin witii aiiccted horror. 
 
 '' No, your Highness. Orders are toys lor grown-up children. But 
 you are a greut inau, and ti Ley for you must have Kome scientific siyni- 
 licance. My Emperor has heard that your Higliness has a costly collec- 
 tion of minerals and precious stones. His Majesty has therefore with 
 'his own hand selected the specimens which I have the honor to present 
 in his name." • ' 
 
 Potemlvin, whose indifference had all vanished as he listened, opened' 
 the casket with sorne -engerness, and an exclamation of rapture fell from 
 hid iips, as he surveyed its costly contents. There were Indian dia- 
 monds of unusual size and brilliancy ; Turkish Rubies of fiery crimson; 
 inagnificent sapphires, tui'quoises of purest tint; large specimens of lap- 
 es-laznli all veined with gold, and translucent chrysoprase of bright me- 
 tallic green. 
 
 "This is indeed a princely gift," cried the covetous Potemkin, per- 
 fectly daz^iied by the magnificence, and intoxicated by the possession of 
 all these riches. " Never have Iseen such jewels. They blaze like' the 
 stars of heaven !" 
 
 Cobenzl bowed. " And this sapphire !" continued the Prince, "the 
 Empress herself has nothing to compare to it !" 
 
 "The Czarina looks upon your Highness as the brightest jewel in her 
 crown— us her incomparable sapphire. — But observe this turquoise — it ' 
 13 one of that greenish hue so prized byconnaisseurs, aijid its like is not 
 to be purchased with money- " ' 
 
 Suddenly Pote^nkin, ashamed of his raptures, closed the casket with 
 a click and pushed it aside. 
 
 "\ou cantell your EmperOr," said he, " that you. were an eye-wit- 
 ness of the gratification I have received from this superb addition to my 
 scientific collections.- And now, Count, without circumlocution, how caa 
 i serve you, and what does the Emperor desire of me? Such gifts as 
 these indicate a request." 
 
 " Frankly, then, the Emperor seeks your Highness's friendship and 
 wishes you to further his Majesty's plans." 
 
 " What are these plans ?" ' 
 
 " Oh, your Highness is too shrewd .a statesman not to have guessed 
 them, and not to understand that we merely shift the scene of 'the war. 
 We "pitch our tents at St. Petersburg with the object of winning Rus- 
 sia to our side." 
 
 . " But here Prussia holds the battle-field ; you will have to fight against 
 superior numbers." 
 
 " Not if Prince Potemkin be our ally," replied Cobenzl courteously. 
 " True, Prussia has Orloff, Panin, and the Grand Duke " 
 
 " And who tells you that Prussia has not Potemkin also ?" cried the 
 Prince laughing. " Do you not sec that 1 wear the Black Eagle ?" 
 
 » Yes — bnt your Highness is too wise to be the ally of Pruissia. You 
 
are too great a statesman to comuilt such a bcvue. C>rkll" who has uev 
 er forgiven you for succeeding him JQ Catharine's fevor^/Orloff asks no 
 r;refiter triumph than that. of harnessing your Highness to the car 6i his 
 political procUvili<!S." 
 ' '' flo shall never enjoy that triumph," riiuttered Potemkin. 
 
 '• ?fot if the Kmperor can prevent it, and therefore his Majesty hopes 
 that your -Highness will. sustain Austria.'' 
 
 " But what are Austria's plans ?' 
 
 " Austria wishes to occupy the place' which Prussia now enjoys as the 
 ally of liussia. Prussian, while wooing the Czarina, ogles the Grand 
 Diike, and it is her interest to bring them together. 1 know that the 
 matter was thoroughly discussed yesterday between Count Panin and 
 the Prussian Ambassador." 
 
 *' The Prussian Ambassador was yesterday in conference with Panin !" 
 
 " Not only yesterday but to-day, I met tiim coming from Panin's with 
 his order of the Black Eagle, '^and a letter for your Highness from the 
 King." 
 
 "Truly your spies are great detectives," cried Potemkin. . 
 " '.'They are well paid," was the significant reply. 
 
 "And what, for example, were the proposals. of Von Gortz?"' 
 
 "Von Gortz stated that as Panin, the GraJid Duke and himself were 
 not a n'.atch. for thv? Emperor and your Highness, you were to be won 
 over by flattery, orders and promises." 
 
 "True!" cried Potemkin. "Your spies are right. What else?"' 
 
 "Another powerful friend of Prussia has been recalled from his estates 
 and suiBcimoned to Petersburg." 
 
 Px>temkin sprang from the ."Jofa with a howl of rage. 
 
 "Wh:t.t! Orloti' summoned by Von Gortz; he who— — " 
 
 " Who was enticing your Highness with vain promises, had suggested 
 to the Czarina the imperative necessity of recalling OrlofTvvith the ex- 
 press isitention of holding you in check." 
 
 " What an infernal plot ! But it bears the stamp of Panin's treachery 
 upon its face," muttered Potemkin, while with hasty strides. he walked 
 up and down the room. 
 
 Cobenzl watched him. with a half smile, and taking up the riband of 
 the Blaclc Eagle, he passed it through his hands by -way of pastime. 
 
 After much going to and fio, Potemkin stopped, and his countenance 
 was expressive of courage and resolve. 
 
 " Count Cobenzl, I know what are the plans of Abstria, and they shall 
 be sustained. Your interests are mine, for it is no longer a question of 
 Austria or Prussia, but'of Potemkin or OrlofT! You see, therefore, that 
 I am sincere; but Austria must sustain me, and we must tread our po- 
 litical path together." 
 
 "Austria will go hand and heart with your Highness." 
 
 'Austria must sustain me, I say, and our password shall bev.''THE 
 CoKQUEST OF 'Turkey." That is the spell by which I rule the Czarina. 
 My enemies often fill her mind with distrust of me ; but that great pro. 
 
jfjct shielJs me liom tiicir weapons. Still I am in danger; for here in 
 Kussia, we look neither to the payt nor to the future ; the excitement of 
 the hoar reigns absolute. A good subject never knows how to regulate 
 his conduct. If I were sure of blame for doing evil, or of approbation 
 for doing good, I might know what to expectVrom the Czarina. But 
 when a Sovereign is the slave of her passions, all ordinary modes of de- 
 ducting eiTect from cause fall to the ground.* I live in a whirlpool from, 
 which I can- devise no means of escape, but — by the grave of my mo- 
 ther, this life shall cease. I shall resume my power over the Empress, 
 and I shall trample my enemies under foot, were they to take shelter 
 under the throjie itself!" 
 
 While Potemkin spoke thus, he clinched his fist, and his herculean 
 arm wqs raised as if to fell his invisible enemies. 
 
 "Austria will be at your side, whosoever be the foe," said Cobenzl. 
 
 "1 believe you," replied Potemkin with returning calmness, "for it 
 is your interest to be there. I know what you desire. First you sup- 
 plant Prussia with Russia, and that entails a coolness with France, Prus- 
 sia's dearest friend. Then you also dissolve with France, and we both 
 court the alliance of England, so as to isolate France and Prussia from. 
 European polities. The plan is good, and will succeed if you are discreet." 
 
 ■'How discreet?" 
 
 "You must weigh well your behaviour towards the Czarina. I dare 
 not advise the Emperor, but let me advise you.- Yf>u have often occa- 
 sion to 'see the Empress. Before you see her, consult with me as to the 
 topics of your discourse with her, and so we shall always be enabled to 
 act in concert. Avoid all dissimulation ; let her perceive that, you leave 
 craft to the lovers of Prussia. Flatter as often as you see fit; flatter 
 Catharine, however, not for what she is, but for what she ought fo be.f 
 Convince her that Austria is willing to further her ambition, not to re- 
 strain it, as Prussia has always done. Do' this, and in a few months 
 Austria v/ill have changed roles with Prussia, and your enemies and 
 mine shall be overthrown together." »■ . 
 
 A knock was heard at the door and an officer entered. 
 
 " How daie you interrupt me?" cried Potemkin, stamping his foot. 
 
 " Pardon, your Highness. The private Secretary of the Emperor of 
 Austria has orders from his Sovereign to hand a note to Count Cobenzl 
 in your Highncss's presence." 
 
 . "A very singular order. But we will gratify the Emperor. Admit 
 his Majesty's 'messenger.'' '. * 
 
 Giinther was introduced, who bowing low to Potemkin, passed on 
 and delivered his note. 
 
 " From his Majesty's hand," said he. "Your Excellency is ,to read 
 it at once. It requires no answer." Then bowing deeply, the Secreta- 
 ry backed out of the room, and the discreet poriiere fell, preventing the 
 transmission of the slightest sound. 
 
 • * Polemfcm's own words. Kaunmr. Vol, 5, p, 6'^S. 
 ' tPotenilfin'sowTi v/oHs, Banmer. 
 
KMI'KlitM; (.!■ \LMKIA \^> i 
 
 ' }iea<]," said Potemkin, " f^)r. doubtless ihe Emperor has gooJ rea- 
 son for his haste." 
 
 Count Cobenzl broke the seal, but instead of a note for himself, a 
 *sealcd dispatch within bore the address of the Prince. The Count pie- 
 scuted it at oKce, and Pottmkin eagerly tore it optn. Re beenied elec- 
 trified by its contents; so much so that Cobenzl started forward to his 
 assistance, exclaiming, "Gracious Heiv en, what has happened? Your 
 litij,'hness is ill !" 
 
 "No, no," said Potcmkin, "but read this, that I may be sure I do not 
 dream." 
 
 Cobenzl took the letter and read : " My dear Prince. To win your 
 friendship. I have neither flatjtery, decorations, duchies, princesses, nor 
 promises for the future; convinced as I am that your Highness is able 
 to reach the summit of your desires without help from other mortals. 
 But 1 have something to impart which will prove the sincerity of my 
 intentions towards you. An hour ago. Count Orloff arrived in St. Pe- 
 tersburg, and he is now in secret conference with the Czarina. — Joseph." 
 
 "I was right; it was not my secret apprehensions which conjured 
 those spectral letters," cried Potemkin, " they are really the writing of 
 the Emperor, and Gregor Orlofl^is here." 
 
 He sprang forward like a bull rushing to the attack. 
 
 "Gregor Qrlolfis with Catharine, and I cannot slay him at her feet ! 
 But stay," Cyyclaimcd he exultingly, and then his words resolved them- 
 selves back iiito thought. "My key — my key — I will force her to hear 
 me. Count," continued he aloud, "I l)eg of you to excuse me, for I 
 must go at once to the Empress. Tell the Emperor that if 1 weather 
 the storm which is bursting! over my head, I will prove to him my ete^ 
 nal gratitude for the service he has -rendered me this day. Farewell! 
 .Pray for me, or if you like better, go home and get up a fine drama for 
 the day of my burial." ' 
 
 "Nothing less than Voltaire's 'Death of Julius Cwsar,' would suit 
 such an occasion, but God forbid that your Highness should come to 
 harm. I hasten to do your bidding." * • 
 
 Potemkin, trembling with impatience, stood watching Count Cobenzl. 
 as with his mincing gait he tripped out of the room, and turned again at 
 the dcror to make his last bow. Scarcely had the porfiere fallen when 
 he sprang across the room, and darted towards his sleeping-chamber. 
 Near his bed stood an escritoire. He flung it open and taking thence a 
 casket filled with gold chains, diamonds, and other jewels, he turned out 
 i,he contents with such violence that they flew over the room in every di- 
 rection. He found what he sought; it was a little secret compartment. 
 He pressed the spring and it opened, revealing nothing but a key ! But 
 Potemkin .snatched.it up, and unheeding the treasures worth a million that 
 lay scattered about the room, he passed into a little dark ante-room, 
 thence into a corridor, up and down stair-cases, forwaid, forward, rapid- 
 ly forward ! 
 
 Finally he reached the end of a lonp; narrow corridor. Nothing here 
 
ri!i JMSlii'h IHl' >^KOt»My 
 
 was to he seen save a Wanlc, while wall, Nvhich sfiparati-.i .l'x>tenikiii's 
 dwelling from the Palace of the Czarina. But in the corvier of this wiall 
 Wix^ a S(;arcely percep'lible recess. Ke pressed it with hi.s fnii^ei', whea^ 
 the wall parted, re-vealinj/ a door, the door which led to Catherine's own* 
 private apartments. Poierakiii's key unlocked it, and he darted through 
 the opening — on, on until hQ reached anoither door, which also yielded 
 ro his key, and then breathiTig freely he looked around the cabipet of 
 Use Czarina and exclaimed, "I am saved!" 
 
 • CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 , THE EMPRESS CATHAKINE. 
 
 The magnificent state-apartments of the Empress were silent and 
 empty, for she had given out that as she needed solitude to work, she 
 ■would hold no levee to day. But she was not alone ; she was in a cabi- 
 net which led to her bed-chamber, and with her was Count Orloflj her 
 former lov^r, and the murderer of her husband. 
 
 The Empress iay half buried in the depths of a crimson velvet couch, 
 and iier large, blue eyes were fixed with an expression of tenderness np- 
 dh Orloff who sat opposite to her. In spite of her fifty years, Catharine 
 was a very handsome woman ; age had respected her fair, imperial brow 
 and the fingers of Time had relented as they passed over it. Her eyes 
 were as bright and'beautiful as ever, her lips as*ed and their smile as 
 fascinating as' in the days of her youth ; and ifi her bosom beat the pas- 
 sionate, craving, restless heart of a maiden of seventeen. This heart 
 was as capable of love as of hate, and her graceful person as fitted to 
 inspire love as it had ever been. Just now Catharine was anxious to 
 please — she thought over the golden hours of her youthful passioa, and 
 tried to win a smile from OrlofF's stern face. She forget in him the man 
 who had' placed a bloody crown upon her head ; she saw but the para- 
 mour who had wreathed her brow with the myrtles, and roses of retpi- 
 ted love. 
 
 They had spoken of indifferent things, but Catharine had grown silent, 
 and the silence becoming embarrassing to OrlofF, 
 
 '• Your Majesty commanded my presence," — began he. 
 
 Catharine raised her iDeautiful white arm from th3 cushion v,'here it lay, 
 and motioned him to approach. 
 
 " Hush, OrlofF,"»said she in a low voice. " No one hears us, do not 
 call me Majesty." 
 
 " My revered Soweign," stammered Orloff, I-^ " 
 
"Sovereign'.'" 13o I lo'*k as if i veie your {Sovereign, Orloii"? — No, 
 no, I am here as tho woman ^vho is not ashamed of ihe love we once 
 cherished for one another. — The world says thai I am not ^ious, and 
 verily I believe that Voltaire has corrupted me; but I have one stoad- 
 just faith, ffnd I cling to it as fauaiics do to Christianity. I^Iy religion 
 ,is the religion of memory, Gregor, and you were its first hierophant." 
 '' OrlofT muttered s(5me uoirilclligible words, for truth to tell, he did not 
 quite comprehend the vagaries ai' his imperial mistress. Il^was a man 
 of deeds, JJt for action and strife, but there was neither imfigination nor 
 poetry in his naturv;. He paw however that Catharine smiled and beck- 
 oned. He hastened forward, and bending the knee, kissed her hand. 
 
 " Gregor," said she tenderdly, " 1 sent for you to talk of the prospects 
 of your son." ^ 
 
 '•Your Majesty speaks of Basil Bobinsky?" asked Orloff' with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Yes," replied Catharine, " of your son, or rather, if you prefer it, o*" 
 our son." . 
 
 " Your Majesty acknowledges him, and yet you have thrust his ^iher 
 from your heart. You sacrificed me to a man whom I hate — noJ^^'CAUse 
 ho is my siiccessfiil rival, but because he does not deserve^^f' l*'ve of 
 my Empress, because he. is a heartless spendthrift, and a v<"etch who_ is 
 ready to sell his Sovereign's honor at any moment, pr^'ded the price 
 oflered him be worth the treachery. Oh ! it madden^ mo ^hen 1 thmk 
 that Gregor Orloff was displaced for a Potemkin !" „ ^. r, ^ a- 
 
 Catharine laid her jewelled hand upon OrlolfV lips. " Hush Or ofi, 
 do not vituperate. I have called for you to-day to give me peace. 1 do 
 not wish the two men who share my heart) to stand forever glaring at 
 one another in implacable hatred, i wish to unite you through the 
 sweet influences of a young couple's love. , 1 beseech you. Gregor, do not 
 refuse me the boon I crave. Give your consent for Basil to marry the 
 Countess Alexandra, Potemkin's niece." 
 
 " Never," thundered Orloff, starting to his feet, and retreatmg .ike an 
 animal at bay. " Never will I consent for my bastard to marry the 
 wench of such a contemptible fool as Potemkin !"* 
 
 Catharine rose from her couch with a look of tender reproach. 'You 
 will not grant my heart's dearest wish'?" said she. 
 
 " I eannot do it, Catharine," cried Orloff wildly. " My blood boils at 
 . the very thought of being connected to Potemkin. No, indeed ! No 
 tie shall ever bind me to'him that hinder^s my hand should you one day 
 ask of me to sever his head from his body." 
 
 Catharine again put her hand before Orloff's mouth. • Hush, you 
 fulminatin<r Jove!" said she. '• Mustr you be foiever forging thunder- 
 bolts, or w^asing war with Titans. But you know too well that in your 
 godlike moods vou are irresistible. What a triumph it is to wm a boon 
 from such a man !— Invest me with this glory, Orlofl, and 1 give up my 
 
 plan for a marriag e between Basil and Potemkin's niece. 
 
 • Orloff's own words. Banmer's Contributions, &c , Vol. 5, P 412. 
 
1 -i i JOSKI'I) iJiK -,J<.<J(.)M) 
 
 " ^Niecu," ecliwed Orlol}', f say his mistress." 
 
 " Not so," exclaiined Catharine. . "So treacherous, i wiii« not believe 
 .Poterakin'to be !" 
 
 " Nevertheless, Alexandra is his mistress, and the whole court Ivnows 
 it." , ■ , «■ • 
 
 "If I find it so, Potemkin shall feel tlic weight of my vengeance,- and 
 nothing shall sav6 him!'" cried Catharine, her eyes' darting fire. ''-But 
 I tell you it is not so. He has his, faults, but this is not one of them." 
 
 " Then you confess that the great Potemkin has fliults, do ^ou f 
 
 "it was precisely because of his faults that I sent for you 'i" 
 
 "You — Gregor OrlofT, the truest of the true I You have done me 
 
 good service in your life ; to you I am indebted for ray crown^ and you 
 
 are its brightest jewel. .But I have a favor now to ask of you which 
 
 ' concerns my happiness more than a-iything you have ever done for me 
 
 before, my Gregor." 
 
 ''Speak my Empress, speak, and T will die to serve you," replied Or- 
 Jo" '"Spired by Catharine's earnestness. 
 
 . biie ii\^ her white hand upon his shoulder, and said in her most en- 
 ,ticmg tont^ : « g^ ^j^^ ^^.-^^^^ ^^ Potemkin. Let him learn by your ex- 
 ample to bfcrnore careful of the great trusts which he holds from me, 
 more conciliatii^r^ and more grateful. For indeed in return for all the 
 javors 1 bestow upon him, he makes my life one long martyrdom. For 
 God s sake, OrlofT, U friendly with Potemkin, and try to rescue me from 
 ^ the tempests which daily and hourly burst over my devoted head."'* 
 bhe leaued her head upon his bosom, and looked imploringly into his 
 
 T- ''Your Majesty," said OrlofT warmly, " you know that I am your slave. 
 ^ Jt i otemkm is obno.xious to you, speak the word and I annihilate, him— 
 I But my reputation will not permit me to consort with a man whom I 
 I despise, and whom 1 should be forced nevertheless to regard as the first 
 ;^ sM bject of the Empire. Pardon me if 1 cannot grant vour Majesty's pe- 
 tition." to . J J r 
 
 " Go then, cruel man, and leave me to my fate," said Catharine in 
 tears^. - •' ' 
 
 " Since your Majesty desires it, I retire." And Orlofl' bowing, turn- 
 ^ed to leave the room, but Catharine threw herself upon the sofa with a 
 jSob, and he returned. 
 
 I " Do you weep for Potemkin ?" 'said. he. " Spare vour tears— He 
 Joves no one but himself, and his only aim in life is to enervate and 
 Ijweaken your mind, that he may reign in your stead." 
 
 " Oh, Orlofi; be merciful," said Catharine, clasping her hands. 
 But OrlofT continued :■ "Potemkin has essentially damaged your fleet, 
 le has ruined your army, and what is worse, he has lowered you in the 
 istmiation of your subjects, and of the world. If you are willing to be 
 |id of so dangerous a m an, my life is at your disposal, but if you must 
 
 *C«thariTift'fl own-words. 
 
1:M1'KH<.)K (JP AUSTRIA t*25 
 
 temporise with him, I can do nothing to further measures which are to 
 be Ciiriied out by llattery and hypocrisy." 
 
 " I believe you, unhappily I believe ynu," said Catharine weeping. 
 '• Potenikin deserves all that you say of him, but I have not the heart 
 to punish him as he deserves. I cannot bid you dfsiroy the giant whos-c 
 shadow darkens my throne. You see, Orloff, that I am a poor weak wo- 
 mao, and have not the stronc;th to punish the guilty." 
 
 " I see that your Majesty prizes the oppressor ot my country far more 
 than that country's self, and siucp it is- so, J have nothing more to do 
 here. Farewell, Catharine, I must return to Gatzchina." 
 
 lie kissed the hand of the Empress, and passed into the adjoining 
 apartment, lie went slowly throughlhe magnificent state-rooms through, 
 which he had to pasR to the corridor, and with weeping eyes, Catharine 
 followed his*tall form from door to di:)or. She would have leaned for 
 support upon that strong man, but he refused to shelter her, and she felt 
 a sense of desolation which seemed to her a presentiment of evil. 
 
 " Orlofir Orloff," cried she imploringly;- and she hastened aftef him. 
 IIo was passing out into the corridor when he heard her voice, and saw 
 hfer coming fleet as a doe towards him. 
 
 " OrlofF," said she panting for breath, " do not leave St. Petersburg to- 
 day. Remain for three^ days, and perhaps in that time, I may gather 
 courage to accept your help, and rid iWyself of this man." 
 
 " I will await your Majesty's decision," replied Orloff, " (yid if then 
 my sword is not required in your service, I shall leave St. Petersburg 
 lorever. 
 
 lie bowed and the heavy portiere fell behind hitn as he passed from 
 the Czarina's sight. Slowly she returned to her cabinet murmuring, 
 "Three days he will wait to know if " 
 
 But suddenly she started, appalled at the sight of an apparition that oc- 
 cupied the divan on which ijhe was about to repose 4ier weary limbs. 
 She uttered a wild scream of terror, for on this divaii sat — '- — Potemkin. 
 
 CirAPTER XXXI. • 
 
 THK CZARINA AND H£R MASTER. 
 
 WriH flashing eyes, folded arms, and pale, sterii face sat Potemkin, 
 and his glance- seemed about to annihilate the terrified woman, who had 
 neither strength to call for help, nor self-possession to greet her unwel- 
 come visitor. He rose, however, and came forward. Catharine trem- 
 bled and shuddered as he passed her Ijj^, locked the door and put the key 
 iu his pocket. 
 
126 JOSEPH IHK SKCON!) 
 
 The Erapress, looked around and in deadly fear saw that there was no 
 hope of rescue. She was alone with Polemkin, entirely alone ! 
 
 Not a word had yet been spoken, but this fearful silence affrighted her 
 more than a tempest of angry words, would have done. 
 
 At last Potemki'n stood directly before her and spoke. " ' If Potem- 
 kin is obnoxious to you, speak the word and I annihilate him.' " 
 
 " Oh!" screamed Catharine, '" he knows all !" 
 
 " Yes, I know all, I heard Orloff offer to be my executioner. Pray 
 why did you not accept the offer at once ?" 
 
 lie had come so near, that Catharine felt his hot breath upon her brow, 
 like the blast from a furnace. . - 
 
 " 1 ask you again," said he stamping his foot with fury, "why do you 
 not let the axe of your executioner fall upon my neck'? Answer me !" 
 
 Catharine was speechless with fright, and Potemkin, exasperated at 
 her silence, raised his clenched hand and looked so fierce that the Czarina 
 fell backwards almost upon her knees, miirmuring, 
 
 " Potemkin, would you kill me !" 
 
 " And if I did," cried he, grinding his teeth, " would death not be the 
 just punishment of your treachery'? Your treachery ' to me who have 
 given you my heart, my soul, Aiy life — while you — betray and accuse 
 me, nor, face to face, as would an honorable woman, but behind my back 
 as becomes a coward and a hypcforite! Look at me and answer my 
 question J command you !' 
 
 Again he raised his hand, and 'his deep voice rolled like angry thunder 
 in her ear. Catharine, against her will, o-beyed his voice and raised her 
 eyes to his. She saw his lofty brow, like that of an angry demi-god, 
 his dark, dangerous, fiery eyes, his glistening teeth, his magnificent 
 frame, lithe, athletic, and graceful as that of? 
 
 ^"The statue that enchants the world," 
 
 and a sensation of shuddering ecstacy flooded her whole being. For- 
 gotten were her fears, her terror, her dream of vengeance — and regard- 
 less of the hand which was still raised to threaten her, she cried out in 
 tones of mingled love and anguish, 
 
 " Oh, Alexandrowitsch, how preterhmnan is your beauty ! You stand 
 like an avenging god before me, ancH — I can only worship and trem- 
 ble!" 
 
 With faltering steps she approached, and folding her arms around his 
 stalwart form, she laid her head upon his breast, and wept. "See,"" 
 murmured she, " I am here to receive the stroke. Let me die by your 
 hand, Gregor xilexandrowitsch, for since you love me no 'longer, I am 
 weary of life !" 
 
 Potemkin heaved a sigh and freeing himself from Catharine's arms, 
 fell back upon the sofa,' buried his face in his hands, and sobbed convul- 
 sively. 
 
 " Why do you weep, Potemki/i ■?" said Catharine, hastening to his 
 side. 
 
EMrKK.UK OF AUSTRIA. | 27 
 
 " Why I weep!" exclaimed he. " I weep becniiso of my own crlmf.. 
 Despair had well nigh made ut me a traitor. Vvhy does not this h;md 
 wither, which was uplifted to touch the anointed of the Lord! Why 
 does not heaven smite the wretch whose misery had tempted him to 
 such irreverence of his Soverei^!" 
 
 And Poteinkin flung himself at Catharine's feet crying out: "Kill 
 me, Catharine, that I may not go mad for remorse of my treason !" 
 
 Catharine smiled and tried to raise him un. '"No," said she tender- 
 ]y, " live, and Jive for me."' 
 
 But PotemUin still clung to her feet. '• No, let me lie here as the 
 sinner lies before tire altar of the Most High ! 1 am a traitor, but des- 
 pair has made mc criminal. As I stood behind the tapei'try and heard 
 ho\f my Empress accused me, I felt that the spectral hand of niadness 
 was hovering above my brain ! Oh, Catharine, it is you whom I adore," 
 you who have made ot me a lunatic!" 
 
 Again he burled his face in Catharine's robes, and wept. She, per- 
 fectly dis'armed, leaned over him, caressing him with her hands, and im- 
 ploring him to be comforted. 
 
 " Let me lie here and weep," conlin.uedher Alexandrowitscb, "not for 
 "Ac, but for my Catharine — the star of my life ! She whom my enemies 
 would deceive, that deceiving they might ruin her, when her only friend 
 is lost to her forever !" 
 
 " Of whom do you speak ?" asked the Czarina, frightened. 
 
 "I speak of those who ffale me because I will not join them in their 
 treachery towards my Empress — of those who hold out to me gold and 
 diamonds, and who hale me becaus6 I will not sell my loyalty for p.^lf. 
 Oh, I was flattered with orders and honors, promises and presents ! But 
 I would not listen. What cared 1 for future security, what mattered it 
 to me that I was to be the victim of Paul's vengeance — 1 thought of you 
 alone, and more to me was the safety of your crown than that of my 
 worthless life ! — I was loyal and incorruptible ! 
 
 Catharine had listened with distended eyes, and lips parted in sus- 
 pense. When Potemkin named her soil, her whole bearing changed. 
 From the love-strieken woman, she leaped at once into the magnificent 
 Czarina. ' m. 
 
 " Potemkin," saBshe imperiously, "I command you to rise arid an- 
 swer my questions, . 
 
 Potemkin rose with the promptness of a well trained slave, and said 
 humbly : " Imperial mistress, speak, and by the grave of my mother, I 
 will answer truthfully." 
 
 " What means your allusion to the Grand Duke, Paul "? Who are 
 the enemies that sought to corrupt you ?■ What are their aims ?" 
 
 *' The Grand Duke is weary of, his subordinate position, and yearns 
 for the crown which he thinks it is his right to wear." 
 
 Catharine's two hands clutched at her head as though to defend her 
 crown. "He shall not have it!" she screamed. He will not dare to 
 raise his impious bauds to swatch his mother's right? awa.y !" 
 
128 JOSEPH THE SECOND 
 
 " He will find other bands to do it, for you well know, Catharine, that 
 the crime from which we recoil ourselves, we transfer to other hands, 
 while we accept its fruits." • 
 
 Catharine shuddered, and grew pale. "Yes — yes," murmured^ she to 
 herself, "yes, I know it — welj I know it, for it has murdered sleep for me !" 
 "And the Grand Duke has accomplices, Catharine. Not -one — nor 
 two, but half of your subjects mutter within themselves that the crown 
 you wear has been Paul's since his majority. Russia is one grand con- 
 spiracy against you, and your enemies have pitched their tents at the 
 foot of your throne. They may well hate the only man who stands be- 
 tween you and destruction. Their arrows have glanced harmlessly from 
 the adamantine shield of his loyalty, and there remained but the alter- ' 
 native of calumniating him to his Empress. Oh, Catharine, my angel., 
 'beware of Paul, who has never forgotten how his father lost his life ! 
 Beware of Orloff, who has never forgiven you for loving me! Both 
 these traitors, with Panin to truckle to them, are in league with Von 
 Gortz to force you into a league destructive of Russian aggrandisement. 
 Oh, toy beloved! Sun of my existence, mount into the heaven of yolir 
 own greatness, and let not the cloud of intrigue obscure your light ! 
 And when safe in the noon-day of your splendor, you think of this day, 
 let one warm ray of memory stream upon the grave of the man who 
 died because his Empress had ceased to love him !" 
 
 At the conclusion of his peroration, Potemkin knelt down and pas- 
 sionately kissed the hem of Cathrine's robe. Then springing up, he 
 clasped his hands and turned away. But the Empress darted after him 
 like an enraged lioness, and catching his arm, gasped, "What! You 
 would leave me, Alexandrowitseh'?" 
 
 " Yes — I go to Orloff to receive my death. The Empress has willed 
 it, and she shall find me obedient even unto my latest breath." 
 
 "No, Gregor," said Catharine, weeping p'rofusely, "you shall remain- 
 to shield me from my enemies." So saying, she put her arms arouHd 
 his neck, but he drew them away, 
 
 . " N^, Catharine — No ! Aft^r what I have heard to-day, I do not de- 
 sireto live. Let me die, let me die !" 
 
 " No, Potemkin, no," cried she, struggling to de^n him, " I shall ne-^ 
 ver, never mistrust you again, and I promise yot^phat Gregor Orlofl' 
 shall never pass this threshold again." 
 
 " How •? Do you promise to sacrifice Orloff to me T cried Potemkin 
 eagerly,. cured in a trice of his desire for death. 
 
 " I do, Gregor, I do. There shall be but one Gregor to reign over my 
 Court and my heart, and he shall be Gregor Potemkin !" 
 
 " You swear it, Catharine ?" 
 
 "My imperial word thereupon. Now will you remain and protect 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes— =1 remain to confound your enemies ! It shall not be said that 
 I have flown in the hour when your noble head is endangered ! I shall 
 remain for your sake, for the peril is very great, Catharine ?" 
 
i;,MI'KU<>h OK f\UMI(lA 12:' 
 
 "Gracious heaven, Grcgor, vsrhat danger threatens mo?" 
 
 "You ask me such a question while Paul livbs, and has Orlofl' and 
 Panin lor his accomplices, and Frederic for his friend?" 
 
 '• Oh, no, dear Gro;;or, your anxiety leads you into error. I know that 
 Paul hates nie^ but I do not believe that Prussia is his ally, for it 
 is clearly the interest of Prussia to conciliate nie, and ho is too wise 
 to entangle himself in such conspiracies just at the expiration of our 
 treaty." 
 
 " Oh, -you noble, unsu.=!pccting woman !" cried Potemkin ardently, 
 "you know nothing of the egotism of the world. You believe in the 
 honesty of Frederic, while he speculates upon the consequences of vour 
 death!" 
 
 The Empress grew pale and her eyes flashed with anger. '• Prove it 
 to me," said she imperiously. 
 
 Potemkin drew from his bosom the letter he had that morniDT re- 
 ceived from Frederic. Catharine read it and then said, " Much flattery, 
 and many mysterious promises. What do they mean ?" 
 
 " Count Von Goriz was so good as to explain. The King offered to 
 make me Duke of Courland, to give me a German princess in marriage 
 and to secure me the flivor of your successor." 
 
 " That is not possible," exclaimed Catharine, " those were idle words." 
 
 *' Oh, no, your Majesty, I will prove to you' that they are not, as soon 
 as Von Gortz is announced." 
 
 The Empress looked at the clock which pointed to two. 
 
 "It is exactly the hour 1 appointed to receive him," said she. "He 
 must be in the ante-room." 
 
 " Have I your permission to go to him ?" 
 
 The Empress nodded abd Potemkin, drawing the key from his pocket 
 unlocked the door and disappeared. Catharine looked after him and 
 heaving a bitter sigh, said, " No more hope of rescue! He rules over 
 me like irresistible destiny !" 
 
 In a few moments, Potemkin returned with the paper. Catharine 
 having looked over it, returned it with a smile. 
 
 " I thank the King of Prussia for this," said she gently, "for my last 
 hours will no longer Be embittered by anxiety for your safety, AJexan- 
 drowitch. Preserve this paper with care." 
 
 Potemkin took it from her hand and tore it to pieces. 
 
 " Are you mad ?" cried Catharine, " that you tear this promise of pro- 
 tection from Paul ?" 
 
 " When Catharine dies, I no longer desire to live, and I hope that 
 Paul may release me of life at once — I shall die rei'oicing." 
 
 " Oh,^ Gregor," exclaimed Catharine, again moved to" tears, " I shall 
 never forget these words ! You have sacrificed much for me, and yo\i 
 shall have princely reward, on my word, you shall! Let the Grand 
 Duke be careful to utter no inconsiderate words, for the steppes of Si- 
 beria are as accessible to the Prince as to the peasant, and every traitor, 
 \fere he the heir of the crown itself, is amenable to justice before me ? 
 
130 iUbKI'H lliK ^!<;CUN'I). 
 
 And Pnnin with his eternal pratiiigs of honesty and frankness, let him 
 too, beware, for he wavers on the edge of a precipice !" 
 
 "And Prussia'?" asked Potemkin with a smile. 
 
 Catharine smiled in return. "I cannot chide /im, Potemkin, for he 
 would iiave befriended ?/o«." 
 
 -" And the treaty 1 Do you intend to renew it with this wise, far-see- 
 ing Prince V 
 
 " I cannot say. It depends npon the offers he makes. Stay in this 
 room, Gregor, and l will receive Von Gortz in the next one, where you 
 can here what passes between us."' 
 
 CHAPTEPo XXX II. - 
 
 A DIPLOMATIC DEFEAT. 
 
 The Empress entered the small audience-chamber adjoining her cabi- 
 net and ringing a bell, gave orders that Count Von Gortz and Count 
 Panin should be admitted. Then she glided to an arm-chair, the only 
 one in the ropm, and awaited her visitors, who conformable to the eti- 
 quette of the Russian Court bowed three times before the all-powerful 
 Czarina. Panin's salutation was that of a serf who is accustomed to kiss 
 the dust from his tyrant's feet ; Von Gortz, on the contrary, had the bear- 
 ing of a man of the world, accustomed to concede homage and to exact 
 it. 
 
 " Well, Count," said the Empress graciously, " what pleasant news. do 
 you bring from Sans-Souoi 1 Has your accomplished Sovereign recov- 
 ered from his indisposition?" 
 
 " The King has recovered, and will be overjoyed to learn that your 
 Majesty takes so much interest in his health." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Catharine, "the great Frederic knows how much in- 
 terest I feel in his life— perhaps as much as he has in my death." 
 
 Count Von Gortz looked in astonishment at the smiling face of the 
 .Empress. " What ! Your Majesty says that my. Sovereign has an in- 
 terest in your Majesty's death !" 
 
 " Did I say so i" said Catharine carelessly. " It was a slip of the ton- 
 gue, my dear Count. I should have said takes, not has ; for many peo- 
 ple fapcy they have what they would like to take. I should have said 
 then, that the King cannot take more interest in my death, than I do in 
 his life." 
 
 " The King, your Majesty, is much older than you, and war has added 
 to his years." 
 
r;.vii'i-;K(»i; <u- aL.-^iiua 1.;1 
 
 "If war !i(lds to our jears," replied Catharine laughing, "then I eei 
 taiiily must be superannuated." 
 
 '• May the lime have arrived when their Majesties of Kussia and Prii? 
 sia may sheathe the sword and enjoy the unspealc;ible lilessinfrs of pf r- ^ 
 inancnt peace," s:iid Von G< .iti^ wHh en^'^ha^s. 
 
 " Are you of the same mind, Panin V allied Catharine quickly. 
 
 ''I know from my SoX'ereign's noble heart that she would jrladly be- 
 stow peace upon the world, and I believe that the time has come when 
 this is possible," replied Panin evasively. 
 
 " It is true, wo have for the moment no pretext for war. The trou- 
 bles between the Porte and myself were settled at the last peace con-- 
 vention, and he will take good care not to provoke a renewal of hostili- 
 ties. We have no reason to apprehend any breach of peace in Poland, 
 and our relations with the, other European powers are equally fricndlv. 
 England, Holland and France seek our good-will, Prussia -is our fiim 
 ally, and Austria by sending her Emperor himself has given the most 
 blattering proof of her consideration for Russia. It would, appear that 
 we enter upon an epoch of universal concord." 
 
 " And to give stability to this great blessing." replied Vou Gortz, "it 
 1* the duty of (ill Sovereigns to fuse their separate interests into one 
 great alliance, whose watch- word shall be ' Peace !' In presence of those 
 Avho are bound together by the tie of one common policv, no.Timbitious 
 enemy will venture to disturb the great international r<»st." 
 .. " I think we are already able to present the scare-crofw of such an al- 
 liance to covetous princes, for -we have a firm ally in Prussia, have we 
 not?" said Catharine smiling. 
 
 '• Our treaty was but for eight years, your Majesty," interposed Pa- 
 nin, " and the eight years have expired." 
 
 "Have they, indeed?" exxlaimed Catharine, surprised. "Well — cer- 
 tainly years do fly, and before we have time to think of death, our graves 
 open to receive us. I feel that I am growing old, and the King of Prus- 
 sia would be wise if he w'^ere to direct his new negotlatioris towards my 
 successor, and make him the partner of his magnanimous schemes for 
 universal peace." 
 
 "Your Majesty is pleased to jest," said Von Gortz, reverentially. 
 "But to show you how heartily my Sovereign desires to cement, his 
 friendship with the mighty Empress of Russia, I am empowf>red bv hitn 
 to make new proposals for a renewalof the eight years' treatv." 
 
 "Are you acquainted with these proposals, Panin?" asked Catharine, 
 
 "No, your Majesty. I on\}' knov/ from Count Von Gortz that his 
 proposals are merely preliminary, and not until they obtain your Majes- 
 ty's approbation will the King present them formally." 
 
 " Very well, C-nmt, let us hear your preliminaries," said Catharine. 
 
 "My Sovereign desires nothing so 7nuch as a permanent alliance with 
 Russia, which shall give peace to Europ6, and deter over ambitious 
 Princes front trenching upon the possessions of other crowns. yTo se- 
 cure this end, my Sovereign thinks that nothing would be so favorable 
 
I.j2 (<)SKrH THK SIDOONI) 
 
 as an oiTensi%-e and defensive alliance, with a guarantee of permanent 
 bonndury-lines between Russia, Prussia, Poland and Turkey. Such au 
 alliance. iiT the opinion of my Sovereign, would give 'durable peace to 
 VVestern Europe.. If the conditions be acceptable to your Majesty, my" 
 yovereign will make like projpiQijitioiis tu Poland and Turkey, and the 
 treaty can be signed at once; for it has been. ascertained that France ap- 
 proves, and as for Austria, the very nature of the aliiance and its strength, 
 n'ill force her to respect the rights of nations, and give up her preten- 
 sions to territorial aggrandizement." 
 
 The Czarina had listened to this harangue with growing displeasure. 
 Her impatience had not escaped the eyes of Panin, and he saw that the 
 scheme would be unsuccessful. He had promised to second the propo- 
 sals of the Prussian Minister, but the stormy brow of the Empress was 
 mightier than, his promise, and he boldly determined to change his front. 
 
 When Count Von Gortz ceased, a silence ensued-, for the Czarina was 
 too incensed to speak. She looked first at the Prussian Ambassador, 
 then at her Minister of Foreign Aflkirs, who was turning over in his 
 mir\d what he should say. , 
 
 "And these are the proposals of the King of Prussia!" cried she, when 
 she found breath to vent her indignation. "Instead of a simple renewal 
 of our mutual obligations, you wish to entangle us into alliances with 
 Turkey ! — ;Count Panin, you are my Minister, I , therefore leave it to 
 you to answer the Prussian Ambassador as beseems the dignity and 
 interest of my crown." 
 
 She leaned back in her arm-chair, and bent a piercing glance upon the 
 face of her Minister. But he bore the test without change of feature, 
 and turning with perfect composure to his ex conliederate, he said : 
 
 "As my Sovereign has commanded me to deliver her reply, I must 
 express my surprise at the extraordinary preliminaries presented by 
 .your Excellency. - Hi's Majesty of Prussia proposes an alliance of Rus- 
 sia with Turkey. The thing is so preposterous that 1 cannot conceive 
 how so wise a Prince as your Sovereign could ever have entertained 
 the idea !"""• , 
 
 " Good, Panin," said Catharine, nodding her head. 
 
 Panin, encouraged by the applause, went on : " Peace between Rus- 
 sia and Turkey can never be anything but an armistice j an alliance with 
 the Porte, therefore, is incompatible either with our policy or with the 
 sentiments of my revered sovereign."* 
 
 " In this case," replied Von Gortz, bowing, " my Sovereign withdraws 
 the proposal, which was merely thrown. out as an idea upon which he 
 was desirous of hearing the opinion of his august ally, the Empress." 
 
 "Then you know 7ny opinion upon this 'idea','' cried Catharine, ri- 
 sing from her seat, and darting fiery glances at the Ambassador. " Count 
 Pariin has expressed it distinctly, and I desire you to repeat his words 
 to the King of Prussia. And that the great Frederic may see tb.at I 
 make no secret of my policy, he shall hear it. Know, then, that my last 
 
 • Panin's own wnrcl»- Pohm's Memoirs. Vol. 1, paftes 40(1 and 40t. 
 
treaty of peace with Turkey was but a hollow truce, whereby 1 hoped 
 to gain time and strength to carry out the plans which 1 shall never 
 abandon while I live. The King has guessed ther^. and therefore h3 
 sent me these unworthy propos'ils. Russia has not reached tke limit of 
 her boundaries: her ambition is oo-extensive with the w<uid ; and she 
 means to grow and prosper, n<^r y^f. be content when Poland bows her 
 neck to the yoke, and the Cros-cent has given place to the Greek Cross I" 
 
 So saying, the Czarina bowed her head, and haughtily left the room. 
 When she raised {he 23ortiere, there ?at Potcnikin in the fullness of his 
 satisfaction, ready to greet her with his most beaming smiles. Catha- 
 rine motioned him to follow, and they returm^d to the cabinet. Once 
 tliere, the Czarina threw herself upon the divan and sighed. 
 ' "Shut the door, Potemkin, close iha 2yor(iere, for in good sooth T know 
 not whether I am about to laugh or cry. 1 feel as ifl had been hearing 
 a fable in which all my schemes were transformed into card-houses, and 
 were blown away by the wind ! But indeed I must laugh! The good 
 King of Prussia! Only think, Gregor, an offensive and defensive al- 
 liance with Turkey ! Is it not enough to make you laugh until you cry f 
 
 "I cannot laugh at such a disregard for the sacred rights of man," re- 
 plied Potemkin. "This proposal of Prussia is an outrage to the faith 
 of the whole Russian nation, and a challenge to you, my noble Sove- 
 reign, whose bold hand is destined to tear down the symbol of the I\ios- 
 lem and replace it with that of tlie Christian !" 
 
 "And believe me, dearest friend, 1 am ever mindful of that destiny," 
 replied Catharine. 
 
 "And the treaty between Russia and Prussia " 
 
 " Will not be renewed." 
 
 " Check to the King then," cried Potemkin, "and check-mate will soon 
 follow." ^ 
 
 " Yes — the King is old, and would gladly end his days in a myrtle- 
 grove : while I long to continue my flight, higher and higher, till /reach 
 the sun ! But who will go with me to these dizzy heights of powi?r " 
 
 "His Majesty the Emperor of Austria," said the loud voice of a gen- 
 tleman in waiting, who knocked at the door of the cabinet. 
 
 "The Emperor," exclaimed Catharine. "Yon know I granted his re- 
 quest to coiue to me unannounced ; but [ have given orders to the sen- 
 tries to send the word forward, nevertheless, so that I always know- 
 when he is about to appear." 
 
 "Farewell, Catharine," said Potemkin. "The crow must give place 
 to the imperial falcon. Why am I not an Emperor to offer you my 
 hand, and be your only protector !" 
 
 "Could I love you more if you were an Emperor, Gregor? But hush! 
 He comes, and as soon as his visit is ended return to me, for I must see 
 you." 
 
 Potemkin kissed her hand again and again, and vanished through the 
 tapestry by a secret door which' led to a small corridor connected with 
 the Czaiina's private apartments. Biit instead of crossing this corridor, 
 
134 H)S1<;PH IHK -SI^X'ONJJ 
 
 lie turned into a little boudoir, through which the Emperor would haw- 
 to pass, and there awaited his appeurance. He came, and seeing Po- 
 tenikin, looked surprised, but bowed with a gracious smile. 
 
 Potemkin laid his finger upon his lip, and pointed to the cabinet. 
 '•Sire," said he in a whisper, "I have anticipated you. Prussia has re- 
 ceived an important check, ahd th'e treaty will not be renewed. Ifc rests 
 with your Majesty now to improve the opportunity and supplant the 
 King of Prussia. Be sympathetic and genial with the Czarina — aboiie 
 all things flatter her ambition and the game is yours. Depend upon my 
 hearty cooperation." 
 
 "A thousand thanks," whispered Joseph in return. Potemkin made 
 a deep and respectful salutation, and left the room. As he closed the 
 door noiselessly behind him, the Emperor crossed the threshold of the 
 imperial cabinet. 
 
 ^ CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE CZAraNA AND THE EMPEROR, 
 
 When Joseph entered, he found the Empress reclining with careless 
 grace upon the divan, perfectly unconscious that he was anywhere with- 
 in her palace-walls. But when she saw him,' she sprang up from the 
 cushion on which she lay, and with protestations of delighted surprise, 
 gave him both her hands. He bent over those soft white hands, and 
 kissed them fervently. 
 
 " 1 come to your Majesty because I am anxious and unhappy, and my 
 heart yearned for your presence. I have bad news from Vienna. My 
 mother is ill and implores me to return home." 
 
 " Bad news, indeed !" exclaimed Catharine sadly. " The noblest and 
 -greatest woman that ever adorned a throne is suffering, and you threat- 
 en to leave me. But- you must not go, now that the barriers which have 
 so long divided Austria from Russia'have fallen." 
 
 " Your Majesty may well speak of barriers," laughed Joseph, " for we 
 were parted by a high Spanish wall, and the King of Prussia walked the 
 •ramparts that we might never get a-glimp^e of each other. Well ! I 
 have leaped the walls, and I consider it the brightest act of.my life that 
 i should have journeyed thither to see the greatest Sovereign of the age, 
 the woman before whoni a world is destined to succumb !" 
 
 ■'•Do not give me such praise, sire," replied Catharine with a sigh ; 
 •' the Son of Maria Theresa should not bestow such eulogium upon me. 
 It is the Erapces-s-of Austria whd unites tho wVdora of a law-giver and 
 
EMf KKoK (If AUbJKlA. |;5;3 
 
 the bravery of a warrior with the virtues of'ti pure and sinless \voman ♦ 
 Oh, my friend, I am not of that privileged band who have prji»gerved 
 theins-elves snulless from the sins of the world ! I have bought niy im- 
 perial destiny with the priceless gem of womanly innocence! — Do noti 
 interrupt me — we arc alone, and I feel that bcfoi'e no human being can 
 1 bow my guilty head with such a sense of just humiliation as before the 
 son of the peerless Empress of Austria!" 
 
 "The Empress of Austria is still a^ woman, reigning through the prompt- 
 ings of her heart, while Catharine wears the crown with the vigor of a 
 man. — And who ever thought of rei[uiring from an Emperor, the pri- 
 meval innocence of an Arcadian shepherdess ? lie who would be great, 
 must make acquaintance with sin, for obscurity is the condition of inno- 
 cence — Had YOU remained innocent, you had never become Catharine 
 the great. There are unhappily so many men who resemble women, 
 that we must render thanks to God for vouchsafing to our age, a woman 
 who equals all, and surpasses many men?" 
 
 "You have Initiated a new mode of flattery, sire," said Catharine 
 blushing with gratification, " but if this is your fashion of praising wo- 
 men, you nvist be a woman hater. Is it so?" 
 
 " I would worship them if they resembled Catharine; but, I have suf- 
 fered through their failings and I despise them. You know not how 
 many of my bold schemes and bright hopes have been brought to naught 
 by women! — I am no longer the Joseph of earlier days — 1 Have been 
 shorn of my strength by petticoats and cas=?ocks," 
 
 " How can you so bely yourself?" said Catharine. " it is but a few 
 months since we had good proof that the ambition of the Emperor Jo- 
 seph was far from being quenched forever." 
 
 " Ah! your Majesty would remind me of that ridiculous affair with 
 Bavaria. It was my last Quixotism, t)ie dying struggle of a patriotism 
 ■which w^onld have made of Germany one povvertul and prosperous na- 
 tion ! And it was you who opposed me — you who of all the potentates 
 in Europe, are the one who should have understood and sustained me ! 
 Believe me when I say that had Catharine befriended me there, she 
 would have won the truest knight that ever broke a lance in defence of 
 fair ladye. But for the sake ot a dotard who is forever trembling lest I 
 rob him of some of his withered bays, the bold Athene of the age for- 
 got her godlike origin and mission, and turned away from hini whom 
 she should have countenanced and conciliated. Well ! — It was the error 
 of a noble heart, unsuspicious of fair words. And fair words enough 
 had Frederic for the occasion. To think of such a man as he flaunting 
 the banner of Germany in my face — he who not many years ago was 
 under the ban of the Empire as an ambitious upstart ! — He thought to 
 scare me with the rustling of his dead laurel-leaves, and when he found 
 that,l laughed at such Chinese warfare, lo ! he ran and hid himself under 
 my mother's petticoats; and the two old crowns fell foul of one an- 
 other, and their palsied old wearers, plotted together, until the great war 
 upon which I had staked my fame was juggled into a shower of aim ival 
 
136 ^U>SKPH IHH >IWUM> 
 
 confetti I Ob, you lauiih at me, and well may you lau;:;h ! — I am a fool 
 to wasti^ so much enthuhiiiism upon' such a' tool's holiday P' \ ■ 
 
 " No, I do not hiugh at you," replied Calhaiine laying her arm \i^X)X\ 
 his, "1 lau^h for joy, to see how lustily you hate. A man who hates 
 fiercely, loves ardently, and my whole heart glows with sympathy for 
 such a being. So then you hate him. soundly, this King of Piussia?" 
 
 "Hate him," cried Joseph clenching his hand, "aye indeed, 1 hate 
 him! He has instigated Germany to oppose me ; he wrested Bavaria 
 from me, which was mine by right of two-fold inheritance ; and 1 detest 
 him" the more that he is so old, so gouty, and so contemptible, that to 
 defeat him now, woukj not add one hair's breadth to my reputation as a 
 general!" 
 
 " It is true," said Catharine thoughtfully, " Fre'derlc is growing very 
 old. ■ Nothing remains of the former hero, but a dotard who is incapable 
 of comprtehending the march of events." ' 
 
 "And yet, is ambitious to legislate. Oh, Catharine, beware of this 
 old King, who clings to you to support his own (ottering royalty, and 
 to obstruct your schemes of conquest. But he will not succeed with 
 you as he has done by me. You have no. mother to thruSt you aside 
 while she barters away your rights for a mess of potage ! — 1 see your 
 eagle glance- — it turns towards the South, where roll the stormy waves 
 of the Black Sea ! I see this fair white hand as it points to the Mosques 
 of Constantinople, where the Crescent is being lowered and the cross is 
 being planted " 
 
 Catharine uttered a cry of ecstacy, and putting her arms around Jo- 
 seph's neck, she imprinted a kiss upon his brow. 
 
 ,. " Oh, 1 thank you, Joseph !" exclaimed she enthusiastically. " Y<^m 
 have comprehended the ambitious projects which identified as they^are 
 with my existence as a Sovereign, 1 have never yet dared to speak above 
 my breath !" 
 
 " I have guessed and I approve," said Joseph earnestly. " Fate has 
 assigned you this mission and you must fulfil it." 
 
 " Oh, my God," ejaculated Catharine, " Ihave found a friend who has 
 read into my heart." 
 
 " And who will aid you, when you call him to your side." 
 
 " I accept the ofler, and' here is my hand. And so, hand in hand we 
 shall conquer the world. God be praised, there is room enough for us 
 both, and we must divide it between us. Away with all little thrones 
 and their little potentates ! Oh, friend, what joy it must be to dwell 
 among the heights of Olympus and feel that all below is ours ! I am 
 intoxicated with the dream ! Two thrones, — the throne of the Greek 
 and the throne of the Roman Emperors; two people so mighty that 
 they dare not war with one another; while, side by side, their ginnt 
 swords forever sheathed, they shqd peace and happiness upon the further- 
 most ends of the earth ! Will you realise with me this god like dream ?" 
 
 " That will I, my august friend, and may God grant us life and oppor- 
 tunity to march on to victory together I" 
 
EMPEKOK Of AaSTRJA 137 
 
 " To victory," echoed Catharine, " and to the fulfillment of the will of 
 Peter the Great. He enjoined it upon his successors to purge'Europc 
 of the Infidel, and to open the Black Sea to Christendom. In Stamboul 
 I shall erect the throne of my grandson, ConstaiUine, while in Peters- 
 burg, Alexander extends the domains of Russia in Europe and in Asia. 
 Yr>u do not know all thnt I have already done for classic Greece. From 
 his birth, I have destined Constantino to the Greek throne. His nurses, 
 his playfellows, and his very dress, are Greek, so that his native tongue 
 is that of his future subjects. Even now, two hundred boys are on their 
 way from Greece, who are to be the future guards of the Emperor Con- 
 stantine! As the medal which was struck on the day of his birth pre- 
 figured his destiny, so shall his surroundings of every kind, animate him 
 to its glorious fulfillment. Look — I have already a chart on which Con 
 stantine is to study the geography which my hand is to verify for him 
 and for his brother." 
 
 The Empress had risen and approached her escritoire. From a secret 
 drawer within another drawer, she took a roll of parchment which, after 
 beckoning to the Emperor, she placed upon the table. They unrolled 
 it, and both bent over it with beating hearts. 
 
 "Observe first the marginal illustrations," said Catharine. Here 
 stands the Genius of Russia leaning up«n the Russian shield. To the 
 left you see arrows, horses' tails. Turkish banners and other trophies — 
 here at the top, you see the Black Sea, where a Russian .ship is in the act 
 of sinking a Turk." 
 
 " Here in the centre, is the empire of Greece and the Archipeligo. 
 Take notice of the colors on the map, for they show the boundaries. 
 The yellow is the boundary-line of the Greek empire. It begins in the 
 northwest by Ragnsa, takes in Skopla, Sophia Phillippolis and Adrian- 
 oplc as far ^s the Black Sea. It then descends and includes the Ionian 
 islands, the Archipeligo, Mytelene and Samos. That is the Empire of 
 • Ttnstantine, whose capital is to be Constantinople. The red lines show 
 the future boundaries of Russia. They pass "through Natolia, beginning 
 in the north by Pendavaschi, and end with the Gulf of Syria." 
 
 The Emperor who hud been following Catharine's jewelled hand with 
 anxious scrutiny, now looked up with a significant smile. 
 
 "Your Majesty's map reminds me of an incident among my travels. 
 In the beginning of my unhappy Regency, I was inspecting the bounda- 
 ries of my own empire. In Moravia I ascended a steep mountain whence 
 I had a view of the surrounding country. ' To whom belongs that pret- 
 ^ ty village?' said I. ' ' To the Jesuits,' was the reply. ' And this tract 
 with the chapels 1' 'To the Benedictines.' 'And that Abbpy ?' * To the 
 ('larissarines.' 'But where then are mi/ possessions?' said I." 
 
 "And your Majesty would put the same question to me," interrupted 
 the Czarina. "Look at the colors of the map. We have appropriated 
 the yellow and the red, but there is another color to be accounted for." 
 
 " I see a boundary of green, which includes Naples and Sicily," said 
 Joseph, looking down upon the map with ne^ interest. 
 
138 JOSEPH THE SEUUNU. 
 
 *' Those are the boundary lines of new Austria,''* said the Empress 
 with a triumphant smile. "As I hope for the re-t^stablishineiifc of empire 
 in Greece, so must your Majesty accompliih that of Rome. Sincie you 
 have no objection to give me the Black Sea, I shall make no opposition 
 to the extension of' your empire to the shores of the Mediterranean. 
 Italy, Tike Germany, is a prey to petty Princes. Rescue the Italians 
 from their national insignificance, sire, and throw the a^gis of your pro- 
 tection over the sit-e of the old Roman empirc. Do you not bear the 
 title of King of Rome? Give to that title meaning and substance. 
 Yours is the south and west, mine is the east, and together we shall 
 govern the world." 
 
 Joseph had listened with breathless attention. At first he grew pale, 
 then a flush of triumph suffused his face; and he took the hand of thq 
 Czarina and drew it to his heart. 
 
 " Catharine !" cried he, deeply moved, "from my soul I thank you for 
 this inspiration ! Oh, my heart's interpreter, you have read my secret 
 yearnings to be in deed, as well as in word, ' King of Rome!' Yes — 1 
 would free Italy from the oppression of the Church, and lead her on to 
 greatness that shall rival her glorious pastf God is my witness, I would 
 have done as much for Germany; bat Germany has rejected me, and I 
 leave her to her fate. For the future I remain Emperor of Austria; and 
 my empire shall be so vast, so prosperous, and so powerful, that Catha- 
 rine of Russia shall esteem, me an ally worthy of the greatest woman cf 
 modern times." 
 
 "Two faithful allies," exclaimed Catharine, " allies bound by one com- 
 mon policy, whose watchword shall be 'Constantinople and Rome'!" 
 
 "Aye," returned Joseph with a laugh, " though while you raise the 
 standard of the cross in Constantinople, /shall overturn it in Rome. As 
 soon as my shackles fall, I shall set to work !" 
 
 "I see that you have faith in my plans," cried Catharine, foyfully. 
 '^^ " Such faith tliivt I would aid them from my heart, were they even^t^ 
 require the co-operation of Frederic,"* 
 
 "I shall have no co-operation but yours," was the reply. " Besides I 
 know that you owe a grudge to Turkey." 
 
 " I do, for she has taken Belgrade, and I must re-take it. The Dan- 
 ube is my birthright as the Black Sea is yours. I give up Germany to 
 concentrate my forces upon Turkey and Italy." 
 
 " Let us await the proper time, and when I see it, I shall call upon 
 you to come with me and crush the intrusive Moslem." 
 
 " Look upon me as your general, and upon my army as yours," replied 
 Joseph, kissing the hand which the Czarina extended. "And now," con- ' 
 tinned he, " I must say farewell, and I fear it is for a long .«:eparation." 
 
 " Indeed !" cried Catharine. " Must I lose you so soon ?" 
 
 " My mother is sKjk, and yearns for my presence," said .Toseph. " The 
 Emperor parted from her in displeasure ; but the son must not slight 
 the call of a mother, who perchance is on her death-bed. I start for 
 ♦Rau'tieft CcnlributioDs, 4c Yf>l ^, p 444. 
 
£ttrRROE OF AtrSTRIA, 139 
 
 Vienna to day. aud before I leave, at the risk of being accused of flat 
 t?ry. I must express to your Majesty the admiration, respect and love 
 v\ hich I feci for the noblest wonian I have ever known."* 
 
 The Empress, overcome, put her arms around Joseph's neck and fol- 
 ded hh.; to her heart. 
 
 "Oil, were you my 3on,"' whispered she, "1 mij^ht thank heaven for 
 the gift of a nohle child who was soul of my soul ! Were you mine, I 
 shoiild not be the victim of courtiers' intrigues, but with my proud arm 
 within yours I might defy the world !" 
 
 As she spoke these words, Catharine raised the Emperor's hand to her 
 lips. _ 
 
 Joseph uttered a cry, and sinkicg on his knees, kissed the hem of her 
 robe. Then rising, as if reluctant to break the solemnity of their part- 
 ial by a sound, he turned and left the room. 
 
 Catharine looked after him with tearful eyes. " Oh God he has left 
 me! I have found a noble heart only to grieve that it can never ha 
 Jiiiue. I am alone— ^nlone — it is so dreadful to be "' 
 
 Suddenly she ceased, for a deep, melodious voice began to sing. Ca- 
 tharine know that the voice was Potemkin's, and that he was calling her 
 w the secret agartments which she had fitted up for her lover. 
 
 The song awakened bitter memories. Potemkin had written it in 
 former years, and she had shed tears of emotion when she heard it — 
 tears which at that time were as precious to him as were his finest dia- 
 monds today. 
 
 The music ceased, and two tears which had gathered in the Czarina's 
 e-^es, stole down her cheeks. As if drawn by an invisible hand she 
 crossed the room, and, stooping down, pressed a tiny golden button 
 which was fastened to the floor. A whirr was heard, the floor opened 
 .'ukI revealed a windinji staircase which led from her cabinet to the room 
 ol her favorite. 
 
 As her foot touched the first step, she raised her eyes with a look of 
 despair to heaven, and her trembling lips murmured these words, " Ca- 
 tharine once more in chains !'' 
 
 * Th« Eoiperor'a owa words. Baamer. ToL 9, p. 96S. 
 
 END OF VOL III 
 

 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Mk 
 
 •• • 
 
 V 
 
 A 
 
 ^ 
 
 : • 
 
 
 V 
 
 W 
 
 f J 
 
DBLIGMIOI 
 
 HARDEE'S INFANTRY TACTICS. 9th Edition. 
 WHEELER'S CAVALRY TACTICS. - | 
 
 LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET. • [ 
 
 SILAS MARNER. I 
 
 RAIDS AND ROMANCES OF MORGAN AND HIS I 
 MEN. 2nd Edition. 
 
 TANNHAIJSER. 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE. 
 
 CHAUDRON'S SPELLING BOOK. 
 
 do. FIRST READER. 
 
 do. SECOND READER. 
 
 THREE MONTHS IN THE SOUTHERN STATES 
 By Lieut. Col. Fremantle. 
 

 ^> Cojft/rigin 
 
 S€€ure(f. ^ 
 
 If 
 
 JOSEPH II 
 
 AND HIS COURl 
 
 !! 
 
 ^^ 1]Y L. MUULBAIII. 
 
 jFrom tf)c (Scnnaii, 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 ^ MOiJif.K 
 
 s. H. r40F.fv.Kr,. rur.i.t.-.iip.i;. 
 
 1 S (5 4 
 
 %J. 
 
 •>' "c-.'fe^ *•) Farrow & Dennett, Printers Mobile. C_3^''' 
 
 > j 
 
 SW 
 
 ^ HV AUKLAIOE DeV. rHAlinUON. ^|f 
 
 
 /A' 
 
OSEPH II. 
 
 AN1» HIS COURT. 
 
 Ill ^btaxml |[obtI, 
 
 ?Y L, MliHLBACH. 
 
 jFrom tfjc ©fcrman, 
 
 BDELAIDE De V. CHAUDRON. 
 
 OLUME IV, 
 
 MOBILE: 
 
 GOETZEL. PUBLISHER. 
 1864 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the 3JI864, by 
 S. H. GOETZEL, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court cfbama, 
 for the Confederate States of Amer 
 
 Farrow & Dennett, prinlem. 
 
THE REIGx\ OF JOSEPH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE OATH. 
 
 Maria Theresa was no more. On the 29th day of November, of the 
 year 1780, she went to rejoin her much loved " Franz," — him to whom 
 her last words on earth were addressed, fn her dyinj^ moments, her 
 pale countenance illuminated by joy, the Empress would have arisen 
 from the arm-chair in which she sal awaiting her release. The Emperor 
 who had devoted himself to her with all the tenderness of which his na- 
 ture was capable, held her back. " Whither would your Majesty go V 
 asked he, terrified. Maria Theresa opened her arms, exclaiming, " To 
 thee ! To thee ! I come." Her head fell hack, and her dying lips were 
 parted once more. Her son bent his head to catch the fluttering words, 
 
 " Franz — my Franz " 
 
 Maria Theresa was no more ! ' The tolling of bells and the roll of 
 the muffled drum, announced to Vienna that the body of their beloved 
 Empress was being laid in the vault of the Capuchins, and that after so 
 many years of parting, she rested once more by the side of the Emperor 
 Francis. 
 
 The iron doors of the crypts were closed, and the thousands and tens 
 of thousands who had followed the Empress to her grave, had returned 
 to their saddened homes. The Emperor, too, followed by his confidants, 
 Lacy and Rosenberg, had retired to his cabinet. His face \Tas inex- 
 pressibly sad, and he paced his room with folded arms, utterly forgetful 
 of his friends, whom nevertheless he had requested to follow him, and 
 who, both in the embrasure of a window, were silently awaiting the 
 awakening of the Emperor from his dumb grief. 
 
 At last he remembered their presence. Directing his steps towards 
 the window, he stood before them, and looked anxiously first at one, then 
 at the other. 
 
 " Was 1 an undutiful son ?" asked he in a faltering voice. " I implore 
 you, my friends, make me no courtier's reply, but speak the plftin, un- 
 varnighed truth, and tell me whether I was an ungrateful son to my no- 
 ble mother. Lacy, by the memory of your own mother, be honest." 
 
4 JOSEPH TIIS SECOND. 
 
 " By the memory of my mother, sire," said Lacy solemnly, " No ! — 
 You bore the burthen of your filial duty with exemplary patience, and 
 bowed your will to the will of your mother, even when you knew that 
 she erred in judgment." 
 
 " And you, Rosenberg 1" asked Joseph with a sad smile. 
 
 " My opinion, sire, is that you were a noble, all-enduring son, whose 
 .heart was not hardened against his mother, although from your childhood 
 it had provocation to become so. Your Majesty bore with more than 
 any other man would have done whose lips had not been locked by filial 
 tenderness." 
 
 " 1 was silent but resentful," said Joseph mournfully, " I bore my 
 burthens ungraciously, and Maria Theresa was aware of it — I have often 
 been angered by her, but she has often wept for my sake. Oh, those 
 tears disturb my conscipoce !" 
 
 " Your'Majesty should remember that the Empress forgave and for- 
 got all the dissentions of bygone years, and that in her last illness, she 
 expressed herself supremely happy in your Maja^ty's care and tender- 
 ness." 
 
 " You should remember also that with the sagacity which is often 
 vouchsafed to the dying, MariaTheresa confessed that she had unwill- 
 inghy darkened your Majesty's life by her exactions, and in the magna- 
 nimity of her regret, asked your forgiveness." 
 
 " I have said all this to myself," replied Joseph, "I have repeated it 
 o'er and o'er in these wretched, sleepless nights ; but' still the dagger of 
 remorse is in my heart, and now I would gladly give years of my life, if 
 my mother were living that I might redeem the past by cheerful sub- 
 mission to her every wish !" 
 
 " Let the great Empress rest in peace !" exclaimed Lacy. " She was 
 weary of life, and died with more than willingness. Your Majesty must 
 cherish your life, mindful of the vast inheritance which your mother has 
 left you." 
 
 " You are right. Lacy," cried Joseph warmly. " It is a noble inheri- 
 tance, and I swear to you both to cherish it, not for my own sake, but for 
 the sake of the millions of human beings of whose destinies I shall be 
 the arbiter ! I swear to be a good Sovereign to my people. By the 
 tears which my mother has shed for me, I will dry the tears of the un- 
 fortunate, and the blessing she left me with her dying breath, I shall be- 
 stow upon the Austrians whom she loVed so well. — If I should ever for- 
 get this vow, you are here to remind me of it. And now that my reiga 
 begins, I exact of you both a proof of your loyalty." 
 
 "Speak, sire," said Lacy, with a bright and affectionate smile. 
 
 " Put me to the test," cried Rosenberg, " and I shall not flinch." The 
 Emperor laid his hands upon the shoulders of his friends, and looked at 
 them with ynmistakeable affection. " Happy is the maa who possesses 
 two auch friends. But hear what I exact of you — I stand upon the thres- 
 hold of a new order of things. I am at last an Emperor, free to carry 
 out the designs, whicb for so many long years I have been forced to 
 
KMI'KROR VV AUSTRIA. 
 
 thrust back and stifle in my sorrowing heart. I am resolved to enlight,- 
 
 eu iind to elevale my subjects. But if in my zeal to do well, I should 
 l«clv discretion, it is for y.on lo check and warn me. And if I heed not 
 your warnings, you shall per.si.vt, even if your persistaiioe become ollen- 
 sive. Will y(»u promise ine to do so, de,ir fiiends?" 
 " We promise," said IjOth wiih one brcalh. 
 
 " God and the Emperor have heard the promise. Give me your hon- 
 est hands, my bet-t and truest friends. You, at loaist, I shall never 
 doubt; I feel that your friendship will be mine until the day of mv 
 death!" ^ 
 
 "Your Majesty is the youngest of us three," said Lacy, "and you 
 speak as if we would outlive you." 
 
 "Age does not count by years," replied the Emperor wearily, "l)ut 
 by wounds, and if you count the bears that disappointment has left upon 
 my heart, you will find that I have lived longer than either of you. 
 Promise, then, to be with me to ihe last, and to close my eyes for me." 
 ^'Your wife and children will do that for you, sire," said PiOsenberg. 
 " 1 shall never marry again. My noi>hew*, Franci.s, shall be my heir, 
 and I shall consider him as my son. The Empress of Russia has "con- 
 seuted to give him her adopted daughter in marriage, and I trust that 
 Francis may be happier in wedlock than his unfortunate uncle. My 
 heart is no longer susceptible of love." 
 
 "And yet it beats with such yearning love towards mankind," ex- 
 claimed Jlosenberg. 
 
 " Yes — my heart belongs to my people, and there is nothing left of it 
 for woman. For my subjects alone I shall live. Their souls shall be 
 freed from the shackles of the church, and they shall no longer be led 
 like children by the hands of priests or prelates! You have tranquil- 
 izt^d my conscience, and 1 have received your vow of fidelity till death. 
 With two such Mentors to advise me, 1 may hope at last to do some- 
 thing (ov fame !" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRINCK KAUNITZ. 
 
 For three days Prince Kaunitz had not left his cabinet. No one was 
 allowed to approach him except the servant who biought the meals, 
 which the Prince sent away almost untouched. Jlis h'ousehold were 
 sorely troubled at this, for no one had as yet vent'ared to communicate 
 the tidings of the Empress's death. Still he seerjied to know it, lor pre- 
 
1i .JOSErU THJi: SKOONO. 
 
 ciselj on tlie day of her demise, Kauiiitz had retired to his' cabinet, 
 whence he Jiad not emerged since. 
 
 Todaj'.the tolling of bells and the dull sound of muffled druins had 
 doubtless revealed to him that the funeral was at hand. Still he had 
 questioned nobody, and sat in stupid silence, apparently nnmindfut of 
 the tumult without. Even when the procession passed his own house 
 he remained rigid in his chair, his large eyes glaring vacantly at thb wall 
 opposite. 
 
 Baron Binder who had noiselessly entered his room, and had been 
 watching the Prince, saw two large tears rolling slowly dovrn his, face, 
 and the sight of these tears emboldened him to approach the solitary 
 mourner. 
 
 When he saw Binder, his lips quivered slightly, but he made no other 
 sign. Binder laid his hand upon the shoulder of the Prince, and felt n 
 start. 
 
 "Take compassion upon us who love you," said he, in a low, trem- 
 bling voice. "Tell us what it is that grieves you, dear friend." 
 
 "Nothing," replied Kaunitz. 
 
 "This is the first time that I have ever known your Highness to speak 
 an untruth," cried Binder, boldly. 'Something grieves you ; if not — why 
 those blanched cheeks, those haggard eyes, and the tears that even now 
 are falling upon your hands'?" 
 
 Prince Kaunitz moved uneasily, and slowly turned his head. 
 
 " Who gave you the right to criticise my behaviour?" asked he in a 
 freezing tone of displeasure. " Does it become such as you to measure 
 or comprehend the sufferings of a great mind? If it pleases you to pa- 
 rade your troubles, go out and ask sympathy of the contemptible world, 
 but leave tQ, me the freedom of sorrowing alone ! My grief is self sus- 
 taining. It needs no prop and no consolation. Attend to your affairs 
 of state, and go from hence. I wish no spies upon ray actions." 
 
 '•Ah !" said Binder tenderly, " 'tis not my eyes that have acted the 
 spies, but my heart, and " 
 
 "Baron Binder," interrupted Kaunitz, " you are not under this roof 
 to dissect my sentiments or to confide to me your own ; you are here to 
 ."ttssist me as a statesman. Go, therefore, and confine your efforts to the 
 buViness of your office." 
 
 Bi\'ider heaved a sigh, and obeyed. It was useless to offer sympathy 
 when iV' provoked such stinging resentment. 
 
 The S'>.'''ites-Refe-endarius had scarcely reached ^^his study before the 
 folding-doo.i'i' of Prince Kaunitz's entrance-rooms were flung wide open, 
 and the valetvn attendance announced, 
 
 " His Majest^y, the Emperor." ' 
 
 A shudder waV perceptible through the frame of the Prince, and he 
 clutched at the arli;is of the chair in an attempt to rise. 
 
 " Do not, rise," ^^^-id Joseph, coming forward, "I have intruded my- 
 self upon you without; ceremony, and you must receive me in like man- 
 .Mer." \ 
 
KMPEKOK OK Al'STRTA. 
 
 KaunKz sank back, and inclined his bond, lie had not the power to 
 make a reply. Joseph then motioned to the valtt to withdraw, and 
 drew a, chair to the Princels side. 
 
 There was a short silence, and the Emperor began : " I bring you 
 greetings I'rom niy mother." . • 
 
 Kauni^z turned and gazed at the Emperor with a look of indescrib- 
 able anguish. "Her last greeting," said he almost inaudihly. 
 
 'vYoii know it then? Who has been bold enough to break this sad 
 intelligence fo you ?' 
 
 '• No one, your Majesty. For three days I have received no bulletins 
 — when they ceased I knew that — Maria Theresa was no more.>" 
 
 "Since you know it then, my friend, I am relieved from a painful 
 task. Yes — I bring you the last greetings of a Sovereign who loved you 
 well !" 
 
 A sigh — which was rather a sob indicative of the inner throes that 
 v/erc racking the statesman's whole being, burst from his heart. His 
 head fell upon his breast, and his whole body trembled. Joseph com- 
 prehended the immensity of his grief, and made no inefiectual attempts 
 to (|uell it. . 
 
 " I know," said he, " that you grieve, not only for her children, but 
 for Austria," 
 
 I grieve for you — I grieve for Austria — and oh ! I grieve for myself," 
 murmured Kaunitz. 
 
 " You have been a faithful friend to my mother," continued Joseph, 
 "and the Empress remembered it to her latest hour. She bade me re- 
 mind you of the day on which you dedicated your life to Austria's wel- 
 fare. I|iie told me to say to you that the departure of your Empress 
 had not released you. It had increased your responsibilities, and she 
 expected of you to be to her son what you have ever been to her, a wise 
 counsellor and a cherished friend. Do you accept the charge and trans- 
 fer the rich boon of your services to me ?" 
 
 The Prince opened his lips, but not a sound came forth. For the se- 
 cond time an expression of agony fluttered over his face, and no longer 
 able to control his feelings, he burst into tears. The sight so moved the 
 Emperorthat he, too, shed tears abundantly. 
 
 Kaunitz gradually recovered himself. With an impatient movement 
 he dashed away the last tears that had gathered in his eyes, and dried 
 his moist cheeks with his delicate cambric handkerchief. He was him- 
 self again. 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty," said he, respectfully inclining his head. 
 " You see how grief has mastered me. I have behaved like a child who 
 is learning his first difficult lesson of self control. , Forgive this momen- 
 tary weakness, and 1 promise that you shall never see me so overwhelm- 
 ed as long as I live." 
 
 The Emperor with an affectionate smile pressed the old statesman's 
 hand. " 1 have nothing to forgive, dear Prince. I have to thank you 
 for permitting me to view the penetralia of a great inan's heart. And 
 
« JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 still more have I to thank you for the sincerity with which you have 
 Joved Maria Theresa. I accept it as a pledge of your obedience to hcf 
 last wishes. May 1 not ?" 
 
 Kaunitz looked up and answered with firmness. " Bire, this is the 
 hour of unreserve, -and ] will speak the unvarnished truth, I have been 
 expecting the last greeting of my Empress, and had 1 not received her 
 commaud to serve your Majesty, I should have known that Austria had 
 need, of me no more, and ere long I would have followed my peerless 
 mistress to the grave." 
 
 " How ! you would have laid violent hands upon your life ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sire — I would simply have starved to death, fori never could 
 have tasted food again, had I once obtained the conviction that I had be- 
 come superannuated and useless. Your Majesty has saved my life, for 
 1 have eaten nothing since she — went; and now since I must still live 
 for Austria, let me implore you to forget what you have seen of me to- 
 day. If I have ever served Austria, it has been in virtue of the mask 
 which I have always worn over my heaft and features. Let me resume 
 it then, to wear .it for life. Had we- worn our political mask a little 
 longer, Frederic would not have foiled us in our Bavarian projects. We 
 must beware of him, old though he be, for he is a shrewd, far-seeing di- 
 plomatist.'' 
 
 " Oh, I do not fear his prying propensities !" cried Joseph. " Let him 
 watch our proceedings — and much good may it do him. He will see a 
 new order of things in Austria. Will you stand by me, Prince, and lend 
 rae a helping hand until my stately edifice is complete?" ' 
 
 "Your edifice will need to be above all things, upon a secure founda- 
 tion. It must be fast as a mountain behind which we can entrer»(h our- 
 selves against the stormings of the clergy and the nobility." 
 
 The Emperor gave a start of joyful surprise. " You have guessed 
 my projects of reform, and I have not yet uttered a word !" 
 
 " I had guessed them long ago, sire, I had read them more than' once 
 upon your countenance when priests and nobles were by ; and I triumph- 
 ed in secret, as I thought of the day that was to come, when you would 
 be the sole arbiter of their destinies." 
 
 " The day has come ! It has come!" exclaimed Joseph exultingly. 
 " Now shall begin the struggle in church and convent, in palace and cas- 
 tle ; and we shall shake oft' ambitious prelates and princes as the lion 
 does the insect that settles upon his mane !" 
 
 " Let the Lion beware, for the insect bears a sting, and the sting bears 
 poison." 
 
 " We shall rob it of its sting before we rob it of its treasures. And 
 ■whence comes the sting of these troublesome gnats ? It resides in the 
 riches, of the Church and the privileges of the nobles. But the noble 
 shall bow his haughty head to my laws, and the Church shall yield up 
 her wealth. The lord of the soil shall come down to the level of his 
 serf, and by the eternal heavens above rae, the priest shall be made as 
 ho«ieless as Christ and his Apostles !" 
 
KMPEROR OF AUhTKlA. 
 
 " If your Majcsbj cau compass this, your pcoplo nill adore you as a 
 second Messiah." 
 
 " I shall do it! I shall free luy people from bond;ii;c, and if I am 
 made to die the death of the. cross, 1 shail e.\ult in my Diartyrdom," ex- 
 Ciainicu Joseph, with fiiVbhinj^ eyes. "The internnl administration of 
 Austria calls for reform. The empire over whieh I am to reign niust 
 be governed according to mij principles. EeMgious prejudices, fanati- 
 cism, and party spirit must disappear, and the influence of the clergy, so 
 cherished by my mother, shall cease now and forever. Monks and nuns 
 shall quit their idle praying, and work like other men and women, and 
 1 jihall turn the whole fraternity of contemplatives into a body f-'f indus- 
 trious burghers.'* 
 
 "()h, sire," exclaimed Kaunitz, " your words afiright me. Bethink' 
 you that you throw theJarand of revolt among a numerous and influen- 
 tial class." 
 
 " We shall strip them of their armor, and .so they shall become in- 
 noxious." 
 
 " Gracious heaven 1" ejaculated Kaunitz. " Your Majesty will " 
 
 "Capture the convents and carry off the booty." 
 
 ''B\jt that will be tantamount to a declaraLi')u of war against Rome." 
 
 "ICx.T'tly what I propose to bring about! 1 desire to teach this ser- 
 vant of " <od that I am absolute monarch qf my own dominions, and that 
 
 his— f' 
 
 "T^ue, sire, true, but be cautious and go v,arily to work." . 
 
 "I hive no time to ten)porise," cried Joseph. " What is to be done, 
 shall be done at once; so much the more quickly that this question of 
 stripping the convents is not only one of principle but also of expedien- 
 cy. Tiey abound in objects of value and my treasury needs replenish- 
 ing. Ipe state debt is large and we must retrench. I shall not, like 
 my graoous mother, require a budget of six millions ; I intend to restrict 
 myself to the expenditure which suffices for the King of Prussia. Of 
 course I shall not, like the munificent Mavia Theresa, dispense ducats 
 and sraiUs in equal profusion; my people must be satisfied with a greet- 
 ing that is not set to the music of the chink of gold. Neither shall I, 
 like my imperial lady-mc>ther, keep two thousand horses in my stables; 
 moreoverthe pension-list shall be decreased, let the retrenchment fall 
 upon whoii it may. But all this will not suffice to strAighten niy finan- 
 cial affiiirs; I need several millions more, and as they Are to be found in 
 church ani convent, I shall seek them theie." 
 
 Prince taunitz had listened to this bold harangue with perfect aston- 
 ishment. Several times in the course of it, he had nodded his head, and 
 more than oice he had smiled. "Sire," said he, "you have such an in- 
 trepid spirit that my scarred old heart beats responsive to the call, like 
 an aged warnorse that neighs at the trumpet's note. Be it so, then — I 
 shall fight a your side like a faithful champion, happy, if during the 
 
 *Tliis vrhole paversation is historical. The expressions are those of the Emperor, See Letters 
 of Joseph 9d, p. 4- 
 
10 JOaKPH THie SEf'uNK. 
 
 strife, I be permitted to wai-d off from my- Emperor's head, a blow from 
 his adversaries' hauds. Eeni.e^iiber that we go forth to fight thous;inds; 
 fur the people are with the ciergy, and they will cry out evea moic bit- 
 terly ilian they did at the expulsion of the Jesuits." 
 
 " And they will cease to cry, as they did on that occasion," exclaimed 
 the Emperor with a merry laugh. " Courage, Kaunitz, courage, and we 
 shall prcvailover Rome, and all monkdom, and when we shall have 
 utilized their treasure?, the people will return to their senses, and ap- 
 plaud the deed."* 
 
 "So be it then, your Majesty. I will help j'ou to pluck the poison 
 weeds, and sow in their places, good secular grain." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Tm: BANKER AND HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 The beautiful daughter of the Jewish banker, was alone in her ipart- 
 ments, which munificence of her wealthy father had rendered almost re- 
 gal in their arrangements. Rachel, however, was so accustomed to 
 magnificence that she had lost all appreciation of it. She scarcely vouch- 
 safed a glance to her inlaid cabinets, her oriental carpets, her crystal lus- 
 tres and her costly paintings. Even her own transcendant beaJty, re-- 
 fleeted in the large Venitian mirrois that surrounded her, was unheeded, 
 as she reclined in simple muslin among the silken cushions of a Turkish 
 divan. 
 
 But Rachel, in her muslin, was lovely beyond all power of .anguage 
 to describe. Her youth, grace and beauty were ornaments wth which 
 " Nature's own cunning hand " had decked her from her birth What 
 diamond ever lit up Gojconda's' mine with such living fire as flashed from 
 her hazel e3-e? What pearl upon its ocean-bed ever glitter;d with a 
 sheen like that of the delicate teeth that peeped from between her pout- 
 ing, coral lips "? When she wandered, in her vapory whitJ dresses, 
 through her father's princely halls, neither picture, nor statue ihere, could 
 compare in color oi' proportion with the banker's queenly daughter, her- 
 self. 
 
 She lay on the dark silk cushions of the divan like a swin upon the 
 opaliine waters of a lake at sunset. One arm, white and fini as Carrara 
 marble, supported her graceful head, while in her right hacJ, she held an 
 open letter. 
 
 * Joseph's own worUs. See Letters, dsc., P. 49. 
 
KMI'KKOn OF AI'SIKIA. i i 
 
 " Oil, my beloved,'' murmured she, " vpu hope evcryfhinfj from the 
 rTapianimity of the Emperor ! Bn in what V)l6Sf,ed climf! .was ev*>.r a 
 Jewess permitted to wed witli a Christian ? The Emperor mav remove 
 the shackles of our national bond;\;re but he ran never lift us to social 
 equality with the people of another fiith. There is nothinir to bridge 
 the gulf that yawns between my l-^lnvod and me I It would kill rov 
 father to know that I had renounced Jn-laism, and I would rather die than 
 be his murderer ! Oh. my father ! Oh, my lovef ! My heart lies be- 
 tween you, and yet J may not love you both ! But which must I sacri- 
 fice to the other V' 
 
 She paused .ind raised her eyes imploringly to heaven. Her cheeks 
 flushed, her bosom heaved, and no longer able to restrain her agitation, 
 she sprang from the divan, and light as a gazelle, crossed the room, and 
 threw open the window. 
 
 " No, my lover,"' said she, " no, 1 cannot renounce you. A woman 
 must leave father and mother, to follow him who reigns over her heart ! 
 J will leave all things, then, for you my Gunthcr !" And she pressed 
 his letter to ner lips ; then folding it, she hid it in her bosom. 
 
 A knock at the door caused her to start slightly, and before she had 
 time to speak the Jewish banker entered the room. 
 
 " My dear father !" exclaimed Rachel joyfully, flying to him and put- 
 ting her arjns around his tall athletic form. 
 
 Eskcles Flies stroked her dark, hair, and pressed a kiss upon her brow. 
 "1 have not seen yon for two days, father," said Rachel, reproachfully. 
 
 " I have been absent inspecting my new factories at Brunn, my daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 "And you went without a word of adieu to me!" 
 
 Adi'^'u is a sorrowful word, my child, and I speak it reluctantly; but 
 a return home is joy unspeakable, and you see that my first visit is to 
 you, dear child. To-day I come as a messenger of good tidings." 
 
 Rachel raised her head and a flush of expectation rose to her face. 
 
 " Do the good tidings concern us both ?" asked she. 
 
 "Not only ourselves, but our whole people. Look at me Rachel, and 
 tell me wherein J have changed since last we met." 
 
 Rachel stepped back and contemplated her father with an afTectionate 
 smile. "I see the same tall figure, the same energetic, manly features, 
 
 the same dear smile, and the same no, not quite the same dress. 
 
 You have laid aside the yellow badge of inferiority that the Jew wears' 
 upon h?s arm." 
 
 "The Emperor has freed us from this humiliation, Rachel. This 
 burthen of a thousand years, ha'^'Joseph lifted from our hearts, and un- 
 der his reign, we are to enjoy the rights of men and Austrians !" 
 
 " The Emperor is a great and magnanimous Prince !" exclaimed Ra- 
 chel. 
 
 " We have been trampled so long under foot," said the banker scorn- 
 fully, " that the smallest concession seems magnanimity. But of what 
 avail will be the absence of the b?dge of shame ? It will not change the 
 
12 JOSKPII THE SKrOND. 
 
 peculiarity^ of feature which marks U3 among men, and betrays us to the 
 Christian's hate." '' 
 
 '■ May onr nation's type be ever written upoti our faces," exclaimed 
 Rachel. " The Emperor will protect us from the little persecutions of 
 yociety." 
 
 •• He will have little time to think of us, he will have enough to do to 
 protect himself from his own enemies. Pie has decreed the dispersion 
 of the conventual orders, and as he has refused to yield up the goods of 
 the church, his subjects are becoming alienated from a man who has no 
 regard for the request of the Pope. Moreover, he has proclaimed uni- 
 versal toleration." 
 
 " And has he included us among the enfranchised, dear father?" 
 
 " Yes, my child, even we are to be tolerated. We are also to be per- 
 mitted to rent estates, and to leavn trades. Mark me — not to buy es- 
 tates, but to rent them ; we are not yet permitted to be landed pro- 
 prietors."* 
 
 But they cannot prevent the Jew from accumulating gold — 'yellow, 
 shining gold,' and riches are our revenge upon Christendom, tor the many- 
 humiliations we have endured at its pious hands. They Ivave -withheld 
 froni us titles, orders, auii rank, but they cannot withhold money. The 
 linger of the Jew is a magnet, and when he points it, the Christian ducats 
 fly into his hand. Oh, Rachel, 1 look forward to the day when the Jews 
 shall monopolise the wealth of the world — when they shall be called to 
 the councils of Kings and Emperors, and furnish to their oppressors the 
 means of reddening the earth with one another's blood ! We shall pay 
 them to slaughter one another, Rachel, and that shall be our glorious re- 
 venge !" 
 
 " My dear, dear fcther," interposed Rachel, "what has come over you 
 that you should speak such resentful words % Revenge is unworthy of 
 the noble sons of Israel ; leave it to the Christian whose words are love 
 while his deeds are hate. ' 
 
 " His words to the Jew are as insolent as his deeds are wicked. But 
 I know very well how to exasperate and humble the Christians. I do it 
 by means of my rich dwelling and my costly equipages. I do it by in- 
 viting them to come and see how for more sumptuously f live than they. 
 The tight of my luxuries blackens their hearts with envy ; but most of 
 all they envy the Jewish banker, that his daughter so far outshines in 
 beauty their Gentile women !" 
 
 " Dear father," said Rachel coloring, " you go to extremes in praise 
 as in blame. You exaggerate the defects of the Christian, and the at- 
 tractions of your daughter." 
 
 Her father drew her graceful head to him, and nestled it upon his 
 breast. " No, mv child,~no, I do not exaggerate your beauty. It is not 
 I alone, but all "Vienna, that is in raptures with your incomparable loveli- 
 ness." 
 
 " Hush, dear fether. ' Vv'ould you see mie vain ^^nd heartles s *?" 
 
 • Kamshorn, Joseph 2d, P. 259, 
 
EMPEftOK OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 •' I would see you appreciate your beauty, and make use of it." 
 
 " Make use of it ? How?" 
 
 " To help your father in his projects of vengeacce. You cannot con- 
 ceive how exultant 1 am when I see you surrounded by hosts of Chris- 
 tian nobles, all doing homage to your bejiu^y and your father's millions. 
 Encourage them, Kache!, that they may bccomt' intoxicated with love 
 and that on the day whert they ask me for my daughter's hand. I mav 
 tell them ihat my daughter is a Jewess, aud can never be the wife of a 
 Christian !" 
 
 Eachel made no reply : her head still rested upon her father's bosom 
 and he could not see that tears were falling in showers from her eyes. 
 But he felt her sobs, and guessing that something was grieving her, he 
 drew her gently to a seat. 
 
 " Dear, dear child," cried he anxiously, " tell me why you weep." 
 
 " I weep because I see that my father loves revenge for more thsn 
 his only child, and that he is willing to peril her soul by defiling it with 
 wicked coquetry. Now I understand why it is that such a profligate as 
 Count Podstadsky has been suffered to pollute our home by his visits !" 
 
 The banker's face grew bright. ^'^ Then, Rachel, you do not love him," 
 said he, pressing his daughter to his heart. 
 
 " Love him !" exclaimed Rachel with a shudder, "love a man who 
 has neither mind rtor heart !"' 
 
 " And I was so silly as to fear that your heart had strayed from its 
 duty, my child, and that, the tears which you are shedding were for him J 
 But 1 breathe again, and can exult once more in the knowledge of his 
 love for you." 
 
 " No, father," said Kachel, " he does not love me. He loves nothing 
 except himself; but he wearies me with his importunities." 
 
 " What has he done to you, my daughter?" 
 
 " During your absence he came three times to see me. As I refused 
 to spe him, he had resort to writing, and sent me a note requesting a 
 private interview. Read it for yourself, father. It lies on the table. 
 
 The banker read and his eyes flashed with anger. " Unmannerly 
 wretch !" exclaimed he, " to use such language to my daughter ! But 
 all Vienna shall know how wo scorn him ! Answer his note favorably, 
 Rachel, but let the hour of your interview be at midday, for I wish no 
 one to suppose that my daughter receives Christians by stealth." 
 
 "I will obey you, father," replied Rachel with a sigh, "but I would 
 be better satisfied to thrust him, without further ceremony, from the 
 door. I cairaot write to him, however, that would be a compromise of 
 ray own honor ; but I will send him a verbal message by my own faith- 
 ful old nurse. She knows me too well to suspect me of clandestine in- 
 tercourse with a wretch like Podstadsky." 
 
 " Why not send the girl who delivered his letter ?" 
 
 " Because 1 discharged her on the spot for her indiscretion." 
 
 " Bravely done, my precious child. You are as wise and as chaste as 
 Israel's beauteous daughters have ever been. I shall reward you for 
 
[4 ' .TOSEPII THE SECOND. 
 
 despising the Christian Count. But I must go. I must go to double 
 my millions and lay them all at m.y Rachel's feet." 
 
 He kissed his daughter's forehead, aud rose fiorn the divan. But as 
 he reached the door, he turj^ed carelessly, 
 
 " Has the Emperor's private Secretary visited you of late?" 
 
 " He was here yesterday," said Rachel bluishing. 
 
 '•Did you receive him?" 
 
 "Yes, dear father, for you yourself presented him here." 
 
 Eskeles Flies was silent for a while. " And yet," resumed he, " I 
 believe that 1 was wrong to invite him hither. In your unconscious 
 modesty, you have not perceived, my child, that Giinther loves you with 
 all the fervor of a true and honest heart. He may have indulged the 
 thouirht that I would bestow my daughter upon a poor little imperial 
 Secretary, whose brother enjoys the privilege of blacking the Emperor's 
 boots, Although I laugh at ^iis presumption, I pity his infatuation, for 
 he is an excellent young man. Be careful — or rather, receive him no 
 longer. You see, Rachel, that tow^^rds an estimable mar>, 1 do not en- 
 couva<^e coquettry ; on the contrary^'t plead for poor Giinther, He must 
 not be exposed to a disappointment. It is understood, then, that you 
 decline his visits." 
 
 He sniiled kindly upon his daughter, and left the -room. 
 
 Rachel looked after him with lips half parted, and face as pale as mar- 
 ble. She stood motionless until the sound of her father's footsteps had 
 died away ; then sinking upon her knees, she buried her face in her 
 hands aud cried out in accents of despair, 
 
 " Oh, my God ! I am to see him no more !" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE COUNTESS BAILLOU. 
 
 The beautiful Countess Baillou was about to give a ball. She had in- 
 vited all the haul ion of Vienna, and they had accepted the invitations. 
 And the Countess had been but four weeks in the Austrian capital ; she 
 had no relations there and no one of the aristocracy had ever heard her 
 name before. But she had come to Vienna provided with letters of in- 
 troduction and money ; and these two keys had opened the salons of the 
 fashionables to the beautiful stranger. 
 
 Her splendid equipage had been seen in the parks, and her magnifi. 
 cent diamonds at the theatre. All the young men of fashion had direc- 
 ted their lorgnettes towards her box, admiring not only her extraordinary 
 
EMPEROR OF AVSTRIA. Jo 
 
 benuty, but the grace and abandon of her attitude, as she leaned back in 
 her velvet .arm-chair. She had not lonij been seated when the door of 
 the box opened, and a young man entered whom the lady greeted with 
 a cordial smile. Every one knevr the visiter to be Count Podstadsky- 
 Liechtenstein, the richest, haughtiest, and handsomct cavalier in all 
 Vienna. Podstadsky was the son of a distinguished nobleman. hi"h in 
 the Emperor's favor ; he had just returned from his travels, and all the 
 Viennese gallants were eager to imitate him in everything. To see him 
 in the box of the beautiful stranger was to fire the ambition of 6very man 
 to know her; the more so that the haughty Podstadsky,' instead of ac- 
 cepting a scat, was standing in an attitude of profound respect before 
 her, which he maintained until he took his leave. 
 
 Podstadsky of course was assailed with questions in relation to the 
 Countess. He had known her in Italy as the wife of a wealthy old no- 
 bleman to whom her parents hnd sacrificed her before she was eighteen. 
 She had been sincerely admired in Rome, not only on account of her 
 beauty, but of her wit, goodness and above all of her admirable behavior 
 towards her repulsive old husband. Her conduct had been so exempla- 
 ry that she had been called '• La. Coniessa del cuore freddo.^'* Podstads- 
 ky confessed that even ho had beei desperately in love with her, but 
 finding her unapproachable, had left Rome in despair. What then was 
 his delight when a few moments ago, he had learned from her own lips 
 that she was a widow, and had come to spend a season in Vienna. 
 
 The consequence of this recital was that Podstadsky's young acquaint- 
 ances were clamorous for presentation to La Coniessa. Jle stepped in 
 her box to inform the lady of their wishes, but soon retuned with the 
 unwelcome tidings that the Countess would receive no male visitor un- 
 less he came in the company of a lady. This of course increased the 
 longing of the gallants, ten-fold, and the next day when her equipage 
 was seen coming in the park, it was followed by many an eager horse- 
 man, jealous beyond expression of Count Podstadsky who was admitted 
 to the blessed privilege of riding near the lady of their thoughts. 
 
 Some days later, the young Countess left her cards and letters of in- 
 troduction, and as they were from Orsinis, Colonnas and other grandees 
 of Rome, her hotel was crowded vnth elegant eqjaipages, and she was 
 admitted into the charmed circles of the first society in Vienna. 
 
 As for the furniture of her hotel, it surpassed anything in the citv. 
 
 Her orders of every kind had been princely. Her sofas and chairs 
 were of embroidered satin, her tables of inlaid wood and verde antique, 
 her carpets the richest Persian, her paintings and statuary of rarest value. 
 She had bespoken several services of gold, and jewellers were revelling 
 in her orders for parures such as Princesses would have been proud to 
 possess. 
 
 One quality which the Countess Baillou possessed, gave her unbound- 
 ed popularity with those whom she patronised. Her purchases were all 
 promptly paid in new Austrian bank-not es, and tradesman, vied with 
 
 * The Oount^ss ^th the cold heart. 
 
16 ■ JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 tradesman as to who should have the privilege of her custom. 
 
 Finally, her palace was iLirnished, and the day of her ball had dawn- 
 ed. Every invitation hiid been accepted ; for the world was curious to 
 see the splendors of her fairy abode, and to see the fairy emerge from 
 the retreat where she had buried herself up to the date of this grand re- " 
 ception. 
 
 And now the loug sidles were lit up, and room after room was one 
 blazing isea of light, gold, crystal, bronze and marble. Here and there 
 were charmiiig boudoirs, where those who were weary of splendor, could 
 retire to Converse in rhe soft, subdued light that was shed upon them 
 from veiled lamps. The whole was closed by magnificent conservato- 
 ries, where flourished the flowers aad frnits of every cllrae, where tropi- 
 cal birds were seen fluttering among the branches of the orange tree, or 
 dipping their beaks in the ciasbio bfiisins of the fountains that were gent- 
 ly plashing there. ' 
 
 The Countess had just emerged from her dressing-room. Her dress 
 for the evening, was of white satin, and the coronal of brilliants which 
 fliashed amoiig the braids of her black hair, was worthy to be the bridal- 
 diadem of a Queen. The Countess Baillou was tall and stately in her 
 beauty ; hers was the tascinatio^ "^ f the dark-eyed Italian, united to the 
 Ma'esity of a daughter of ancient Rome, and the union was irresistible." 
 Her throat was blender, her head s all, and her classic oval face was of- 
 n pale, pearly hue, without a tinge of the rose, which while it lends ani- 
 mation to a woman's face, detracts from the camelia-like purity of ger?- 
 uine patrician beauty. 
 
 The Countess glided across the room, and throwing back her head took 
 a critical survey of her apartments. They presented a combination of 
 taste with magnificence, and. their mistress was satisfied. 
 
 She turned to her steward who was breathlessly awaiting the result of 
 his lady's inspection. " Not bad," said she, in a rich, melodious voice. 
 " I am quite pleased with your labors." 
 
 " Will my lady walk through the rooms to see the conservatories ?" 
 asked the steward. 
 
 " Why so ■?" asked she with indifference. " I have no doubt that all 
 is as it should be •, I am too weary of splendor to take much interest in 
 it. See, however, that the tables are' spread with every Inxury that can 
 tempt the palates of my guests." 
 
 " I hope, your ladyship will be satisfied. The two cooks from Paris 
 profess, the one to have learned his art under the Prince de Soubise, the 
 other to have received his receipts for pastry from the Duke de Riche- 
 lieu." ' 
 
 " Let them both do their besK" said the Countess languidly, " and re- 
 member that expense is to be no obstacle to the carrying out of my or- 
 ders." 
 
 With these words, she dismissed the steward, and sank back into the 
 recesses of an arm-chair. But when he had fairly left, and she knew that 
 she was alone, her aspect changed. She rose quickly from the chair, and 
 
EMPEROR OF ACSTRIA. 17 
 
 walked through her rooms, surveying their splendor vith visible exulta- 
 tion. 
 
 How peerless was her beauty as she swept through those empty 
 rooms, her diamonds reflected fmm mirror to mirror, her rich dress tali- 
 ing in heavy folds about \ie.T perfect form ! He who had seen her there 
 would have taken her for the Princess who had just awakened from her 
 hundred years' sleep, looking around her palatial solitude to see who it 
 was that had broken the spell of her enchanted trance. Her face was lit 
 up with triumph as s^lie wtnt, and at times when something of rare value 
 met her eyes, she laughed aloud in the ecstacy of her pride ! 
 
 Suddenly the stillness was broken by the. sound of a man's footstep. 
 The laugh of the Countess ceased, and bhe drew on her mask of indiffer- 
 ence. She turned slowly around, and dropped it again — for the intruder 
 was Count Podstadsky. 
 
 Just in the midst of the dancing-room, under the blaze of a crystal 
 chandelier they met. The Countess gave him her hand, and he grasped 
 it in his own, looking earnestly at her fair, bewitching face. She return- 
 ed the glance with her large flashing eyes, and so they stood for a time 
 together. There was a secret between those two. 
 
 The Countess spoke-first. Her mouth related into a scornful smile. 
 " Count Carl Von Podstadsky-Liea. '.instein," said she, " you are a man, 
 and yet you tremble." v 
 
 " Yes, Arabella, I tremble, bu^ not for me. As I look upon you, in 
 the fullness of your incomparable oeauty, my blood freezes with terror, 
 And a voice v•l.l^J)crs to me, ' Have mercy on this woman whose beauty 
 is so akin to that of angels ! You both stand upon the edge of a preci- 
 pice; shield her at least from the ruin which threatens you !'" 
 
 The Countess raised her snowy shoulders. " German sentimentality," 
 said she. "If you mix sentiment with your cards, vce. shall lose the 
 game, Co.unt Podstadsky. Hear, then, what I have to say to you. It is 
 true that we stand upon the brow of a precipice ; but we must contem- 
 plate it fearlessly, and so we shall grow accustomed to our danger, and 
 learn to escape it. Why do you wish to rescue me, Carl ? 1 do not 
 wish to be rescued. I like the giddy brink, and look down with defi- 
 ance into the abyss that blackens the future before me." 
 
 " Give me some of your courage," sighed the Count. *' Let me drink 
 confidence from the depths of your fearless, flashing eyes, my angel," 
 
 '' Angel !" said Arabella with a mocking laugh. "If so, at least call 
 me your fallen angel ; for when I took the unfathomable leap which 
 leads from innocence to guilt, your arms were outstretched to receive 
 me. But pshaw ! what bootless retrospection ! — I am here, Carl, true 
 as steel ; ready to stand or fall at your side. Feel my hand, it is warm 
 — feel my pulse, it beats as evenly as though I had never slept a night 
 out of Eden." 
 
 " You are a heroine, Arabella. The magnificence around us affrights 
 
 my cowardly soul • while you surely I heard your s^very laugh 
 
 when I entered this room a while ago." 
 
 2 . 
 
18 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 " To be sure you did, faiut-hearted knight of the card table ! I laugh- 
 ed for joy when I thought of my former jnisery and compared it with 
 iny present splendor ; the more so, that I am the bold architect M'ho 
 raised the editice of my owu fortune. We need not he grateful to hea- 
 ven for our luck, Ciirl, for we are not in favor .with the celestial aristo- 
 cracy ; we have no one to thank ihv our blessings but ourselves." 
 
 "And will have no one to thank but ourselves when ruin overtakes us." 
 
 "Possibly," said Arabella, with a shrug. "But remember that we 
 have already been shipwrecked, and have not only saved ourselves but 
 have brought glorious spoils with us to shore. So away with your mis- 
 givings ; they do not become the career yon have chosen." 
 
 '' Iti,ij;ht, Arabella, right. — They do not indeed! But promise me that 
 I shall always have vou at my side to share my fate, whatever it bring 
 forth." 
 
 " J promise," said she, raising her starry eyes to his, and clasping with 
 her small firm hand his cold and clammy fingers. " I promise, by the 
 memory of Rome, and the dark rolling waters of the Tiber, from which 
 you rescued me that night. And now let us pledge each other in a 
 draught from the depths of the Styx. — Look around you, Carl, and real- 
 ize that all this magnificence is ours, and that tonight I play the hostess 
 to the proud aristocracy of Vienna. But one question before the curtain 
 lises — how goes the affair with the banker's lovely Rachel'?" 
 
 " Gloriously ! — She loves me, for she has consented to receive me day- 
 after to-morrow, during her father's absence." 
 
 *' Go, then, and the blessings of your fallen angel go with you ! Play 
 your game cautiously, and let us hear the chink of Herr Eskeles Flies' 
 gold near the rustling of our fragile bank-notes. And now go. Return 
 in half an hour, that I may receive you in presence of our fastidious 
 guests. They might not approve of this tete-a-tete, for you are said to 
 be a sad profligate, Carl !" 
 
 She kissed her little jewelled hand, and while her Carl disappeared 
 through a secret door on one side of the room, she glided forward with 
 grace and elegance inimitable, to receive the high-born ladies who were 
 just then passing the portals of her princely abode. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE EXPULSION OF THE CLARISSERINES. 
 
 The stroke so long apprehended by the church had fallen. Joseph 
 had thrown down the gauntlet, and had dealt his first blow to the chair 
 
EMPKROi; OK AUSTRIA. ]'.} 
 
 'of St. Peter. This blow was directed towards the chief pastors of tho 
 Austrian Church, the Bibhops. Their alle^jiance, spiritual as well as 
 temporal, was due to the Emperor alone, and no order emanating from 
 Tlonie could take ellect without first being submitted for his approval. 
 The Bishops were to be re-instated in their ancient rights, and they alom-. 
 were to grant mnrriage-dispen?=ations and impose penances. 
 
 J3ut this was only one step in the new '' Reformation " of the Empe- 
 ror Joseph. He dissociated all spiritual communities whatever, from 
 connection with foreign Superiors, and freed them from all dependence 
 upon them. They were to receive their orders from native bishops 
 •alone, and these in their turn were to promulgate no spiritual edict with- 
 out the approbation and permission of the reigning Sovereign of 
 Austria. 
 
 These ordinances did away. with the influence of the head of the church 
 in Austria, but they did not sufficiently destroy that of the clergy over 
 their flockfe. This, too, must be annihilated ; and now everything was 
 ready for the great final blow which was to crush to the earth every ves- 
 tige of church influence within the. dominions of Joseph the Second. 
 This last stroke was the dispersion of the religious communities. Monks 
 and nuns should be forced to work with the people. They v/ereno long- 
 er to be permitted to devote their lives to solitary prayer, and every 
 contemplative order was suppressed. 
 
 The cry of horror which issued from the convents was echoed through- 
 out the landj from palace to hovel. The people were more than indig- 
 nant — they were terror-stricken ; for the Emperor" was not only an un- 
 believer himself, he was forcing his people to unbelief. The very exis- 
 tence of religion, said they, was threatened by his tyranny and impiety ! 
 
 Joseph heard all this and laughed it to scorn. " When the priests 
 ■cease their howls," said he, " the people, too, will stop ; and they will 
 thank me lor what I am doing." When they see that the heavens have 
 not fallen because a set of silly nuns arc startled from their nests, they 
 will come to their senses, and perceive that I have freed them from a 
 load of religious prejudices. 
 
 But the people were not of the same opinion. They hated the impe- 
 rial free-thinker, who with his brutal hands, was thrusting out helpless 
 "vyo.raen from their homes, and was robbing the very altars of their sacred 
 vessels, to convert them into money for his own profane uses. 
 
 All this, however, did not prevent the execution of the order for the 
 expulsion of the nuns. In spite of priests and people, the decree was 
 carried out on the 12th of January, of the year 1782. A multitude had 
 assembled before the convent of the Clarisserines, whence the sisters were 
 about to be expelled, and where the sacred vessels, and vestments, ap- 
 pertaining to the altars, were to be exposed for sale at auction ! 
 
 Thousands of men were there, with anxious looks fixed upon the gates 
 of the convent before which the deputies of the Emperor, in full uniform, 
 stood awaiting the key which the Prioress was about to deliver into their 
 hands. Not far off., the public auctioneers were seated at a table with 
 
20 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 writing-materials, and around them swarmed a crowd of Jewish trades- 
 men eagerly awaiting the sale ! 
 
 " See them," said a priest to the multitude, " see those hungry Jews, 
 hovering like vultures, over the treasures of the cliurch ! They will drink 
 from the chalice that has held the blood of the Lord, and the Pix which 
 has contained his body, they will convert into coin! Alas ! Alas! The 
 Emperor who has enfranchised the Jew, has disfranchised the Christian I 
 (Inhappy servants of the most High ! Ye are driven from His temple 
 ihat usurers and extortioners may buy and sell, where once naught was 
 to be heard but praise and worship of Jehovah !" 
 
 The people had come nearer to listen, and when the priest ceased, their 
 faces grew dark and sullen, and their low mutterings were heard like 
 the distant murmurings of a coming storm, while many a hand was 
 clenched at the Jews, who were laughing and chatting together, greatly 
 enjoying the scene. 
 
 " We will not permit it, father," cried a young burgher, " we will not 
 allow the sacred vessels to be bought and sold !" 
 
 " No — we will not allow it," echoed the people. 
 
 " You cannot prevent it," replied the priest, " for the Emperor is ab- 
 solute master here. Neither can you prevent the expulsion of the pious 
 Clarisserines from the home which was purchased for them with the 
 funds of the church. Well ! — Let us be patient. If the Lord of Heav- 
 en and Earth can suffer it— 'so can we — But see — they come — the vic- 
 tims of an unbelievyig Sovereign'!" 
 
 And the priest pointed to the convent-gates, through which the pro- 
 cession had begun to pass. At their head, came the Prioress in the 
 white garb of her order, her head enveloped in a long veil, her face pale 
 and convulsed with suffering, and her hands which held a golden crucifix, 
 tightly clasped over her breast. Following her in pairs, catne the nuns 
 — nrst those who had grown gray in the service of the Lord, then the 
 younger ones, and finally the novices. The people Iqoked w^ith heartfelt 
 sympathy at the long, sad procession which silent as spectres wound 
 through the grounds of the home which they were leaving forever. 
 
 The imperial commissioners gave the sign to halt, while their eyes 
 blinded by tears, the people gazed upon the flice of the venerable Prior- 
 ess, v?ho obedient to the Emperor's cruel decree, was yielding- up' the 
 keys and the golden crucifix. She gave her keys with a firm hand ; but 
 when she relinquished the cross, the emblem of her office, and of her 
 Eaith, the courage of the poor old woman almost deserted her. She of- 
 fered it, but as the Commissioner extended his hand, she shrank involun- 
 tarily, and once more pressed the cross to her quivering lips. Then rais- 
 ing it on high, as if to call upon Heaven to witness the sacrilege, she 
 bowed her head and relinquished it forever. 
 
 Perhaps she had hoped for an interposition from heaven ; but alas ! no 
 sign was given, and the sacrifice was complete. 
 
 The priest who had addressed the crowd advanced to the Prioress. 
 " Whither are you going, my daughter?" said he. 
 
.OMl'KROR OF A1 .-sTKlA. 
 
 Tlie Prioress raised her hen(i, and stared at him wiih vacnnt, tearless 
 eyes. "We must go into the wide, wide world/' rejjlicd she. "Thw 
 "Emperor has forbidden us to serve the Lord." 
 
 " The Emperor intends you to become useful members of society," said 
 a voice .in)ong the crowd. "The Emperor intends tiiut you shall cease 
 your everlasting prayers, and tuni yoji useless hands to some account, 
 instead of living on your knees, he intends to force you to become hon- 
 est wives and mothers, who shall bo of some use to him, by bearing 
 children, as you were told to do when your mother Eve was driven from 
 her Paradise !" 
 
 Every head was turned in eager curiosity to discover the speaker of 
 these bold words; but in vain, he could not be identified. 
 
 " But how arc you going to live?" asked the priest, when the mur- 
 murs had ceased. 
 
 " The Emperor has given us a pension oi two hundred ducats," said 
 the Prioress, gently. 
 
 "But that will not maintain you without *' 
 
 "It will maintain honest women who deserve to live," cried the same 
 voice that had spoken before. "Ask the people around you how they 
 live and whether they have pensions from the crown. And I should 
 like to know whether a lazy nun is any better than a peasant's wife? 
 And if yon arc afraid of the world, go among the Ursulines»who serve the 
 Emperor by educating children. The Ursulines are not to be suppress- 
 ed." 
 
 "True," said some among the crowd, "why should they not work as 
 well as we.'or why do they not go among the Ursulines and make them- 
 selves useful ■?" And thus were the sympathies of the people withdrawn 
 from the unhappy nuns. They, meanwhile, went their way, chaunting 
 as they went, " Cujus animam gcvientem, contrestantein et dolentem per- 
 ira7isivii r/ladms." 
 
 While the Clarisserines were passing from sight, the people, always 
 swayed by the controlling influence of the moment, returned quietly to 
 their horijes. Three men with hats drawn over their brows, pressed 
 through the crowd, and followed the procession at some distance. 
 
 " You see," said one of the three, " how a few words were sufficient 
 to turn the tide of the people's sympathies, and to confound that fanatic 
 prifst in his attempts to create disturbance." 
 
 " Which he would have, succeeded in doing but for your Majesty " 
 
 "Hush Lacy, hush. We are laboring men, nothing more." 
 
 "Yes," growled Lacy, "and you put us to hard labor, too, when you 
 embarked in this«dangerous business. It was a very, bold thing to come 
 among this excited multitude." 
 
 "I was determined to watch the people, and counteract, if possible, 
 the effect of the sly black-coats upon my subjects. Was it not well 
 that 1 was there to rescue them from the miseries of revolt ?"^ 
 
 " Yes. 1 think there was danger at one time that mischief would re- 
 sult from the pious comedy of the Prioress." 
 
J'l.SEl^H THE SKClA'l). 
 
 "To be sure Iheve was," cried the -Emperor. '• But this tim-e, 1 won 
 the field through u few well-directed words. And now let us go and see 
 the show Ht the two other convents. Perhaps we may come in. time to- 
 send another well directed arrow in the midst of the sistc-rhoods !" , 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COUNT TODSTADSKy's ESCORT. 
 
 " You promise that he shall remain but fiyie minutes in my room, fa- 
 ther?" said Rachel. 
 
 "I give you my word that he shall stay just long enough for me to- 
 complete my preparations to escort him home." 
 
 '' What mean you, dear father? At least tell me what you intend to- 
 do." 
 
 "I merely infend a jest, dear child," said Eskeles Flies, laughing. "A 
 jest which shall announce to the people of Vienna that the Jewish ban- 
 ker has no desire to receive the visits of the Christian Count. Ah, ele- 
 ven o'clock! The hour for your interview. Farewell, my. daughter, 
 your lover comes." 
 
 The banker disappeared through a tapestry-door, and scarcely had he 
 closed it when Count Podstadsky was announced. 
 
 Rachel had so unconquerable an aversion to Podstadsky that instead 
 of going forward to greet him, she actually stepped back, and raised her 
 hand as if to ward him. off. But the Count was not easily repulsed. 
 "At last my aYigel," said he, " my hour of happiness is here, at last you 
 are mine, and I — am the happiest of mortals!" ♦ 
 
 , " Who tells you that I am yours ?" said Rachel, still retreating. 
 
 " Yoursblf, my Houri, when you consent to receive me alone. How- 
 shall I prove to you the extent of ray adoration?" 
 
 " Oh, you can easily do that," said Rachel, " by becoming a Jew for 
 the love of me." 
 
 At the idea of his becoming a Jew, Podstadsky burst out into a fit 
 of laughter, but Rachel affected not to hear it. 
 
 "You know that by becoming a Jew," continued she' i'you would be 
 at liberty to marry me and inherit my father's ducats," 
 
 At mention of her fither's wealth, Pbdstad.sky felt that he had laugh- 
 ed too soon ; the thought of the banker's millions made him feel rather 
 "grave. They were worth anything short of such a lese noblesse as apos- 
 tacy. 
 
 '" What to me are your father's ducats?" cried he vehemently. "I 
 
love nothing here hut, his daughter, and my ]ove is .suiii.:iciii (or mp. I 
 usk nothing biit the pricpless irensure of your heart. Come, sweet one, 
 come." 
 
 "Away with yo»i," cried Rachel, .nnahle to endure his insolence longer. 
 "If I have permitted you to sully the jmrity ofmy home with your pre- 
 sence, it was that 1 might tell you once for all how 1 despise you ! Psow 
 begone, sir." 
 
 "And allow me to accompany you home." <:aid a mockin<» voice be- 
 hind; and as Podstad>sky turned with a start to see whence it came, he 
 jnct the fiery black eyes of Eskeles I'lies, who approached with a tall 
 wax-light in his hand. 
 
 The Count trembled inwardly, but recovering his self-possession, he 
 asked with a hau'jhty smile, "Are we in the Carnival, and do you repre- 
 sent the Israelitish god of Love?" 
 
 "Yes, Count," said the banker, "and hi.s torch shall light you home, 
 lest you stumble on your way, and fall into the pit of dishonor. Come 
 and receive the ovation prepared for you." 
 
 So saying, Eskeles Flies opened the door, and the Count looked out 
 with dismay. 
 
 The long hall was lined on both sides with the liveried servants of the 
 banker, pach bolding in his hand a wax-light, whose yellow flame flared 
 to and fro, as the air from the open door helow came in fitful puff's up 
 the wide marble staircase. 
 
 "Come," ?aid the banker, advancing with his flambeau. Podstadsk}- 
 hesitated. If his sense of hoi\or was dead, his vanity was not, and iti 
 winced at the slightest touch of ridicule. Was there no escape from this 
 absurd escort? He looked aroujid and saw no hope of rescue. Behind 
 him Rachel hnd locked the door, and the servants were so closely ranged 
 together that it was vain to attempt a passage through that; living wall 
 of fire. He had no alternative but to laugh derisively and step into the 
 •rank^. The procession mc)ved on and gathered strength as io moved ; 
 for on the staircase, in the lower hall, and at the front of the house the\ 
 Avere joined by throng after throng, each man of which, like the coni- 
 mander-in chief, was armed with a flambeau. This was bad enonah of 
 itself, but the Count's body-guard were all in a titter, and every man 
 enjoyed the jest pxcept himself. 
 
 They had by this time reached the street, and what was the rage and 
 mortification of the proud Austrian grandee, when he saAv that curiositv 
 bad drawn thither a concourse of people, who kept up with the proces- 
 sion, wondering what on earth could be the meaning of it.^" 
 
 "See," cried one, " Ilerr Eskeles Flies has caught a marten in his 
 hen-roost and is lighting him liome." 
 
 "And the marten is the fine Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstcin," cried an- 
 other. "Iknowhim. He rejoices in the title of the ' womaii-kiiler.' Only 
 look how he ^eaks along as the tribe of Israel are dogging hini home !" 
 
 •This 9(<«>n» is historical. See LettPr.< of a French traveller, vol. l,p. 405. Friedel's letters from 
 Vieimi v.. I 1>f!. p. 30. 
 
24 JOSEPH THE SkCOND. 
 
 ' "The Israelites are escorting him home," jeered the multitude, and 
 the procession moved on, never stopping until it had reach6d the Count's 
 own hotel. Once there, Eskeles'FJies, in a loud voice, bade him adieu,, 
 and requested to know whether he sljjould accompany him further. 
 
 "No," replied Count Podstadsky, trenibling with passion, "and you 
 shall answer to me for this outrage. We shall see whether the unbe- 
 lieving Jew can mock the Christian with impunity !" 
 
 " Accuse me before the public tribunals," answered the banker, "and 
 I shall enter ony complaint against you." 
 
 '• Indeed!" said Podstadsky contemptuously. "The Jew will be al- 
 lowed to accuse an Austrian nobleman ! Will he '?" 
 
 " Yes, by the God of Israel, he will," replied Eskeles Flies so loud 
 that his voice was heard by the people around. "Yes, thanks to the 
 Emperor, his subjects before the law are all equal, and Jew and Chris- 
 tian are alike amenable to its judgments. Long live Joseph the Second, 
 the father of his people !" 
 
 " Long live the father of his people !" shouted the fickle multitude, 
 •and glad that the attention of the crowd had been diverted from himself, 
 Count Podstadsky-Liechteustein slunk away to ruminate over the mor- 
 tifying occurrences of the morning. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE LAMPOON!". 
 
 The Emperor, with his confidential Secretary, had been at work througli 
 the entire night. Day had dawned, and still he wrote on, nor seemed 
 to be conscious of the hour. In his restless zeal, he felt no fatigue, no 
 exhaustion, nor yet any excitement, and not until the last document had 
 been read and signed, did he rise from his chair to take a few turns 
 around the room, while Giinther was sorting the papers, and placing 
 them in a port-folio. 
 
 " Giinther," said the Emperor, " what is the matter ? You look pale 
 and suffering." 
 
 Giinther raised his head and smiled. "'Nothing, sire, is the matter, 
 but want of rest. A few hours sleep will restore me." 
 
 " Not so, Giinther ; you belie yourself when you say so, for never in 
 ray life, have 1 seen such an indefatigable worker as you. Ah ! you look 
 down, so that I know you are not frank with me. Come, have you no 
 confidence in me?" 
 
 " Oh, sire, I have the most unbounded confidence in yobr goodness ; 
 but since you force me to speak, I am uneasy about yourself." 
 
KMHKKOK CiV Al'MKIA. Z'.t 
 
 "How SO, GiinLher?" 
 
 " P.ecanse, your Majf^sfcy strides forward in your prdjects of reform 
 ■wilhout the least apprehension of the danger ibat atti nds such chtinges. 
 You ru>h through the flames without ev«f dreaming that they may some 
 day cctffsume you." 
 
 The Emperor sVi'gged his shoulders. " Always the same song — an 
 echo of Lacy and Rosenberg. I have no Vime to temporise as you would 
 advise me to do. Who knows how long 1 shall live to carry out my 
 own free will ?" 
 
 " Certainly, if your Majesty works as you have done of late, your 
 chance for life is not very great. You seem to forget that mind is sub- 
 ordinate to matter — not matter to mind — that physical nature must have 
 her rights, and no man can withstand her exactions. Pardon mc these 
 bold words, sire, but if 1 speak at all, I must speak the truth. You have 
 begun a gigantic edifice, and if you die, it must remain forever incom- 
 plete." 
 
 " For that very rAison, I must complete it myself, for, indeed, Giin- 
 ther, you are right. When I die, I leave no man worthy to succeed to 
 my stupcndousundcrtakings. I shall, therefore, live until I have accom- 
 plished them all." > 
 
 " Then, your Majesty must work less;" exclaimed Giinther warmly. 
 " You do not believe that in pleading for you, sire, I give one thought 
 to myself, for nothing is too laborious for me, when I work for my Em- 
 peror.'^ 
 
 Joseph laid his hand softly upon Giinther's shoulder. " I believe you 
 Giinther. I esteem you as one of my best friends, and well you know- 
 that for you I have no political secrets." 
 
 " I would sooner die, than betray your Majesty, even unwillingly." 
 said Giinther, looking with his large, honest eyes into the Emperor's 
 face. * 
 
 " I know it, Giinther, but as you enjoy ray confidence without reserve, 
 you ought to know that I have too much to do to think of rest. Oh, it 
 would be dreadful for me to die before my structure is complete ? Giin- 
 ther, Giinther, the priests would transform my fairy palace into a gloomy 
 church, and from its towers, in lieu of the noble clock which is to strike 
 the hour of reformation for my people, would frown the Cross that is 
 the symbol of the unenlightened past. . Oh, let me not hear in my dying 
 moments the crash of the temple 1 would rear to Truth !" 
 
 " Then recreate your mind, sire, with literature or art. It is long since 
 the speaking tones of your violincello have been heard in the palace." 
 
 "Very true, Giinther, but I cannot invite the Muses into my study. 
 A prince has no right to associate with such frivolous ladies, for he is not 
 on earth to pass away time. The King of Prussia heads a royal sect 
 who devote themselves to authorship. The Empress of RussiaVcllows 
 after him with Voltaire in her hanel. 'I cannot emulate their literary 
 greatness. I read to learn, and travel to enlarge my ideas ; and 1 flatter 
 myself that as I encourage men of letters, I do them a greater service 
 
J1I6KHH rnii ofeC 
 
 than 1 would, weie I to sit at a desk and help, tiiem to \v'e;ave sonnets. 
 Go let us eschew Apollo and his light-lboced companions; I aim to be 
 nothing but an imperial statesman. IJiit," continued the Emperor, 
 frowning, "(get littie syiJLtpa.fcliy from my subjects. Connsellors, no- 
 bles, burghers, priests, all heap obstacle upon obstacle in my path, and 
 the woric advances slowly. The revenues, too, are inadequate to the 
 requirements of the state. The financial affairs of the crown are disor- 
 dered, and it is only by the strictest economy that I am able to sustain 
 the army. The people call me a miser because Maria Theresa's prodi- 
 gality of expenditure forces upon me measures of ret'-enchment, and ne- 
 cessitates unusual expedients for the raising of funds." 
 
 "Which unhappily were extorted from convents and shrines." 
 
 " Unhappily ! liappily, you mean to say. The treasures which were 
 .'wasted on convent-chapels and shrines, have saved us from bankruptcy; 
 and God will look down with favor tipon the sacrifice which dead super- 
 stitition has made to Jiving Jove, and will bestow a blessing upon the 
 work of my hands! True, those heroes of darkness, the monks and 
 priests, will cry anathema ! and the earth will be filled with their howls !" 
 
 "Like that which greeted Al'.]ides, when he stormed the gates of Tar- 
 tarus," said Gihither, smiling. 
 
 "You are right. The work Is worthy of Alcides, but with the bles- 
 sing of God it shall be done.. Little care 1 for the wail of nuns or the 
 groans of priests; let them shriek and tear their hair, or if they like it 
 better, let them vent their spleen in lampoons and caricatures. See 
 Giinther what a compliment I received yesterday." 
 
 And the Emperor drew from his escritoire a paper which he unfolded. 
 " Look at this. It takes off one of my great crimes. You know I have 
 deprived the court of the privilege of living in the palace, and have 
 given them wherewith to find lodgings in the city. Here go the ladies 
 with their bundles under their arms, and the lord high-steward nas a 
 broom sweeping after them as they go. This charming individual in 
 the corner with a hunting whip is myself. And here is the pith of thp. 
 joke, 'Rooms to let here. Inquire of the proprietor on the first floor.'f 
 What do you think of it?" 
 
 "Abominable! Inconceivable!" ejaculated Giinther. "As unjust afj 
 it is stinging." ' , 
 
 "It does not sting me. I have a sound hide. When it itches it is 
 cured with scratching. | Here is another pasquinade. It was thrown 
 before my horse's feet as I was riding in the park." 
 
 '■'■JosepU premiet^ aimable et '^ charmant : Joseph Second, scorpion et 
 iyran.'''' 
 
 " How can your Mnjesty laugh at such unparalleled insolence?" cried 
 *he indignant Secretary. 
 
 " Noone can deny that I have stung priests and nuns," said Joseph 
 feughing, " so they are welcome to roar, since their tongues are the only 
 
 *The Emperor's own wo»-(1s Letters of .Joseph, p. 57. 
 1 nnbiior I. I". 190. t .Tnfspph's own words. 
 
fCM.^'KhiJl-. OK AL -Tlii.i. 'J/ 
 
 weapons wherewith they may revenge thenvseives uj>p« ihoir tyrant 
 As I have proclaimed freedom of speech and press, you see they take. 
 advantage of the. privilege.'' 
 
 " Well, ilyour jMajesty takes so niagnaniinousa view of these insult- 
 ing lampoons," said (iiinther drawing a [laper from his pof!<et, " I niust 
 show you one which yesterday was posted on the wall of the Konigs- 
 kloster." 
 
 "So the K(inigsklostcr irritates the servants of the Lord, does it"?" 
 laugled Joseph. "They cannot forgive me for selling it to the banker 
 Flies, to transfigure into a J(nvish palace !" — 
 
 " Well, let us see the pasquinade !" 
 
 "Sire, my tongue refuses to pronounce the words," replied Giinther, 
 handing it to the Emperor. 
 
 " Nay,, you must accustom your tongue to pronounce them, for we 
 are apt to have many more of the same sort lo read. So go on, and 
 speak out bo'dly." 
 
 The Emperor threw himself into an armchair, and making himself 
 comfortable, prepared to listen. 
 
 The lampoon denounced him as the persecutor of the brides of the 
 Lord, and the enemy of the church. It accused him of having converted 
 a holy temple into the abode of sin, that he might gratify his greed for 
 money. 
 
 When Giinther had concluded, he cried out impatiently, "This time 
 at least your Majesty will show your enemies that forbearance has its 
 limits, and that the liberty of the press shall not degenerate into license." 
 
 " By no means. That would look as if 1 were afraid. I commission 
 you to have the lampoon re-printed and to expose it for sale in the book- 
 stores at six kreuzers a copy, the proceeds to be given to the poor.'* 
 
 "• Oh that your Majesty's enemies were here to sink with shame at 
 your feet, and beg your forgiveness," cried Giinther. 
 
 " Hush," said Joseph. " Were my enemies to hear you, they would 
 liken me to other princes, who make a parade of their good qualities so 
 liiat flatterers may immortalize them in laudatory dithyrambics, — But 
 the time for chatting and resting has expired," continued Joseph, risino- 
 from his chair. The labors of the day call me. I must go to receive 
 my petitioners, who must be weary with wailing, for I am a quarter of" 
 an hour" behind the time." 
 
 * Hietorical. 
 
JOSEPH THK SKCOSD, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE PETITIONERS. ■ 
 
 The wide cnri'idor in which Joseph was accustomed to receive his pe- 
 titioners was crowded. People of all ages and conditions were tliere, 
 ■waiting with trembling impatience the appearance of the Emperor, who 
 received the applications of his subjects every day from nine o'clock un- 
 til twelve. Suddenly a commotion was perceptible among the crowd, 
 and a pressure was felt towards the door which led to the cabinet of the 
 Emperor. The ears of those who have suits to urge, are keen ; and 
 every one of that motley throng heard the footsteps of him who held 
 their destines in his hand. 
 
 The door opened, and Joseph wa.s before them. At once, every hand 
 that held a paper, was eagerly stretched forward. The Emperor went 
 from one to another, and while he collected their petitions entered into 
 friendly converse with the applicants. 
 
 The last petitioner was an old man in the garb of a Hungarian peas- 
 ant. His white hair fell in locks from beneath his wide-brimmed hat of 
 dark brown, and the cloak which was thrown carelessly over his stalwart 
 shoulders, was embroidered with shells and silver spangles. His sun- 
 burnt face was free from the Runic characters which the slow finger of 
 Time is apt to trace upon the brow of the human race ; and but for the 
 color of his hair, he would have been mistaken for a man in the prime 
 of life. 
 
 The Emperor was favorably struck with his bearing, and smiled with 
 more-than usual benignity. 
 
 " Whence come you ?" said he. 
 
 *' From Hungary, sire," replied the peasant with a smile that revealed 
 two rows of regular, white teeth. " I was one week on my journey ; at 
 night, the open field my bed, and by day, a drink of ,water more than 
 once my only breakfiast." 
 
 " You must have had important busfness in Vienna." 
 
 " Yes, sire. I was sent with this petition to your Majesty." 
 
 " It niHSt be urgent, to have induced you to travel so far." 
 
 " Urgent, indeed, sire. I promised the peasants of our district to give 
 it into your Majesty's own hand. It has the name of every man in the 
 district ; but if I had had time to go around with it, I might have 
 brought with me the name of every peasant in Hungary. It was arrang- 
 ed that I should present the petition this morning, 'and now, .while we 
 stand here^ every man, woman and child at home is praying for my suc- 
 cess." 
 
EMl'EROR OF AfSTKIA. 2{> 
 
 " What can I do for you ? Speak, and if possible, I will grant your 
 petition." 
 
 "Then, your Majesty, read it aloud, that I may say to my brethren, 
 that our cry of distress has reached the iinperial ear." 
 
 Joseph smiled, and opening the paper, read aloud. 
 
 " Compassionate Emperor ! Four days of hard labor as socmen ; the 
 fifth day at the fisheries ; the sixth day following our lords in the hunt — 
 the seventh day is the Lord's. Judge then whether we arc able to pay 
 our taxes." 
 
 "Yes, yes, murmured the man to himself, " he cannot say that if we 
 are oppressed, he knows nothing of it." • 
 
 " I wril not say so, ray friend," said the Emperor with emotion. "The 
 whole history of your wrongs is written in these few touching lines. I 
 know that you are oppressed, and that when you sink with exhaustion 
 at yonr tasks, you are roused with the lash. I know that you are treat- 
 ed like cattle, that you have neither property nor rights, and that agri- 
 culture suffers sorely from the obstacles which your masters place in 
 your paths. — I know all — and by the God above u;^, to whom your wives 
 and children are even now at prayer, I swear to free the Hungarian serf 
 from bondage !" 
 
 " To freq the Hungarian serf!" shouted the peasant. " Do I hear 
 aright? Does your Majesty promise freedom to the Hungarian serf?" 
 
 "As God hears me, 1 will free him," replied the Emperor solemnly. 
 " Servitude shall cease, and free socage shall replace villeinage. Your 
 tax-bills shall be revised and your rights guaranteed by the crown. If 
 after this, you are oppressed come confidently to me arrd your tyrants 
 shall be punished ; for under lay reign all men shall be equal before the 
 law." 
 
 The peasant sank on his knees and looked up with glistening eyes. 
 " Oh, my Iprd and emperor," said he, " I had heard of tears of joy, but 
 until to-day, I knew not what they meant. I have been scourged for 
 refusing to kneel to ray lord, but I bend the knee to you, for I feel that 
 you are a mighty sovereign and a merciful fotherto your people. God 
 bless you for the words by which you have recognised our right to live 
 and to be free !" • 
 
 He bent down and kissed the Emperor's feet, then rising he said, 
 ^•' Farewell, gracious lord of Hungary. I must return home." 
 
 " Will you not remain a day or two to see the beauties of Vienna ?" 
 asked the Emperor. 
 
 "No, your Majesty. I carry too much joy with me to tarry on my 
 way; and what could I see in Vienna to rival the snow-white mountains 
 that mirror themselves in the blue lakes of Hungary ?" 
 
 " Then, at least,^ take this purse to defray your expenses." 
 
 " No, your Majesty, I cannot take gold to defray the expenses of a 
 holy pilgrimage. Farewell ! And may the blessings of a grateful peo- 
 ple be echoed for you in heaven !" 
 
 The Emperor laid his hand upon the peasant's shoulder. 
 
•30 .JOSEPH THE SliCOND. 
 
 " Tell me the name of my Hungarian friend !" 
 
 " My name? It is Ilorja, sire." 
 
 "i"'are\veU then, Horja, let me hear from you.'' 
 
 . - CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PETITIONERS. 
 
 As the door closed behind Horja, the Emperor continued his rounds, 
 but no more petitions were presented. Here and there, however, was 
 heard a request for an audience, which Joseph granted and then retired 
 to his cabinet, leaving the door open. 
 
 " Have the goodness to walk in," said he to the lady, who was in ad- 
 vance of the others. She obeyed, and the Emperor, closing the door, 
 took a sftat at his escritoire. 
 
 " Now, madam, I am ready to hear you, but as there are nine persons 
 to follow, 1 must request" you to be brief. What is your name ?" 
 
 "I am the widow of the President von Kahlbaum." 
 
 " He was a worthy man. Have you any children, madam ?" 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, I have two daughters and a son." 
 
 '' Two daughters'? I once had a little, maiden of my own, but she is 
 dead," said the Emperor, sadly. " How can 1 serve you and your chil- 
 dren 1" 
 
 " Oh, sire, the fearful ordinance .by which the pensions from her late 
 Majesty's privy-purse were withdrawn, has ruined me. I beseech of you, 
 sire, restore to me my pension extraordinary." 
 
 "Are you not aware that the pensions extraordinary are abolished V 
 
 " Yes, sire, but through your Majesty's liberality, I hope to retain the 
 pension I held fifom the Empress. The loss of it heightens my grief for 
 the death of my husband, and makes life unendurable. Without it I 
 should have to part with my carriage, with a portion of my household, 
 and live in complete retirement. I am sure that your Majesty's owA 
 sense of justice will plead for me." 
 
 "Justice is the motive power of all my actions, madam," replied the 
 Emperor curtly, "and for that very reason you cannot retain your pen- 
 sion." 
 
 " Sire, I am sorely stricken. The merits of my husband — my posi- 
 tion " 
 
 " Your husband's merits have earned you the pension you already re- 
 ceive from the crown, and as for your position, that can in no way con- 
 — ^ — — — I 
 
 ♦ Unbappy Horja ! This seDtimentaiintemew cost him his life. 
 
EifPKKOR OK ALSTKIA. SI 
 
 cern me. I grant that your loss is great, but your special pension will 
 maintain three poor families, and I cannot allow you to receive it lon- 
 ger." 
 
 "Alas 1 ' cried the lady, " what are my daiij^hters to do?" 
 
 "They can become good housekeepers orgovernetJ.se:>, if they have re- 
 ceived good educations." 
 
 " Impossible, sire, my d.-mghter? are of noble birth, and they cannot 
 descend to the humiliaiion of earning aliving." 
 
 " Why not? 1 am sure I earn my living, and earn it by hard work, 
 too. No one is too good to work ; and since the aristocracy cannot 
 shield their children from want, it is clear that they cannot free them 
 from the necessity of labor." 
 
 "Then, your Majesty, have mercy upon my son — the only son of a 
 man of noble extraction." 
 
 "What profession has be chosen?' 
 
 " He witches to be an oflicer in the army ; but he was so severely dealt 
 with in his examination, that he has not been able to obtain a commis- 
 sion. Oh, your Majesty, I beseech of you, grant him a command in the 
 infantry !" 
 
 " Madam," cried the Emperor impatiently, ''a man may be the son 
 of a distinguished father without having the slightest claim to serve as 
 an officer. As your son was not able to stand his examination, he must 
 content himself with being ' the son of a man of noble extraction.' Ex- 
 cuse me, but my time is limited. I regret to refuse your requests, but 
 justice compels me to do so." 
 
 The Presidentin burst into tears, and making her inclination to the 
 Emperor, left the room. The latter following her, said, " Let the next 
 petitioner advance." 
 
 This was an old hussar, a captain of cavalry with lofty bearing and 
 snow-white beard. He came in, making a military salute. 
 
 " What can I do for you, my friend?" asked Joseph. 
 
 " I come to ask of your Majesty not to deprive me of the pension ex- 
 traordinary which the Empress of blessed memory bestowed upon me 
 from her privy purse," said the old soldier, bluntly. 
 
 " Oh, another pension extraordinary !" said the Emperor, with a laugh. 
 "That cannot be, Captain. The privy purse of the Empress, which, in 
 the goodness of her heart, was thrown indiscriminately to all who asked 
 for alms, this purse exists no longer. Jt has a large hole in it and its 
 contents have all run out." 
 
 The old huzzar gave a grim look to the Emperor, and raised his^er- 
 rnquc. Pointing with his finger to three wide, purple scars upon his 
 head, he said, 
 
 "Sire, ray head is somewhat in the condition of your privy-purse, it 
 has several holes in it. They were made by your Majesty's enemies." 
 
 " To stop such holes as those, is ray sacred duty," said Joseph smi- 
 ling, " and enough remains yet in the bottom of the privy-purse to sat- 
 isfy the wants of a brave officer, who has served me to his own preju- 
 
32 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 dice. Porgtve my refusal. The petition which you wear on your head 
 is more eloquent than words, and your pension shall be returned 
 to you." 
 
 " I thank your Majesty," said the Captain, and with another stiff salute, 
 he marched out. 
 
 The Emperor looked after him, laughing heartily. 
 
 As he disappeared, a pale, delicate woman came forward, accompani- 
 ed by several young children, two of which were hiding their heads in 
 her skirt. The group filled up the door like a picture, and the children 
 clung so to the pallid mother that she could n«t advance a step. 
 
 " As you cannot come to me, 1 will go to you," said the Emperor, 
 contemplating them with a benevolent smile. " Give me your petition, 
 madam." 
 
 These are my petitions, your Majesty," said the woman pointing to 
 her children. " My husband served for many years in the twelfth regi- 
 ment, and died of the wounds he received in the Bavarian war. He left 
 me nothing but these orphans." 
 
 The Emperor looked kindly at the little golden heads that were peep- 
 ing from among the folds of their mother's dress, and a cloud came over 
 his face. " You grieve for your poverty, poor woman," said he, " and 
 know not how I envy your riches. How many millions would I'give if 
 one of those children was mine. Children are a great blessing." 
 
 " Yes, sire, when they have fathers to work for them." 
 
 "I Will be their father," said Joseph, and at the sound of these loving 
 words, the children raised their bashful heads, to steal a look at the 
 speaker. " Come, boys," continued he offering his hand, " will any of 
 you be soldiers ?" ^' 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied the r, two eldest, standing erect and making the 
 military salute. 
 
 " That is right. You are brave fellows, and if you behave well, you 
 shall belong to my body-guard — Come to morrow," continued he to the 
 mother, " and the lord-chancellor will attend to the maintenance and 
 education of your four eldest, meanwhile, you shall have a pension for 
 yourself and the youngest. In a few years, I will do as much for my 
 little one there. Be punctual in your visit to the chancery — You will 
 be received at ten o'clock." 
 
 " God reward your Majesty !" faltered the happy mother. " Oh, my 
 children, my dear -children, the Emperor is the father of the orphan! 
 Reward your gracious Sovereign by being good, and pray for him, with 
 all your hearts !" 
 
 With these words the woman curtsied and withdrew, and the audience 
 for that day was at an end. 
 
 " And pray for him with all your hearts," whispered the Emperor. 
 *' May God hear the petitions of these innocent little ones. Perchance 
 they may weigh against the curses of others. They are the little roses 
 ■which I sometimes find beneath my crown of thorns, — But away with 
 sentiment — I have no time to Indulge in heart- reveries. My vocation is 
 
BMPEROK OF AUSTRIA. 33 
 
 to v?ork. — Here is. a port-folio filled with petitions. Giinther must help 
 me to examine them !" 
 
 lie rang the Ijell, and Gfinther seated him.self and went to work. 
 Meanwhile, the Emperor had taken up one of the papers and was read- 
 ing it. Suddenly he put it down and began to lau<rh. 
 
 " Listen, Giinther," said he, " listen to this touching appeal. One of 
 the discharged counsellors orders me to give him, a larger pension that 
 he may live in a manner befitting his position. Now hear the conclu- 
 sion of the petition. ' Our Emperor is a poor callow mouse.' "* 
 
 " And your Majesty can laugh at such insolence T' exclaimed Giinther 
 coloring with indignation. 
 
 "Yes, I do," replied Joseph. " Nothing can be franker and more to 
 the point." 
 
 "And I, pardon me, sire, think that the writer of this insolent letter 
 should be severely " 
 
 " Nay," interrupted the Emperor. " You would not have me punish 
 him for being man enough to say to my face what thousands say of me 
 behind my back, would you ? Now, Giinlher, I am so disinclined to 
 punish him that I intend to increase his pension just because he is an 
 honest, plain-spoken fellow. You need not make such a grimace, Giin- 
 ther. If you feel badly, console yourself with your work." 
 
 The Emperor seated himself at the table and went on looking over his 
 petitions, occasionally murmuring to himself, " Our Emperor is a poorj 
 callow mouse !" 
 
 CHAPTER X. ♦ 
 
 THE LADY PATRONESS. 
 
 The days of the Countess Baillou glided away in one continued round 
 of pleasure. She was the cynosure of all eyes at concert, ball, or festi- 
 val. Even women ceased to envy the conquering beauty, and seemed 
 to think it just that all mankind should succumb to her unparalleled at- 
 tractions. The Emperor had shared the common enthusiasm, and at a 
 ..ball given by Prince Esterhazy, had danced twice with the Countess. 
 Those therefore who through their rank or station were ambitious of the 
 Emperor's presence at their entertainments, hastened one and all to issue 
 pressing invitations to the enchantress of whom their Sovereign had said 
 that she was the most fascinnating woman in Vienna. 
 
 *Hubner. 1,P. 199. 
 
;;4 . JOSEl'H I'HK SECOND. 
 
 Count Liechtenstein Podstadsky was about to give a ball, and the 
 Cuuntess Buillou had oonsenled to receive his guests. It would perhaps 
 have been more natural that the mother of the Count should play tha 
 hostess Ckii this occasion ; but it was known that the old couple were at 
 variance with their only son ; and the more lavish he grew in his ex- 
 penditure, the more penurious became his parents. The avarice of the 
 latter was as well known as the extravagance of the former, and whenever 
 there was a new anecdote current illustrative of the prodigality of the 
 son, another was related to exemplify the increasing parsimony of the 
 father. ' 
 
 It was no wonder, therefore, that the bewitching Countess should have 
 been selected to preside over the ball given by her aristocratic friend. 
 Everybody was delighted. The Emperor wias to be there, and it was to 
 be the most magnificent entertainment of the season. Long before the 
 hour fixed for the arrival of the guests, the street before the Count's pal- 
 ace was thronged with people, eager to obtain a glance at anything ap- 
 pertaining to the fairy spectacle. While they were peering through the 
 illuminated windows at a wilderness of flowers, mirrors, silk and velvet, 
 a carriage drawn by four splendid horses came thundering down the 
 street and drew up before the door of the palace. Two footmen in sky- 
 blue velvet picked out with silver, leaped down to open the door, and 
 in a trice, the large portals of the palace were thrown open, and a rich 
 carpet rolled to the carriage-door, while six livered servants ranged 
 themselves on either side. 
 
 And now from the carriage 'emerged the lady patroness, resplendent 
 in silver o-ause and diamonds that glittered like a constellation just fallen 
 from the heavens. The people, enraptured by the beauty of the Coun- 
 tess, gave vent to their admiration without stint. As she reached the 
 top of the marble steps, she turned and smiled upon her worshippers, 
 whereupon they shouted as an audience is apt to do at the appearance 
 of a favorite prima donna. 
 
 In the midst of this applause, the lady entered the ^o^e^, and until 
 the door closed and shut out the enchanted scene within, they watched 
 her graceful form as it glided along followed by a train of lackies. 
 Count Podstadsky came forward to meet her with ceremonious courtesy. 
 They entered the gay saloons, but as if led by one common impulse, 
 both traversed the long suite of apartments in silence, and approached a 
 door which led into a small boudoir evidently not lit up for the occasion. 
 Once within, the door was closed, and the purple velvet portiere was 
 dropped before it. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," said the Countess, with a bewitching smile,-" we 
 arp. alone. You are at liberty to congratulate me upon my appearance,* 
 for 1 see by your eyes that you are dying to tell me how beautiful 
 
 lam." 
 
 " Neither eyes nor tongue could give expression to a hundredth part 
 of the rapture which my heart feels at your approach, Arabella," replied 
 Podstiidsky, gazing upon her with passionate admiration. "Surely eve- 
 
KMI'LKOK Uh Al 8TRIA. )\a 
 
 vy woman must hate you, and every man be intoxicated by your 
 charms." 
 
 " They are intoxicated, Carlo," replied she. " They are such fools ! 
 To think that they are willing to commit any deed of folly for the sake 
 of a fair face and two bright eyes !"' 
 
 '• And you, my angel, are cruel to all, and for mc alone has the proud 
 Countess Baillou a heart.'' 
 
 " A heart !" ejaculated the Countess with irony. '' Do you believe in 
 hearts, silly Carlo? My dear friend, I at least, am without such an in- 
 convenience. If I love anything, it is gold. Its chink to my ear is 
 sweetest harmony, its touch thrills through my whole being." 
 
 '• How you have changed, Arabella! The time was when your lips 
 murmured words of love and despair, too!" 
 
 " Aye, Carlo ! But the woman who murmured of love and despair — 
 she who believed in innocence and loyalty, is buried in the Tiber. She 
 whom you rescued thence, has received the baptism of shame, and you, 
 Count Podstadsky, were her sponsor. You taught me the art of lying 
 and deceiving, and now you prate to me of a heart !" 
 
 " It is because your maddening beauty will not suffer mc to forget 
 that mine is still susceptible of love,'" replied Podstadsky. 
 
 The Countess laughed, but there wa§ no mirth in her voice. " Pod- 
 stadsky," said she throwing back her superb head, '-you have about as 
 much heart as the hare, who runs from a rustling leaf, taking it to be the 
 click of the hunter's rifle." 
 
 "And yet, Arabella," replied Podstadsky with a sickly smile, " I am 
 here, although sometimes I do start and fancy that I hear the hunter's 
 step behind me." 
 
 " Hare-like fright," said Arabella, raising her shoulders. " I wonder 
 at you. Carlo, when you look upon what we are and reflect upon what 
 we have been. Everybody in Vienna admires and envies us. The 
 highest nobles of the land are our willing guests, and the Emperor him- 
 self {dit-on) lias fallen in love with the Countess Baillou. Oh, Carlo ! 
 Is it not enough to make all the gods of Olympus laugh !" 
 
 ""iou are right," replied Podstadsky encouraged. "The Emperors 
 visit here to-night will silence the clamor of my creditors." 
 
 " Creditors ! What of them ? Was there ever a nobleman without 
 creditors! They are one of the appendages of rank. And ■ then. Carlo 
 — if your creditors annoy you, what prevents you from paying them "?" 
 
 Podstadsky shuddered. " Do you mean " 
 
 "What is the matter with the man?" asked Arabella as he paused 
 and she saw how ghastly he looked. " Of course, I mean you to pay 
 as you have paid before — Pay, and pay promptly. Then when every- 
 thing — furniture, plate, jewels, horses and equipages are ours, we sell 
 out, and realize our fortune in gold — (no bank-notes, Carlo,) — and then* 
 we take up our abode in the city of cities — Paris ! Gold ! — Gold ! — 
 There is " 
 
 '' A light knock was heard at the door. The Countess disappeared 
 
3G JUSEl'U TUB SKCONU. 
 
 and the Count put out his head. It was his steward who announced 
 that a Jady closely veiled, wished to speak with Count Podstadsky ou 
 urgent business. 
 
 " Show her into the ante-room. The Countess Baillou will do me 
 the favor to receive her," 
 
 " My lord," said the steward, " the lady wishes to see you, alone," 
 
 — " Indeed "? Then shov/ her in here." 
 
 The steward retired and the Count stepped into one of the lighted 
 rooms. The Countess came forward smiling. , 
 
 " I heard it all," said she, playfully threatening him with her finger. 
 " I am not going to allow you to have a tete-a-teje in the dark. No no, 
 my Jupiter, your mysterious beauty shall be received jnst here under 
 the light of the chandelier, and I shall watch you both from the boudoir. 
 That will be safer for all parties. I suspect a certain dark-eyed beauty 
 of this stratagem, and I long to see the haughty prude." 
 
 "Do you suspect Rachel Eskelesi" 
 
 Arabella nodded affirmatively. " Doubtless she comes to implore 
 forgiveness for her father's insolence, and to deny all complicity with 
 the old Jewish dragon. Here she conies, Carlo, but mark me ! — If I 
 see danger ahead, 1 come to the rescue !" 
 
 The Countess then bounded like a graceful gazelle, into the boudoir, 
 while the Count advanced to meet the veiled visitor. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON, 
 
 With the bow and smile of a veritable libertine. Count Podstadsky 
 offered his arm to the lady whose fiice was completely hidden by a long 
 black veil. The accommodating steward retired in haste, and the lady 
 looking around with anxiety, murmured, " Are we alone?" 
 
 " Entirely alone, my charming sphinx," replied Podstadsky. " The 
 god of Love alone shall hear the secrets which are to fall from your 
 coral lips. But first, let me remove this envious veil, my mysterious 
 charmer." 
 
 _ . The lady stood perfectly still while Podstadsky, by way of exordium, 
 embraced her affectionately. Neither did she offer any opposition to 
 his daring hands, as first they removed her long mantilla, and then 
 threw back the black crape veil which had so faithfully concealed her 
 features. 
 
KMPEKOK OK Al'STKIA. 6/ 
 
 When he saw her face, he startod hack with a cry. of revnor^e. 
 t "My Mother, oh, my Mother!" exelaiinttd he, towering his tiice >Tith 
 his hands. 
 
 Behind the portiere tliere was the faint sound of a mocking huigh, but 
 neither mother nor son heard it. They heard naught but the insi^flfer- 
 ablc throbs of their own heart ; they saw each one, naught but the death 
 like face of the other. 
 
 " Yes, it is your unhappy mother, she who once vowed never ogaiivto 
 cross your threshold — But maternity is merciful. Car], and I come hither 
 to pardon and to rescue you, while yet there is time for flight." 
 
 The young Count made no reply. At the astounding revelation made 
 by the dropping of that black veil, he had retreated in mingled shame, 
 and surprise. He had accosted his own mother in the language of liber- 
 tinism, and he stood gazing upon her with looks of sorrow and regret. He 
 had scarcely heard her speak, so absorbed was he in self-reproach, and 
 now as she ceased, he murmured, 
 
 " Is that my mother ! My mother with the wrinkled brow and the 
 white hair!" 
 
 The Countess returned his gaze with a mournful smile. " You have 
 not seen me for two years, Carl, and since then sorrow has transformed 
 me into an old woman. 1 need not tell you why I have sorrowed. Oh, 
 my child ! Whence comes the gold with which this fearful splendor is 
 purchased 1 Your fiither " 
 
 "My father!" echoed the Count, recalled to self possession by the 
 word. "What am I to him, who cursed me and forbade me his house. 
 Tell him," cried he fiercely, " that if I am lost, it is he who shall answer 
 to heaven for my t^oul !"' 
 
 "Peace!" exclaimed the mother in a tone of authority. "Nor at- 
 tempt to shift your disgrace upon hini who has been not the cause of 
 your crimes, but their victim. Why did he curse you, reprobate, tell 
 me why !" 
 
 The Count was ^ awed by her words and looks that he obeyed almost 
 instinctively. 
 
 " Because I had forged," was the whispered reply. 
 
 "Yes — forged your father's name for a million, and forced him for the 
 honor of his house to sell all that he possessed." We are so pgor that we 
 have scarcely the necessaries of life ; nevertheless, we have borne in si- 
 lence the contufncly of the world that scorns us as misers. And now, 
 although you have nothing to inherit, we hear of your wealth, the mag- 
 nificence of your house, of your unbounded expenditure!" 
 
 " Yes,!^-) other," replied the Count, beginning to recover from his shock, 
 "it is plain that I have discovered a treasure — somewhere." 
 
 "Then you will have to e.xplain the natureof your discovery, for your 
 father is about to reveal the state of his affairs to the world." 
 
 "If he does that, ( am lost," cried Podstadsky in tones of despair. 
 
 "Ah !" — gasped the unhappy mother, ^ Then we were right in fearing 
 that your woa!th was ill-gotten. Oh, Carl, look into the face of i\w 
 
. ." li.- lU'H iHK SECUNU. 
 
 mother who* bore ;)(0U, and has loved you beyond all things earthly! 
 Look into her /acp, an<^ say whence coroes this magnificerice !" 
 
 The Count tried to laise bis eyes, hi.it he could not meet his mother's 
 glance. Alas, he remernl.ieied how oi'ten in childhood after some trifl- 
 ing misconduct, he had looked into those lovinjj eyes, and read forgive- 
 ness there !— 
 
 The mother trembled, and eould scarcely support her limbs. Sher 
 caught at a chair, and leaned upon it for a moment. Then, with falter- 
 ing stepd vshe approached her son, and raised his head with her own hands. 
 It was a touching scene, and Count Podstadsky himself was not un- 
 moved by its silent eloquence. His heart beat audiblj', and his eyes 
 tilled with repentant tears. 
 
 " Tell rae, child, tell me whence conies your wealth. I will not betray 
 you, for I am your unhappy mother !" 
 
 " You can do nothing for me mother," sobbed the Count. " I am lost 
 beyond power of redemption." 
 
 "Alas ! Alas! Then you are guilty ! But, Carl, I will not ask you 
 any qaestions — only let me sate you from public disgrace. Your father 
 is inexorable — ^but 1 can save you, my beloved child, I will leave home 
 —country — name — everything for your sake, even the husband of my 
 life-long love. Com.e, my son — let us go together where no one shall 
 ever hear your story, and where with the grace of God you may repent 
 of your sins, and amend." 
 
 The strength of her love lent such eloquence to the words of the Count- 
 ess, that her son was borne away by the force of her pleadings. 
 
 " Oh, my mother, if I could — if I could — " but here his voice faltered, 
 and the tears which he had been striving to keep back gushed out in tor- 
 rents. He covered his face with his hands, and sobbed aloud. , 
 
 His mother smiled and made a silent thanksgiving to heaven. " God 
 will accept your tears, my dear prodigal child ; come, ere it be too late. 
 S«e, I have gold. My family diamonds have yielded enough to main- 
 tain us in Switzerland. There, among its solitudes—" — " 
 
 ' A clear, musical laugh was heard, and the melodious voice of a woman 
 spoke these scornful words. 
 
 " Count Podstadsky a peasant ! a Swiss peasant ! Ha, ha !"• The 
 old Countess turned and saw coming from the boudoir, a vision of such 
 beauty as dazzled her eyes. The vision came forward smiling, and 
 Podstadsky dashing away his tears, passed in one instant from the 
 heights of saving repentance, to the unfathomable depths of hopeless 
 obduracy. 
 
 The two women, meanwhile, faced each other, the one lauding, tri- 
 umphant, beautiful alas ! as Circe ; the other pale, sorrowful as the 
 i^uardian angel of the soul which has just been banished from the pre- 
 sence of God forever ! 
 
 " Pray, Carlo, introduce me to your' mother," said Arabella. "Yon 
 are not yet a Swiss peasant. Pending your metamorphosis, be a little 
 more observant of the conventions and courtesies of high life !" 
 
EMl'KKOK i)K At 81K1 \ 
 
 '-.She.ltiis been eaves-dropping i'' exclaimed tlie Cjjur.tess Podtlad.sk v, 
 • coiUcmptuouSlj. , . 
 
 " Yes," f;;iid Ara,hclla, vitli perfect equanimity, "I have Cn joyed tlie 
 privilt'fic of witnessing this charming scene. You, iiYadiUii, h;!v'e acted 
 ii)Conjp!uably, but }our son has not snsiaine.dl'yitu. The role you have 
 given him is inappropriate. To ask of him to play the repentant sinner 
 is simply ridieiilous. Count Podstads^ky is a gi'ntleman, and has. r.o 
 taste for Idyls." 
 
 " Who is this womanT' asked the old Countes^. 
 
 Her son had regained all his aelfpo^sossion again. Tie approached 
 Arabella, and taking her hand, led her directly up to his luothvr. 
 
 " My mother, I b;-g to present to you the Countess Baillou, the la<ly- 
 patroness of the b^ll 1 give to-night." 
 
 The Old Countess paid no atteution to Arabella's deep curtsey. She 
 was too much in earnest to heed her. 
 
 " Will you corae, Carl ? — Every moment is precious." 
 
 "My dear lady," exclaimed Arabella, "you forget that not only the 
 aristocracy of Vienna, but the Emperor himself is to be your son's guest 
 to night." 
 
 " Do not listen to her, my son," cried the wretched mother. *' Her 
 voice is the voice of the evil spirit that would lure you on to destruc- 
 tion. — Carl — Carl !" cried she, laying her vigorous grasp upon his arm — 
 " be not so irresolute ! Come, and prove yourself to be a man!" 
 
 "Aye ! interposed Arabella," " be a man Carl, and suffer no old woman 
 to come under your owu roof, and chide you as if you were her naughtv 
 boy. What business, pray, is it of this lady's, where you gather your 
 riches 1 And what to the distinguished C^^unt Podstad.sky, are the clam- 
 ors of two unnatural parents, who have long since lost all claim to his 
 respect ?" 
 
 "Carl, Carl!" shrieked the mother, " Do not heed her. She is an 
 evil spirit. Come with rac!'' 
 
 There was a pause. Arabella raised her starry eyes, and fixed them 
 with an expression of passionate love upon the Count. That simulated 
 look sealed his fate. 
 
 " No, mother, no ! Importune me no longer, for I will not leave Vi- 
 enna. Enough of this trage-coipedy — Leave me in peace." 
 
 Arabella flung him u, Iciss from the tips of her rosy fingers. *' Spoken 
 like a man, at last," said she* 
 
 For awhile, not a word was heard in that gorgeous room, where the 
 chandeliers flung their full red glare upon the group below. The white- 
 haired mother — the recusant son — the beautiful enchantress, whose 
 black art had just sundered them forever ! , 
 
 At length she spoke, that broken-heartpd mother, and her voice was 
 hollow as a sound from the grave, " Thou hast chosen. God would 
 have rescued thee, but thou hast turned nway from His merciful wiirn- 
 ing! Farewell, unhappy one, farewell !" 
 
 She wrapped her dark mantle around her, and concealed her fucea^ain 
 
40 (OSKPfi THK SKCONIi. 
 
 in the veil. Her son dared not offer his hand, for evil eyes were upon 
 him, and he allowed her to deparr, without a word. Slowly she travers- 
 ed the scene of sinful splendor, her tall, dark figure reflected from mirror 
 to mirror as she went, and before the recedinij vision of that crushed and 
 despairing mother, the lights above seemed to pale, and the gilding of 
 those rich saloons grew dim arid spectral. 
 
 Farther and farther she went, Podstadsky gazing after her, while 
 Arabella gazed upon him. She reached the last door, and he started as 
 if to follow. His tempter drew him firmly back, and calmed his agi- 
 tation with her magic Smile. 
 
 " Stay, beloved," said she tenderly. " From this hour, I shall be 
 mother, mistress, friend-^all things to you." 
 
 He clasped her passionately tu his heart, sobbing, " I wish for nothing 
 on earth but your love — the love which will 'follow me, even to the 
 scaffold." 
 
 " Pshaw !" exclaimed Arabella, " what an ugly word to whisper to these 
 beautiful rooms ! Look here. Carlo, — the diamonds we own in common 
 are worth half a million. We must do a good business to-night. When 
 the Emperor has retired, the hostess will have a right to preside over 
 the farotable, and you know that my cards never betray me." 
 
 " I know it, my enchantress," cried Carlo, kissing her. " Let us make 
 haste and grow rich. 1 would go anywhere with you, were it even to 
 Switzerland." 
 
 "Rut not as a peasant. Carlo — First, however, we must have our 
 millions. Now, be-reasonable to-night, and don't play the Italian lover. 
 Colonel Szekuly is desperately enamored of me, and he will be sure to 
 sit ne.\t to me at the faro-table. The place he covets shall cost him a 
 fortune." 
 
 At that moment the steward entered the room. " A message from 
 the Emperor, my lady." , 
 
 "What can it be r " 
 
 " His Majesty regrets that he cannot keep his engagement this eve- 
 ning with Count Podstadsky." 
 
 " This is a disappointment. What else V asked the Countess as the 
 servant still stood there. 
 
 " Several other excuses, my lady. The two Princesses Lichtenstein, 
 Countess Thun, and Princess Esterhazy also, have sent apologies." 
 
 " Very well, Duval. Go, for the guests will be coming," 
 
 The steward went, and the pair looked at each other in anxious silence. 
 Both were pale, both. were frightened. 
 
 " What can it mean 1 What can it mean ?" faltered the Countess. 
 
 *' What can it meanl" echoed the Count, and he started, for again he 
 thought that he saw his mother's shadow darkening the splendor of those 
 princely halls, whose lights were flickering as^ though they wereaboutto 
 be extinguished and leave the -guilty accomplices in irretrievable dark- 
 ness. 
 
 " Arabella, somethiftg threatens us," whispered Podstadsky. 
 
fiMl'KKOK OF AUSTRIA 41 
 
 "Nonsense! Our guests are arriving," said she rallying. "Cour- 
 ago, Carlo, courage ! A smooth brow ai,d bright smiles for the aristo- 
 cratic world, Count Podstadsky !" 
 
 The doors opened and crowds of splendid women, accompanied by 
 their cavaliers, floated in towards the lady-patroness, who received them 
 all with bewitching- grace and won all hearts by her ^fiitbillty. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE TWO OATHS. 
 
 " Already beloved ? Think that for three long weeks I have noC 
 seen you, Giinther ! It is so early — no one misses me in the house, for 
 my father returns from his bank at iline only. Who knows when Vie 
 shall meet again !" 
 
 "To-morrow, my Rachel, if you permit me to return, and evet-y 
 morning at this hour I shall be here behind the grove, waiting for my 
 angel to unlock the gates of Paradise and admit me to the heaven of 
 her presence." 
 
 " Oh, I will surely come ! Nor storm nor rain shall deter me. Here 
 in this pavilion we are secure from curious eyes. God who blesses our 
 love, alone shall see into our hearts !" 
 
 " Oh, Racljel, how I honor and love your energetic soul ! When I 
 am with you, 1 fear. nothing. But away from the influence of those an- 
 gelic eyes, I tremble and grow faint." 
 
 "What do you fear, Giinther?" 
 
 " The pride of riches, Rachel. Your father would laugh me to scorn 
 were he ,.o hear that his peerless daughter is loved by a man without 
 rank or fortune." 
 
 " But whose heart has a patent of nobility from God," exclaimed Ra- 
 chel with enthusiasm. " And besides, Giinther, are you not a confiden- 
 tial friftnd of the Emperor V 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Giinther bitterly, " The Emperor calls me ' friend,' 
 and in 'grateful acknowledgement of my services,' he has raised my sal- 
 ary to three thousand florins. But what is that to your father, who'pays 
 twice the an^ount to his bookkeeper. Why are you the daughter of a 
 man whose wealth reflects discredit upon my love!" 
 
 " No cfce who looks into your noble face will ever suspect the purity 
 of your love, dear Giinther. But, alas ! my lover, there is an obstacle 
 greater than wealth to part us— the obstacle of your cruel Faith which, 
 does not permit the Christian to wed with the Jew." 
 
42 10Si:!'H riiK SEfON'D. 
 
 '■• If }0U were poor, my iJaqhel, I would t,ry to win yon over from the 
 Jewish God of vengeance to the merciful God of the Christian, Would 
 ] could bring such an offering to Jesus as that of your pure young heart."' 
 
 " My father would die were Uto renounce my failh," said Raohel sud- 
 denly growing sad. " But before he died, he would curse me." 
 
 '•How cahnly you speak, and yet your words are the death-warrant 
 of my hopes !" e.vclaimed Giinther despairingly. 
 
 " I speak calmly because 1 have long since resolved never, to be the 
 wife of another man,'' replied Rachel. "'• If I must choose between fath- 
 er and lover, I follow you. If my father drives me from his home, then 
 Gunther, I will come and seek shelter upon your faithful heart." 
 
 "And you shall find it there, my own one ! — I dare not call you be- 
 loved ;*but oh ! I await with longing the hour of your coming — the 
 hour when of your own free-will your little hand shall be laid in mine, 
 to journey with me from earth to heaven t Adieu, sweetest. I go, but 
 my soul remains behind." 
 
 "And mine goes with you," replied Rachel. He clasped her in his 
 arms, and over and over again imprinted his passionate kisses upon her 
 willing lips. 
 
 " To-morrow," whispered she. " Here is the key of the gate. J shall 
 be in the pavilion." 
 
 Again he turned to kiss her, and so they parted. Rachel watched his 
 tall, graceful figure until it was hidden by the trees, then she cjasped her 
 hands in prayer. 
 
 " Oh, God, bless and protect our love ! Shelter us from evit^ but if it 
 must come, grant me strength to bear it !" 
 
 Slowly and thoughtfully she returned to the house. Her heart was 
 .so filled with thoughts of her lover that she did not see the stirring of 
 ■the blind, through which her father's dark angry eyes had witnessed 
 their meeting. It was not until she had entered her room*that she awa- 
 kened from her dream of bliss. Its splendor recalled her senses, and 
 with a sob, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Why am I not a beggar, or a poor Christian child. Anything — any- 
 thing that would make me free to be his wMfe !" 4 
 
 She ceased, for she heard her fiither's voice. Yes — it was irrdeed he I 
 How came he to be at home so soon '? His hand was upon the door, 
 and now he spoke to her, 
 
 " Are you up, my daughter 1 Can I come in ?" 
 
 Rachel hastened to open the door, and her father entered the room 
 with a bright smile. 
 
 "So soon dressed, Rachel ! I was afraid thai I might have disturbed 
 your slumbers," said he, drawing her to him and kissing her. " Not 
 only dressed, but dressed so charmingly that one would suppose the sua 
 were your lover and had already visited you here. Or perhap;s you ex- 
 pect some of your adoring Counts this morning — Hey !" 
 
 " No, father — •{ expect no one." 
 
 ■"^o much the better, for I have glori5us news for you. Do you re- 
 
SMf'KRi'K OF AlSIIU>. 
 
 inciuber what 1 promised when you consented to let me punish Count 
 Podsiadsky after my ownjfiisliirm ?" 
 
 " No, dear latlier, I. do not remtrnber ever to have boon bribedto obey 
 ^our commands. ' 
 
 "Then, 1, will tell you my news, my glorious ncvcs. I have become 
 a Freiherry 
 
 "You were always a free man my father; your millions have long 
 ago made you a Frciherr''' 
 
 " Bravely spoken, my Jewess," cried Eskeles Flies. " I will reward 
 you by telling you what I have bought for you. A carriage-load of illu- 
 minated manuscripts, decorated with e.\|{uisite miniatui'-es, so that you 
 may now enrich your library with Christian Bibles, and /Papal bulls of 
 every size and fo^^v." 
 
 " Oh, my dear father, bovr I thank you for these treasures !" 
 
 "Treasures, indeed ! They are part of the library of a convent. The 
 Emperor has destroyed them as the Vandals once did the treasures of 
 the Goths. I bought them from one of our o\vii people — and that is not 
 all. 1 have a communion-service, and an ost«nsorium for you whose 
 sculptures are worthy of Benvenuto Celline.- I purchased these afso from 
 a Jew, who bought them at one of the great church-auctions. Ila, ha ! 
 He was g6ing to melt them up — the vessels that Christiau priests had 
 bliessed and held saC^ed !" 
 
 "That was no disgrace to him, father, but it is far difTerent with the 
 Emperor, who has desecrated the things which are' esteemed holy in his 
 own church. The Emperor is not likely to win the affections of his peo- 
 ple by acts like these." 
 
 "Pshaw! He wanted gold, and cared very little whence it came," 
 cried Eskeles Flies, with a contemptuous shrug. •^'His munificent moth- 
 er having emptied the imperial treasury, the prudent sou had to replen- 
 ish it. True — his method of creating a fund is not the discreetest he 
 could have chosen ; for while teaching his people new modes of financier- 
 ing, he has forgotten that he is also teaching them to pilfer their own 
 Gods. What an outcry would be raised in Christendom, if the Jew 
 should plunder his own synagogue! Bet I tell you, Rachel, that when 
 the lust of riches takes possession of a Christian's heait, it maddens his 
 brain. Not so with the Jew — Were he starving, he would never sell 
 the Holy of Holies — But the Jew never starves — not he ! He lays du- 
 cat upon ducat until the glistening heap dazzles the Christian's eyes, and 
 he comes to barter his wares for it. So is it with me. My gold has 
 bought for me the merchandise of nobility." 
 
 "Are you really in earnest Hither? Have you thought it necessary to add 
 to the dignity of your Jewish birthright, the bauble of a baron's title?" 
 
 " Why not, Rachel 1 The honor is saleable, and it gives one consid- 
 eration with the Christian. I have bought the title, and the escutcheon, 
 as 1 buy a set of jewels for my daughter. Both are intfended to dazzle 
 our enemies, and to excite their envy." • 
 
 " But how came it to pass ?" asked Rachel. " How came you to ven- 
 
44 . JO'SKF-n IHE SECONU. 
 
 ture such an imheacd-of demand 1 A Jewish baron is an auomoly which 
 the world has never seen." 
 
 " For that very reason, I demanded it . ; 1 had rendered extraordinary 
 services to the Emperor. He sent for me to repay me the millions i 
 had lent him without interest, and I took occasion there, to speak of my 
 thriving manufactures, and my great commercial schemes. "Ah," said he 
 putting his hand affeetionateiy upon my shoulder, (for the Emperor loves 
 a rich man,) 'Ah, if I had many such merchant-princes as you, the Black 
 Sea would soon be covered with Austrian ships.' Then, he asked what 
 he could do in return for the favor I had done him." 
 
 "And you asked for a Baron'e title V 
 
 "I did. The Emperor opened his large eyes, and. looked knowingly 
 at me. He had gisessed my thoughts. 'So,' said h<i^ •/ you would like 
 to provoke the aristocracy a little, would you 1 Well — I rather like the 
 idea. They are in need of a lesson to bring down their rebellious spirit, 
 and I shall give it to them. You are a niore useful man to me than any 
 of them, and .you shall be created a baron. I shall also elevate several 
 other distinguished Jews to the rank of noble", and the aristocracy shall 
 understtmd tiaat wherever 1 fuid merit, I reward it,' " 
 
 " So then it was your worth, and not your gold that earned for you 
 the distinction !" cried Rachel, gratified. 
 
 " Nonsense ! 'Merit,' means wealth, and I assure you-that titles cost 
 ■enormous sums. I must pay for my patent ten thousand flofins, and if 
 .1 should wish to be a Count, I must pay twenty thousand — But enough 
 of all this. Suffice it that I shall prove to the nobles that my money ^ 
 as good as their geneological trees, and now we shall have crowds of no- 
 ble adorers at the Baroness Rachel's feet. But be she Baroness or Count- 
 ess, she is forever a Jipvess, and that parts her eternally from any but a 
 wooer of her own faith. Does it not, my Rachel, my loyal Isarelitish 
 Baroness ?" 
 
 " Do you doubt.jne, my father]" asked Rachel in a faltering voice, 
 ■while she averted her face. 
 
 "No, my child, for if I did, I would curse you on the spot." 
 
 "Dear, dear fother, do not speak such fearful words," cried Rachel, 
 .trembling with fright. 
 
 " You are right, child. I am childish to indulge the supposition of my 
 Hebrew maiden's treachery. She is pure before the Lord, loyal and 
 true to the faith of her fathers. But we must be armed against tempta- 
 tion ; and now, before we part for the day, we shall both swear eternal 
 fidelity to our creed. These wily Christians may come with flattery 
 and smiles, and some one of them might steal my Rachel's heart. I 
 swear, therefore, by all that is sacred on earth, or in heaven, never to 
 abtindon the Jewish faith, and never to enter a Christian church. So 
 ihelp me God !" 
 
 Rachel was gazing upon her fiither with blanched cheeks, and distend- 
 ed eyes, her muscles stiffening with horror, until she seemed to be turn- 
 nig to .,stone. 
 
aMPEROR OF ATSTRIA. 45 
 
 ** Did you hear my oath, Rachel ?" said he. 
 
 She parted her lips, and ihpy faltered an inaudible " yes." "Then," 
 said he gently, " repeat the oath, for we both must t.ike it." She raised 
 hei- head with a quick, convulsive motion, and stammered, " What^- 
 what is it, father?" 
 
 "Swear as I have done, never to leave the faith of your fathers, and 
 never to enter a Christian church." 
 
 Eachel made no reply. She stared again as though her senses were 
 forsaking her. She thought she would go mad. 
 
 Her Aither's brow contracted, and his mien grew fierce, as he saw that 
 his daughtf'r's heart had gone irrevocably from him. There was a long, 
 dreadful pause. 
 
 "Are you at a loss for words'?" asked the Baron ; and his voice was 
 so savage, that Rachel started at the ominous sound. 
 
 '• liepcat ray words then," continued he, seeing that she made no an- 
 swer, or I " % 
 
 " Say on, my fjither," replied the despairing girl. 
 
 Baron Eskeles Flies repeated his oath, and the pale victim spoke the 
 words after him. But at the end of the ordeal, she reeled, and fell to 
 the floor. 
 
 Her fathej bent over and raising her tenderly, folded her to his heart. 
 His voice was now as loving as ever. 
 
 '* My precious child, we are truly united now. Nothing can part us, 
 and your happy father will surround you with such splendor as you have 
 never beheld before." 
 
 " Oh, my father I" exclaimed she, " what has splendor to do with hap- 
 piness '?" 
 
 '♦ Everything," replied her father with a careless laugh. " Misfortune 
 is not near so ugly in a palace as in a cottage ; and 1 do assure you 
 that the tears which are shed in a softly-cushioned carriage, are not half 
 so bitter as those that fall from the eyes of the houseless beggar. 
 Wealth takes the edge from affliction and lends new lustre to happiness 
 — And it shall shed its brightest halo over yours, my daughter. But 
 I must leave you, for I expect to earn a fortune before I return, when I 
 hope to see you bright and beautiful as ever." 
 
 He kissed her forehead and stroked her silky hair. " The Baroness 
 Rachel will be a Jewess forever ! Oh, how 1 thank you for that prom- 
 ise, my adored child! What new pleasure can I procure for my idol 
 today 1" 
 
 " Love me, father," murmured Rachel. 
 
 " What need you ask for love, you who are to me like the breath of 
 life? To show how I anticipate your wishes, I have already prepared 
 a gratification for you. I have remarked how much pleasure you 
 take in the gardens and little pavilion yonder. Since my Rachel loves 
 to take her morning walk there, it shall be changed into a paradise. The 
 brightest fruits and flowers of the tropics shall bloom in its conservato- 
 ries, and instead of the little pavilion, I shall raise up a temple of purest 
 
4() JOSEPH THli S£(JOi\U. 
 
 white marble, worthy of the nymph who hauiils the spot. Yov a lew- 
 weeks your walks will be somewhat disturbed, darling, for the workmen 
 will begin to-morrow ; but they need not be much in your way, for 
 while the walls are down, I shall set a watch at every gate to make sure 
 that no one intrudes upon your privacy, in a few months v. )u shall 
 have a miniature palace wherein to rest when you are tired of roaiping 
 about the grounds. Farewell, my child. I shall send the workmen to- 
 morrow — early to-morrow morning." 
 
 " He knows all," thought poor Rachel, as he closed the door. " The 
 oath was to part me from Giiniher, the changes in the garden are to pre- 
 vent us from meeting." 
 
 For a long time she sat absorbed in grief. But finally she made her 
 resolve. 
 
 " I have sworn to love thee forever, my Giinther," said she. *' When 
 the hour comes wherein my choice must be made, I go with thee !", 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 NEW-FASHIONED OBSEQUIES. 
 
 The Emperor's horse was saddled, and he was about to takcTiis daily 
 ride. But as he was leaving his cabinet, a page announced Field-mar- 
 shal Lacy. 
 
 " Admit him," said Joseph, and he hastened to the ante-room to greet 
 his favorite. 
 
 Lacy received the cordial greeting of the Emperor with a grave, trou- 
 bled expression. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " may I beg for an audience V 
 
 " Certainly, my friend," replied Joseph. "lam just about to ride, 
 and you can accompany me. We can converse together in some of the 
 shady alleys of the park. I will order a horse for you at once." 
 
 " Pardon me, sire, our interview must be here. I saw your Majesty's 
 horse in readiness for your ride, but that did not prevent me from com- 
 ing ; for the matter which brought me hither is one of supreme im- 
 portance." 
 
 '' And you cannot put it off until we take our ride ?" 
 
 " Sire, my first request is that your Majesty will relinquish the ride 
 altogether. You must not be seen in the streets to-day." 
 
 " Bless me, Lacy, you speak as if I were Louis of France, who is afraid 
 to show himself in public because of the murmurs 6f his discontented 
 subjects." J 
 
EMPKKlll. OK Al.SJCrA. 4 t7 
 
 " Sire, assiiine that you are Louis then, and give up the ride. Do it, 
 if you love me, my Sovereign." '^ 
 
 " If I love you I" repeated Joseph \vith surprise. "Well, then, it 
 shall be done." x\nd he rang and ordered his horse to be put up. "Now 
 speak. What can have happened here, that i shall be threatened with 
 a discontented mob?" 
 
 "■Sire," began Lacy, "you remember the day on which we swore to 
 speak the truth to your Majesty, even if it should become importunate. 
 ]Jo you not?" 
 
 '• Yes, I do, Lacy ; but neither of you have kept the promise up to 
 this time." 
 
 " I am here to redeem my word, sire. I come to warn your Majesty 
 that you are proceeding too rashly with your measures of reform." 
 
 " And you als(\,Lacy !' cried Joseph" reproachfully. " You, the bra- 
 vest of the brave, would have me retreat bcfoi'e the dissatisfaction of 
 priests and bigots." 
 
 " The malcontents are not only priests and bigots, they are your whole 
 people. You attempt too many reforms at once." 
 
 'S But my reforms .are all for the people's good. 1 am no tyrant to 
 oppress and trample them under foot. 1 am doing my best to free them 
 from the shackles of prejudice, and yet they harrassand oppose me. 
 Even those who understand my aims, place obstacles in my path. Oh, 
 Lacy, it wounds me to see that not even my best friends sustain me !" 
 
 I see that your Majesty is displeased," replied Lacy sadly, "and that 
 y-ou reckon me among your opponents — 1 who am struck with admira- 
 tion at the grandeur of your conceptions. Rut you are so filled with the 
 rectitude of your intentions that you have no indulgence for the weak- 
 ness and ignorance of those whom you would bcnelit, and you make too 
 light of the enmity of those whom your reforms have aggrieved." ' 
 
 " Whom have I aggrieved ?"' cried Joseph impatiently. " Priests and 
 nobles, nobody besides. If ^ have displeased them, it is because I wish 
 to put all men on an equality. The privileged classes may hate me — 
 let them do it, — but the people whom I befriend, will love and honor 
 me." 
 
 " Ah, sire, you think too well of the people," said Lacy. " And mind- 
 ful of my promise, I must say that you have given cause for dissatisfac- 
 tion to all classes, plebian as well as patrician." 
 
 " How so ?" cried Joseph. 
 
 " You have despised their prejudices, and mocked at customs which 
 in their superstitious ignorance they hold as sacred. They do not thank 
 you for enlightening them. They call you an unbeliever and an* apos- 
 tate. Do not be displeased, sire", if 1 speak so plainly of things which 
 the stupidity of your subjects regards as a crime. I come' as your Ma- 
 jesty's accuser, because 1 come as the advocate of your people, implo- 
 ring you to be patient with their blindness and their folly." 
 
 " What now 1 Is there any special complaint against me ?" 
 
 " Yes, sire. Your Majesty has issued an edict which has wounded 
 
48 % JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 the people in those relations ^which the world holds sacred — an edict 
 which is — (forgive me if I speak plainly) — which is — so entirely — free 
 from prejudice, that it trenches almost — upon the limits of barbarism." 
 
 " What edict can you mean ?" 
 
 " That which concerns the burial of the dead, sire. 1 beseech you, re- 
 volte it ; for the people cry out that nothing is sacred to the ^Emperor 
 — not even death and the grave ! — Leave them their cemeteries and their 
 tombs, that they may go thither and pray for the souls of the de- 
 parted !" 
 
 " That they may go thither and enjoy their superstitious rites !" cried 
 Joseph indignantly. " 1 will not allow my subjects to seek for their 
 dead underground. They shall not solemnize the corruption of the body; 
 they shall turn their eyes to heaven and there seiek for the immortal 
 spirits of the gleparted ! They shall not love the du|t of their forefa- 
 thers, but their souls !" 
 
 "Sire, you speak of an ideal people. To bring mankind to such a 
 state of perfection, would require the reign of a Methusaleh! It is too 
 soon for such edicts^ The people, so far from appreciating, abhor them." 
 
 " Are you really in earnest, Lacy ?" exclaimed the Emperor with 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 "Yes, sire, -they are indignant. Yesterday the first burial according 
 to your. Majesty's edict, took place, and since then the people are in a 
 state of revolt. To-day there are of course other" bodies to be interred. 
 There is not a vagrant in the streets who' does not utter threats against 
 your Majesty. From the burgher to the beggar, every man feels that 
 his sacred rights have been invaded. They feel that the prohibition of 
 c6ffins and burying grounds does not reach the rich, who have their he- 
 reditary tombs in churches and chapels, but the people who have no 
 such privileges." 
 
 "The people for whose sakes I would have converted the mould of 
 the burying-ground into fertile fields, and scared them the cost of a use- 
 less coffin, which instead of rotting in the ground, would have been .so 
 much more wood to warm them in winter, and cook the food for, their 
 hungry, living bodies !" 
 
 " But, your Majesty, they are not sufficiently enlightened to compre- 
 hend your ideas. Revoke the order, sire, in mercy to their ignorance, 
 revoke the order !" 
 
 " Revoke it !" cried Joseph furiously. " Never will I make such a 
 concession to stupidity and malice !" 
 
 ," Then," said Lacy gravely, " it is possible that the flames of a. revo- 
 lution^may burst forth to consume this unhappy land. Oh, sire, have 
 mercy upon the poor people whose eyes cannot endure the light of re- 
 form ! Preserve yourself and your subjects from the horrbrs of a revolt, 
 which, although .it would be ultimately quelled, might cost bloodshed 
 and misery ! I have never seen such excitement as prevails throughout 
 the streets of Vienna. Thousands of men and ^fomen throng the quar- 
 ter where the body lies." 
 
£VU'KI.<1K (IK AUblKlA, 4.9 
 
 "When docs Abe funeral take place i" 
 
 "At three o'clock l his attonmon, tire." 
 
 " In one hour then," said the Emperor, ylai^icg at the clock. 
 
 " Yes, ;>iie, an<) it may bo an hour of irihulalion. iiiilessyour Mnjesty 
 has the magnanimity to prevent it! To discoursiie idle as3embla<.re<, 
 your Majesty has fbrbi<lilen the people to ibllow. tunerals;. The eireet 
 of this prohibition is, that the poor woman who is lo be buried this af- 
 ternoon will be ftjUowed, not by her friends, but by thousands who hare 
 never seen or known her. The police have done their besti to disperse 
 the rioters, but so fur, in vain." 
 
 "Then there is already a revolt!" cried the Emperor. 
 
 *'But for this I shonld never have presumed to~ deter your ^fajeslv 
 from enjoying your ride to-day." 
 
 " Do you suppose that 1 would retreat before my own subjects T' 
 
 "Sire, the wrath of the populace is like that of a tiger jast escaped 
 from its cage. In its blood-thirsty joy it tears to pieces everythirg ihat 
 comes in its way," 
 
 "lam curious to witness its antics," replied the EmpOror touchinf^ 
 the bell. ' " ° 
 
 "Sire," exclaimed Lacy, staying Joseph's band, "what would you 
 do?" 
 
 " Mount my horse, and go to the funeral." 
 
 " What ! To exasperate the crowd ! To endanger yourself, and drive 
 these poor halPfrantic creatures to desperation f Oh, by the love you 
 bear us all, I beseech you, have mercy upon those whose only possession 
 on earth is oftentimes the grave ! You would deprive their children of 
 the only comfort left them — that of praying over the ashes of the de- 
 parted ! You would deprive those who are condemned to live like 
 brutes of the comfort of dying like men ! You would have their bodies 
 sewed in sacks and thrown into ditches where they are not even allowed 
 to moulder, bub must be destroyed by lime! No tombstone permitted 
 over their remains, nothing to remind their wpeping relatives that they 
 ■were ever alive! Oh, this is cruel ! It may be a great thought, sire, 
 but it is a barbarous deed ! I know how bold I ani but my conscience 
 compels me to speak, and were I to lose the Emperor's favor, f must 
 obey its faithful monitions. Revoke the edict, sire ! There is yet time. 
 In one hour it will be too late!" 
 
 The Emperor looked despondently at Lacy's agitated countenance. 
 Then without a word he turned to his eacriloife and hastily be<-an to 
 write. His writing concluded, he handed thi) paper to Lacy and com- 
 manded him to read it aloud. Lacy bowed and read as follows : 
 
 " As .1 have learned that the living arc so material in their ideas, as to 
 set great store upon the privitege of having their bodies rot and become 
 carrion after death, I shall concern myself in noway as to the manner 
 of their burying. Let it be known, therefore, that having shown the wis- 
 dom of disposing of the dead after the manner prescribed in my edict, I 
 shall force no man to bo wise. Those who arc not convinced of its ex- 
 
ijO J>i>.KI'll IHK S"iC<JM> 
 
 pedieiicy, are free to dispose of their carcasses as thpy see lib/'* 
 
 VVlieii Lacy had read -to the erid, the Emperor called imperatively for 
 (J).iither. He obeyed the summons at once. 
 
 " This letter to the lord high-chancellor, Prince Kaunitz," said he. " [ 
 H-ish this wriiin;^ to be printed and posted at the corners of the streets. 
 Then hasten ^o the Leopold-suburbs, where any one of the police will 
 :sho\v vou to the house whence the funeral is to take place. Go within 
 and tell the relatives of the deceased, that I give theni permission to be- 
 'iixeu their corpse in whatever style they may choose, and to bury it iu 
 ;i oollin. Take a crtrriaj^e and drive fast." ■ , 
 
 Giinther bowed and turned to leave. "" Stop a moment,'' continued 
 the Emperor. " Go to the chief of police, and tell him that the people 
 must not be disturbed in any way. They must be allowed to disperse 
 at their pleasure. Now, Gunther, be quick." 
 
 With a look of unspeakable ailection Joseph gave his hand to Lacy. 
 "Lacy," said he, " if I have made this threat sacrifice to-day, it is neith- 
 er from conviction nor fear ; it is to show you what influence your words 
 have over me,* and to thank you for the manliness with which you have 
 ventured to blame my acts. Few Princes possess the jewel of a faith- 
 ful friend. 1 thank God that this jewel is qiinc !''f 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE POPE IN VIENNA. 
 
 A report, almost incredible, was obtaining currency in Vienna. It 
 •was said that the Pope was about to visit the Emperor. Many a Ger- 
 man Emperor, in centuries gone by, had made his pilgrimage to Rome ; 
 but never before had the vicar of Christ honored the Sovereign of Aus- 
 tria by coming to hira. 
 
 Pius Vi, confounded by the headlong innovations of Joseph, and 
 trembling lest his reforms should end in a total subversion of religion, 
 had resolved, in the extremity of his distress, to become a pilgrim him- 
 self, and to visit the enemy in his own stro nghold. 
 
 '* Hubner. Life of Joseph ^d, Vo). 2, P. 525. 
 
 + I'he Bur'al-ciUct was as follows : -^s th" b"rial of the <kad has for its object the speedy disso- 
 lution of the boilv, and as nothinc: hinders that diesoUition more than the casing of the corpse in a 
 ooffin. it is ordained that all dead bodies shall be stripped of their clothing, and sewed up in ailnea 
 saclc. laid in an open ••offin, and brough' to the place -^f interment A hole shall be dug six feet 
 lon-'and four feet wide, and the corpse b^ing taken ont of the coflin, shall be put into this grave, 
 8tre"«'ed plentifully with qnick-iime, rind covered with earth. Tf more than one corpse is to be bu- 
 ried the bodies can al' be put in the same grave." Gross-HefBnger: History of tJie life end reign 
 )f Tjvteph 3d, Vol 2 ?. t46. 
 
To this intent he had dispaiobe^ an anto^aphic ]ttt(?r, announcing it.- 
 int'Cntion; to which the Emperor had replied by another, expressive <>( 
 his extreme anxiet}' to becomt! personrilly acquainted with his I-joliness, 
 and to do him all filial reverence. Furthermore, he be^god that the. 
 J'^po would relinquish his intention ol' taking up ])is abode at the Nun- 
 cio, and would consent to be the guest ot the imperial fimilv. 
 
 The Pope liaving graciously acceded to this wish, the apartments of 
 the Jate Empress ^vere prepared for his occupation. Now Joseph was 
 quite awarti that these apartments abounded in secret doors and private 
 >r,fiirways, by which Maria Theresa's many petitioners had befn accus- 
 tomed to fmd their way to the privy purse of the munificent Empress, 
 and so had diminished the imperial treasury (-f several millions. 
 
 The Emperor dreading lest these secret avenues should be used by the 
 friends of the Church to visit the Pope in prlvat", caused the stairways to 
 be demolished, and all the floors to be walled uj>. He allowed but one 
 issue from the apartments of his Holiness. This one led into the grand 
 corridor, and M'as guarded by two sentries, who had orders to allow no- 
 body to enter who was unprovided w'rth a pass signed by Joseph him- 
 self. He was quite willing to receive the Pope as a guest.; but was re- 
 solved that he should hold no communication with his bishops, while on 
 Austrian soil.* 
 
 Meanwhile, every outward honor was to be paid to the head of the 
 Church. Not only had his rooms been superbly docorated, but the 
 churches also, were m all their spendor. The vestments of the clergy 
 had been renewed — new altar-clothes woven, and magnificent hangings 
 ordered for the papal throne erected for the occasion. 
 
 Finally, the momentous day dawned, and Vienna put on its holiday 
 attire. The houses were wreathed with garlands, the streets were huii" 
 with arches of evergreen. A hundred thousand Viennese pressed to 
 wards the Cathedral, where the Pope was to repair for prayer, and an- 
 other throng was hastening towards the palace where the Pope and the 
 Emperor were to alight together. In their impatient curiosity the peo- 
 ple had forsaken, their work. No one was content to remain within 
 doors. Everybody said to everybody, i' The Pope has come to Vien- 
 na," and then followed the question, 
 
 " Why has his tfoliness come to Vienna V 
 
 " To bless the Emperor, and approve his great deeds," i»id the friends 
 of Joseph. • 
 
 "To bring him, if possible, to a sense of his sacrilegeous persecution 
 6f the Church," said his enemies. 
 
 .This questioif was not on!y verbally agitated, but*t fofrmed the su^- 
 
 * It wns to .Toseph's manifest advnntsee that 'he Pope should not resirtc o'ltside of tho palarp- 
 and the Emperor showed his ingenuity in the various strategic movements by which he .lefenfi^" 
 the purpose of his visit One of the Pope's most zealons adherent*. waB the biahop of «orS^ 
 When the. Pope left K"me for Vienna, he would pa^-s thr.->neh Gortz. .Topeph snmmoVie'l tlie bi^hoyi 
 to Vienna, nnd ^o prevented a meeting; between tliem at Gortz; and on the day of the Pope's arn 
 val m Vienna, the bishop received peremptory ordere to return to his dioM »e. He was not nllowprt 
 to cominunicato with the P.-pi-. not even to see him as he pas-ed Fricdel's letters? from Vi"iiDa 
 
f)2 JDSEril IIIK SECOM>. 
 
 / 
 
 ject of thousands of pamphlets which fluttered from many a -window 
 towards the crowds who in breathless anxiety were awailhig the advent 
 of Pius VI. 
 
 ■" The. Arrival of the Pope." 
 " Why lias the Pope c^me to Vienna ?" ^ 
 
 "What is the Poper 
 These were the titles of the hrodrnres which were converting the 
 stieets into a vast reading-room, and preparing the minds of the readers 
 for the. impressions it was desirable to create on the subject. 
 
 At last the deep bells of Sr. Stephens opened their brazen throats. 
 This signified that the Pope and t-he Emperor were at the gates of the 
 city. The consent of the latter having been asked in the matter of the 
 beil-ringing, he, had replied to Cardinal Megazzi: " By all means. I 
 wonder you should ask me the question, when bells are the artillery of 
 the Church."* • _ 
 
 The people received the tidings with such wild-joy, that in their eager- 
 ness, several persons were trampled to death. But on they rushed, see- 
 ing and hearing nothin" until eiirht lives were sacrificed to the fierce cu- 
 riusity of the mob. 
 
 And now the iron tongues of every bell in Vienna proclaimed that 
 the Pope had entered the city. The crowd who up to this moment had 
 laughed, sung and shouted, suddenly ceased their clamor. Nothing was 
 heard save the musical chime of the bells, while every eye was tixed 
 upon a small white spot which was just becoming visible. The point 
 gr-ew larger, and Pook form. First catAe the outriders,"then the imperial 
 eqjjipage drawn by eight milk-white horses caparisoned with crimson 
 and gold. Nearer and nearer came the cortege, until the people recog- 
 nised in the noble old man whose white locks flowed from under his 
 velvet-cap, the supreme Pontifi', Antonio Braschi, Pope Pius VI. 
 
 Ne.ver throughout his pontifical career, had the Pope beheld such a 
 crowd before. And these hundreds of thousands had assembled to bid 
 him welcome. A smile of gratification flitted over his handsome fea- 
 tures^and he raised his eyes to the face of his companion. 
 
 The Emperor wore a contented expression ; by some it might have 
 been regarded as derisive. 
 
 He had seen what the Pope in the simple joy of his heart had not ob- 
 served. The people who in ihe presence of the high dignitaries of the 
 church had been accustomed to kneel and ask a jplessing, were standing, 
 although the prelate who stood in theiK. midst was the Sovereign Pontifl" 
 himself; and Joseph, as he contemplated his subjects, exulted in secret. 
 «The corteee, impeded by the throng, mov^d slowly towards the im- 
 perial palace. When it drew up before the gates, Joseph, springing 
 from the carriage, assisted the Pope to alight, and accompanied him to 
 his apartments. Occasionally Pius raised his mild eyes to the Empe- 
 ror's face and smiled, while Joseph in nowise discomposed by the honor 
 of receiving the chief pastor of Christendom, walked proudly by his side. 
 
 ♦ Friertel's Letters ; vo', 1, pa£:e'218. 
 
"CMKKKOS UK xi.«~TKlA 
 
 1. hey papscJ through the magninccnL state-apartments de^ipnod for 
 thc^ occupaf ion .f the IVe, hut not until they had reached his private 
 Miring-ruom, did the Emperor invite him 'to rest after his fali<ruin.r 
 ^va]k. ° *' 
 
 '■ It has not fatigued me," replied Pius. 'Mt has interested me on 
 the contrary, to traverse a palace which has been the le.Vi.Jeuce of so 
 many pious Princes. I esteem if a -reat piivilet;e to inhabit those 
 rooms whose deceased occupants have each in his tarn received the ben- 
 ediction of my hun(^r(d [Predecessors " 
 
 " Hut who never were blessed by the love of their subjects " replied 
 Jo^^eph, mterrupling him. " To my mind, this is a blessini; better v'orth 
 striving for, than a papal benediction, and it is the aim of m?/ life to de- 
 serve )t. • 
 
 /' Doubtless your Majesty will reach your aim,"' replied the Pope 
 with courtesy. "I have confidence.in the rectitude of your Mimsty's 
 mtentions; and if I have made this pilgrimage to Vienn-i, it is be.au^e 
 relying upon your honesty of purpose, I hope to couvince you that it 
 has l)een misapplied. The visit of ihePope to the Austrian Emne.or 
 IS a concession which I cheerfully make, if bv that cunces.iun 1 can in- 
 duce him to pause in n career which has sorely woiind.'d my heart and 
 has be/M, ihe occasion of so jnudi scandal to our hoi-/ mother the 
 Churcli." 
 
 "I ft-ar that your IToliness has been mistaken in vour estimate of 
 nie,' replied Joseph, turning his flashing eyes upoQ th6 implorin<T facp 
 of the Pope. ''IJoweverl might be moved by the pathos of%our 
 words, a Sovereign has no right to listen to the pleadings of his heart— 
 tis the head that must guide and influence^ his conduct': 1 fear, there- 
 lore, that your Holiness will he disappointed in the result of your visit 
 here. 1 accept your journey to Vienna as a distinguished mark of your 
 papal good-will, and am rejoiced to have it in niy power to show all 
 possible filial reverence to your noHness. x^eilher 1 nor my subjects 
 will deny the consideration which is his due, to the spiritual head of the 
 church ; but he on hi(5 part, must refrain from touching with his conse^ 
 crated hand the things uf this world which concern hiin not '' 
 
 ;' It is my duty to attend to all the affnirs of Holy Chi-rch whether 
 spiritual or temporal," replied the Pope genth'. 
 
 "The temporal aflairs of the Church c^oncein your Nuncio and my 
 Minister," said Joseph with impatience. - And as your Holiness has 
 entered at once upon a controversy with me respecting my acts towards 
 the Churc;h, I declare distinctly to you thut 1 shall not recede from the 
 least of them, and that your journey to Vienna, if its ohjcct.is to influ- 
 ence ray policy as sovereign of these realias, is already a failure. The 
 reasons for my conduct are satisfactory to me, and no power on earth 
 shall move me from the position I have taken."* 
 
 " I will not altogether giVe njvhe hope I have cherished of raovincr 
 your Majesty's heart," replied t he P ope earnestly. " I s hall continue to 
 
 • Tho liinporors wonts. Hubner I. pft!?« 11-X 
 
JObBPH TUB SKOONU, 
 
 pray that it may be my privilege to convince you of your errars and 
 ie-dd you back to the path of justice. an (5 of'reJimon." 
 
 " Which means that you .expect me to retract !" cried Joseph impet- 
 uously; '* Never. will 1 ictract what I have said or dune, for I hcX trom, 
 conviction, and conviction does not t;l:p off and on like a <ilove! — But 
 iet us speak no more on this subject. If your Holiness will write dowa 
 your canonical objections to my proceedings against the Church, I will 
 lay them before my theologians <or examination. My Cbaiicelior shall 
 reply to them rninisterially, and tiie correspoiidenc?e can be published 
 tor the edihcation of my subjects. Meanwhile 1 shall endeavor to de- 
 serve the good-will of your Holiness by acting towards my honored 
 guest the part of an obliging and .hospitable host. This reminds me 
 that [ have already trespassed upon your time, and have deprived you 
 of the repose which a traveler always craves after a long journey. I 
 hope that your Holiness will overlook this intrusion, and pardon me if 
 iny great anxiety to enjoy your society caused ine to forget the consid 
 eration due to- my tired guest." 
 
 With these words the Emperor retired. The Pope followed his re- 
 treating figure with a glance of profound sadness-. 
 
 '•I feaV' thought he, "that Joseph is indeed irreclaimable." Here 
 he raised his .soft dark eyes to Heaven, and continued in a low murmur, 
 " For a time the Lord endureth with mildness, but His might overcom- 
 eth the blasphemer, and he vanisheth — while Holy Church remaineth 
 unchangeable forever!" ' 
 
 CHAPTER XV. . 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 "You persist in your refusal?" cried Eskeles Flies in an angry voice. 
 "You dare to oppose the will of your father?" 
 
 " i persist in my refusal," replied Rachel firmly, lifting her dark, tear- 
 ful eyes to her father's e.\cited countenance. " I must rebel against yoUr 
 Huthority, my father, for you would compromise my earthly happiness 
 and my Valvation. Oh, dear father, do not harden your heart against 
 me! Jn mercy heed my prayers !" 
 
 With these words Rachel would have thrown herself upon her father's 
 bosom. But he thrust her from hini. 
 
 '"Tis you who have hardened your hear* against the law of God 
 which bids the child obey her father," cried he. 
 
 " ) cannot recognise my father's authority when he overstep^; his rights 
 
?i!id t.rcnclio'? tipon njijK', as a human i)ci;i2;,'" urg.J ilaclipl. "J caniii,* 
 perjure myself by accepting, as a husband, a roan whom \ (lo not love. 
 iU; is a coarse iiliterate,cieature, who lienors nolhiug ijut weaiih, loves 
 nothing but gold !" . ' 
 
 " IJc iji the son of the richest merchant in Brussels, and the Emperor 
 has made a nobleman of his father, lie. is your equal, or lath-or he is 
 your superior, for he i<=! richer, much richer Uiau we." 
 
 " lie my emial ! lie cnnnot uudersiaml me," cried Rachel. 
 Her father laughed. *' Not your equal, because he docs not go into 
 raptures over young Alozart, and does not indulge in speculative theol- 
 ogy, but worships God afier the manner of his fathers? — a Jew in short 
 who hates the ( hrislian and glories in his Jewish birth-ri<'ht ?" 
 
 "-Yes," said liachel shuddering, "a Jew in feature, speech and spirit. 
 Not such a noble Israelite as you, my father, but a man possessing eve- 
 ry repulsive peculiarity which has made the Jew the pariah of the civil- 
 ized world. Oh, father, dear father, do not barter me for gold ! Let 
 me remain your child, your darling— living and dying in the home 
 whicli your love hjs n)ade like Eden to my girlhood !" 
 
 " I have promised your hand to I'aron Von Meyer," was the curt 
 reply, 
 
 '' I will not give it !'' cried Rachel frantically. " Yon f^.rce me to dis- 
 obedience, by requiring of me that which is impossible." 
 
 " I shall force you to obedience, rebellious girl, for our laws invest 
 the father with absolute authority over his child, and 1 .«hall use mv 
 right to rescue you from dishonor. I read your heart, Rachel, and there- 
 in I see written the history of your perfidy and shame." 
 
 "Then you have read filsely," exclaimed Rachel with indignation. 
 " Up to ^lis day I have kppt the oath I made to reniain a Jewes'Tl And 
 no mortal, were he ten times my father, has the right to couple mv 
 nanie with perfidy or shame!" 
 
 '• You dare to look me in the face and deny your di.-graoe !'*" said- her 
 father trembling with anger. "Yon, who at early morning in my own 
 garden have listened to the vows of a liilsc-tongiied Christian !' Y'ou 
 who have sworn to be no man's wife, if not his !'' 
 
 ■ " Ah — yon know all !" cried Rachel in acccMits of supreme joy. "God* 
 be prijiscd there need be no more concealment between us! Yes, father, 
 I love'Giinther, and if I be not permitted to become his wife, in the 
 might of my l^ve I would not scorn to be his handmaid ! I have loved 
 him sinqe you first brought him hither, and proudly presented him a.s 
 the Emperor's favorite. Oh, my father, we were not rich then !" 
 
 "No— and he would have sco-rned fo ask yuu to wed him. Now — 
 he \Yould degrade the heiress of my wealth by seekinir to make her his 
 Wile. 
 
 " Degrade me !" echoed Rachel with a blush of indlcnntion. 'I should 
 Vie honored by bearing his nam*^, not because he is the "Emperor's favor- 
 ite, hut because he is? worthy of my love." 
 
 '= And yet, Cod be praised, Raclicl Eskeles can never be the wife of 
 
50 _ JoSKI'll rilK 8Ki;<)Mi 
 
 a, Clifistian/' shoufcd tho banker triumphantly, "■for slic has sworn by 
 the nicoiory of her jiio'theY. to die; a Jewess." 
 
 '•She will keep her oath unlg'ss her f;iiher r.olease her," ceplied 'iiucliel. 
 " But olii" added she, iiilling on her knees and raising her while arms 
 above her head, "he will have pity upon tiie misery of his only child — 
 lie uill not condemn lier to dej^poir! Have mercy, have mercy, dear 
 father! Be } our generous self, and take ino to your lieart. Release 
 me, and let nie become a Christian and the wife of my jovcr ! He cares 
 nothing ior your wealth, he asks nothing bnt my hand !'* 
 
 Her fatherglared at her with a look That seemed almost like hate. 
 " You are a Jewess," hissed he, "and a- Jewess you shall die !" 
 
 '• I am no Jewess at heart, father. I have been educated in a Chris- 
 tian country and after the manner of Christian wom^en. And you. too, 
 hav6 renounced your birth-right. You have eaten and drimk ,\vilh the 
 Gejitiles, you have cut your hair, and have adopted their dress.' Nay, 
 more ! You have parted with your name, and have accepted a Chris- 
 tian title, Wiiy then have yon not the manliness to abjure the God of 
 lieveng*^ and Hate, and openly adore the Chris-tian God of Love and 
 Mercy?" ' " 
 
 "1 will live and die a Jew," cried the banker choking with rage. " I 
 swear it again, and may 1 be accursed il'evcr I break my oath !" 
 
 " Then, father, release ???.<? from the lie that fc>llows me like an evil 
 shadow, blasting my life here and hereafter. Give me to my lover. 
 Keep your wealth to (^nrich your. tribe, but give me your blessing and 
 your love !" . . 
 
 " You shall reinain a Jewess," thundered her father, 
 
 " Is this yonr last word?" crfed Rachel, springing to her feet. "Is 
 thi:A your last word f ^ 
 
 "it is," replied he, eyeing her \vit!i cold cruelty. 
 
 "Then hear my detcrniination. 1 have .sworn fidelity to Giiulher, 
 and if. 1 must choose betweenyou, I give myself to him. J will not be- 
 coine a Christian, for such was my oaih, but I w-lll abjure tfudaisn^."^ 
 
 "And become'.a Deist ?" ■ 
 
 "Call it what you will. I shall adore the God of Love and Mercy." 
 • " A Deist ! Then you have never hga.rd what punishment awaits the 
 Deist here. You do not know .that the Emperor who affects toleration, 
 has his vulnerable hoel, and will not tolerate Deism. The gentle pun- 
 ishment which his riajesty awards 'to Deism is— that -of .the lash.* So 
 that 1 scarcely tUitik j on would dare m'e to accuse you "of f/iat/-^Bnt 
 pshaw ! Lgo too far in oiy f^ars. My daughter will recognize her fol- 
 ly, and yield her will to mine. . 6he wiJI be as she has ever been, my 
 .ndored child — for whose happiness I can never do too much — whose 
 every wish it shall Vie my jo^y to gratify." 
 
 " 1 have but ojie wish — that of.becomin"g the wife of Giinther."- 
 
 Her father afi'ected not to hear her. " Yes,'' continued he, •" she will 
 verify my promise, and take the huf^band'I have chosen. This marriage 
 
 • Oro.%nnfiin<»pr 2, pti^'eieo. 
 
KM re (Ml. 
 
 Avill 1)0 a line tliins; for lx>th parties, for I give my daughter one hnlf 
 million otiloriiis, ami Daren Von Me\ vr i;ives his son a million crv-!i 
 down. Then the fiitlier-in law yives ihree hundred florins n month i'or 
 pin money, and 1 seven hundred ; t-o that Kachol has a thousand •iltjrins 
 u nionth I'ur her little caprices, and of this, "she is to render no account. 
 That is a pretty dower lor a bride ! 1 give my daughter a trousseau 
 equal in magnihcence to that of a prileess. Upon her equipage the'arnis 
 of our two houses are already eniblazoued, and to niorrow four of the 
 finest liorses in Vienna will conduct the Baroness Von Meyer to hwhu's- 
 Vjand's palace. I congratulate ) ou, Baronfcs. No Christian woman in 
 Vienna shall have an establishment like yours !" 
 
 "1 shall never be the Baroness Von Meyer," said Rachel calmly, but 
 an icy chill ran through her veins, for she loved her father, and felt that; 
 they must shortly part, forever. 
 
 " Yes, you will be the Baroness Von Meyer tomorrow. I have an- 
 ticipated ail your ol)jections. The Rabbi that is to marry you is a Pole. 
 He will not understand your reply, and the young Baron has magnani- 
 mously consented to overlook any little informality of which your'follv 
 may be the cause; for he likes money, and is too good a Jew not to 
 i»id nie in rescuing my heiress from disgrace. You see that your poor 
 Jittle struggles will all be vain. Resign yourself then, and accept, the 
 brilliant destiny which awaits you." 
 
 '• I will soon»r die tlian eonsign myself to misery and disgrace !"' 
 
 " Be easy on that subject. God will shield you from misery, and 
 your father's watcliful eye will see that you do not consign yourself lo 
 disgrace," replied the banker ^coldly. But enough of words. ' Night sets 
 in and I have yet a few preparations to make for to-morrow, his pro- 
 per that you pass the last evening of your maiden life in solitude, and that 
 you may not spend it in weariness, 1 have ordered your drawing-rcoms 
 to be lighted, and your trousseau to be laid out, for your inspection. 
 Go and gladden your heart with its magniliconce. Good night." 
 
 So saying. Baron Eskeles Flies left the room. Rachel heard him turn 
 the key in the lock and withdraw it. vShe then remembered that the 
 drawing-rooms were lighted. Perhaps her father had neglected to fisteii 
 some of the doors leading thencei into the hall, Rachel' sprang to the 
 door of communication, and flung it open. The rooms were brilliantly 
 lit up, and the sparkling chandeliers of crystal looked down upon a wil- 
 derness of velvet, satin, flow6rs, lace and jewels, truly a trousseau for a 
 princess ! ■ ' 
 
 But what cared Rachel for this ? Indacd she saw nothing, save the 
 distant doors towards which slie sped like a frightened doe. Alas, they 
 too were locked, and the only answers to her frantic calls were the 
 mocking echoes of her own voice. " 
 
 For a few moments she leaned against the wall for support ; then her 
 glance took in the Ipng perspective of magnificence which was to giJd 
 the hideous sacrifice of a whole human life, and she murmured soitly, 
 " 1 must be free. 1 cannot perjure myself. I shall keep my vow to 
 
;.)> • !M^t;i'n the si-X'i.nu 
 
 J 
 
 ijihuher or die! My father is ho failier — tie Is my piilur, find i ow^e 
 liini no longor tho obfcdifince of a child."' 
 
 She went slowly biick. revolving in her mind what she siiould do.— 
 lincousciously she paused before a tabic resplendent witji trinkets, 
 vhose surpassing beauty seemed to woo the younir girl to her fate. But 
 ]i;iehel was no lunger n maiden to be allured by dress. The exigertcies 
 of the hour had transformed her into a brave woman, who was donning 
 her armor and preparing for the fight, 
 
 " (^iinther awaits me !" said she musing. " But why, where'? That 
 she could not say. But she^elt that she must free herself from prison, 
 and that her fate now lay. i-n her own hands. At that moment she stood 
 before a large round table which was just under the principal chandelier 
 of her superb reception-room. Here lay dainty boxes containing laces, 
 and caskets enclosing jewels. Not for one moment did she think of 
 their contents. She saw but the gilt letters which were engraved upon 
 the red morocco cases. 
 
 '• Rachel Von Meyer " was on every box and case. In her fathers 
 mind; she already bore another name ! 
 
 ''JIachel Von Meyer!" sa4d she w^ith a shudder. "My Aither denies 
 me his name — who then am J ?" 
 
 A flush of modest shame overspread her fice, as scarcely daring to, 
 articulate the. words, she knelt and murmured, " I am Rachel Gunther," 
 
 "And ifsuch.be my name," continued she, after a paose of rapture, 
 " I have no right to be here amid the treasures of the Baroness Von 
 Meyer. I must away from this house, which is no longer a home for 
 me — Awo,y — raway — for Gunther awaits me." 
 
 And now she looked with desp3,ir at the locked doors and the lofty 
 windows so far, far from the groimd. •' Oh, if 1 had but wings ! I who 
 am here a prisoner, while my heart is away with him !" 
 
 Suddenly she gave a start, for deliverance was possible. She looked 
 from the v/indow as if to measure its height, and then she darted through 
 the rooms until she saw a table covered with silks. She topk thence, a 
 bolt of wide, heavy ribbon, and throwing it before her, exclaimed joy- 
 fully, " It is long, oh it is quite long enough ! And strong enough to 
 support me. Thank heaven, it is dark,^and I shall not be seen. A gold 
 ducat will bribe the guard at the postern,, ^and then — I am free !" 
 
 She returned to her sitting-room and with trembling haste threw a 
 dark mantle around her. Then looking up at her father's portrait, her 
 eyes filled with bitter tears. "Farewell, my father, farewell !" 
 
 Scarcely knowing what she did, she fled from her room, and. ret turned 
 to the only oV^ject which possessed any more interest for her there, the 
 long, long ribbon which 'ike a gigantic serpent lay glistening on tlie floor 
 where she had enrolled it. She stooped to pick it up, and trailing it 
 after her, she flew from room to room, until she came to the last on« bf 
 the suite which overlooked the park. She opened a window and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 Nothing was heard there save the " warbling wind," that wooed the 
 
s;Mr:<i:.>K mh alsikIa j1< 
 
 yout>g hiMiiches, :\nd iiore :ujd there a little bird that ventured its hvUi 
 upon the nij^lit, llachel securL-d the; ribbon to the cross-work of the 
 M'indovv, aVid then let it fall below. (.)ncc more she listened ; she could 
 ahnost hear the beuun<rs ot" her uw»i heart, but nothing else broke the 
 ^silence of the house. She gave one quick glaucc around her beautiful 
 home, where lay till the splendor that, might have 1)een her?, and grasp- 
 ing tile ribbon firmly in her hands, she dropped from the window to the 
 iriound. 
 
 • . . CHAPTER XVI. • 
 
 THR MAUHIAGE HEFORE GOP, 
 
 GuNTHER had returned frc^m the palace to his own lodgings in the city. 
 Here, the labors of the day over, he sat dreaming of his love, wondering 
 \vhether she thought of hini during these dreary weeks of their forced 
 parting. He had stretched himself upon a di%'an, and with his head 
 thrown back upon the cushion, he gave himself up to thoughts of that 
 hive which was at once the greatest grief and the greatest joy of his life. 
 
 " Will it ever end ?" thought h^. " Will she ever consent to leave 
 that princely lnjme for me.?" 
 
 Sometimes a clo\id came over his handsome, noble features, sometimes 
 the sunlight of happiness broke over theui, and then he smiled- And on 
 he dreamed, happy or unhappy, as he fancied that Rachel was his, or 
 was parted iVom him forever. 
 
 The door-bell rang with a clang that startled him ; but what to him 
 was the impatience of those who sought admittance to his house ? ITo 
 had almost begun to fixncy that Rachel was before him, and he was vex- 
 ed at the intrusion. Meanwhile, the door of his room had been softlv 
 opened, but Giinther had not heard it. He heard — saw — nothing but his 
 peerlfess Rachel. She was there with her lustrous eyes, her silky hair, 
 
 her pale and beautiful features.— She was there what! — Did he 
 
 dream? — She r^'crs before Him, but paler than her wont, her dark eyes 
 fixed upon him with a pleading look, her lithe figure swaying from side 
 to side, as with uncertain footsteps, she seemed to be approaching his 
 couch ! Good God ! Was it an apparition ! What has happened ! 
 
 Giinther started to his feet, and cried out, " Oh, mv Rachel, my be- 
 loved !" ^ 
 
 " It is I," said she in a fiiltering voice. " Before you take me tp your 
 heart, hear me, Giinther. I have fled from my father's house forever ; 
 for he would have sold me to a man whom I abhor, and whom 1 could 
 
<■)(.( fdSKt'll rUK ?K(M>M>, 
 
 never liave married had my heart been free. I being neither gold nor 
 jewels; I coiae to youa.beggar, my inheritance a father's curse, my 
 (Jovrry naught but my love and faith. So dowered and so portioned, 
 will you take me, Giinther'?" 
 
 Gunth6r looked upon his love with eyes wherein she must have read 
 consolation tor all her trials, for her sweet lips parted with a happy 
 smile. 
 
 "]\L"y treasure !" was his reply, as he took her little trembling hand, 
 and pressed it fo.idly within his own. '" Come, my Rachel, come and see 
 how [ have longed for this day. He drew h«r forward and opened a 
 door opposite to the one by which she had entered. 
 ■" Come, your holne is ready, my own." 
 
 They entered together, and Rachel found herself in a drawing-room 
 where taste and elegance amply atoned for the absence of splendor. 
 
 " Now see your sJLl^ig-room." Nothing could be more cheerful f^r 
 home-like than the appointn^ents of this cosy apartment, lit up like the 
 drawing-room by a tasteful chandelier. 
 
 "There," said Giinther, pointing to a door, "is your dressing-room, 
 and within, your chaiuber, my Rachel. For six months this dwelling 
 has awaited its mistress, and that she might upvcr enter it unawares, it 
 lias been nightly lit-up for her coming. 1 was almost tempted to despair,' 
 beloved ; yoi.i have §aved me from a discouragement that was undermi- 
 ning my health. Now you are here, and all is well. When shall the 
 priest bless our nuptials 1 This very night — shall he not, my biide 1" 
 
 "He can never bless them," replied Rachel solemnly. 
 
 Giinther turned pale. " Never ! — You have not then come to be 
 my wife !" ■ ' 
 
 "I cannot be your Wife according to human rites, Giinther, for well 
 you know that I have sworn never to become a Christian. But I am 
 ypurs for ti|,ne and eternity, and knowing my own heart, I accept the 
 world's scorn, for your dear sake. Earth refuses to bless our nuptials, 
 but God will hear our vows. Giinther, will you reject me because I am, 
 a Jewess V 
 
 Giinther imprinted a kiss upon her forehead, and sank on his knees 
 before her. 
 
 "Rachel," said he, raising his right hand to heaven, " I swear to love 
 you for better or for worse, devoting my life to your happiness. Oa 
 my knees I swear before God to honor you as my wife, and to be faith- 
 ful and. true to you until death dues us part." 
 
 Rachel then knelt at his side, and laying her hand in his, she repeated 
 her vows. Then they kissed each other, aiid Giinther taking her in his 
 arms, pressed Her to his throbbing heart. 
 
 '• Vve are husband and wife," said he. " God has received our vows, 
 and now, Rachel, you are mine, for He has blessed and sanctioned your 
 entrance into my. house '•" 
 
eMl'EKUK OP AISTIUA. ijl 
 
 CIL^'TER XVir. 
 
 THE PARK. 
 
 The first clays of a smilinjcr spring h.ld Tilled the park with hundred!? 
 of splendid equipages, and prancing horsemen. There was the carriage 
 of the' Princess Esterhazy with twenty outriders in the livery of (he 
 Prince — that of the new Pritice Palm, vvl)o?c four black horses wore 
 their harness of pure gold— there was the gilded, fairy-like vis-a-vis ^i' 
 J he beatitifiil CouBtess TImn, its panels decorated with paintings from 
 the hands of one of the first, artist-i oflheday — the cnacJi of the Countess 
 Pietrichstein, drawn by four ii,iilk-\vhile horses, whose delicate pasterns 
 M'crc encircled by jewelled bT^celets worthy of glittering upon the arm 
 of a beauty. In simrt the arisfocrac^^ of Austria, Hungary, and Lombar- 
 dy were there, in all the splendor of. their wealth and rank. It seemed 
 :i6 though Spring were holding a le\>;e, and the nobles of the Empire 
 had thronged her flowery courts. 
 
 Not only they, but the people, torr, had come to. greet young Spring. 
 They crowded the foot-paths, eage^ to scent the balmy air, to refresii 
 their eyes with the sight of the velveT, turf, and to enjoy the pageant 
 presented to their wondering eyes by the^Mii^iignificent turn-outs of the 
 aristocracy." Thousands and. thousands filled the alleys and outlets of 
 the park, all directing their steps towtfrds the centre, for there the Em- 
 peror and his court were to be seen. ThertT^the people might gaze in 
 close proximity at the dainty beau tie«^R-.hor^" they knew as the denizens 
 of another earthly sphere ; there they might, elbow greatness, and there, 
 above all, they might feast their eyes upon tiie Er)iperor,* who, simply 
 dressed, rode to and fro, as ofteil stopp;ing hi^ liorse to chat with a pea- 
 sant as with a peer. V'V , 
 
 ^ The Emperor dismounted and this \*as the signal for all other cava- 
 liers to dismount and accompany him. ^The ladies also were compelled 
 to rise from their velvet cushions and to tread the ground with their 
 silken-slippered feet. Their equipages were crowded together on one 
 side of the square, and around them the hprses now held by their live- 
 ried jockies, were champing tkeir bits and pawing the ground with rest- 
 less hoofs. 
 
 The crowd was so dense that patrician and plebian stood side by side. 
 The people in their innocent enjoyment of the scene, broke several 
 times through the ranks of titled promenaders who were moving towards 
 the centre of the garden, vainly hoping to find some spot unprofaned by 
 the vicinity of the vulgar herd. 
 
biJ josEni TUB skcknu. 
 
 • The Emperor saw the lowering brows of^is conrllers, and knew that 
 their angiy glances were directed towards the people. 
 
 " Vv'haL is the matter with you, my lords T' asked he. " You are the 
 picture, of discontent. Fray, Count Fur.stenberg, speak ^ for the court. 
 What has happened to discompose your equaniini.'-y ?" 
 
 "1 do not know, your Majesty," stammerpd the Count. 
 
 " And yet you iVown terribly," laughed Joseph. " Come — no con- 
 cealment. What has vexed' you all '?" 
 
 '•Your Majesty commands " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " If so, sire, we are annoyed by the vulgar curiosity of the populace 
 ■who gape in our faces as if we were South Sea Islanders or specimens of 
 fossil-life." ■ ^ 
 
 "True — the curiosity of the Viennese is somewhat troublesome," re- 
 plied the Emperor smiling ;, " but let us call this eagerness to be with 
 us, love,'and then it will cease to be irksome." • « 
 
 " Pardon me, your Majesty, if I venture to say that under any aspect 
 it would be most irksome to us. If your^Iajesty will excuse my free- 
 dom, I think that in opening all th.e gardens to the people, you have 
 made too great a concession to thei'r convenience." 
 
 •' You really think so ?" 
 
 " Yes, sire, and 1 beg you to hear^the request I have to prefer." 
 
 " Speak on, Count." 
 
 " Then, your Majesty, in the nanie of every nobleman in Vienna, and 
 above all, in the name of our nobl^ ladies, 1 beseech of you grant us 
 the exclusive privilege of owe garden vvherc we may meet unmolested 
 by the rabble. Give us the u^ie of the Prater that we may have some 
 spot in Vienna where we can breathe the fresh air in the company of 
 our equals alone." » * 
 
 The Emperor had listened^ with a supevcilious smile. " Ypu desire to 
 see none but your equals, say yo'u? If I were to indulge in a similar 
 whim, I should have to seek companionship in the crypts of the Capu- 
 chins.* But for my part ;l hold all men as my equals, and my noble 
 subjects will be obliged to .•'follow my example. 1 shall certainly not 
 close any of the gardens against the people, for I esteem and love them."f 
 
 The Emperor, as he concluded,' bowed and turned to greet the Coun- 
 tess Pergen. 
 
 " Welcome, Countess, to Vienna," said he bowing. " Yo\i have been> 
 away for some time. May I enquire how you are?" 
 
 Trcs-bien, voire Majesie,''^ replied the Couiitess with a profound curtsey. , 
 
 The Emperor frowned. " Why do you not speak German?" said he- 
 curtly. " We are certainly in Germany." 
 
 And without vouchsafing another word to the discorafitted lady, ' he 
 turned his back upon her. Suddenly his face brightened and he pressed 
 
 , u___^ — , . 
 
 * The E'T.peror's own wo'ds. Bairshorn's Life of Joseph II. 
 
 t "Whon the Emperor opened the Park to ihe people, he cnueed the following inscripticn to be 
 ii'.aeed over the principal unirauoe, ' Dedicated (o all men by one who esteem* them." 
 
EMrEKOR OP MSTKIA. , Cy.i 
 
 eagerly through the crowd, towards a" pale j'ftung man who met his smi- 
 lin;^ gaze with one of recI[irocal friendliness. 
 
 Joseph extended his hand, and his courtiers saw with surprise that; 
 this person whose brown coat was without a single order, instead of 
 raising the Emperor's hands to his lips, as was customary at court, s-hoolc 
 it as if they had been equals. 
 
 " See," cried- Joseph, .''here is our young maestro, Mozart. Did you 
 come to the park to-day to teach the nightingales to sing?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid, your ISIajesty ; rather would I learn from the tune- 
 ful songsters whom God has taught. Perhaps some of these day -s 1 may 
 iry to imitate their notes myself'" 
 
 The Emperor laid his hand upon Mozart's shoulder, and looked wi'ii 
 enthusiasm upon his pale, inspired countenance. "Mozart has no nefd 
 to learn from tlie nightingale," said, lie, '" for God has filled his hearr. 
 with melody, and he has only to transfer it to paper to ravish the world 
 
 with its strains. Now for your 'Abduction from the ylv^e Goites'' 
 
 nay. do not blush ; 1 am a child of Vienna and must have my jest with 
 the Viennese — Tell me — which gave you most trouble, that or your 
 opera ''Die Eiif/T/Jmnv/ ans deni SeraiV ?"* 
 
 '•Truly," replied Mozart, still somewhat embarrassed, '' the abduction 
 from the Aujc Gotles, sire. I had to ^igh and sue imtil 1 v.as uigh unlo 
 despair-.befbre I was successful." 
 
 "• But you concluded both works on the same day." 
 
 '*Ye3, sire. First that which lay in my head, ^nd then that which 
 was nearest my heart." 
 
 " 1 congratulate you upon the success vf both. ' Die L'nfftchrunp avs 
 <fem ScraW is a charming opera ! Charming, but it contains too many 
 notes." 
 
 "Only as many as were necessary, sire," said Mozart, looking full in 
 the Emperor's face. 
 
 Joseph smiled. "Perhaps so, for you must be a better judge of the 
 necessity than I. For that very reason," added he, lowering his voice 
 to a whisper, " I have sent you my Sonata for revision. Like all inex- 
 perienced composers, \ am anxious to know my fate. Tell me, what do 
 you think of my Sonata, Herr Kapellmeister T^ 
 
 Mozart was .silent, while the Emperor waited anxiously for his reply. 
 " Why do you not speak 1" said he impatiently. " Tell rac, what do 
 jou think of my Sonata?" 
 
 "The Sonata, sire, is — good," returned Mozart with some hesitation, 
 "but ne who composed it," added he smiling, " is much better. Your 
 Majesty must not take it ill, if you find some of your passages stricken 
 out." 
 
 The Emperor laughed. Ah ! — too many notes, as I jufitnow remark- 
 
 * On the day of the representation of the Opern " Pie Entfvhrxinq O'lx dem Seradl,''' in Vi«nnn, 
 Mozart r«naway with his <^oustanco. He conducted her to ihe houi=e of a cnmoion iViend, where 
 they were married. This same friend brought about a reconcllimiou »ith the mother "f. Constance. 
 The house in which the widow and her daughter lived, ■vras-cnlled " (hiit Auge Gottes,'^ and the 
 Viennese who knew the history of .Mozart's marrlagov bad called it " Dia Kntfuhning out «[«»>■ 
 A'iffe <?of'e»."— Licscn's Life of Mwart. 
 
(il , ^ JOKKPIl THE SECOND. 
 
 ed of jour opera — only tliaf from your judgment there Can 'be no appeal. 
 Well— .-give us a new opera, and let it be comic. Music should rejoice, 
 not. grieve up. Addio.^'* 
 
 Hg then returned to the group which ho had lefi, none of whom seem- 
 ed to have been much eqmforied by the familiafily of the Emperor with 
 a poor little JuiveUincisle): • 
 
 " My hour of recreation is over," said Joseph, " but as you know that 
 I am no lover of etiquette, l^t no one retire on 'my accourt. I know 
 where to find my equerry-, and prefer to find him alone." With these 
 words he turned away. 
 
 Suddenly he was seen to stop and frown visibly. With a quick mo- 
 tion of the hand, he signed to Count Podstadsky Liechtenstein to ap- 
 proach. 
 
 As Podstadsky was about to make a profound inclination, the Empe- 
 ror. interrupted him roughly, "No cecemony — we have no time to be 
 complimentary. What are you doing in Vienna?" 
 
 The Count saw that his Sovereign was, angry. " Sire," replied he, 
 *' I spend my time just as it happens " • 
 
 "That .is, you ride, walk, gamble and carouse, when you are doing 
 nothing worse. I tliought you had left Vienna. You bad better go up- 
 on vour estates, and attend to the welfxre of your vassals. Idleness is 
 the parent of crime, and I fear that if you remain another day in YiGnna, 
 you will bring disgrace upon your'ftither's name. Go .at once."f , 
 
 Count Podstadsky looked in wonder after the* Emperor. "Is this ac- 
 cident or design ? Does he suspect something, or is he only trying to 
 induce me to work, as he does every nobleman 1 Ah, bah ! — I must see 
 Arabella, and hear what she thinks of it !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 TnEV sat together in the little boudoir which had so often rung with^ 
 their laughter, and where they had so often sneered at their titled dupes 
 in Vienna. ' , 
 
 There was no laughtar to-day : the beautiful features of the Countess 
 Baiilou were contracted with alarm, and the frivolous Podstadsky was 
 thoughtful and serious. 
 
 The Countess was superbly dressed. A rich robe of velvet embrpid- 
 ered with gold, fell in heavy glistening folds around her graceful figure ; 
 
 • Thii interview is strictly historical. Nisson's Life of Mozart. 
 
 t The Emperor's own words to Podstadsiky. Anecdotes, Ac, of the Emperor Jofeph II. 
 
a diadem of briliiants sparkled like a constellation upoii the blackness 
 of her luxuriant hair, and her exquisite neck and arms were covered 
 ■with costly gems. She had just completed her toilet for a dinner given 
 by the Princess Karl Liechtenstein, vhen Podsladsky had met her with 
 the alarming intelligence which had obliged her to send an excuse. 
 
 For one whole hour they had been considering their situation ! Con- 
 sidering those words of the Emperor ; now planning one method of es- 
 cape, now another. 
 
 '•Then you do not believe that the danger is imminent," said Pods- 
 tadsky, after a long, auxioi's pause. 
 
 " I do not," replied the Countess. " Tho P^mperor has always been 
 fond of advising other people and of humbling the Austrian arifitocracy; 
 above all when the people are by to hear him, and he can make capital 
 out of it to increase his popularity, 1 suppose his rudeness to you was 
 all assumed to make an impression upon the foolish populace That 
 is all." 
 
 Podstadsky shook his he^d. " The tone of the Emperor was so point- 
 ed. It seemed as though some special meaning lay in his words." 
 
 "That, my dear Carlo, simply means that fear caused you to inter- 
 pret them significantly. " 
 
 " TM» words themselves were significant enough, and his look ! 
 
 Oh, Arabella, we are in danger ! Dearest, let us fly, fly at once !" 
 
 He had risen and in his anguish had tried to draw her'to himself. She 
 put him quietly &\\ i \'. and contemplated him with a sneer. " No folly !" 
 said she. " Even if the Emperor had meant to warn you, his warning 
 came too late to save you from the watchful police of Vienna." 
 
 'I No, no, Arabella. I tell you that the Emperor will facilitate my 
 escape for my parents' sake. — Oh. why did 1 not; obey, and mount mv 
 horse at once, and fly to some sequestered vale where I might have found 
 refuge from dishonor !" 
 
 "And where you might realize your mother's touching dream of be- 
 coming a boor, and repenting your sins in sackcloth and ashes ! That 
 maternal idyl still troubles your poor, shallow brain, does it? — For my 
 part I think no spectacle on earth is so ridiculous as that of the repentant 
 sinner. It is the most humiliating character in which a man can appear 
 before the world, and it is unworthy of you. Carlo, Hold up your head 
 
 and look this phantom of danger in the face. It is but a phantom the 
 
 bright, beautiful reality of our luxurious life is .^substantially before us. 
 Away with cowardice ! — He who treads the path which we have trodden, 
 must cast all fear behind him. Ha:d we been scrupulous, or faint-heart- 
 ed, you would have been to-day a ruined nobleman, dependent upon the 
 pittance doled out to you from parental hands, or upon some little oftioe 
 pompously bestowed by the Emperor, and I — Ha! ha!— f should have 
 been a psalm-chaunting nun, with other drowsy nuns for my companions 
 through life, and a chance of dying in the odor of sanctity ! — We were 
 too wise for that; and now the structure of our fortunes is complete. 
 Its gilded dome reaches into the heaven/of the moat exclusive circles • 
 
fiG ' JOSKl'H THK 8EC0NI). 
 
 prince?, duke?, and sovereigns are our guests — in the name of all for 
 which we have striven, Carlo, what would you have more !" 
 
 " I atn afraid that the structUie will fall and bury us under its ruins," 
 fsaid Carlo shivering. 
 
 " Better that than inglorious flight. Stay where you are ; show a bold 
 front, and that will disarm suspicion. — Why do you gaze at me so 
 btrangely ?" 
 
 "i gaze at you because you are so beautiful," replied he with a taint 
 smile, " as beautiful as was that fallen angel who compassed the ruin 
 of man !" 
 
 " 1 avi a fillen angel," returned she proudly, " and you know it. To- 
 gether we fell, together we have risen. So long as we smile, we shall 
 compass the ruin of many men ; but if once we frown, we shall be known 
 as evil spirits, and our power is at an end. Smiles are the talismans 
 that ensure victory ; so smile, Carlo, smile and be gay." 
 
 " I cannot, I cannot. My veins are chilled with vague terror, and 
 ever before my eyes, comes the pale and anguish-stricken face of my 
 Brother ! — Arabella, if you will not leave this accursed spot, let us die. 
 Better is death than the dungeon and disgrace!" 
 
 He threw his arms around her, and pressed his hot, parche(% lips to 
 hers. Again she disengaged herself, and her musical laugh rang out 
 upon the stillness, clear, merry, silvery as ever. " Die! — Are you tired 
 of pleasure ■? I am not. I shall yet have many an intoxicating draught 
 from its golden beaker. Die !-^As if we knew what came after death ! 
 — But come — I pity your state of mind, and since you can no longer be 
 happy in Vienna, we shall travel — mark you ! I say travel; but there 
 shall be no flight." 
 
 Count Podstadsky uttered a cry of wild joy, and pressed the hand 
 she gave him. to his lips. " Wheri shall we'travel? Now ?" 
 
 She shook her head. " That were flight. We start to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow !" cried he exultingly, " to-morrow, at dawn of day !" 
 • " By no means. To-morrow at noon, in the sight of the whole world." 
 
 " Be it so then," sighed the Count. "We go by diflferent roads and 
 meet at Neust^idt." 
 
 "Yes, at Neustadt. And now go, Carlo. We both have important 
 arrangements to make before we leave." 
 
 " /have very little to do," laughed Podstadsky, who had already re- 
 covered his spirits. My valuables all belong to the usurers. For some 
 time past they have stationed an agent of theirs in my house as stew- 
 ard. He watches over their property ; I have no interest in it." 
 
 *'■ Why don't you pav them with your nice new bank-notes, hey 
 Carlo 1" 
 
 Carlo grew troubled again. " I did try to do so, but they refused. 
 They had given me gold, and must have gold in return." 
 
 '•So much the belter. Your banknotes will meet with a better re- 
 ception elsewhere," said Arabella hurriedly. " But come, let us go to 
 work. Burn all indiscreet papers, and take everything that you can sc- 
 
KMPBROK OF AUSTillA. 
 
 Crete. And nov away with yon ; I must be alone, for I have enough to 
 do to keep tne up this livelong nijiht. Clear your brows, my Carlo, 
 and sleep free from anxiety. To-morrow we leave Vienna, and your 
 trials will be at an end. Aildio, caro omico mio, addiof" 
 
 He kissed her hand, and she accompanied him to the door. He closed 
 it behind him, while she stood breathless, listening to his retreating foot- 
 steps. Now he was on the staircase. The heavy street-door closed — 
 a moment's delay, and his carriage rolled away. Yes — he was oU' at 
 last. Thank heaven, he was off! 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 COLONEL SZEKULY. 
 
 Arabella listened — listened until the sound of the wheels had died 
 away, theii she laughed. " He thinks 1 am fool enough to share his dis- 
 grace! As if I had not long ago foreseen that this was to be the end of 
 that hair-brained fool ! in expectation of his fate J have been counter- 
 mining with old Szekuly, and his foolish old hands have flung up sho- 
 vels of gold as we went along. Bright, shining ducats which shall go with 
 nite to Paris ! Now I am free, free from my dangerous accomplice, free 
 from my tiresome old adorer, whose love for me so nearly approaches 
 insanity that it may lead him to compromise himself in more ways than 
 one. But he must not compromise me ! For the world as yet, I am 
 the modest, virtuous Countess Baillou, chaste as I am beautiful!" 
 
 While she soliloquised thus, the Countess walked hurriedly through 
 the room with folded arms, fiery eyes, and on her lips a smile — but what 
 a smile ! Alone in that gorgeous apartment, with her sinister beauty, 
 and her angry, flashing jewels, she might have been mistaken for a ma- 
 lign spirit who had just left her kingdom of darkness to visit the earth 
 with ruin ! 
 
 "It is evident," said she, musing, " that the Emperor meant to warn 
 him ; and it follows that as he has not fled to-day he is lost ! And he 
 shall be lost, for I must be free. I cannot aflbrd to share my hardly- 
 earned winnings with him. He must away to prison ; it is my only 
 chance for freedom.'' 
 
 "• But if after all the Emperor should connive at his escape ! Or if 
 he should be seized with a fit of suspicion and return ! Good heavens, 
 now that fortune favors me,. I must snatch -security while it lies within 
 my grasp!" 
 
(58 . ■ JOSEPH THB SECOND. 
 
 Here she rang so violently that the valet who was in the ante-room 
 alruoht precipitated himself into her presence. 
 
 " If Count Liechtenstein Podstadsky calls, say that I am not at home. 
 Apprize the other servants, and add that he is never to find admittance 
 into this house, again. • Whosoever, after this, admits him, even to the 
 vestibule, shall leave my service. Away with you !" 
 
 "And uow," continued she, as the valet closed the door, " now to 
 work." She went towards a mirror and there unfastened her diadem, 
 then her necklace, brooch and bracelets. With her hands fall of jewels 
 she iiew to her dressinjf-room and deposited them in their respective 
 cases. Then she opened a large, brass-bound casket, and counted her 
 treasures. 
 
 The first thing that came to light was a necklace of diamond solitaires. 
 " These three stars of the first magnitude," said she, contemplating the 
 centre stones, "are the involuntary contribution of the Princess Garam- 
 pi. 1 borrowed her bracelet for a model, giving my word that it should 
 not pass from ray hands. Nor has it done so, for I have kept her bril- 
 liants and returned her mine. She is never the wiser, and I am the 
 
 richer thereby. For this string of pearls, with the superb ruby clasp, I 
 am indebted to her Highness, the Princess Palm. One evening as £ 
 welcomed her with an embrace, I made out to unfasten it while 1 rela- 
 ted to her a piquant anecdote of her husband's mistress. Of course she 
 •was too much absorbed in my narrative to feel that her necklace wi^iS 
 slipping, for I was not only entertaining, but very caressing on the oc- 
 casion. There was music in the room so that no one heard the treasure 
 faill. The necklace — a perfect fertune, lay at my feet; I moved my 
 train to cover it, and signed to Carlo, who, 1 must say, was alwjivs 
 
 within call. He invited the Princess to dance, and the pearls found 
 
 their way to ray pocket. What a talk that loss made in Vienna! 
 What offers of reward that poor woman made to recover her necklace! 
 — All in vain, and nobody condoled more atTectionately with her than 
 
 the charming, kind-hearted Countess Baillou. This arrow But pshaw ! 
 
 what a child I am to be gloating over my precious toys while time pas- 
 ses away, and I must be off to-night !" 
 
 She closed her boxes, replaced them in her strong, well-secured cask- 
 et, and having locked it, hung the key around her neck. " Here lies the 
 price of a princely estate," said she, "and now I must attend to my 
 ducats." 
 
 She stood upon a chair, and took from the wall a picture. Then pres- 
 sing a spring behind it, a little door flew open, revealing a casket simi- 
 lar to the one containing her jewels. She took it down and placing it 
 on the table, contemplated the two boxes with profound satisfaction. 
 
 " Twenty thousand lovers' eyes look out from this casket," said she 
 with a laugh,." all promising a future of triumphant joy ! Twenty thou- 
 sand ducats ! The fruits of my savings ! And dear old Szekuly has. 
 made economy very easy for some months past, for one half of these 
 ducats once belonged to him. To be sure I gave him in return the deeds 
 
ly M'S'Ki.i 
 
 of an entail which I own in Italy, and which he can easily re-eonverfc in- 
 to money. At least he thinks so. Well — f owe him nothing. We 
 iiiade an exchange, and that is all !" 
 
 After this edifying monologue, the Countess exchanged her elen^ant 
 costume for a simple traveling-dress, and as sho completed her toilet, 
 the clock struck eight. Everything being ready, she returned to her 
 boudoir and rang once. This signified that her confidential valet was 
 wanted. In a few moments the door opened, and an old man, whose 
 dark hair and eyes marked his Italian birth, entered noiselessly. The 
 Countess bade him close the door and approach. He obeyed without 
 the least manifestation of surprise, muttering as he went, "walls have 
 ears. 
 
 "Giuseppe," said his mistress, "are you still willing to follow me?" 
 
 " Did I not swear to your mother, my beloved benefactress, nev.er to 
 abandon you, Signora?" 
 
 "Thanks amico ; then we leave Vienna tonight." 
 
 " I beard the order forbidding Count Podstadsky the house, Signorn, 
 and 1 made ready to depart." 
 
 " Good arid faithful Giuseppe ! Since you are ready, nothing need de- 
 tain us. Go at once and order post-horpes, and come with the travel- 
 ing carriage to the corner of the street above this." 
 
 "■Si Signora ; I shall leave the carriage there, come for the two cask- 
 ets; you will then go out by the postern, and having joined us, we are 
 oir. 'is that your will?" 
 
 " Yes, Giuseppe, yes. Go for your life." 
 
 " Be ready to leave the house in one hour, Signora, for you know that 
 I am a swift messenger." ' - 
 
 The old man bowed and retreated as silently as he came. His mis- 
 tress looked after him.saying, "There goes a jewel which I have neither 
 borrowed nor stolen ; it comes to me by the inalienable right of inheri- 
 tance. Now I can rest until he returns." 
 
 With a deep sigh of relief, she tltrew herself upon the divan, and clo- 
 sing her eyes, gave herself up to rosy dreams. She had not lain long 
 before the door opened and a valet announced " Colonel Szekuly." 
 
 " J cannot receive him," exclaitned she without rising. 
 
 "You must receive him, Coimtess," said a voice behind her, and start- 
 ing from the divan, she beheld the tall form of her " tiresome old adorer," 
 enveloped in a military cloak, with his plumed hat drawn far over his 
 brow. Before she had time to speak, he had dismissed the valet and 
 closed the door, . 
 
 " You presume strangely upon your influence," cried Arabella, half- 
 amused, half angry. " Because you reign over my heart, you aspire to 
 reign over my domestics, I perceive." 
 
 " Peace !" cried the Colonel imperatively. " I have not come hither 
 to suck poison from your honied lips. I have already had enough to 
 cause my death. Though you have cruelly decei- ed me, I come to give 
 you a last proof of my love. Do not interrupt me." 
 
TO JOSEPH THB SKCOm>. 
 
 *' I will not breathe,"' said she with asmileso beM'ilching that Szekuly 
 averted his eyes, forit maddened him. 
 
 "You know," said he, and the old man's voice faltered as he spoke, 
 " that the Director of Police is my friend. 1 had invited him to dine 
 ■with me. He came but half an hour ago to excuse himself because of 
 an arrest of some importance. Do you gueds whoKe arrest?" 
 
 '• How should T guess '" said she, still with that cnohanting smile. 
 " I have no acquaintance with the police." 
 
 " God grant that you may never make their acquaintance!" ejacula- 
 ted he hoarsely. "They have just now arrested Count Podstadsky." 
 Not a feature of her face changed, as she replied. "Ah ! Count Pod- 
 stadsky arrested *? I am sorry to hear it. Can you tell \ne why j" 
 
 "For forsinir bank-notes to the amount of a million of florins." 
 
 "I suspected as much; 1 have several times been the victim of his 
 thousand-florin notes." 
 
 "The victim, Countess? Is that an appropriate e.\pression ?" 
 
 " I think it IS," replied she, quietly. " Is that all the news?" 
 
 " No, Countess. The Count is taken, but his accomplice " 
 
 She breathed quickly and her mouth quivered, but she rallied and 
 made answer. '• He bad accomplices ?" 
 
 *' He had an accomplice, and bush ! we have no time for falsehood. 
 
 Every moment is precious to you. Perhaps the Director of the Police 
 came to me because knowing how — -1 have loved you, he would rescue 
 you from shame. Let ns hope that he did — for he told me that he had 
 orders to arrest the Countess Baiilou." 
 
 " When ?" asked she almost inaudibly ; and now her face was pale 
 as death. 
 
 " At dusk, that you might be spared ttfti curiosity of a crowd." 
 
 Arabella sprang from her couch. '' It is already night," cried she, 
 her voice rising almost to a scream. 
 
 "Yes," replied her lover, "but I hope vve have time. I have prepar- 
 ed everything for your flight. My carriage and postillions await you in 
 the next street. Be quick and you may escape." 
 
 " Yes, yes," exclaimed she. " Give me but one moment." She flew 
 to her dressing-room, and tried to carry her two boxes. But the ducats 
 were too heavy. 
 
 " I must leave the jewels," said she, and climbing up again with her 
 casket, she concealed it in the wall, and replaced the picture. "It is at 
 all events perfectly safe, and Giuseppe' will come for it." 
 
 " Conie," cried Szekuly from the drawing-room. 
 
 " I come," answered tiUe, while she wrapped a cloak about her and 
 wilh trembling hands tied on her traveling hat. 
 
 *' Give me your box," said Szekuly, " it will impede your movements." 
 
 But she held it fa^t, and said, " No — they are my jewels, now my 
 only riches." 
 
 " And you are afraid to trust them with me ?" asked he with a bitter 
 smile. " To me, who will die of your treachery !" 
 
aaVKKOK OF AUSTRIA. ' ' 
 
 " People do not die so easily," said she, trying to smilo ; Init her 
 teelh chattered, as in vrild haste, she flew, rather than ran down the 
 grand staircase, and arrived bceathk'ss before the door. The porter 
 opened it in wonder. The night-air blew into her face, and revived her 
 courage. Now she might breathe freely, for she was 
 
 P.ut no ! From the dark recesses of the stone portico emerged three 
 muflled figures, and one of them laid his rough grasp upon the delicate 
 arm of the Countess und dragged her back into the vestibule. 
 
 "Too late, too late," murmured the Colonel, passively following, 
 while his heart bled for the treacherous woman whom he would have 
 died to save. 
 
 " Countess Arabella B;iil]ou," said one of the figures, "1 arrest you 
 in the name of the Emperor." 
 
 She looked defiance at him. "Who are you that dare arrest me?" 
 He took off his hat and bowed derisively. " I am the Director of Police, 
 Countess, very much at your service. Here is my authority for your 
 arrest." 
 
 He would have shown her the Emperor's signature, but she dashed 
 .nway the paper, and fastening her angry eyes upon Sztkuly, who was 
 leaning against a marble pillar, she said, 
 
 " That is your dear friend, is it ? - You have been playing the detec- 
 tive, have you? Inducing me to fly, that my flight might expose me to 
 suspicion !" 
 
 The Colonel cried out as though he had been wounded. " By all that 
 is sacred in heaven, I would have saved you," sobbed he. 
 
 "And for your attempt 1 am obliged to detain you also, my poor, un- 
 happy friend," said the Director of the Police. " But you will soon be 
 able to prove your innocence. Let one of these men accompany yon 
 home, and there, remain under arrest until you hear from me. Now, 
 madam, follow me if you please." 
 
 "Allow mc first to speak a word of consolation to my generous pro- 
 tector," said the Countess. 
 
 " Certainly, madam." 
 
 Arabella bowed her beautiful head and approached Szekuly, who was 
 scarcely able to stand, so great was his eniotion. 
 
 "CoIoneJ Szekuly," said she, ia a whisper, "you lent me fifty thou- 
 sand florins upon some Italian securities of mine. They are all forgeries. 
 I forged them myself, as well as all the fine letters of introduction with 
 which I befooled the aristocracy of Vienna." 
 
 Szekuly stared for one moment at his tormentor, then hastily pressing 
 his hand to his heart, he sank with a low sigh upon the marble floor. 
 
 The Countess laughed out aloud. "He has fainted !" exclaimed she. 
 " Contemptible world, wherein men act like women, and women like 
 men ! ' Come, gentlemen. I am ready to follow you, but my innocence 
 will speedily be reestablished, and the Emperor then will owe me an 
 apology for his want of courtesy." 
 
/uSKfH TUB 3K<!0Nb. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 xnK popk"s departure. 
 
 The people pf Vienna were enraptured to the last with the visit of 
 <he Pope. Whenever he appeared they sank upon their knees, as with 
 his bewitching smile, he gave, them his benediction. But these acciden- 
 tal meetings did not satisfy the zeal of the Viennese; they longed to re- 
 ceive a formal and solemn blessing, pronounced in the Cathedral from 
 the Papal throne. 
 
 High upon this throne sat the Holy Father in his pontifical robes, his 
 triple-crown upon his head, aivl the diamond cross of his order upon his 
 breast. His canopy was of velvet, richly embroidered with gold, and 
 around him were grouped the Princes of the Church. But the Pope, his 
 large expressive eyes, fixed upon the altar, seemed isolated from all ec- 
 clesiastical pomp, mindful alone of the God, whose representative on earth 
 he was. And when he rose to give the papal benediction, the handsome 
 face of Pius Sixth beamed with holy inspiration, while the people filled 
 with love and joy knelt to receive the blessing which had been trans- 
 mitted to them in uninterrupted succession from the Holy Apostles 
 themselves. 
 
 But however the loving heart of the Pope might rejoice at his recep- 
 tion by the people, there were two men in Vienna who resisted him with 
 ail the pride of individuality and all the consciousness of their own worth 
 atid consequence. 
 
 The first of these was the Emperor. He had sought continually to 
 remind the Pope that he was lord of his own domains, even although 
 ths head of all Christendom might be his guest. He had ordered that 
 all ecclesiastic ordinances, before being printed, should receive the impe- 
 rial exequatihr. The Pope had desired during his stay to issue a bull iu 
 relatio)! to the newly erected church of St. Michael. The Bull had beea 
 returned for the signature of the Emperor. 
 
 Other humiliations besides this had been endured by the head of the 
 Church. Perhaps in the two solemn benedictions which he had given — 
 the first in the palace-court, the second in the Cathedral, Pius had hoped 
 to appear in public with the Emperor as his spiritual vassal, but Joseph 
 was careful not to allow him this gratification. He had no sooner learn- 
 ed that the throne of the Pope in the Cathedral was being erected high- 
 er than his o\pn, than he ordered the imperial throne to be removed, and 
 excused himself from attendance at high mass upon the pretext that he 
 was suffering from severe pain in the eyes, and dared not encounter the 
 blaze of light. It was an obstinate case of occular njalady, for it had 
 
CMva-KOK or /»;'STKiA. 73 
 
 already p-cvcnt^d him from appearing in the palacpi-onurt, when deeo- 
 luni would have exacted of him to walk li"hind the Pope. 
 
 The other man who had coinpletely ijrnored ihe Pope's presence in 
 Vienua, was Kanniiz. In vain had his visit been expected ; he never 
 <ame. and (inhlly ihe day of the deoarture of his Holhu'ss arrived. He 
 had received the adieus of the nobles and had taken leave of the olerfry. 
 At two o'clock he expectod the Emperor, who was to accompauy him 
 as far as Mariabrunn. Jt was now eleven, and he had, therefore, three 
 hours of leisure. 
 
 He rang for his valet and bade him send a mesfienger to Prince Kau- 
 nitz, apprising him that in half an hour the Pope would visit him. A 
 few moments after this, the door re-opened and the papal master of cer- 
 emonies entered the room. Pius received him with a friendly smile. 
 " I know why you are here," said he. " You have heard from Brambil- 
 la that I contemplate a visit to Prince Kaunitz, and you come to remon- 
 strate with me." 
 
 " Yes, I entreat of your Holiness not to take this step which " 
 
 " Which is beneath the dignity of the Head of the Church," interrup- 
 ted Ijius. " You can well imagine that I have already said as much to 
 myself. I know that in going to visit this proud man, I humble my- 
 self But if humility becomes any one of the servants of God, it be- 
 comes the successor of Peter, and I have no right to shrink from per- 
 sonal humiliation when perchance it may win something from kaughti- 
 nes3 in favor of the Church of God. Perhaps the advances I make to 
 Kaunitz may move his cold heart and teach him to do unto others as 
 others have done unto him." ' • 
 
 "But if your Holiness intends to bestow such an unheard-of honor 
 upon the Prince, you should at least have given him a day wherein to 
 inake suitable preparations for your coming." 
 
 The Pope smiled. " Dear friend, I see further into this man's heart 
 than you. I have taken him unawares precisely because he woulfl glad, 
 ly have added to my humiliation by neglecting the hint which such an 
 announcement would have conveyed. It was, therefore, better to fore- 
 stall the slight by making it impossible for him to offer it as a matter 
 of choice." 
 
 " But why does your Holiness confer upon this disdainful Austrian 
 an honor which he is unworthy to receive?" 
 
 "Why? Because I feel it my duty to leave nothing undone which 
 can be conducive to the interests and glory of our Holy Mother, the 
 Church. Who knows but that the Lord may have sent me to convert 
 an erring sinner from his ways. Go, my friend, go and send my mes- 
 senger; I must see this man who from his youth to his old age has de- 
 fied the Lord of heaven and earth!" 
 
 A half an hour later an imperial state-carriage was before the palace of 
 Prince Kaunitz, and the Pope followed by his chaplain, entered its lofty 
 vestibule. The Prince had been diligent,; for there in their richest live- 
 ries of state, wore his whole household, and at the foot of the staircase 
 
7t josapB riiK siicoM* 
 
 over which a rich Turkey carpet had been spread for the occasion, stood 
 the young Countess >Clary ia full dress, who knelt, and in soft, trembling 
 accents begged of his Holiness a blessing. 
 
 He laid his hand upon her head, and then extended it, that she might 
 press to her lips the ring of St. Peter. He then raised h'ir, and begged 
 her to accompany hiiii to the presence of her uncle, tha Prince. 
 
 As ihey walked together from one magnificent apartment to another, 
 the Countess was apologising for her uncle, who not having left his room 
 fur some weeks, was unable to come out to receive his Holiness from 
 dread of encountering the cold air of the halls. 
 
 The Pope bowed, and followed the Countess until she stopped before 
 a closed door and said, "In this room, my uncle awaits the gracious vi- 
 sit of your Holiness." 
 
 The Pope entered, but he vvas not met on the threshold as he had an- 
 ticipated. No indeed. Far from the door, with the (^entire length of 
 the room between them, Kaunitz stood close to the chimney, where a 
 huge fire was burning. He was in an undress coat, with his hat upon 
 his head,'*'' and so absorbed in thought that he was quite unaware of the 
 entrance of his guest until the Countess Clary, in a loud voice, said: 
 
 " His Holiness the Pope." ■ 
 
 Kaunitz now moved, and measuring his advance by that of Piu^, he 
 managed to meet him just half-way, and as he bowed, he at last conde- 
 scended to take oft' his hat. 
 
 Pius returned the bow, and as is customary with all independent 
 princes, extended his hand to be kissed. Kaunitz, with an assurance al- 
 most inconceivable, took it within his own, and giving it a hard shake 
 after the English fashion, exclaimed, " De tout mon coeur ! De tout mon 
 coeur /"j- 
 
 An expression of pain flitted over the handsome, noble features of the 
 Pope, and the smile died upon his lips. But he had expected humilia- 
 tion, {Mid had armed himself to endure it. 
 
 "I have come to visit your Plighness," said he mildly, " because, al- 
 though you have not asked it, 1 would fain leave with you the blessing 
 of the Church." 
 
 " I thank your Holiness for the consideration you are pleased to show 
 me," replied Kaunitz. "But before all things let me request your per- 
 mission to resume my hat. The cold air is injurious to my weak head. "J 
 
 And whether to ward off the cold air or the blessing of the Church, 
 the old sinner replaced his hat without waiting to hear the Pope's reply. 
 Pius could only affect not to perceive the rudeness, while he seated 
 himself and invited the Prince to be seated also. 
 
 There was a pause. Kaunitz took the chair, and then looking full in- 
 to the eyes of his guest, awaited with perfect indifference the opening of 
 the conversation. The expression of pain deepened upon the face of the 
 
 * Gross-Hoffinger III, p. 8S. 
 
 t Illstorical. See Groas-Hoffinger, III, p, 39. 
 
 t The Prince's own words. S^e Bonrgoing. Pins VI nnd his Pojit;floate. P. 22D." 
 
IMI'rtllOU OF AtSTRJA. V .;> 
 
 Pope; but again he recovered himsoif and made a second eflbrt at con- 
 ciliation. 
 
 "I have come to give to your Highness a proof of ray esteem and 
 consideration," said ho. 
 
 Kaunitz bowed stiflly. " I am so much the more surprised at this 
 mark of consideration, that I have never been able to see in your Holi- 
 ness's state-papers the least recognition of my claims to statesman- 
 ship." 
 
 " Perhfips, we may have misjudged one another. I have desired, in 
 visiting Vienna, to heal all misunderstandings, and to afford to my sou 
 in Christ, the Emperor, every facility for his reconciliation to the holy 
 Church. 1 have also prayed to Almighty God, to touch the heart of your 
 Highness, that you also might turn your steps towards the ' one fold '." 
 
 " I hope that I have never strayed from the path of right;. The object 
 of my life has been to malce Aiistria great and independent, and to aid 
 my Emperor in freeing his subjects from foreign dominion. Today no 
 earthly potentate has a voice in Austria, save Joseph ; he is absolOtc 
 master here, and as all his acts have been for Austria's good, sh^ has en- 
 tered at last upon a career of indisputable prosperity. But there is noth- 
 ing wonderful in this, when he had me as a coadjutor." 
 
 Pius looked with profound sadness at; this hauglpty statesman who hr.d 
 not a thought beyond the present world. 
 
 "You speak of things that are of the earth, earthy. And yet your 
 hair is white as snow, and you an old man hastening to the grave ! At. 
 your advanced age it would become your Highness, who has done so 
 much for your Sovereign, to do something now to reconcile yourself to 
 your Maker."'^' 
 
 Kaunitz grew deathly pale; nob all the paint that besmeared his wrin- 
 kles, could conceal his pallor. His forehead contracted and hung in 
 heavy folds, while his breath came fast and gasping. • The Pope had 
 spoken of the grave, and the vuhierable heel had received a wound ! 
 
 It was some time before he could recover his selfpossession — some 
 time again before he could force down his fury, and so remain master of 
 the situation. At last the victory was won and he spoke calmly. 
 
 " 1 hope," said he, " that having done nothing to offend my Maker, it 
 is unnecessary for me to seek reconciliation with Him. I have done all 
 that 1 could for religion ; it is not my fault if her interests are .not iden- 
 tical with those ot the Church. But pardon me that I should have stray- 
 ed to themes so unbecoming to my character as host, and yours as my 
 guest. Let us speak of science, art, life and its multitudinous enjoy- 
 ments. Your Holiness, I know, is a distinguished patron of the fine 
 arts. And as you are fond of painting, allow me to offer you a sight of 
 my pictures. You will find them quit6 worth your inspection." 
 
 With these words Kaunitz rose, and without waiting for the Pop'e's 
 consent, stepped as iiastily forward as his inTirmities would permit, and 
 opened the door which led to his picture-gallery. The Pope followed 
 • The Tope's Q-wn worclsto K«uui»z See Pius, VT. and his Pontificate, p. 328. 
 
tit ^ /OSKPB rnjt SRfiiSD. 
 
 him leisurely, and after him came the chaplain, the Countess Clary, and 
 Baroi) Binder. 
 
 Kaunitz diil the honors, passing with visilile haste from one painting 
 to another. " Here," said he, " is a masterpiece of Murillo, which the 
 Vatican might envy me. Murillo who was equally successful whether 
 he tried his hand at Virgins ur beggar-boys. Just look at this! Did 
 ever the earth bestow upon longing man a more voluptuously-beautiful 
 woman than this dark-eyed Madonna !" 
 
 " It is a beautiful picture," murmured Pius, approaching with the hope 
 of being spared any more such comments on art, 
 
 "But your Holiness has not the proper light," cried Kaunitz familiar- 
 ly. " Come a little more to the left." 
 
 And in the excitement of his enthusiasm, the Prince was so forgetful' 
 of the rank of his visitor as to catch him by the arm, and drag him to 
 the spot he advised. Pius started, and for one moment his eyes darted 
 fire, for he felt the indignity to the very depths of his soul ; but he re- 
 mt^mbered his resolve to "bear all things," and stood quietly contem- 
 plating the picture until his tormentor spoke again. 
 
 He on his part had affected not to perceive that he had done anything 
 amiss ; and with an appearance of great emiiressinent, he followed the 
 Pope from picture to picture, dragging him first to one point, then to 
 another, as he pretended to think that the best light for seeing his paint- 
 ings was to the right, or to the left.'^'^ 
 
 The Pope made no resistance, perhaps because he was astounded at 
 the insolence of the proceeding, perhaps because he judged it best to af- 
 fect unconsciousness of the insults which were being heaped upon his 
 head. But he was wounded to the heart ; and raised his eyes to his 
 •chaplain, who indignant at the contumely offered to his beloved Pontiff, 
 at once came forward to his relief, by reminding him that the Emperor 
 would shortly visit his rooms, 
 
 "You are right, my friend," said Pius. Then turning to Kaunitz he 
 continued, " I must go, and cannot have the pleasure of completing my 
 survey of your paintings. Had I known that you possessed so many 
 treasures, I would have come earlier that 1 might have been allowed to 
 visit them, a little more at my leisure. I am under many obligations 
 to you for your politeness, and for the very unusual courtesies which I 
 have received at your hands." 
 
 He took the arm of his chaplain, and left the room. At the door he 
 was met by the Countess Clafy, and as she knelt a second time before 
 him, he laid his hand upon her head with a gesture full of nobleness and 
 grace. 
 
 " 1 leave you my blessing, my child, and I leave it to all who inhabit 
 this house. May those whose hearts have been hardened by sin, return 
 in humility to the Lord, for humility is the crown of Christian graces, 
 and he who hath it not, cad never aspire to life eternal." 
 
 He went on without ever turning his head, or seeming to know that 
 
 ♦ Bonrgoing, Pius VI, and his Pontiflp;>te, P. 227. 
 
KMPKKOK OF aUSTKIA. 77 
 
 Kaunltz was behind, excusing himself fronj going further with his Holi- 
 ness by reason of the danger to which he would be exposed, <kc., &c. 
 
 The Pope was received at the portal of the palace by his master of 
 ceremonies who accompanied him to his cabinet. One glance at his pale 
 countenance had revealed to him the inutilit}!: of the condescension of 
 the Supreme Pontiff", who with a weary sigh sank back into the depths 
 of an arm chair. 
 
 " You were quite right," said he after a pause, " and l"was wrong. I 
 ought never to have gone to this man. God has punished me for my 
 vanity, and has used him as an instrument to remind me that I am but 
 a poor miserable creature, full of projects but empty of results! Ah, 
 Battista, with what bright hopes of touching the Emperor's heart, I start- 
 ed upon this pilgrimage to Vienna, priding myself upon my humility 
 and building thereupon my trust! Nothing has come of my elibrts, 
 nothing ! 1 have learned one thing, however, of the Emperor. He is n© 
 Christian, but he is not a bad man. I really believe that he acts from a 
 sense of mistaken duty." 
 
 The master of ceremonies shook his head, and was about to reply 
 when there was a knock at the door, and the Emperor asked admittance. 
 The master of ceremonies retired to the ante-room where the suites of 
 the Pope and the Emperor were awaiting the signal for departure. Jo- 
 seph approached his Holiness, and gave into his hand a case which he 
 begged him to accept as a souvenir (<f his visit to Austria. 
 
 Pius, bewildered by all that he had endured on that day, opened it in 
 silence. But he was astonished when he saw the magnificence of the 
 gilt. It was a large cross of pure, white brilliants, upon a. bed of dark 
 crimson velvet.* 
 
 " I beg of your Holiness," said Joseph, " to wear this in remembrance 
 of me." 
 
 Pius raised his head, and looked anxiously into the smiling face of the 
 Emperor. " Oh, my son,' said he, " would this were the only cross 1 
 was forced to take back with me to Rome^" 
 
 "Your Ploliness must be content to take with you my love and re- 
 gard," replied Joseph evasively, "and I would gladly give you another 
 pledge of them before we part. Will you allow me to bestow upon 
 your nephew, Luigi Braschi, the title and diploma of a Prince ?" 
 
 Pius shook his head. I thank your Majesty, but my nephew cannot 
 accept the honor you would confer upon him. It was not to advance, 
 the interests of my fomily, but the glory of the Church that 1 came to 
 Vienna.f Your Majesty woirid make a prince of my nephew, and yet 
 you seek to humble his uncle, who is the vicar of Christ on earth." 
 
 " What have I done, your Holiness ?" 
 ' " You have suppressed the order of the Mendicant friars and you have 
 called Cardinal Megazzi to account, because he printed one of my bulls 
 without submitting it to you for approbation." 
 
 * This cro»9 was va'ucfl at 200,000 florins. See Hubner I, P. 129. 
 
 t Pius's own words. See Gross HoOSocer S. page 46, • 
 
7b ' josKi'Q rriB SKCUNU. 
 
 " I consider that the Mendicants lead a contemptible life,. and we have 
 uo use lor them in Austria. As to the bull, no law is permitted to go 
 forth in my dominions unless it is approved by me, tor the laws of my 
 land must be subject to uo power but my own." 
 
 The Pope heaved a sigh, for it was useless to argue with Joseph. "Is 
 it also true that your Majesty has confiscated and sold all the property 
 of the convents and churches, and that it is your intention to give sala- 
 ries to the clergy ?" 
 
 *' Yes, that is my plan ; I may as well be frank with you, and avow 
 it. But 1 am very fur from its accomplishment ; I have taken nothing 
 but the property of the convents as yet." 
 
 "And wo to your sacrilegious hand that you have done so !'■' cried. 
 Pius, rising to his feet and confronting the Emperor. " I cannot conceal 
 from your Majesty that your conduct has inflicted a serious wound up- 
 on the Church, and has scandalized all good Christians. The robbing of 
 the Church is an error condemned by ecclesiastic councils, and execrated 
 by the Fathers of the Church. Shall I remind you of the words which 
 John the Patriarch of Alexandria spoke to a Sovereign who would have 
 robbed the clergy of their temporal goods 1 ' How canst thou a perish- 
 able mortal, give unto another that which is not thine own? And w'hcn 
 thou givest that which belongs to God, thou rebellest against God him- 
 self. What man endowed with reason will net pronounce thine act a 
 transgression, a signal and sinful injustice? How can a man presOme 
 to call himself a Christian who desecrates the objects consecrated to 
 Christ !' — Thus has God spoken through the mouth of his servant, and 
 His words are appropriate to the acts of your Majesty f"* 
 
 The voice of the Pope was choked by tears, and in the excess of 
 his grief he sank back upon the chair and leaned his head upon his 
 hand. 
 
 The Emperor had listened with profound indifference. It was not the 
 first time he had seen the Pope thus moved, and he was perfectly aware 
 that it was better to make no reply until the violence of his emotion had 
 exhausted itself. 
 
 " Your Holiness goes too far in your Apostolic zeal," said he after a' 
 pause of some length. " I shall neither quote the Scriptures nor the Fa- 
 thers in my defence; for you and I would not be apt to interpret them 
 in the same sense. I shall content myself with observing that in spite 
 of all your anger, I shall hearken to the voice of my own conscience 
 which tells me that my acts are those of a wise. law-giver and of a faith- 
 ful defender of religion. With this voice, my own reason, and help from 
 above, I am not afraid of being in error.f At the same time, I assure 
 your Holiness of my siucerest regard. You may not have attained the 
 object of your visit, but I hope that you carry away at least the convic- 
 tion of my honesty and integrity of purpose. The interests of State ^nd 
 Church may be at variance, but we need not be personal enemies ; and 
 
 * This haranene of the Pope is historical. Hubner 1, page 285. 
 t Joseph's own words. Hubner 1, page 287. 
 
CMt'KKliH OK AITSTRIA. 
 
 over the gulf which separates us as priuces, we maj' join hands as friends, 
 may wo not?" 
 
 With these words, the Emperor extended his hand and the Pope did 
 not refuse to take it. 
 
 " It is lime for rae to be going," replied he. "This cross, which in 
 the prodigality of your friendship, you have bestowed upon me. I shall 
 wear for your sake, and it shall remind me to pray daily fhat God nniy 
 enlighten you and lead you back to the \Vi\y — the Tmih — and the Life. 
 For in the Church alone is true peace to be*found. He who strives ■ 
 .'.i:;iinst her, strives against Christ. ■ Farewell, and niiiy He niercifally 
 biing you to a sense of your errors !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE KEPyLSE. 
 
 The aristocrvacy of Vienna were in a state of extreme eAciteraent. It 
 was whispered from one noble to another that the Aulic Council had 
 condemned Count Podstadsky Liechtenstein to the house of correction 
 for life, and he was to sweep the streets in the garb of a common crimi- 
 nal.* This was not all. Another fearful announcement had fallen like 
 a bolt upon the heads of the most illustrious families in Vienna. For 
 some weeks past. Colonel Szekuly had been missing. His servants had 
 given out that he had gone to visit his relatives in Hungary, but they 
 seemed so embarrassed and uneasy, that no one believed them. Colo- 
 nel Szekuly had many powerful friends. He wa^ an intimate associate 
 of all the Hungarian noblemen in Vienna, and had long been a welcome 
 guest wherever the fashionable world were assembled. Moreover he 
 was the adorer of the most admired woman in Vienna, the lovely Coun- 
 tess Baillou. 
 
 She too had disappeared. Where could they be ? Was it accident, 
 or had she responded to his love, and left a world of worshippers to live 
 ibr him alone 1 
 
 Finally the mystery was solved. A few days after the arrest of 
 Podstadsky, Szekuly also had been arrested. It was now well known 
 that Podstadsky had forged notes ; but it was impossible to suspect a 
 man of Szekuly's unimpeachable character of any connection with a 
 crinae of that nature. 
 
 t. Unhappily, however, though less in degree, the accusation against Sze- 
 kuly was similar in kind. He was a defaulter, and from the coffers of 
 • This waa in accordance with (hf new Josephine code. # 
 
80 iOSRPB TIIK'SBCOND. 
 
 his regiment (which were confided to his care) sixty thousand florins had 
 disappeared. 
 
 The Countess Baillou was his accuser. She had been charged with 
 being a party to Podstadsky's fraud, but he as well as Szekuly, had 
 loudJy declared her innoc^ence. Both had avowed themselves to be her 
 lovers, and it was ascertained that her household had been maintained 
 ;it Podstadsky's cost. As his mistress, she had received many of his 
 bank-notes, but he protested that she knew nothing of his forgeries. He 
 confessed his own guik/'but firmly upheld her innocence. So far from 
 being his accomplice, Podstadsky declared that she had been his victim. 
 
 But a coffer contaiuiu::^ twenty-thousand ducats had been found upon 
 the person of the Countess. This money had not been given her by 
 Podstadsky, since be had nothing but forged notes to give.- The Coun- 
 tess, when questioned, answered unhewtatingly, that one-half the sum 
 she had won at play, and the other half she had received as a present 
 from Colonel Szekuly. It was well known that Szekuly had not the 
 means of bestowing such princely gifts ; yet, when informed of the 
 Countess's charge, he had grown pale certainly, but replied that the 
 Countess hiid spoken nothing but truth. 
 
 Suspicion was aroused ; the strong-box of the regiment was examined 
 and found empty! Von Szekul-^ acknowledged that he had taken the 
 money, believing in good faith that by the sale of certain deeds in his 
 possession, he would be able to replace it at short notice. But where 
 were these papers ? They could not be found, and Szekuly refused to 
 give any account of them. He was guilty, he said, and must submit to 
 his fate. Colonel Von Szekuly, a Hungarian Baron, under sentence for 
 theft ! This was a blot upon the escutcheon of more than one illustrious 
 flimily. But the Emperor, in framing his severe code, had reserved to 
 himself the right to pardon ; and this right it was hoped that he would 
 exercise in favor of the high-born criminals. It was not possible that 
 he intended to humiliate the nobility of Austria so cruelly, as to con- 
 demn two of them to the pillory, to the sweeping of the streets, to be 
 chained to two common felons for life!* 
 
 No ! — this was an outrage which the Emperor would never dare to 
 perpetrate, for it would arouse the bitter animosity of the whole aris- 
 tocracy. But it would be better to petition him at once and warn him 
 of his peril. 
 
 He was petitioned, but his invariable reply was that the law must de- 
 cide. It was known, however, that the sentence was not signed, and 
 there was still hope. But how to reach the Emperor 1 Since the Coun- 
 cil had pronounced judgment on the criminals, Joseph had granted au- 
 dience to no one ; he had avoided all proximity to the nobles, and to 
 secure himself from importunity, had ceased to ride in the park, content- 
 ing himself with a daily drive in his cabriolet. Finally the petitioners 
 remembered the " Conirolorgang,^^ and thither they repaired early m 
 the morning. Ladies as well as lords, came on foot, that the Emperor 
 • - • Hubner 2, page 3S3. 
 
BMI'BKOR OF AUSTKIA. 81 
 
 might not be warned, by the sound of their rolling equipages, to deny 
 himself again — They were the first to enter the palace on that day, and 
 ■were so numerous that no other petitioners could obtain entrance. On 
 that occasion then, they were among thf^r peers, and the canaille would 
 never know how Count and Gountes-s, Huron and Baroness had humbled 
 themselves for the sake of their caste. 
 
 As soon as Giinther opened tlie door, they rushed into the small room 
 which was called the Controlorgang, and there with beating hearts, a- 
 waited the entrance of the all-powerful Emperor. 
 
 He came, and when he saw who were the petitioners of the day, his 
 countenance expressed astonishment ;, but he did not depart from his 
 usual habit, and walked slowly down the middle of the room, extending 
 his hand to receive the petitions. 
 
 " How V said he when he had reached the last person, *' Count Lampre- 
 do, you have nothing to present ! You all desire to speak with me? 
 1 fear that my time is too short to gratify you."' 
 
 . "Sire, we have but one petition lo make," said the Count, speaking 
 for the others. " One common misfortune threatens us all -^ 
 
 "What can it be?" 
 
 "Oh, your Majesty," cried he fervently, "have mercy upon Count 
 Podstadsky and Baron Von Szekuly !" " 
 
 "Mercy, sire, mercy for Podstadsky and Szekuly," cried the noble 
 petitioners with one accord, whileall knelt before the astounded Empe- 
 ror. 
 
 He surveyed them with an angry frown. " Rise, all of you," said he. 
 " Have you forgotten that kneeling has been abolished here 1 The Span- 
 ish customs which were once so popular in the palace are unbecoming 
 m this room, where all whc^ enter it are nothing but petitioners seeking 
 justice at my hands." 
 
 "And mercy, sire,'' add^d Count Lampredo imploringly. 
 
 " And mercy, which can be conceded, only so far as it is perfectly 
 compatible with justice." 
 
 " Mercy, gracious Emperor, mercy for Podstadsky and Szekuly," re- 
 iterated the petitioners. 
 
 "You ask for mercy, which v/ounds justice, and I repeat that \ cannot 
 grant the one without the other. Count Podstadsky through his frauds 
 has ruined thousands of. my subjects ; Baron Von Szekuly has stolen 
 sixty thousand florilis, and both these men have disgraced their births 
 and titles." 
 
 "Allow Szekuly to be tried by a niilitary court, sire. They at least 
 would shield him from dishonor, for they would sentence him to death." 
 
 " He has committed a vulgar crime, and he shall be punished accord- 
 ing to the burgher's code — Thati code ignores capital punishment." 
 
 "But its punishments are more fearful than death, sire. A raaif is 
 thrice dead who has lost liberty, honor, and name. The man who in 
 manacles, sweeps the public streets, or tugs at the car, is a thousand 
 times more to be pitied than he who lays his head upon the block. Oh, 
 
32 ■ JOJiEl'H THE SECOND. 
 
 sire, it cannot be that you would consign a nobleman to such con- 
 tumely !" 
 
 " No, I honor the noblera.in too much to brand him with such infamy," 
 replied the Emperor hastily. " But if a Cavalier commits a crime, f 
 diafranchise him at ouce, and stripped of name, title, and privileges, [ 
 hand him over to the law which regards him exactly as it does any other 
 base-born villain.* Be comforted then. The.'^e criminals are no longer 
 noblemen, and have nothing in common with you." 
 
 " Oh sire, do not say so ; for their shame is reflected upon us all !" 
 
 '•How 1" exclaimed Joseph with affected surprise, "are you all thieves 
 and forgerers?" 
 
 " No, sire, but our honor suffers through their dishonor. O your Ma- 
 jesty, in the name of the illustrious families who for centuries have been 
 the loyal subjects of your house, save our escutcheons from this foul 
 blotr- ^ 
 
 " Save us, sire, save us from infamy !" echoed the others. 
 
 " No !" exclaimed the Emperor. " He who is not ashamed of the 
 crime, will not be ashamed of the disgrace. If, for the sake of his rank, 
 a man is to have the privilege of beiug a villain, where then is justice ?f 
 Not another word, of this — My forbearance is exhausted ; for I have 
 soufht by every means to convince you that as a Sovereign, I shall show 
 partiality to no order of men. Podstadsky and Szekuly shall suffer to 
 the full extent of the law, for the worth of their ancestors cannot wipe 
 out their own unworthiness." 
 
 The Emperor withdrew, and when the door closed behind him, many 
 an eye there flashed with hatred, and many a compressed lip told of medi- 
 tated vengeance for the Indignity su lie red by a powerful order at his 
 hands, that day. 
 
 "Our humiliation then has been of no avail !" muttered Count Lam- 
 predo, "and the nobles of Austria must suffer disgrace because of the 
 obstinate cruelty of the man who should uphold them." 
 
 " But we will be revenged !" whispered Count Hojada, a near relative 
 of Szekuly's. "The Sovereign, who like Joseph, heaps obloquy upon 
 a -nobility, some of whom are his equals in descent, is lost ! The Em- 
 peror shall remember this hour, and rue it also !" 
 
 " Yes," said another, " he shall repent this day. We are all of one 
 mind, are we not, friends V 
 
 '•'Aye," muttered they with gnashing teeth ! " He shall pay dearly 
 for this !" 
 
 • .Toseph'g own words. See Hubner II, P. 4Si, 
 i Joseph's own words. 
 
EMPKJiOK UK AUSTRIA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 / TlIK COUNT IN THK riLLORV. 
 
 Crowds of people fathered around the street-corners to read the large 
 hand-bills posted there. The bills announced that Count Podstadsky 
 Liechtenstein had been condemned to three days of pillory, to public 
 sweeping of the streets, and ten years' detention in the house of correc- 
 tion. Colonel Von Szekuly to three days of pillory, and four years de- 
 tention. 
 
 The guilt of the Countess Baillou not having been fully established, 
 she was pardoned by the Emperor, But she was ordered to be present 
 at Podstadbky's exposition in the pillory, and then to leave Vienna for- 
 ever. 
 
 The people read these fearful tidings in dumb amazement, and vague 
 apprehension of evil to themselves. Never had they so completely real- 
 ized the new order of things, tft at this moment. One of the pi^vileged, 
 whom they had hitherto beheld at a distance in splendid equipages, on 
 elegant horses, in brilliant uniforms around the person of the Emperor, 
 one of these demi-gods was to be trailed in the dust lilce,a criminal from 
 the dregs of the populace. A Count, in the gray smock of the felon, was 
 to sweepi the streets which perchance his aristocratic foot had never trod- 
 den before. A proud Hungarian nobleman, a Colonel of the Guard, was 
 to be exposed in the pillory for three days. Yes — these things were, 
 terrible, and startling. Not a trace of exultation was upon the gloomy 
 faces of the multitude : .this abasement of two men of illustrious birth, 
 to an equality with boors, seemed an invasion of the conservative prin- 
 ciples of society. It was an ugly dream — the people could not realize it. 
 
 They must go to the spot where the sentence was to be executed, to 
 see if indeed Olympus had been levelled to the earth. Hurried alon"- 
 by one common impulse, the silent multitude wound in a long stream 
 through the streets, until they reached the market-place where the sen- 
 tence was to be carried out. Neither idle curiosity nor malice led the 
 people thither ; it was a pilgrimage to the new era which at last was 
 dawning upon the world. 
 
 There in the centre of the great open square, was the throne of infamy 
 upon which an Austrian nobleman was about to bid adieu to name, hon- 
 or, family, and the associations which had surrounded his boyhood, and 
 to be thrust in the revolting companionship of robbers and murderers ! 
 
 Not a smile was seen upon those appalled faces ; men whispered to 
 one another that the Count was the only son of one of the proudest fami- 
 lies in Hungary, and that the Countess, his mother, had died of her son's 
 
S4 JOSEPH THE SECOND. 
 
 sh.ime. The eyes of ihe women filled with tears, and for the sake of the 
 martyred mother, they forgave the guilty son. The weeping of the wo- 
 men deepened the sympathies of the men, and they began to murmur 
 against the heartless Emperor who degraded an illustrious subject, and 
 sent a noble Countess broken hearted u> the grave ! 
 
 And now appeared the criminal. Culprit though he was, his beauty 
 and air of distinction were indisputable. 
 
 " Poor young man !" murmured the women sobbing. 
 ''• He will not long survive his disgrace," said the men sorrowfully. 
 " He looks like a ghost, and the Emperor will soon have to bury him 
 by the side of his mother." 
 
 No one remembered that this man had committed an infamous crime, 
 no one thanked the Emperor for having bestowed upon the Austrian 
 people the inestimable gift of equality before the law. The commoner 
 himself, felt aggrieved at the monarch who bad treated a nobleman no 
 better than he'would have done a serf. 
 
 Courit Podstadsky was still in the elegant costume of the day. Grace- 
 ful and distinguished in his bearing, he leaned his weary body against 
 the stake that supported the scatfold on which he was to sutler the last 
 degree of public infamy. But now the executioner approached holding 
 a pair of large glistening shears. He gathered the soft brown curls of 
 the Count in his rough grasp, and very soon the glossy locks fell, and 
 there remained nothing but the shorn head ^f the felon. This done, the 
 executioner drew off the gold embroidered coat which became the young 
 nobleman so well, and threw over his shoulders the coarse smock which 
 was to designate him hence forward as a miscreant. 
 
 How changed alas ! was the high-born Carlo ! How little this chat- 
 tering creature, disguised in serge, resembled the cavalier who had en- 
 listed the sympathy of the multitude ! He was no longer a man, and 
 name, he had none — his number, iri scarlet list upon the left sleeve of his 
 smock, was the only mark that distinguished him from his brethren, 
 the other malefactors. But the fearful' toilet was not yet at an end. 
 The feet and hands were yet to be manacled. As the hand-cuffs clicked 
 around those delicate wrists, the executioner looked up in amazfement. 
 Heretofore he had been accustomed to hear the the jeers and loud mockery 
 of the multitude, as they applauded the completion of the felon's toilet, 
 but to-day there was not a sound ! Nothing to be seen but pale, sorrowful 
 faces— nothing to be heard but sobs, and murmurs of sympathy. 
 
 Still one more torture ! The executioner gave him the broom, the 
 baton of his disgrace, and he grasped its handle for support. He could 
 scarcely stand now ! 
 
 At this moment, in fiendish contrast with the behavior of the people, 
 a loud, mocking laugh was heard. Shuddering they looked around, won- 
 dering' who it was that could add the weight of a sneer to the supreme 
 misery which was rending their hearts. It came from above, and every 
 face, even that of the wretched Podstadsky, was uplifted in horror. He 
 caught at the stake, and his vacant eyes rested upon the house whence 
 
th6 cruel Inugh had issued. There on a balcony, puarded hy eeveral 
 men in black, stood a beautiful yonn^' woman. She it was, who had 
 dealt the blow. In the hour of his agony her rosy lips had mocked hira ! 
 
 "Arabella!" shrieked the despairing man. And with this cry, he sank 
 insensible to th% earth.* 
 
 While all this v/as transpiring at the marketplace an imperial f?tate- 
 carriage had been hurrying ihruugh the streets until it stopped before a 
 gloomy house of which the doors and windowshutler.s were all closed. 
 A footman in the imperial livery was seen to ring, and then an old man 
 in faded black livery opened the door. A few whispered words passed 
 between them; then a cavalier in an. elegant uniform sprang from the 
 carriiige and entered the house. The old butler went before and showed 
 him up the creaking staircase and through a suite of mouldy rooms un- 
 til they reached one with closed doors. 
 
 "So please your Majesty," said the old man, " Count Podstadsky- 
 Liechtcnsteir. is in there." 
 
 The Emperor nodded. " Do not announce me," said he, and he 
 knocked at the door. A feeble voice from within responded to the knock 
 ;ind the Kmperor entered without further ceretnony. A tall, venerable 
 man in deep mourning came forward and looked at him with hojlov/, 
 staring <.• \ cs. "The Emperor," exclaimed he, recognising his unexpec- 
 ted g'lCSt. 
 
 "Yes, Count Podstadsky, it is I," said the Emperor, bowing, as he 
 vvould have done before a mighty monarch. "1 come lo express my 
 3)rofouud regret for the .great misfortune which has lately befallen you. 
 No man knows better than myself what grief it is to lose a beloved 
 wife. And yours was such a noble, such a devoted wife !" 
 
 "Devoted!" echoed the old Count, sacHy. "Alas, sire, there was 
 
 something on earth which was nearer to her heart than I, else she had 
 
 not died and left me alone. I loved nothing but her, and in losing hej' 
 
 [ lose all that made life endurable. I would wish to die n#w ; but 1 
 
 • have still a principle to defend — the honor of my fxmily." 
 
 '• We both have a prineipie to defend," replied the Emperor, deeply 
 moved at the excessive grief of which he was a witness. "The princi- 
 ple of honor and justice — Let us both teach the world that justice at- 
 tacks the individual criminal and not his fimily ; and that the honor of 
 a family requires that justice should be satisfied. The name of Pods- 
 ,tadpky Liechtenstein has ever been an, iUnstrious one, and I desire to 
 prove to yon my legard for your race. Give me your hand, Count, and 
 let us be friends." 
 
 He extended his hand and with quiet solemnity the old Count took it 
 and looked up into his Sovereign's face. 
 
 " I thank your Majesty," said, he, aft«r a pause. " Your conduct to- 
 wards me is noble and magnanimous, and I shall be grateful for it to 
 
 ♦ Count PodstadsJy did not long survive his dispraco. His dclicatp body soon sank under the 
 hardships of histerriblo existetiee. One day while sweeping the streets he ruptured a blood-vessel, 
 and ilied tliere, willi no ni'^urners save his felli>w-erimir."als. See Hubner II, p. 68!?, 591. Charac- 
 torhtica and Historical Anccdo'<»s uf Joseph 2d. Friebel's Letters from Vienna. Vol. I. p, CS. 
 
80 JOSEPH rilE SEC 01*0. 
 
 my latest breath. You have acted as became a Sovereign who has no 
 riffht to set at defiance the laws he has made. Had I been his judge, I 
 should myself have condemned the criminal who was once my son, and 
 today is the murderer, of his mother. Years ago I sat in judgment over 
 this transgressor, and when I did so, I lost my only child. As for the 
 man who to-day has saifered the penalty of his crimes, I know him no 
 longer. 
 
 '" And your honor is unspotted," said the Emperor. " Give me your 
 arm, Count, and let me conduct you to my carriage. Jt is a lovely day. 
 We will take a drive together, and then dine at Schimbrunn. Come — 
 I am resolved that you shall spend this whole day with me. Give me 
 your arm." 
 
 " Sire," whispered the old man hesitating and looking gloomily to- 
 wards the window, " the day is so bright and the suh shines so fiercely, 
 I fear that my eyes cannot bear the glare. I beg of you, allow me to 
 remain at home. 
 
 The Emperor shook his head. " Nay your eyes are not weak. You can 
 bear the fullest light of day, you have no need to hide your honored 
 head from the gaze of the world. Take courage, dear friend, and think 
 of what we have both said. Have we not our principles to defend"? 
 And must we not both assert them courageously ?" 
 
 " Your Majesty is right," cried the old Count. " I am ready to fol- 
 low you."* 
 
 And while Carl Podstadsky awaking from his swoon, looked up into 
 the face of the malefactor, who from henceforth was to be the compan- 
 ion of his sleeping and waking and the witness of his despair — while one 
 of a long train of outlawed felons, he dragged his misery through the 
 hot, dusty streets, his father drove with the Emperor to Schonbrunn, 
 and among all the brilliant guests who dined with him on that day, to 
 none was the Emperor so deferential in his c<iurtesy as to the old Count 
 Podstadsky-Liechtenstein. - 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE NEMESIS. 
 
 Meanwhile, where was the Syren who had lured Szekuly to destruc- 
 tion? Where was she for whose sake Carl Podstadsky had precipita- 
 ted himself into the waters of obloquy 1 When the waves had engulph- 
 . ed him, she had disappeared, and the last sounds that had rung in his 
 ears, were the sounds of her cruel mirth! , 
 
 ♦ nnbner 2. pngo 891. 
 
KMPEUOR OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 Was there no punishment in reserve (or such ntrocity 1 No punish- 
 ment for this woman without heart, without pity, without remorse? 
 Would no hand unmask this beautiful fiend? 
 
 The hand is ready, but it is invisible ; and Arabella in her new-found 
 security, is dazzled at the magnitude of her own good fortune. " Whom 
 the (lods A^iiJh to destroy they first blind." — True, slie had lost her cold, 
 the prif.e of Szekuly's good fame; but she was not poor; her jewels 
 were worth nnany such a colTcr of ducats. Once in possession of her 
 casket, sho was again rich, happy and courtejl. Not a creature save 
 (iJiuseppe knew the whereabout of this precious casket, and with it they 
 must away to Paris ! 
 
 it was dusk, and (iliuseppe, with a traveling-carriage, once more awai- 
 ted his mistress at the corner of the street. There remained nothing to 
 do now but to remove the coffer from its hiding place, and that was the 
 work of half an hour. Arabella had the key of the little postern and 
 there was no danger of spies, for the house was empty. Having avow- 
 ed herself to be the pensioned mistress of Podstadsky, the law had 
 placed its seal upon her ell'ects, and they were all to be sold for the ben- 
 efit of the Count's creditors. 
 
 The night was dark, and the street-lanterns were propitiously dim. 
 Here and there was heard the step of a solitary foot-passenger, and from 
 time to time, the monotonous tramp of the patrol. One of these patrols 
 had just passed the garden-wall of the hotel of which the Countess Bail- 
 lou liad been the presiding goddess. He looked up at the darkened 
 windows as he went, wondered whither the goddess had flown, and walk- 
 ed on. When the echo of liis step had died away from the pavement, 
 and t^lic last beams of the lantern were flickering out, a dark, slender 
 form emerged from one of the pillars of the wall, and glided towards 
 the little side-door which opened on that narrow street. The key was 
 in the door, it clicked in the lock, and the figure disappeared within. All 
 was quiet. 
 
 " 1 am safe," thought she ; " not a sound is within hearing. Now for 
 my treasures, and away ! away ! from this hateful city forever." 
 
 •' Whom the Gods would destroy, they first blind." 
 
 Arabella never suspected that under cover of darkness, others beside 
 herself were lurking in that garden ; and now as she advanced towards 
 the house, two tall figures approached the postern, and stationed them- 
 selves on either side of it. 
 
 "She is caught," whispered one. 
 
 " Yes," replied another, " the bird has come of its own accord into 
 the net. We must wait now until we receive further orders." 
 
 Arabella meanwhile looked exultingly at the dark clouds which over- 
 hnng the sky, and almost laughed. " thank you, fair moon," said she, 
 " fur withdrawing your splendor at my behest. Tomorrow you shall 
 shed your soft beams upon my flight, for then I shall need your friendly 
 light. Far away from Vienna, J shall be rich, happy, and free !" 
 
 Now she was at the servant's entrance — O, how the hii^ges creaked, as 
 
isy JOSEPH TilK SECOND. 
 
 yhe opened the door ! But what of it? No one was there to hear the 
 sound. How foolishly her heurt was beating ! — Now she was inside, and 
 with spasmodic haste, she bolted herself withili. The darkness was in- 
 tense. She could not see her hand before her, and in spite of herself, a 
 cold chill ran through her frame, and her knees trembled with vague ter- 
 ror. What if through this black expanse, a hand should suddenly touch 
 hers, and— ^" O, how dreadful is this darkness!" thought she. '' I might 
 die here and no one could come to my help ! I feel as I did once before, 
 on that night of horror in Italy !" 
 
 She shuddered, and almost swooning with fright, cowered under the 
 shelter of the marble balustrade to which she had by this jtime groped 
 her way. And now before her terrified soul, awept phantom after phan- 
 tom, all from the miserable spirit-land of the past. Once more she liv- 
 ed through a night dark as this, when a wretched, betrayed, dishonored, 
 girl, she had slunk through the streets of Rome in search of death — 
 death and annihilation in the black waves of the Tiber, She felt the 
 waters engulpji her, she heard her own death-cry, the last protest of 
 youth against self destruction ; and then she felt the grasp of Podstads- 
 ky — Podstadsky, who in restoring her to the world, had laid a new curse 
 upon her life. Until then she had been luxurious, frivolous, pleasure-lov- 
 ing, but in the Tiber she had found. a new and terrible baptism — the 
 baptism of crime. Without love she had consented to become Pod- 
 stadsky's mistress, and so became the partner of his guilt. Together 
 they had planned their bold schemes of fraud, and how successful they 
 had been until this last misfortune ! At all events her connection with 
 Podstadsky was at an end. The pillory had liberated her, and now — 
 
 Now she would lead a blameless life — No more fraud — no more theft 
 — crime was'too dangerous, she saw that it must inexorably lead to 
 shame. She woyld be satisfied with what she had, and become a virtu- 
 ous woman. She was quite rich enough to be good, and it would be 
 such bliss to live without a guiity secret ! 
 
 She laughed, and then shivered at the sound of her own voice, and a 
 supernatural terror took such violent hold on her imagination that she 
 could no longer bear the darkness. She mvsi see, or she would die of 
 fear, Giuseppe had provided her with a dark lantern, a vial of phosphor- 
 ous and some matches. 
 
 " How delightful it is to have this new invention I" thought she, as 
 touching the phosphorous, she struck a light— ^With this light, she felt a 
 jlittle re-assured, but could she have seen her blanched terror-stricken 
 face, she would have screamed, and fancied it a spectre ! 
 
 Hush !-^ Was there a mufiled sound behind her ! She paused and lis- 
 tened, her eyes glaring as though they would start from their sockets, — 
 Pshaw ! — it was only the rustling of her own silk mantle as it went trail- 
 ing up the marble stair-case. Nothing in human shape was there, save 
 two pale statues which stood like dead sentinels at the head of the stairs. 
 As she passed them she shuddered, and almost fancied that they had step- 
 ped from their pedestals to follow her-— Giving one quick glance behind, 
 
EMI'ERftK OF ALSTRIA. 89 
 
 she sped like a hunted doe through those halls of which so lately she lind 
 l)een the pride, and arrived breathless to the door of her boudoir. She 
 darted in, and there, safe in its place avhs the picture. 
 
 This gave her courage. Hut she must haVe rest after her fearful pil- 
 j^riniape through that dark, empty house. She sank upon her satin 
 iounge, and abandoned herself to the jov and security of the hour. She 
 had just come to the end of a perilous journey — Night and dancjer were 
 beliind, the rosy morning of safety was about to dawn. She was so full 
 of joyous emotion, that scarcely knowing what, she did, her lips began 
 to move in imconscious prayer! 
 
 Prayer! — She had no right to such a privilege as that, and starting 
 from her seat, lest she should Ailter in the purpose of hor visit, she quick- 
 ly removed the picture, touched the spring, and the precious coffer stood 
 revealed. 
 
 No, no, she could never give it up ! — She stretched out her arms, and 
 pressed it to her heart, as a mother does her only child. Trembling 
 with eager joy, she placed it on the table, and opening it, contemplated 
 her treasures on their beds of crimson velvet. 
 
 " How they sparkled ! How they seemed to burn with splendor as 
 the rays of the little lantern coquetted with their beauty I She was re- 
 paid for all her terrors, she was happy and secure !" 
 
 " Whom' the Gods destroy, they first blind." 
 
 She was so absorbed in the magnificence of her diamond necklace, for 
 which she had been indebted to the Princess Garampi, that she did not 
 hear the foot-flill of the men who were close behind her. They smiled, 
 and pantomined one to another as they watched her toying with her 
 flashing jewels. 
 
 Then suddenly springing forward, as if they feared she might escape 
 through the secret opening in the wall, they graspe«d her with their pow- 
 erful hands, and she was once more a prisoner ! — 
 
 "The Emperor can no longer defend his beautiful Countess," said the 
 one who seemed to' direct the others. We have caught her in the act 
 of robbing Count Podstadsky'a creditors. And unless T am mistaken, 
 we shall find among her booty, all the jewels that were missing at last 
 yvinter's entertainments ; for as I had the honor of reminding his Majes-" 
 ty, the Countess Baillou was at every ball, when jewels were lost, I 
 told the Emperor that if he would give you freedom, I engaged to find 
 something more than a mare's nest, when I tracked you hither — I was| 
 sure you would come, and my spies have been within, waiting for you 
 since this morning." 
 
 ".What reward was promised by the Emperor for my detection'?" 
 s;iid Arabella, already self possessed. 
 
 " Eive hundred ducats," was the reply, 
 
 " Five hundred ducats," repeated she, tossing back her beauiiful head. 
 "A beggardly reward for the person of a lady of rank like me. Take 
 this necklace, and divide it between you. Each one will then have 
 more than the frugal Emperor has promised to all. Take it and give 
 
i'U JOSEPH THE SECONi'. 
 
 me my fj-eedom. Your generous act will never be known.'' 
 
 "liovv, lady? Y(-)U would bribe us, as you have bribed so many no- 
 ble cavaliers? No, no. — Your game is at an end, and if ever you ap- 
 pear in public again, it will be as a criminal. You mu.st come with me. 
 You men take up this coffer." 
 
 She strove no longer. Without another word she took the arm of 
 the police officer, and went firmly foiward. 
 
 Her lips moved, and she murmured : ''Alas, he is right. My career 
 is at an end!"* ■ ' 
 
 CIIAFTEK XX! V. 
 
 HORJA AND THK REBELLION IN IIUNGARV. 
 
 Four years had gone by since Joseph had reigned sole monarch of 
 Austria. For four years he had devoted himself to the Austrians, hav- 
 ing but one object, that of making them a i'ree, enlightened and happy 
 people, emancipating them from the influence of Ihe church, and break- 
 iug the fetters of serfdom ; granting them equality before the law, and 
 enriching them by his encouragement of manufactures, and the privileges 
 he accorded to merchants. 
 
 What was his reward ? Dissatisfaction, and opposition from every 
 class of society ; ingratitude and ill-will from all parties. 
 
 The nobles disliked him because he had sought every opportunity of 
 humbling them before the people; the clergy opposed him, because of 
 his sequestration of church property, and his assumption of spiritual au- 
 thority. But his bitterest enemies were the hureaucraile. He had in- 
 vaded all their customs, dischaiging every man. who had not studied at 
 the university, and requiring constant labor from the iirst as well as the, 
 last of the employees. He was the terror of all aspirants for civil office, 
 and the whole body hated him, embarrassed his steps, and ruined his 
 ^^lans by voluntary misconception of all his orders. 
 
 As yet, there was no outburst of dissatisfaction. The discontent was 
 latent, and Joseph still indulged the hope of outliving opposition, and 
 proving to his subjects that all the innovations which they had so un- 
 gratefully endured, were for the ultimate good of the Austrian nation. 
 
 He was therefore ill-prepared for the news which reached him from 
 
 * This bffiutiful woman, " th" ornament of the most clegnnt ciri'Ios in Vienna,"' as she is called 
 by thu chroniclers of the times, was condemned to three days of pillory, thes-ime pdnishment a* 
 that suffered by the victim of her wickedness sHd cnquelry. She was then sent {juarded to the ' 
 '•onflhes of Austria, from whence she w'lg banished for life Sw ITubner II, W'i. Grosa-IIofBu- 
 s;ovIII. 
 
KMPKl'.OR OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 yi 
 
 Hungary. lie had freed the people from slavery and taxation, and had 
 exacted" that the nobles should pay their sharo of the imperial taxes. 
 He had instiluted a general conscriplion, and the most powerful Magyar 
 in Hungary was bound to serve, bide by side, with the lowest peabant. 
 Finally he had forbidden the use of ai.y other lungunge in Hungary save 
 the German. 
 
 A crv of indignation was heard from every turrelted castle in the land. 
 They were wounded in the rights hitherto guaraniet-d to them by every 
 Emperor of Austria. And above all other oppression, they were to be 
 robbed of their mother tongue, that they might lose their nationality, 
 and become a poor Austrian dependency." f 
 
 But Joseph's enactments, were not only detested by the nobles, they 
 were equally unwelcome to the people. The latter were horror-stricken 
 by the general conscription, and fled^by thousands to take refuge among 
 the mountains, fiom the conscriblng oilicers. 
 
 One of their own class, however, succeeded in drawing them from 
 their hiding-places. The loud voice of Horja rang throu^iout "every 
 valley, and ascended to every mountain-summit — he called them to Lib- 
 erty, and Equality. He asserted that nobility was to be destroyed in 
 Hungary ; there were to be no more castles, no more magnates of the 
 land, the Emperor had proihised as much in Vienna ; he had sworn to 
 .free the Hungarian peasantry, and to bring the prbud noble down to an 
 equality with his serf. The hour for fullilment had arrived. All the 
 new laws regarded the nobles alone, they had no reference to the peas- 
 antry, whom the Emperor had promised to make free, happy, and rich. 
 He needed the help of his Hungarians ; they must complete what he 
 had ^egun. 
 
 The peasant was to be free, happy, rich ! This was the magic song 
 w[hich attracted the boor from his thatch under the hill, and the goatherd 
 from his hut amid the mountain-peaks. 
 
 Horja was the Ariou who sang, wnd now to his standard flocked thou- 
 sands of deluded beings, all eager to complete the work which the Em- 
 peror had begun. Joseph had made them tree, it remained for themsel- 
 ves to plunder the nobles, and appropriate their long-hoarded wealth. 
 It was the Emperor's will ; he hated ihe Magyars, and loved the peas- 
 antry. If ever any of those poor, ignorant wretches held back, Horja 
 showed them a massive gold chain-to 'which the Emperor's portrait was 
 attached. This had been sent to him by Joseph himself, and in proof 
 thereof, he had a parchment full of gilt letters with a great seal attached 
 to it, which made him Captam-General of Hungary. They could all 
 come and read the Emperor's own writing, if they chose. 
 
 Poor fellows! None of them knew how to read ; so that Krischau, a 
 friend of Horja and a priest of the Greek Church, read it for all who 
 doubted. This brought conviction to the most sceptical. That a Greek 
 priest could read a lie, never once entered the 'heads of these simple 
 
 children of nature. 
 
 ♦That was precisely Jo'fpli's object. And yet he wondered that this peovle did not l..ve liim. 
 
V'^ JiJSEl'll J'HE SECOXU. 
 
 Now commenced the carnage. The nobles were imprisoned and mur- 
 dered, their castles burned, and their fields laid waste. The aristocracy 
 of the borders, whose territorial domains the insurgents had not yet 
 reached, armed themselves, and having captured somn of the rebels, put 
 them to death under circumstances of exaggerated cruelty, executing 
 them by the power which the Magyar possessed of administering justice 
 .'IS an independent Prince. 
 
 These executions, unsanctioned by the Emperor, raised the indigna- 
 tion of the people to ungovernable fury, and they, now demanded the 
 entire extinction of the nobles. They were summoned to resign their 
 titles, and until the coronation of Joseph, the rightful king of Hungary, 
 they were to obey their lawful ruler, Horja. 
 
 The nobles not having condescended to take any notice of TTorja's 
 summons, the people began to pillage and murder M'ith redoubled, fury. 
 They spared everything, however, belonging to the Emperor; the only 
 nobleman ^ho would ever be suffered to own land in Hungary. 
 
 Joseph could no longer turn a deaf ear to the remonstrances of the 
 Magyars. He had-hoped to be able to quell the rebellion by lenity; 
 olfering a general amnesty to all offenders with the exception of Horja, 
 for whose capture, a reward of three hundred ducats was offered. But 
 the poor, deluded peasantry, having fliith in no one but H©rja, thought 
 that the offer of pardon was nothing but an artifice of the enemy. The 
 Emperor, then, was obliged to march the imperial troops against the 
 people, and to bring about with musket and cannon what he had hoped 
 to accomplish through moral suasion. 
 
 Horja, finding that he had nothing more to hope frorn the clemency 
 of the Emperor, tried to induce the disaffected nobles to accept his f)eas- 
 antry and rebel against Joseph. But they rejected the offer with dis- 
 dain, and gave their support to the imperial troops. Thousands deliv- 
 ered themselves up, imploring mercy which was granted them. Thou- 
 sands tied to the mountains, and thousands were taken prisoners. 
 Among these latter were Horja and Krischan. Both were condemned 
 to death. Hgrja pleaded hard to be allowed to see the Emperor, alleg- 
 ing that he had something of importance to communicate to him. But 
 his prayer was not granted. Perhaps Joseph suspected that Horja would 
 prove to him what he already dreaded to know, namely, that the nobles 
 had connived at this insurrection of the peasantry, to frighten him with 
 the consequences of his own acts, 
 
 Horja was not permitted then to see his Sovereign. He was broken 
 on a wheel on the market-place at Carlsburg, and two thousand of the 
 captured insurgents were forced to witness the cruel spectacle.* 
 
 Thus ended this fearful outbreak, by which four thousand men perish- 
 ed, sixty-two villages and thirty-two castles were consumed, and the de- 
 luded peasantry, instead of freedom, happiness and wealth, found three- 
 fold oppression at the hands of their masters. 
 
 The magn ates and nobles, meanwhile, stood upon the ruins of their 
 
 * On the 8d of Jauuary. 1785] ' 
 
EMl'EKOK OF AUSTRIA. 1>3 
 
 castles and cried out, " This is the work ol' Joseph ! These are the 
 fruits o»" his insensate reforms!"* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE JEw's UEVJENGK. 
 
 The Emperor paced his cabinet in nnuBua! agitation. Contrary to 
 his daily habits, the Controlorgang was closed, and his Secretaries had 
 been ordered to remain in the chancery, and do their writinj; there. Ho 
 must be alone; no human beinpj should witness his sorrow-stricken face 
 and his burning eyes — for the Emperor had been weeping. 
 
 A great sorrow had befallen him. Giinther, his indefatigable co-la- 
 borer, the trustiest of counsellors, the man whom next to Lacy and lio- 
 senberg, ne loved best on earth, Giinther had betrayed him ! He had 
 sold a secret of state for gold ! . 
 
 There before him on the table lay the reports of the secret police, 
 w^ose duty it was to open all letters passing through the post, and to 
 present such as looked suspicious.f Among these letters was one which 
 strongly inculpated Giinther. It was written by Baron Eskeles Flies to 
 a commercial triend in Amsterdam. It stated that he (Eskeles Flies) 
 had just received a communication of such vital importance that it was 
 worth much more to him than the thousand ducats he had paid to his 
 inforrper. The Emperor, tired of his conteniion with Holland regarding 
 the navigation of the Scheldt, had agreed to accept the ten millions of- 
 fered by Holland in return for his guarantee that she should still pre- 
 serve her right to deiiiand toll of all ships passing through that portion 
 of the river which was within the Dutch boundaries. J. 
 
 Eskeles Flies besought his Amsterdam correspondent to procure him 
 this loan, which he was ready to advance to the Republic ifi four instal- 
 ments. He bound his friend to strict secresy, for the information he 
 imparted was not to be made public for twenty-four hours, and the pos- 
 session of this secret gave them signal advantage over'all otherbankers. 
 
 Now Giinther alone had been entrusted by the Eraperor with this se- 
 
 * Tlubncr 1, pagn 278.— Gross Hofflngcr 3, pnpo 135. — Eamshorn, page 138. 
 + The Emperor Kranz »nd Metteruich A fragment. (From Hormayr, page 79.) 
 ' X -Toseph had claimed from Holland the right to navigate the Pcheldt, and the cana's d'f; by tho 
 Dutch, freo of toU. 'Ihese latter refused, and the Emperor ^rthwith marched his troops into Hol- 
 land. He had cxjiected to bo sustained by the other m^toe powert! of Europe, but they, protec- 
 ting tho Dutch, Joseph was obliied to withdraw his trfwM' But he cl.iinicd an indemnity for the 
 expenses incurred by putting Ijis regiments upon a war»!R)tin(^, and demanded twenty millions. 
 He then agreed to take fifteen, t)ut was finally obliged to bo content with ten, which was all that 
 the Dutch'would allow him. Whereupon Frederic the Great snid that Joaeph had cried ifcut for a 
 great euiu, but had been obllgetl to come down to a " pour boirc." 
 
04 josErn the secono. 
 
 cret of state. With the exception of Prince Kaunitz, not another man 
 ill Austria ivnew that Joseph intended to accept the prolTered indemnity. 
 Jt was clear then that Giinlher was the traitor, and yet his imperial mas- 
 ter would not believe. He clung to the hope that something might yet 
 occnr to exculpate his favorite, though how or whence exoneration was 
 to come, he could not conceive. 
 
 The banker had been summoned, and the Emperor awaited his com- 
 ing. In the impatience of his heart he had sent a courier, and after the 
 courier, his own carriage, for he could not endure his suspense one mo- 
 ment longer than was unavoidable. Often as he paced the room, his 
 heart throbbing violently, he paused to listen, and then glanced again 
 and again at the clock, to see if the banker could be nigh. 
 
 " If it be true," thought he, resuming his agitated walk, '■' I shall never 
 trust man again. 1 believed that Giinther's heart was as noble as his 
 fiice — Is it possible that such a countenance should lie ; Giinther, the 
 generous, disinterested Giinther — can it be that he has sold my secrets'? 
 — I cannot — will not believe it. I must see himself, and hear his defence 
 from his own lips." 
 
 Hurried along by this magnanimous impulse, the Emperor approach- 
 ed the door. But he paused, and shook his head. " No, no ; conviction 
 must come from testimony, not from assertion. Men are all actors, and 
 often have 1 seen how skilfully they wear the mask of innocence. 1 have 
 been too often deceived Ah ! There at last is the banker." 
 
 Yes — it was he. The page flung open the door, and announced " Baroir 
 Von Eskeles Flies." 
 
 The Biron entered the room. He had grown old since Eachel's flight. 
 Scarcely a year had elapsed since then ; but in that year her father's ra 
 ven locks had grown white as snow, and the .stalwart man of fifty had' 
 grown old and feeble. 
 
 The Emperor came forward, and extended his hand. " Look at me, 
 Eskeles," said he in his quick, eager way, "do not bow so ceremonious- 
 ly, we have no time to waste on formalities. Look at me, and let me 
 see whether you are an honest man, scorning falsehood even though it 
 might shield a fellow-creature from harm !" 
 
 The banker looked the Emperor full in the face, and bore tJie scrutiny 
 of his searching eyes without wincing. / 
 
 " I see that you can look me in the face," said Joseph. " You will 
 speak the truth." 
 
 " The Jew is forbidden by his religious code to lie," was the reply. 
 Joseph crossed the room quickly, and taking a letter from his escritoire, 
 gave it to the babker. " Is this your writing V 
 
 Eskeles lifted his eyes slowW to the paper, and seemed surprised. 
 " Yes, that is my writing. I pbsted this letter yesterday. How then 
 do I find it here ? Its detentiorlfe a serious inconvenience to me." 
 
 He said this with the demeanor of a merchant whose mind is upon 
 his business, and who has no idea that it can concern any other person. 
 
 ''The letter was sent to rae by the secret police," said the Emperor. 
 
EMP£KOK OF AUSTRIA. iKi 
 
 The banker looked up in astonishment. "Ah !" exclaimed he, "Then 
 the tales which .ire told of the opening of all our letters by detectives, 
 are not Avbles !" 
 
 " No— they are not fables, and I am justified in (he sorutiny. Men 
 arc so corrupt, that our only defence against treachery is cs-pionorje. It 
 is a pity that it should bo so, but as Ion;:; as the people are base, then- 
 Sovereigns must stop short of no means to foil them." 
 
 " But 1 have never sinned against your Majesty. Why then is my 
 letter open to suspicion?" 
 
 " Every man is suspected by the secret police," replied Joseph with 
 a shrug. " For that reason 1 gave orders to stop every letter address- 
 ed to"Hollarid. The precaution had been made imperative by our mis- 
 understandings with that country. And you see yourself that your let- 
 ter betrays a secret of state." 
 
 " Betrays !" repeated the banker. " We betray that which we are 
 expected to bury within the recesses of our own heart. But this news 
 was to go out into the world and was a subject for percentage. J should 
 have made at least half a million, had my letter not been unluckily de 
 tained by your Majesty." 
 
 " 1 shall not prevent you from earning your percentage," replied Jo- 
 .<:eph Bcornfully. " Your letter .shall go to-day, and my dispatches shall 
 be detained until to-morrow. In that way you can still make your half 
 million." 
 
 The banker bowed. " 1 thank your Majesty for your exceeding con- 
 descension," said he. 
 
 " I will do you this favor, but you must do me a service in return." 
 
 " It is not necessary for your Majesty to concede me the right to earn 
 half a niillion to buy my services," said Eskcles with a slight shade of 
 reproach. " I hope that I hav^ always been ready to serve your Majes- 
 ty, even when no percentage was to be gained thereby." 
 
 " And I have recognized it Baron Eskeles Flies. But I do not speak 
 of pecuniary services to-day. I ask a favor of another nature. Tell me 
 then, without reserve, who is the man that receives a thousand ducats 
 for revealing a secret of state to you." 
 
 The banker started, as if he had received a shot, and glanced inquiring- 
 ly at the Emperor. '• Was that in the letter "?" asked he. 
 
 Joseph gave it into his hands. Eskeles perused it eagerly, and then, 
 murmured in a voice of exceeding contrition, " Aye, it is there. 1 was 
 indiscreet." Then as if overcome by his fault, his head sank upon his 
 breast. 
 
 " I await your answer," .said the Emperor. " Who betrayed me to 
 you for a thousaed ducats?" 
 
 The banker raised his head as if making a difficult resolve. " Your 
 Majesty, that was an idle boast of mine to enhance the value of my news." 
 
 " Mere evasion. Baron," replied Joseph angrily. " Even if you had 
 not written the words in that letter, 1 should still a^c of you, who it is 
 that betrays my secrets ?" 
 
t>6 JOSErH THE SECOND. 
 
 " No one, sire," replied Eskeles uneasily. *' I guessed it. Yes, yes," 
 — continued he as though a happy idea had just struck him — " that is it 
 — I guessed it. Every one knows of your Majesty's difficulty with Hol- 
 land, and I might wel] guess that you would be glad to end this strife 
 by accepting the ten millions, and so save your subjects from the hor- 
 rors of war." 
 
 "You aie not the truthful man ( had supposed. There is no logic in 
 your lies, Baron Eskeles. You might guess that 1 would accept the ten 
 millions, but as you are not omniscient, you could not say positively 
 that I had. written my dispatches yesterday, and would sign them to-day, 
 , Your inventions are clumsy, Baron, and I must say that they do yoa 
 honor, for they prove that you have little experience in the art of lying. 
 But the truth 1 must have, and as your lord and Emperor, I command 
 you to speak. For the third time, who betrayed ray secrets to you ?" 
 
 !' Oh, sire, I swore not to betray him," said Eskeles in a faltering 
 voice. -^ 
 
 " I absolve you from the oath.''' 
 
 " But the God of Israel cannot absolve me. 1 cannot speak the name 
 of the, man, but your Majesty can guess it." 
 
 He was silent for a few moments, then raising his head, the Emperor 
 saw that his face had become deadly pale. In a low unsteady voice, he 
 continued : " Your Majesty knows that I once had a daughter." 
 
 " Had 1 You have a daughter. Baron." 
 
 " She is dead to me," murmured Eskeles so inaudibly that the Em- 
 peror scarcely heard htm, " She left me a year ago for a man whom 
 she loved better than her father." 
 
 "But she left because you "would have married her to a man whom 
 she hated. Giinther told me so." 
 
 " Yes, sire. I had no idea that my unhappy child would go to such 
 extremity. Had she entreated me as she should have done, I would 
 have yielded ; but her lover had hardened her heart against me, and she 
 abandoned me — not to become the honorable wife of any man, but to 
 lead a life of shame and reproach. Kachel is not married, she is the 
 mistress of that man." 
 
 " This, too, is your fault. Baron. You made her swear never to be- 
 come a Christian, and by our laws she could not marry him. But he 
 considers her as his wife. You see that I know all.' Giinther, to justify 
 himself, confided to me the whole history of his Jove." 
 
 " He did not tell the truth, sire. My daughter herself is unwilling to 
 become a Christian." 
 
 " Then she is a conscientious Jewess V 
 
 " No, sire, she does not attend the Synagogue." 
 
 " What is she, then?" asked the Emperor astonished. 
 
 "She is a Deist, and precisely because I required of her to profess 
 either Judaism or Christianity, she fled to that man whom she cannot be 
 made to believe is the suitor of her wealth and not of herself." 
 
 " Do you think, then, that Giinther is interested ?" 
 
b;mi'kkor ok austkia. '.»7 
 
 *• I know it, sire. He olfered for a hundred thousand (loruis to re- 
 nounce Rachel and deliver her up to rue. Here is his letter ; your Ma- 
 jesty can see it." 
 
 The Emperor tonk the letter, and read it. " It is his writing," mur- 
 mured he sorrowfully, " it is too true." 
 
 "I refused," continued Kskeles. "1 would not buy ray daughter 
 back. I therefore waited to see whati would follow." , 
 
 *'• What followed ?" 
 
 The banker was silent for a moment, then sijrhing," he said in low- 
 trembling tones. '• Not long after, I received another letter. He said 
 he was straitened in means, that Rachel was pampered, and required so 
 n^any luxuries that she had exhausted his purse. As I would not listen 
 to his first proposition, he had another to make. 1 would give him a cer- 
 tain sura, and he would do me a substantial service." 
 
 " He offered a thousand ducats, did he not?" 
 
 " I do not remember, '^^e sum is stated in the letter. Here it is, 
 your Majesty." And with these words Eskeles drew a paper from his 
 bosom. 
 
 " It is, it is," said the Emperor in a voice of anguish, " I can no longer 
 doubt his treachery." 
 
 Eskeles yiies returned the paper to his bosom. *'I keep this on my 
 person," t>aid he, " because when Rachel returns to mc, it will cure her 
 of her love for such a villain." 
 
 "Giinther, then received the money?" said Joseph. 
 
 " He did, sire." 
 
 "Then you no longer deny that he was the Judas." 
 
 " Your Majesty can remember which of your Secretaries was charged 
 "with the copying of your dispatches." 
 
 The Emperor sighed — " I know, I know," murmured he, '• and yet it 
 pains me so to believe it, for I have loved him sincerely." 
 
 " And 1 hav« loved my daughter," returned Eslieles. " This man 
 stole her from me, and has converted my child into a Deist." 
 
 " She shall be returned to you, and Giinther shall receive the punish- 
 ment of his crimes," cried Joseph in a loud and angry voice. " No 
 mercy for hivi ! I shall know how to act as becomes a wronged, and 
 outraged Sovereign." 
 
 " But that will not restore my child," said Eskeles dise«nsolateIy. 
 •' What good is it to me that this wretch is to suffer? It will not bring 
 back Rdchel. And even if she should be forced to seek my protection, 
 what comfort can I derive from one who is a Deist — a creature who 
 mocks at religion ?" 
 
 " She will be obliged to become one thing, -or the other, if she would 
 shield herself from the fearful consequences of her scepticism." 
 
 "That is it," cried Eskeles joyfully. "Your Majesty has found the 
 remedy. Rachel must be threatened with the disgrace of legal punish- 
 ment, and then she will repent, and return to her father. Sire, I accuse 
 her of Deism. I exact that she be brought to judcm«nt." 
 
9rS JOSBTH TUB SK(.UNi>. 
 
 " To juilj^raent !'' exclaimed ihe Emperor. " Do you know the pun- 
 ishment, for her ortence.i?" 
 
 '' Fifty lashes on the ofTtmder's back ! But fear will save her. My 
 Rachel will never dare tn avow herself a Deist." 
 
 '• Perhaps not — but i, as a Christian, cannot allow you to force her 
 back to Judaism." 
 
 '• Then try to make a Christian of her, sire. O, I beseech of you, lenc^ 
 yourself to my paternal stratagem for her restoration to honor ! Act 
 upoi m}' accusation ; have her imprisoned in her home; and for four 
 weeks, let a priest visit her daily to instruct her in your Majesty's faith. 
 Then let her decide whether she will become a Christian or remain a 
 Jewess." 
 
 " Bethink you that if she should prove contumacious, I cannot rescue 
 her from punishment. If you persist in your accusation, remember that 
 the law must take its cour.'=?e." 
 
 " I persist, and demand investigation." 
 
 " It shall be granted you. And now here is your letter. Post it to- 
 day, and it will still be tVenty-four hours in advance of mine. We 
 must both perform our duty, you as a merchant, I as a Sovereign, and 
 believe me, you shall have revenge for the wrongs inflicted upon you by 
 ihe double traitor, who has betrayed his Emperor, and his mistress !" 
 
 " 1 care nothing for his punishment," i-epeated Eskeles wearily, "all 
 that I ask, is ray daughter." 
 
 The Emperor gave his hand, and the banker 'pressing it to his lips, 
 backed out of the cabfnet. Joseph looked after him with sympathising 
 eyes. "Poor man! Grief has made him old. Sorrow lengthens days 
 rx) years, and wrinkles many a brow which time has never touched." 
 
 But without, Baron Eskeles Flies had changed his mien. No longer 
 bowed down with grief, he stood triumphantly reviewing the success of 
 his strategy. 
 
 " I am revenged !" thought he. " Short-sighted Empeior, you do not 
 dream that you are the tool wherewith the Jew has wreaked his ven- 
 geance upon the Christian ! Go on, and ruin your faithful friend ! Go 
 on, hot-headed judge, punish the man who loves you without giving him 
 a hearing; and imagine yourself to be administering justice, while you 
 inflict the grossest injustice! — It is so Christian-like? Follow the in- 
 stincts of your love and hate, your passion, or your pleasures, ye chil- 
 dren of the tnoraent, while the calculatincf Jew plays upon your creduli- 
 ty ! — And now, God of my fathers, let the Christian priest but irritate 
 my child with his importunities, and she will seek refuge from his per- 
 5>ccutions in the Synagogue !'' 
 
K OF Al'bTKlA. t»'» 
 
 CHAl'TEK XXVI. 
 
 THE KAVOK 01" VKINCES. 
 
 The Emperor thrust open the door which led from his cabinet to the 
 chancery. There at the long, green table, immersed in their business, 
 sat thft lour imperial Secretaries, and next to the arm-chair, %vhich was 
 surmounted ])y the Austrian crown, sat the unconscious Giinther. Had 
 Giinther seen the look with which Joseph regarded him as he sat quiet- 
 ly writing, his heart would have grown chill with apprehension. But 
 iot an eye there was raiso'd. One of the Emperor's most stringent or- 
 ders forbade the Secretaries, when in the Chancery, to raise their heads 
 on any account. They were to take no note of the entrance of Joseph 
 himself, they were co-workers, and no time was to be wasted in ceremo- 
 nial. 
 
 Joseph seated himself in silence, and taking up a pen, wrote a few- 
 hasty lines upon a sheet of paper. He then rang, and delivered the pa- 
 per to a page. 
 
 " Take this to the Colonel commanding the recruits," said he, and his 
 voice trembled as he spoke the?e few words. There was a long silence • 
 the Secretaries continued to write, and Giinther, always obedient to or- 
 ders, had not once raised his head. His countenance was as tranquil as 
 it had ever been. 
 
 "Giinther," said the Emperor, in an imperious tone, " begin a new- 
 sheet, and write what 1 shall dictate." 
 
 Giinther bowed, and prepared to obey. The others went on with their 
 work. Had Joseph nor. been so blinded by indignation against his pri- 
 vate Secretary, he might have seen how one of the others raised his head 
 and glanced furtively around ; how his face was pale, and his lips were 
 twitching ; and how his hand was so tremulous that he was scarcely able ' 
 to hold his pen. No one observed it. The other Secretaries were wri- 
 ting — the Emperor, in his wrath, saw nothing but Giinther. 
 
 And now with flashing eyes, he called upon Giinther to write. 
 
 "To his Eminence, Cardinal Megazzi : 
 
 It has come to my knowledge that the absurd sect, which originated in 
 Bohemia, is spreading its pernicious tenets even to our capital. A- 
 heart-brokeu father has this day come before me to accuse his daughter 
 of Deism. To what extremes the Deists go in their imbecility, is shown 
 by the feet that this girl, who has defied Heaven, the laws of her coun- 
 try, and the authority of her Hrther, has left the paternal roof and h now 
 living a life of shame with her paramour. She must either proffsp s'^me 
 
100 JUSEPtJ THE SECOMi. 
 
 fhith, or be punished as the Jaw directs. To this end, your Eminence 
 will commission an intelligent priest tq visit, and instruct her in the 
 tenets of Christianity. From this day she is a prisoner in her own 
 house; but as she is of Jevvi.sh birth, (and I do not wish to have it said 
 thnt we have forced her into Christianity,) a Jewish Rabbi can also have 
 • laily access to this unhappy infidel. I give to both priests four weeks 
 to convert her. If at the end of that time, she continues contumacious, 
 she must be punished, as the Josephine Code directs, with fiity lashes."* 
 
 The Emperor had dictated this letter in sharp biting tones, while Giin- 
 ther, nothing apprehending, had written it. Once only, when the accus- 
 ed had been designated as a Jewess, his pen faltered, and his handsome 
 Boble face was contracted for a moment by pain. But the pang had 
 been sympathetic and j-nomentary. 
 
 " Havo you written T' asked the Emperor, striking the table with his 
 clenched hand. i 
 
 "I have written, sire," replied Giinther, in his fine, sonorous voic^, 
 .-whose familiar tones, iu spite of himself, stirred the innermost depths of 
 his misguic^d Sovereign's heart. 
 
 " Now, answer tne one question," continued Joseph, hoarsely, "Have 
 you ever received a thousand ducats from Eskelcs Flies ?" 
 
 Again the head of one of the Secretaries was furtively, raised, the 
 hands shook like aspen leaves, and the eyes gave one rapid glance to- 
 wards the side of the table where Giinther sat'. 
 
 The Emperor, as before, was too blinded by passion to see anything 
 save the innocent object of his wrath. Giinther was surprised at the 
 lone in which the question had been asked, and seemed at last to be 
 .•iware that it was one full of significance. But his reply was prompt 
 jiud calm. 
 
 " Yes, sire, I received that sum yesterday. Not for ine, but for a lady 
 whose name is well known to your Majesty. It was a legacy, left by 
 her mother." 
 
 Joseph laughed scornfully. " Give me the note to the Cardinal," cried 
 he. Giinther presented it, and having signed it, the Emperor gave it 
 into the hands of the Secretary opposite. " Fold and address the letter," 
 said he, '' But stop — Write first the address of the person who presumes 
 to avow herself a Deist in the face of my laws. Her name is Rachel 
 Eskeles Flies." " . 
 
 A cry of anguish burst from Giiather's lips, and, in his madness, he 
 would have snatched the horrid missive from the Secretary's hands. 
 But he recollected himself ; and turning his blanched face towards the 
 En:iperor, he exclaimed, 
 
 " Mercy, gracious Sovereign, mercy for my Rachel ! You have been 
 \vickedly de<:eived." 
 
 " Aye !" cried Joseph, "I have been wickedly deceived, but he who 
 has dared to betray me , shall be made to suffe r for his crime. Rise 
 
 'Orsss lloERiiycr III. p. r;?. 
 
from this table and leave this room. You anj diiiinissed fiom niy ser- 
 vice as a false tr.iitur!" 
 
 "What, your Majesty t" cried Giinther in (ones that vrrf proud and 
 defiant. " You defame me without so much as teilina; nie of what I am 
 accubed ! Without allowing me ihc rij^ht of justilicaLioii ! Tell ine — 
 what have f done ?" 
 
 " Ask your own conscience, if you have one, and find an answ<^r there/' 
 cried Joseph, furious at the lofty bearing of his victitii. 
 
 '• If your Majesty refuses me that poor boon," continued Giinther, "I 
 appeal to the laws. My legal judges will be bound to hear me publicly 
 accused, and to listen to my defence !" 
 
 " I am your accuser and your judge — your only judge," replied Jo- 
 seph with concentrated passion. " 1 have already found you guilty aud- 
 have already sentenced you." 
 
 " But why. why ?" cried Giinther. " If you would not drive me raad, 
 tell me why !" 
 
 " I shall do nothing but carry out your sentence," said Joseph, ring- 
 ing a bell. " Are the men without V said he to the page who answered, 
 his summons. 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty. A subaltern of the Third Regiment is without, 
 •with four soldiers."' 
 
 " Show them in !"' — The page opened the door, and the men entered- 
 
 " You march to Hungary to your new garrison to-day, do you not?" 
 said the Emperor. 
 
 ," Yes, sire — we march in one hour," was the reply. 
 
 "Take this man with you as a recruit." 
 
 Gunther started forward, and with an exclamation of horror, fell at 
 the Emperor's feet. " Mercy ! Mercy !" gasped he. 
 
 "No mercy, but justice f<->r all men !" cried Joseph stamping his foot. 
 Then motioning to the soldiers, he said : "Take him away and watch 
 him closely, lest he escape. Equip him, and put him in the ranks. 
 Away with you !" 
 
 The men advanced, and Gunther, sceiug that any farther appeal was 
 vain, suffered himself to be led away in silence. The door closed bo- 
 hind them, and the Emperor was alone with his three Secretaries. 
 There was a long, fearful pause through which the retreating steps of the 
 soldiers and their victim were heard. When the echoes had died away, 
 the Emperor spoke in hard, cold tones. 
 
 " Giinther was a traitor, who betrayed the secrets of the state for gold. 
 I discovered his treachery and have punished him accordingly. Take 
 ■warning by his fate !" 
 
 So saying, he passed into hi.s cabinet, and once alone, he gave full 
 vent to his bitter grief. 
 
 " J could not do otherwise." thought he. " I who would nut span; 
 Podsladsky and Szekuly, could not spare this traitor, though he ha.s 
 been verj^ dear to me indeed. He must suffer — but I shall suffer with 
 hira. Mercy ia so much m«re natural to man than justice. Still, mer- 
 
it;-..' Jii.-^r.PH iHiV ,-.F.i:i)_SE., 
 
 cy is Llie prerogative of Heaven alone. I am here to be equitable to all." 
 
 An hour later, the third regiment kift Vienna for Sz^gedin, their new 
 {garrison. A Tew waguas foflov/ed with liie luggage, and the sick men 
 %vho were unabio to encounter the hardships of that formidable march 
 to Hungary. In one of these wagons lay the new recruit. His eyes 
 glared with delirium, and his lips were parched with raging fever. For 
 a moment he seemed to awake from his dream of madness, for he raised 
 himself a little, and murmured, " Where am I ?" No one answered 
 him, but a flash of memory revealed to him the horrors of his situation, 
 and falling back with a shudder, he cried out, " Rachel, my Rachel !" — 
 and then relapsed into delirium. 
 
 The same evening, Barou Eskeles Flies left his hStel on foot, and has- 
 tily traversing the streets, stopped before a house wliere, ascending to 
 the second story, he rang tHe bell. A richly-liveried servant opened the 
 door at the head of the stair-case. 
 
 '' fs the imperial Secretary Warkenhold within*?" asked the Baron. 
 
 The servant did not know — he would see ; — but the banker saved 
 him the trouble by putting him aside and entering the little vestibule. 
 
 " Show me the way," said he, " you need not announce me. A rich 
 man is welcome everywhere." 
 
 The servant obeyed, and conducted the banker through a suite of 
 apartments whose splendor he contemplated with a sneer. 
 
 " Now go," said he, as the servant pointed to a portiere. " I shall an- 
 nounce myself." 
 
 He drew the 'portiere and knocked. Then, without waiting for an an- 
 swer, he entered the room. 
 
 " Eskeles Flies I" cried the occupant, who was lounging on a sofa, 
 and was no other than the Secretary that had been so disturbed by the 
 Emperor's words in the morning. " Eskeles Flies !" repeated he, spring- 
 ing from the sofa, and hastening forward. 
 
 "Yes, Baron Eskeles Flies," replied the banker, proudly. 
 
 " But what brings you to mel" cried Warkenhold terrified. " Your 
 visit exposes me to danger." 
 
 " Nobody knows of my visit, for I came on foot, and let me tell you 
 Ilerr Warkenhold, that my presence in your house is an honor which is 
 not apt to endanger you." 
 
 " Only to-day,, only at this time," murmured Warkenhold apologet- 
 ically. 
 
 " Then you should have come to me for your money- You said you 
 were in great want, having lost everything at cards, and so 1 hasten to 
 aci^uit myself of my debt. Here is a draft for one thousand ducats." 
 
 " Hush, for the love of heaven !" whispered Warkenhold. " What 
 can I do with a draft 1 I should never dare present it for payment, for 
 you know that the Emperor keeps spies with a hundred eyes, to track his 
 employees. And suppose I go to your office, I expose myself to dis- 
 covery." 
 
 " Not at all," interrupted the banker lausihing. " Who should betray 
 
you? Not I. AuJ iTO otie but us two are in the secret. \Viio, theu 
 bKould tell the Emperor that you were hidden behind the door whijp. he 
 dictated his dispatches, and that you are .such a skilful imitator? 1 
 swear that Giinlber him&;elf would have been staggered had he seen tho?<^ 
 letters ! They are capital, and 1 congralnlate you. You are a genius."' 
 
 " Great (rod ! must you annoy me with repetition of all that 1 did?" 
 cried xho. Secretary with asperity. " Is it not enou^^h that 1 am already 
 wretchfd, as 1 look back to the terrible scenes oi' the nn)rnin<^? 1 caii- 
 not bani.sh the imape of that iuahai)py ^i^"ither from mv mind, i felt at 
 one time as if I must confess and save hiui." 
 
 " Ha ha, did yon ? Then it was terrible, was it? He thundered like 
 another Rhadamanihus, did he, that sapient Emperor? And forced 
 poor, innocent Gunther to drink of the chalice we had prepared for him ? 
 Oh, rare, far-seeing judge ! — Tell me all about it, Warkenhold." 
 
 Warkeiihold shuddering, repeated what had taken place. When he 
 spitke of the tpiestion relating to the thousand ducats, Eskeles Flies in- 
 terrupted him. 
 
 '•And of course he had to say yes. Gunther is of knightly veracit\' 
 and 1 invented the story of the legacy, in anticipation oft^at question. 
 Oh, how admirably my calculations have been made ! Let me hear 
 the rest.'' 
 
 Warkenhold went on, and when he had concluded his woeful narra- 
 tive, the banker nodded and said : 
 
 " You are a genius. Yon relate as well as you eves-drop and for^e ! 
 Upon my word, you have entertained as well as you have served, me ! 
 My success in this aftair is entirely owing to you. You are as skilful 
 as your great Christian ancestor Judas ; but as I hope you are not such 
 a fool as to go out and hang yourself, hero are fifty ducats above our 
 bargain. They are for your mistress." 
 
 He drew out his purse and counted the gold. 
 
 " I thank you," said Warkenhold almost inaudibly. " J must take 
 the money, for I am sorely pressed, but i would give" my right hand not 
 to have been foi-ced to do this thing!" 
 
 " Pray say the left — your right hand is a treasure not lightly to be 
 .parted with," said the banker laughing. "But a truce to sentiment. It 
 is useless for you to drape yourself in the toga of honor or benevolence. 
 Our business is at an end. You have nothing more to claim, 1 believe?" 
 
 " Nothing whatever, I am " 
 
 "Then," said the banker, taking up his hat, "we have nothing further 
 to say to one another. You have been the instrument of my righteous 
 vengeance, but as 1 have an antipathy to villains, let me never" see so 
 much as a glance of recognition from you again. From this hour wo 
 are strangers ! Adieu !" 
 
Kl'^-l 1 tit. Slii tJ.Vl'J. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV U. 
 
 THK DEPUXATIOX TROM IIUXGAKr. 
 
 Is the great reception-room of the iraperial^alace, a deputation of the 
 most illuscrious magnates of Hunjiary awaited an interview with the 
 Emperor. For one whole year tlie Hungarian nobles had withdrawn 
 Irom court; but now, in the iuteiebt of their fatherland, they stood once 
 more within the walls of the palace ; and in their magnificent state-uni- 
 forms, as the representatives of all Hungary, they were assembled to 
 <iemand redress for their national grievances. 
 
 When the Emperor entered the leception-room, he came alone, in a 
 plain uniform. He greeted the deputies with a smile, which they re- 
 turned by profound and silent inclinations of their aristocratic heads. 
 Joseph looked slowly around at the brilliant assemblage of magnates 
 before him. 
 
 " A stately deputation of my loyal Hungarians," observed he. " I 
 see all the proudest families of the kingdom represented here to-day. 
 Count Palfy, for example, the son of him whom the Empress was accus- 
 tomed to call her champion and father — Count Batthiany, the heir of my 
 favorite tutor. I rejoice to see you, and hope that you are here today 
 to grpet me as ever, in the character of loyal subjects." «. 
 
 There was a short pause, after which, Count Palfy, stepping a little 
 in advance of the others, addressed the Emperor. 
 
 " Sire, sve are sent by the kingdom of Hungary to lay our wrongs 
 before your Majesty, and request redress." 
 
 " Does the Count represent your sentiments 1" asked the Emperor, 
 addressing the delegates. A unanimous affirmative was the reply, and 
 Joseph then continued ; "Speak on. 1 will hear your complaints and 
 reply to them." 
 
 Count Palfy bowed and resumed : " We have come to remind your 
 Majesty that when, ^n November 1780, you ascended the throne of Aus- 
 tria, we received a written declaration from your imperial hand, guaran- 
 teeing our rights under the National Constitution of Hungary. Never- 
 theless, these rights have been invaded, and we come before your Ma- 
 jesty's throne in the hope that our just remonstrances may not appear 
 oifensive in the eyes of our King."* 
 
 " But what if they do appear offensive ?" crjed the Emperor, chafed. 
 " What if I should refuse to hear those complaints which are nothing but 
 the fermentation of your own pride and arrogance?" 
 
 "If your Majesty refuse to hear us to-day," said Count Palfy, with 
 *The«e lire the ■*vt>rd8 of Uie Hungarian protest. See Hubner 2, p. 265. 
 
i»IPKKOR ,.F AUSTRIA. 1 Or> 
 
 llrmness, '■ we shall reLuro to-morrow, and every day, for we have sworn 
 to present the grievances of the States to your notice and must keep 
 our oath." 
 
 " I ani quite as well acquainte«[ with the grievances as you, nnd to 
 prove it to you, I will stnttj ihern myseif. First, you :ire apgri(>ved be- 
 cause I have Hot gone to Hungary to be crowned and to take the con- 
 stitutional oath." 
 
 " Yes, sire, we are ; and this grievance leads us to the second one. — 
 AVo venture to ask if, secretly and witlioiit the consent of the States, the 
 crown of St. Stephen has been removed to Vienna." 
 
 "les, it has been removed," cried Joseph with increasing irriiation. 
 " It has been brought to me to whom it belongs; but I shall return it 
 to Ofen, when the structure which is to receive it is completed " 
 
 " That is an unconstitutional act," said Count Palfy. '' Is it not, my 
 friends 1" 
 
 " It is," cried a chorus of Magyars. 
 
 " I have never taken the oath to the constitution," was JosephPs reply. 
 " Hungary would h;ive to undergo signal changes before 1 ever go there 
 to be crowned as your king. You are not content with reigning over 
 your vassals; you desire in your ambitious presumption to reign over 
 me. also. But I tell you that I am no royal puppet in the hands of a 
 Tiepublic of aristocrats — I am lord and king of all my provinces. Hun- 
 gary has no claim to a separate nationality, and once tor all, I shall no 
 more take the coronation-oath there than I shall do it in Tyrol, Bohemia, 
 Galicia, or Lombardy. All your crown^ are fused into the imperial 
 crown of Austria, and it is proper that I, who own them all, should pre- 
 serve them with my regalia at Vienna. x\]l strife and jealousy between 
 the provinces composing my empire must cease.* Provincial interests 
 must disappear before national exigencies. This is all that I have to say 
 to the States ; but I will say to yourselves that when I find myself ab- 
 solute Lord of Hungary, as well as of Austria, 1 will go thither to be 
 crowned. And now, Lord Chancellor of Hungary, what other grievance 
 have to you present 1" 
 
 "Our second grievance, sire, is, that to the great humiliation of all 
 Hungary, our native tongue, and the Latin language have been superced- 
 ed by the German. This, too, is unconstitutional, for it has shut out all 
 Hungarians, in a measure, from public office, and has placed the admin- 
 istration of our laws in the hands of Austrian?, perfectly ignorant of our 
 constitution. "I 
 
 "To this I have to say that German shall be the language of all my 
 subjects. Why should tjou enjoy the privilege of a national language? 
 1 am Emperor of Germany, and my tongue shall be that of my provin- 
 ces. If Hunj^ary were the most important portion of the Empire, its 
 language doubtless would be Hungarian ; but it is not, and therefore 
 shall you speak German. J I will now pass on to your third gr-evance, 
 
 • Thp Emperor's own words Letfew of Josoph Second. 
 tXha word* of th« Hungarian prot<>gt. Ilubner 2, P. 266. 
 t Tbe Emppror own words. See Letter of .loseph 'i'l. pages T6. 
 
iOO JOaKHH THESKCuMu 
 
 Ibr you see that I euii well posted on the subject of your sufieriiigs, I 
 have numbered, and taxed your property, and that, too, in spite of your 
 constitution which exempts you. from taxatittn. In my opinion, the pri- 
 vileges of an aristocracy do not consist in evading their share of the na- 
 tional burthens; on tiie contrary, they should assume it vc^luntarily, and 
 for the weal of the nation, place themselves on an equality ^shh the peo- 
 ple — each class striving with the other as to who shall best promote the 
 prosperity of the government.* I cannot therefore exempt you from 
 paying taxes." 
 
 " But, sire, this tax violates our rights, and our constitution," replied 
 Count Palfy. 
 
 " Has Hungary a constitution 1 A tumultuous States-diet, privileged 
 aristocracy-^— the subjection of three-fifths of the nation to the remainder 
 — is this a constitution'?" 
 
 " It is the Constitution of Hungary, and we have your Majesty's writ- 
 ten promise that you- would respect it. But even had we received no 
 solemn #leclaration of the sort, upon the security of our national freedom 
 depends the Austrian right of succession to thp throne of Hungary. "j- 
 
 '• You dare to threaten me ?" cried Joseph furiously. 
 
 " No, sire, we do not threaten ; we are in presence of a truth-loving 
 monarch, and we are compelled to speak the unvarnished truth. We 
 have already borne much from your Majesty's ancestors. But nutilthe 
 death of Maria Theresa, our fundamental laws remained inviolate. True, 
 in the last years of her life, she refused to allow the States-diet to as- 
 semble ; but she never laid her hand upon our constitution. She was 
 crowned Queen of Hungary, and took the coronation-oath. Charles the' 
 Sixth, and Joseph the First did likewise. Each one guaranteed us the 
 right of inheritance, and our national freedom. 
 
 " There is no such thing as national freedom in Hungary. It contains 
 nothing but lords and vassals, and it is vassalage that I intend to abolish." 
 
 " Does your Majesty think that the general freedom of the State is 
 promoted by your conscrlption-Iaws 1" ' 
 
 " Ah ! Here, we have grievance the fourth," exclaimed Joseph. "Yes, 
 the conscription is a thorn in your sensitive sides, because it claims you 
 as the children and servants of your country, and forces you to draw 
 your swords in her defence." 
 
 " We have never refused our blood to the country," replied Count 
 Palfy, proudly throwing back his head, "and if her rights are intact to- 
 day, it is because we have defended and protected them. We have 
 fought for our Patherland, however, ni^t as conscripts, but as freemen. 
 Our people are unanimous in their abhorence of the conscription act. 
 When we weigh the motives and consequences of this act we can draiw 
 but one inference from either : that we, who were born freemen, are to 
 be reduced to slavery, and to be trampled under foot by every other 
 province of Austria." 
 
 * Tho Kmperor's own words See Letters "f .lospph 2(). pacffl 95, 
 tTlit" wrirAe of the TluDET.irian prot.'^t Hiitviicr 'J 1'. WX 
 
" Rather thau submit t(j such indignity we will lay down our Uvea", 
 for we are of one mind, and would sponer die than lose our liberty !" 
 
 *' And 1," cried Joseph, hla e)es (lashing and his face scarlet with pas- 
 sion, " I say to you all that you shall live, for I, your king and master, 
 ccynmand you to do so." 
 
 An .ingry murmur was heard, and cvei'y eye looked defiance at the 
 Emperor. "Ah," said he, scornfully, " you would ape the Polish diet, 
 and dispute the will of your King ! You remember how the King of 
 Poland succumbed to dictation ! I am another and a dillorent man, and 
 I cure neither for your approbation nor for your blanne. It is my pur- 
 pose to make Hungary prosperous, and therefore I have abolished the 
 feudal system which is unfavorable to the development of the resources 
 of the country. You Magyars would interfere with mc. , You have n 
 constitution at variance with my laws, and for the sake of apiece of rot- 
 ten parchment three hundred years old, Hungary must be suffered to 
 remainsjncivilized forever ! Away with your mediaval privileges and 
 rasty escutcheons ! A new century has dawned, and not only the noblv 
 born shall see its light, but the people who until now have been thrust 
 aside by your arrogance! If enlightenment violates your ancient privi- 
 leges, they shall be swept away to give place to the victorious rights of 
 man! And this is my answer to ;ill your grievances. Go home, ye 
 Magyars, assemble your peers, and tell them that my decision is unal- 
 terable, and that w hat I have done with deliberation, I shall never revoke. 
 Go home and tell them that the Empeior haa spoken, and they have 
 nothing to do but to submit ! ' 
 
 With a slight inclination, Joseph turned his back; and before the 
 magnates had time to recover themselves and to reply to this haughty, 
 harangue, the Emperor had disappeared and closed the door. 
 
 They glanced at one another in speechless indignation. They had ex- 
 pected difficulty ; but such insulting rejection of their petition, they 
 could never have anticipated. They remembered the d'ay when with this 
 same Joseph in her arms, Maria Theresa had appealed to their fathers 
 for succor ; they remembered, too, how in the enthusiasm of their loy- 
 alty they had sworn to die for Maria Theresa, their King ! 
 
 " Ho never revokes !" muttered Paify' after a long silence. ''You 
 heard him, Magyars, he never revokes ! — Shall we suffer him to op- 
 press us *?" 
 
 " No, no !" was the unanimous reply. 
 
 "So be it," said Palfy solemnly. " He has thrown down the gaunt- 
 let; we raise it, and strip for the fight. — But for Hungary, this man 
 had been ruined. To-day he would ruin us, and we cast him off. Hence- 
 forth our cry is, 
 
 " Moriamur pro rege nostro Constitutione .'" 
 
 " Moriamur pro rege nostro Oonstliudone P' echoed the Magyars, eve- 
 ry man with his right hand raised to heaven. 
 
iU5 jwdt'Pti lut; sEruM* 
 
 CHAPTER. XXVIH. 
 
 THE RECOMPENSE. 
 
 For fcmr weeks, Rachel had been a prisoner in her own house, al! per- 
 sons, with the exception of a Catholic Priest and a Jewish Rabbi, hav- 
 ing been refused accest* to her. But at the expiration of this time a de- 
 puty from the imperial chancBry was admitted, who had a long inter- 
 view with the poor girl, and at dusk another visitor presented himself 
 at the door of that gloomy abode. This last one was Baron Eskeles 
 Flies. 
 
 the Sentinels had allowed him to pass, and the guards in Rach6]% 
 ante-room gave way also, for the. Baron's permit to visit his daughter 
 was from the Emperor. With a respectful inclination, they presented 
 the key of the prisoner's room and awaited her father's orders. / 
 
 " Go below, and wait until I call you," said he. 
 
 '• Of course, as we are commanded in the permit to obey you, we fol- 
 low the Emperor's order." 
 
 Herr Eskeles thanked them, and putting a ducat in the hand of each, 
 the men departed in a state of supreme satisfiiction. They had scarcely- 
 left, when the banker bolted the door from the inside, and crossed the 
 room towards the opposite door. His hand trembled so that he could 
 not introduce the key to open it, and he was obliged to retreat to the 
 sofa, and there recover himself 
 
 " How will she receive meV thought he. "They say that she is sad- 
 ly changed, and that her father would scarcely know his beautiful child 
 again" Oh, ray child, will I be able to bear the sight of j'our grief with- 
 out falling at your feet, and acknowledging my guilt? But pshaw! — 
 She is safe now I shall take her home, and for every tear that she has 
 shed I will give her a diamond bright as a star. She shall have gold, 
 pearls, riches — and be once more the envy of all the women in Vienna. 
 Yes, my Rachel, yes — Gold, diamonds and happiness ! 
 
 He turned the key, and the door opened. Not a sound greeted his 
 entianee into that dismal room, whereii) four funereal-looking wax-lights 
 were burning at each corner of a square table. Even so had the lights 
 burned in the room where Rachel's mother once lay dead. The banker 
 thought of this as between those flarijig lights he saw the pale wan fig- 
 ure, on the sofa that seemed as rigid, ^s motionless, and as white as a 
 corpse. 
 
 Was it indeed Rachel ! Those pinched features, those hollow eyes, 
 that figure so bowed with sorrow, could that be his peerless daughter ! 
 What had diamonds and pearls in common with that pale spectre 1 
 
KMFliKOlt Ot AU81R1,V, iQH 
 
 iTie banker could scarcely f=upprei=:s u cry of anguish as he gazed upon 
 the wreck of so much beaut). But he giiiheied courage to cross the 
 room, and stood before her. 
 
 "Rachel," said he in a soft, imploring voice, "do you know me 1" 
 
 " I kiii»\v you," replied she without moving, "do you know nieV^ 
 ," My beloved child, my heart rpcoguizes yi>u, and calls ) uu to itself. 
 Come, darling come, and rest within your father's protecting arms. See, 
 They are open to receive you — I have. forgiven all, and am ready to de- 
 vote my whole life to your happiness !" 
 
 He opened his arms, but Rachel did not ?tir. She looked at him, ancl 
 when he saw the look, his hands dropped nerveless to his sid£. 
 
 *' Where is Giinlher ?" asked she. " What have you done with him ?" 
 
 " I, my child ?" exclaimed Eskeles. " The Emperor has detected him 
 in some dishonorable act, (I know not what,.) and has sent him as a re- 
 cruit to Hungary." 
 
 " I have heard this fable before," said Rachel, with a glance of scorn. 
 "The priest who was sent to convert, has tried to console me for my 
 loss by dinning in my ears that Giinther was a traitor; but I know bet- 
 ter. H* is the victim of a Jew's revenge. It is you who have accused 
 him with false witnesses, false letters, with all that vengeance can in- 
 spire, and wicked gold can buy. You are the accuser of mv noble Giin- 
 ther !" By this time she had arisen, and now she stood confrontiMg him, 
 with her wasted finger pointing towards him, and her sunken eyes glow- 
 ing like lights from a dark, deep cave. 
 
 " Who says sol Who has dared to accuse me ?" said her father. 
 
 " Your face accuses you ! Your eyes, that dare not encounter mine ! 
 Nay — do not raise your hand in sacrilegious pfotest, but answer me. 
 By the faith of your ancestors are you not the man who denounced him?" 
 « He could not meet her scrutinizing glance. He averted his face, 
 murmuring. "He who accused liini is no better tjian himself. But it 
 is the Emperor who condemned him." 
 
 "The Emperor is miserably befooled," cried Rachel. " He knows 
 not the subtlety of Jewish revenge. But 1 am of the Jewish race, and 
 I know it. 1 know my father, and 1 know ray lover !" 
 
 '• In this hour of reunion we will not discuss the innocence, or guilt of 
 the Emperor's Secretary," said the banker ge»itly. " I am thankful that 
 the dark clqui which has hidden you so long from my sight is lifted, and 
 that all is well with us again." 
 
 "All is not well — for between us lies the grave of my happiness, and 
 that grave has sunde/ed us forever. I cannot come to you, my father — 
 the memory of my lover is between usJ, and that memory — Oh, do not 
 call it a cloud ! — 'Tis the golden beam of that sun which has set, but 
 whose rays are still warm within my breaking heart. I say nothing to 
 you of all that I have endured during these four weeks of anguish ; but 
 this I can tell you, my father, that 1 have never repented ipy choice. — 
 I am Giinther's for life, and for death which is the birth of immortality !" 
 
 " He is a dishonored man !" said Eskelcs frowninf». 
 
110 JOSkJ'U I HE SECtiNl). 
 
 '• And !, too, vijl be dislionorod to-aiorrow," replied Rachel. 
 
 Her iather started. He had forgotten the disgrace which threatened 
 her. 
 
 " Rachel," said he with exceeding tenderness, " I come to rescue you 
 from shame, and salTering." • 
 
 '■ To jescuc me ?" echoed she. " Whither would yoa have me ily^" 
 
 " To the house of your father, my child." 
 
 "1 have no father," replied she, with a weary sigh. "My father- 
 n-onld have forced my heart, as the priest and. the rabbi would have for- 
 ced my belief. But I am free in my faith, my love and my hate; and 
 this freedom will sustain me to-morrow throughout the torture and shame 
 of a disgraceful punishment." 
 
 " You surely will not brave the lash I" cried her father, his cheeks 
 blanched with horror at the thought. "You will be womanly, my child, 
 and recant." 
 
 " I mu^it epeak the truth," said she, interrupting him. "The doors 
 of the S} iiagogue as well as those of the Church are closed against me. 
 1 am no Jewess, and you forced me to swear that I would never become 
 a Christian. But what matters it?" continued she, kindling whh enthu- 
 siasm, "] believe in God — the God of love and mercy, and to-morrow I 
 shall see His face !" 
 
 '• You would destroy yourself?" cried her flither, his senses almost for- 
 -saking him. 
 
 "No — but do you suppose that I shall survive the severity and the 
 humiliation of the lash which it is the pleasure of the Emperor to inflict 
 upon me? No, my flither, I shall die before the executioner has time 
 to strike his second blow !" 
 
 " Rachel, my Rachel, do not speak such dreadful words," cried Eske- 
 les, wringing his hands in despair. "You cannot be a Christian, I kno*?' 
 it, for their belief is unworthy of a pure soul. How could you ever give 
 the hand of fellowship to a race who have outlawed you because you 
 scorn to utter a falsehood ! Bat confess yourself a Jewess, and all will 
 be well with us once more." 
 
 " 1 shall never return to the Jewish God of wrath and revenge! My 
 God is all love. 1 must acknowledge Him before the world, and die 
 for his sake !" 
 
 There was a pause, Rachel was calm and resolute, hep^ather, almost 
 distracted. After a time he spoke again. 
 
 "So be it then," cried he, raising his hand to heaven* " Be a Chris- 
 tian — I absolve you from your oath ; and O my Rachel ! if I sought the 
 world for a proof of my over weening love, it could offer nothing to 
 compare with this sacrifice. Go, my child, and become a Christian." 
 
 She shook her head. " The Christian's cruelty has cured me of my 
 love lor Christianity. I can never- be one of a race who have persecu- 
 ted my innocent lover. As for you, the cause of his martyrdom, hear 
 •/ny determination, and know that it is inflexible — I am resolved to en- 
 dure the punishment; and when the blood streams from my back, and 
 
tMI'EKOR OI." AISIRM. i I I 
 
 iny frantic erics pierce the air until they reach your palace-walls ; when 
 in the midst of the gapin^r populace, my body lies stretched upun the mar- 
 ketplace, dishonored l\y the hand of the executioner — ihoii &h;ill your re- 
 venge have returned lo yon ; for the whole world wjll poinl al you as 
 you pass and say, 'He is the father of the woman who was whipped to 
 death l)y the hangman !' "' 
 
 " Alas,"' sohbcd the father, "1 see that you hate me, and yd I must 
 rescue you, even against your own will. The Emperor has given me a 
 patis to Paris. It is himself who allows me to escape with my poor, 
 )Misguided child. C.ome, dear Rachel, come, ere it be too late, and in 
 JParis we can forget our sorrows and begin life anew!" 
 
 "No — he has made the law, and he must bear the consequences of 
 his own cruelty. He need noli think to rescue himself from the odium 
 of his acts by conniving at my escape ! I hate that Emperor, the op- 
 pressor of my beloved ; and as he dishonored Gunther, so shall he dis- 
 honor me. Our woes will cry to heaven for vengeance and " 
 
 But Rachel suddenly ceased, and fell back upon a chair. She had no 
 longer the strencth to repulse her liither, as ho raised her iu his arms 
 and laid her upon the sofa. He looked into! her marble face, and put 
 his lips to hers. 
 
 "She has swooned," 'cried he in despair. "We must fly at once. 
 Kachel, Rachel, awake ! The time is almost up — come, we must away !" 
 
 She opened her eyes, and looked around. " Come, my daughter," 
 said her father, kissing her w.isted hands. 
 
 She said nothing, but stared and smiled a vacant smile. Again he 
 took her hands, and saw that they were hot and dry. Her breath, too, 
 was hot, and yet her pulse was feeble and fitful. 
 
 Her father, in his agony, dropped ou his knees beside the unconscious 
 girl. But this was no time for waiting. He rose to his feet again, and 
 darting from the room, offered a handful of gold to the sentry if he 
 would but seek a physician. Then he rettirned to Rachel. She lay still 
 with her eye* wide, wide open, while shte murmured inaudible words, 
 which he vainly strove to understand. 
 
 At length came the physician. He bent over the patient, examined 
 her pulse, felt her forehead, and then turning to the banker, who stood 
 by with his heart throbbing as \i it would burst, 
 
 "Are you a relative of the lady ?" asked he. • 
 
 " 1 am her father," replied Eskeles, and even in this terrible hour, he 
 felt a thrill of joy as he spoke the words. 
 
 ^ I regiret then to say to you that she is very ill. Her malady is ty- 
 phoid fever, in its most dangerous form. I fear that she will not recov- 
 cr ; she must have been ill for some weeks, and have concealed her ill- 
 ness. Has she suffered mentally of late V 
 
 " Yes, I believe that she has,"* faltefed the banker. " Will she die ? ' 
 
 " I am afraid to give you any hope, — the disease has gone so far. It 
 is strange — Was there no relative near her. to see how ill she has been 
 for so long a time?" 
 
ir^ J05KPM THE SECU>I). 
 
 Gracious heaven ! What torture he inflicted upon the guilty father! 
 At tliat monnent he would have recalled Giinther and welcomed him as 
 a son, could his presence have saved the child whom, himself had mur- 
 dered ! 
 
 " Doctor," said he in husky trembling tones, "Doctor, you must save 
 my child. Ask what you will — I am rich, and if you restore her to me, 
 you shall have a million !" 
 
 " Unhappily, life cannot be bought with gold," replied the physician. 
 " God alone can restore her. We can do naught but assist nature, and 
 alleviate her sufferingri." 
 
 '' How can we alleviate her suffering'?" asked Eskeles humbly, for his 
 spirit was broken. 
 
 " By cool drinks, and cold compressions upon her head," said the phj- 
 sician. " Are there no women here to serve her V 
 
 "No," murmured the banker. " My daughter is a prisoner. She is 
 Rachel Eskeles Flies." 
 
 " Ah ! The Deist who was to have suffered to morrow ? Poor, poor 
 child, neither Church nor Synagogue can avail her now, for God will 
 take her to himself" 
 
 " But there is a possibility of saving her, is there noti" asked the fa- 
 ther imploringly. " We must try everything, for she must be 
 
 saved !" 
 
 '■'■Must?"' repeated the physician. "Think you because you are rich 
 that you can bribe Heaven ? See, rather, how impotent your wealth 
 has been to make your beautiful child happy, (for I know her story,) 
 and now iti spite of all the gold for which you have sacrificed her, she 
 will die of a broken heart!" 
 
 Just then Rachel uttered a loud shriek, and clasping both her hands 
 around her head, cried out that her brain was on fire, 
 
 " Cold compressions — quick " — exclaimed the physician imperatively; 
 and the banker staggered into Rachel's dressing room — the room which 
 Giiulher had so daintily fitted ap — and brought water/ and a soft fine 
 towel, which his trembling hands could scarcely bind upon his poor 
 child's head. Then as her moaning ceased, and her arms dropped, he 
 passed into an ecstacy of joy, for now he began to hope that she would 
 be spared to him. 
 
 , " We must have female attendance here," said the physician. " She 
 must be put to bed and tenderly watched. Go, Baron, and bring your ser- 
 vants. I will see the Emperor and take upon myself the responsibility 
 of having infringed his orders. Before such imminent peril, all impris- 
 onment is at an end." 
 
 " I cannot leave her," returned the Baron. " You say she has but 
 few days to live ; if so, I cannot spare one second of her life. I entreat 
 of you, take my carriage and, in mercy, bring the servants for me. O, 
 listen ! she screams again — Doctor, go, I entreat ! Here — fresh com- 
 pressions — water ! 0, be quick !" 
 
 And again the wretched man bent over his child, and laid the cloths 
 
EMIKROK OF AtbTKl.V. 113 
 
 upon her he.vl. The physician bad gone, and he was alone with his 
 treasure. lie felt it a relief to be able to kiss her hands, to weep aloud, 
 to throw himself upon his knees and pray to the God of Israel to spare 
 his idol ! 
 
 The ni^ht went by, the servants cauic, and the physioian, examinin"' 
 his patient again, promised to return in a few hours, liachcl was car 
 ried to her bed, and hour after hour, the lianker !?at patient and watch- 
 ful, listening to every inoart, echoing evfry sigh ; afraid to trust |ys pre- 
 cious charge to any one, lest the vigilance of another might fail. 
 
 A day and another night went by, and still no sleep had come over 
 those glaring eyes. But she wept bitter tears, and when he beard her 
 broken-mnrmurcd words of anguish, he thought he would go mad ! 
 
 But sonictinips in her fevcr-raadiiess she smiled and was happy. Thpn 
 .she laughed aloud, and spoke to her beloved, who was always at her 
 uide. »She had not once pronounced the name of her father ; she seem- 
 ed to have forgotten him, remembering nothing in (ill her past life save 
 her love for Giinther. 
 
 Often her father knelt beside her, and with tears streaming from his 
 eyes, implored a look, a word — one single word of fcwgiveness. But 
 Rachel laughed and sang, heedless of the despairing wretch who lay 
 stricken to the earth at her side •, while the lover whom she caressed, 
 was tar away unconscious of the blessing. 
 
 Suddenly she uttered a wild cry, and starting up, threw her arms con- 
 vulsively about. Now she invoked the vengeance of heaven upon Giin 
 ther's murderers, and at last — at last, was heard the name of her father ! 
 iShc cursed him ! 
 
 With a cry as piercing as that of'the poor maniac, Eskeles Flies sank 
 upon his knees and wept aloud. 
 
 Rachel gradually grew more tranquil ; and now she lay back on 
 her pillow with a happy smile once more upon her lips. But she spoke 
 not a word. Once more she sighed "Giintlier," and then relapsed ini,i) 
 silence. 
 
 Into a silence that seemed so breathless and so long that her fal/ii< r 
 arose, frightRUcd, from his knees. He bent over his .smiling child, and 
 her face seemed transfigured. Not a sigh stirred her bosom, not a moan 
 fluttered from her lips. But that smile remained so long unchanged, 
 and her eyes surely they were glazed ! 
 
 Yes ! Rachel was dead."'- 
 
 • The sad fat« of Sunther and of his beantifol Rachel is mentioned by Hormayr in hSwork' 
 Thc Emperor Francis and Mcttcrnich. A (ragnicnt. I*. 75. 
 
} i4 JoskVii jhk SiitOM.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXiX. 
 
 4» 
 
 TfiK KEliFtLDON' IN' N']i:TUERi,ANl")b. 
 
 Tu£ Emperor Josepi/ wjis in the Crimea on a visit to the Empress of 
 Russia. Here lie witnessed ia. great triumph prepared for Catharine by 
 Potemkin. It was her. first jsjreeting at Sebastapol, from that navy which 
 was to confer upon Russia, the dominion pf the Black Sea. 
 
 Potemkin invited Catharine and Joseph to a dinner served in a pavilion 
 erected for the occasion. The festivities were interrupted by the clash 
 of military music; and as the Russian Empress and the Austrian Em- 
 peror stepped out of the pavilion, the fleet arranged in line of battle, was 
 before them, and greeted them with a salute of a hundred guns. As 
 they ceased, Potemkiu turned to Catharine, and criedoQt in tones of joy- 
 ful enthusiasm : 
 
 •' The voice of the cannon proclaims that the Black Sea has found its 
 mistress, and that ere long the flag of Russia shall wave triumphant over 
 the towers t)f Constantinople.* 
 
 On another occasion, Joseph was sailing around thebay of Sebastopo], 
 in company with the Empress, Potemkin, and the French Ambassador. 
 As they neared the fleet, Potemkiu pointing out the five and twenty ves- 
 sels of war, exclaimed, 
 
 "These ships await my SQvereign''S word to spread their sails to the 
 wind, and steer for Constantinople."* 
 
 As Potemkin spoke, Catharine's eyes were turned to the south where 
 Stamboul still defied her rule, and ambitious aspirations filled her heart. 
 J(teeph. however, looked down upon the foaming waters, and no one saw 
 the curl of his lip, as Catharine and Potemkin continued the subject, and 
 spoke of the future Greek Erij^ire. 
 
 For Joseph hiid lost all faith in the brilliant schemes with which 
 Catharine had dazzled his imagination at St. Petersburg. 
 
 The enthusiasm with which he had followed her ambitions vagaries, 
 had^ong since died out, and he had awakened from his dreams of great- 
 ness. 
 
 All the pomp and splendor which Potemkin had conjured from the 
 ashes ot a conquered cormtry, coulfJ not deceive Joseph, 
 
 Behind the stately edifices which had sprung up like the palaces of 
 Aladdin, he saw the ruins of a desolated land ; In the mid.st of the cheer- 
 ing, multitudes, whom Potemkin had assembled together to do homage 
 to Catharine, he saw the grim-visaged Tartars, whose eyes were glowiug 
 * See Conaict for tht- possession of ibt Blaclc Sea. Theodore Murnlt, pages 268 and 2515. 
 
with deadly halrod of her who had either murdered, vr drivt-u Into exii« 
 fifty thousatid of their race. 
 
 Nevertheless, ho eutered with his usual grace and affability into all 
 Catharine's schemes, for the improvement of her new domains. Not 
 far from Scbastopol, she-proposed to lay the foundations of a new city, 
 and the Emperor was invited to take a part in the ceremonies. 
 
 Amid th<! booming of cannon, the I<»ud strains of martial music, and 
 the cheers of her lollowers, the Empress la,id the first stone of the city 
 of Catcrinoslaw, and after her, the Emperor look up the mortar and 
 trowel, and laid the second one. lie performed his part of the drama 
 with becoming; solemnity ; but about an hour later, as he was taking his 
 customary afternoon walk with the French Ambassador Mr. de Si<'ur, 
 he laughed and said, 
 
 "The Empress and I have been working magic today; for in the 
 course of a few minutes we have built up an entire city. She laid the 
 first stone of the place, and 1 the last."* 
 
 But in -the very midst of these festivities, a courier arrived with let- 
 ters for the Emperor from Prince Kaunitz — The Prince besought him 
 to return at once; for the discontent -which had existed from the com- 
 mencement of his reign in NctherlanSs, had kindled into open rebellion, 
 ■which threatened the imperial throne itself. Joseph took hasty leave of 
 Catharine, but renewed his promise to sustahi and assist Her, whenever 
 she put into execution her designs against Turkey. 
 
 On the Emperor's arrival at Vienna, he found new couriers were await- 
 ing him, with still more alarming intelligence. The people were frantic, 
 and with the clergy at their head, demanded the restoration of the "Jb?/- 
 atsc Entree.''' 
 
 "And all this," cried the Emperor, " because I have summoned u 
 soap-boiler to Vienna for trial." 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty, but the Joyeuse Entree exacts that the people of 
 Brabant shall be tried in their own couijtry," said Prince Kaunitz, with 
 a shrug. " The Brabantians know every line of their constitution bv 
 heart." 
 
 " Well, they shall learn to know me also by heart," returned Joseph 
 with irritation. " Brabant is mine ; it is but a province of my Empire, 
 and the Brabantians, like the Hungarians,- are nothing but Austrians. 
 The bishop of Frankenberg is not lord of Brabant, and lam resolved to 
 enlighten this priest-ridden people in spite of their writhings." 
 
 " But unhappily the priests in Begium and Brabant, are mightier than 
 your Majesty," returned Kaunitz. " The bishop of Frankenberg is the 
 veritable Lord of Brabant, for he controls the minds and hearts of the 
 people there, while your Mnjesty can do nothing but command their uu 
 gracious obedience. It is the bishop of Frankenberg who prejudiced 
 the people against the imperial seminaries." 
 
 "1 can well believe that they are distasteful to a bigot," cried Joseph, 
 
 "for the theological course of the priests who are to be educated .there 
 
 •Ma«son. Mctrmirtf accretes 3'ir In Rueale. V'.l I 
 
IK) JOSEPH IHK SECUNr. 
 
 is prescribed by me. I do not intend that the children of Levi shall 
 monopolize the minds and hearts of my people any longer.* This 
 haughty Prelate shall learn to know that 1 am his Emperor, and thatthr. 
 arm of the Pope is powerless to shield, where 1 have resolved to strike." 
 
 "If your Majesty goes to work in this fashion, instead of crushing tho 
 iafluenco of the Bishop, you may irretrievably lose your own. P>elgiun\ 
 is a dangerous country. The people cherish their abuses as constitution- 
 al rights, and each man regards. the whole as his individual property." 
 
 " And because I desire to make them happy and free, they cry out 
 against me as an innovator who violates these absurd rights. O, my 
 friend, I feel sometimes so exhausted by my struggles with ignorance 
 and selfishness, that I often think it would be better to leave the stupid 
 masses to their fate !" 
 
 " They deserve nothing better," replied Kaunitz, with his usual phlegm. 
 " They are thankless children, whom he can win, who feeds thorn with 
 sugar. Your Majesty perhaps has not sufficiently conciliated their weak- 
 ness. You have been too honest in your opposition to their rt)tten pri- 
 vileges. Had you undermined the Joycitse Entree by degrees, it would 
 have fallen of itself. But you haye attempted to blow it up, and the 
 result is that these Belgian children cry out that the temple of liberty is 
 on fire, and your Majesty is the incendiary. Now had you allowed the 
 Soap-boiler to be tried by the laws of his own land, the first to condenm 
 and punish him, would have been his own countrymen: but your course 
 of action has transformed him into a martyr, and now the Belgians arc 
 mourning for him as a jewel above all price !" 
 
 " I cannot make use of artifice, or stratagem ; with the banner of Truth 
 in my hand, I march forward to the battle of life." 
 
 "But with your eyes fixed upon that banner, you may fall into the 
 precipices which your enemies have dug for you. 1 have often told your 
 Majesty that politics can never be successful without stratagem. Let 
 your standard be that of Truth if you will, but when the day looks un- 
 propitious, fold it up, that fools may rally around It unawares." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," sighed the Emperor ; " but all this is very 
 sad. I have meant well by my subjects, T)ut they misinterpret my ac- 
 tions, and accuse me of tyranny. 1 go to them with a heart full of love, 
 and they turn upon me as though I were an enemy. But I will not re- 
 lent ! I must be free to act as seems best to myself. The Joyeuse En- 
 tree is in my way. 'Tis a Gordian knot which must be unloosed before 
 Belgium can be truly mine — 1 have no time to untie it, it must be cut 
 in twain !" 
 
 Just then the door of the Chancery opened, and one of the Secretaries 
 came forward. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "a courier has arrived from Brussels, with dispatches 
 from Count Belgi-ojoso, to his Highness." 
 
 " I had orderea ntly dispatches to be sent after me, your Majesty," said 
 
 •The " Joymiso Ev'rce,'''' was the old Coustilutlon whicli Pbilip the Good, on his entrance iulu 
 Brusads, had vrrautcd to the Belgiaus. 
 
ivaimil/, tiiMii", ilie juipers, and motioning iho. Secretary to withdraw. 
 " JJues your Majcdly allow ine lo rend them V 
 
 "IJy all iiieaii-s. Let us hope th;il ihoy Itiiujj; us good news. I gave 
 strinpoiiL orders U» liei^'iojoso lo see tiiai my will was Ciirried oui in 
 Ijel^iuM), I badeTiiiii inform the people that they should Hot have their 
 prciious Soap-boiler back. Thift he was my subject, and I intoudcd to 
 have him tried here. 1 told him moreovtr that like all niv other sub- 
 jects, the Delijiaiis luusit pay new taxes without expecting to be consult- 
 ed as to the expediency of the measure." 
 
 "BelgiojoKo has obeyed your Majesty's commands," remarked Kaunitz 
 who had just finished the first dispatch. " And the consefjuence is that ' 
 the good ])cop!e of Brussels broke his windows for him." 
 
 "They Bhall pay dear for those wnidows," cried Joseph. 
 
 *' He told theu), furthermore, that in spite of the eighth article of thoir 
 <'onstitution, they should pay extraordinary tuxes, \\ hereupon thev an- 
 swered him with the fifty-ninth article." 
 
 " What says the llfty-ninth article?" 
 
 '' It says that when the sovereign violates, in any serious way, the 
 rijihts guaranteed by the Joijeme Eiitrie^ the people are released from all 
 <>Liligalions towards him." 
 
 '• I'hat is the language of treason !' cri6d Joseph. 
 
 " Ami treason it is," returned Kaunitz, folding the second dispatch. 
 "The people collected in the streets, and the burghers, arming them 
 selves, marched to the palace of the Governor-general and de/uanded 
 adiiiittance." 
 
 '-• And he, what did he do ?" 
 
 " lie received them, sire," said Kaunitz despondingly. 
 
 "And what said he to the insolent demands of the rebels? — You are 
 silent, Kaunitz, and 1 see in your countenance that you have bad news 
 for me. I know my brother-in-law, Albert of Saxony, or rather, I know 
 my sister Christine. From her youth slie has been my enemy, forever 
 crossing me in every purpose of my life ! Christine was sure to prompt 
 liim to something in opposition to my wishes " 
 
 " It would appear that you are right, sire," replied Kaunitz. "The 
 burghers exacted of the Govenor-gcneral that they should be reinstated 
 in all the rights of the Joyeusc Entree, without exception whatsoever." 
 
 Their Joyeus* Entrie is nothing but a mass of impertinent privileges, 
 which Christine herself could not desire to concede," cried .lojcph. " I 
 nm curious then to know how my brother-in-law crept out of the diffi- 
 culty. What was his answer ?" 
 
 " He asked time for reflection, sire — twelve hours. It. was eleven 
 o'clock in the morning when the burghers came to him." 
 
 " Did they go quietly home then ?" 
 
 " No, sire. They surrounded the palace, their numbers continually 
 increasing until the place was filled with armed men supported bv thou- 
 sands of insurgents, who rent the air with cries of ' Give us the Joijciise 
 Entree ! The Joyensc Entree forever !' " 
 
'i I J* ■!• '-i^i'll i H;(. :;K(.'<)NU. 
 
 '■ Kiiuultz, the aioswer oi tlie Eiector of Saxony must have betii a dis- 
 gracel'u! one, or you woald not be at such pains to describe the clamors 
 of tbo rebe]liourf riiultitude. Tell rue at once wliat occurred." 
 
 '• Sire, when the twelve houfo had expired, the burghers forced the 
 pjdace-doors, and two hundred armed men ru&hed unannounced into the 
 presence of the Duke." ■ ' 
 
 ".Wei! — well,"' cried Joseph breathing heavily. 
 
 " The Govenor was obliged to yif-ld, and to promise them that their 
 coiistitution should he reinstated !" 
 
 The Emperor ntt»ned a (-ry of fur)', and grew pale vi'ith rage. " He 
 reluhiitated the Joyevae Entree! He piesunied to do it, ! Did 1 not tell 
 you that Christine was my enemy ! , She it is who has brought this hu- 
 miliation upon me! She has dared revoke what 1 had commanded ! — 
 Oh, how those vulgar rebels must have laughed, to see that with their 
 pestiferous breath they had power to blow away my edicts like so nlany 
 card-houses!" 
 
 '' Not at all, sire," said KaUnitz with composure. " There was no 
 jesting among, the people, although they were very happy, and passed 
 the nights in shouts of joy. Brussels was illufnioated, ;aid six huudred 
 young men drew the carriage of the Elector and Electress to the theatre 
 amid cries of ' Long live the Emperor! Long live the Joyeuse Entrte P " 
 
 '' Long live the Emperor!" cried Joseph contemptuously. " They 
 treat me as savages do their wooden idols. When they are unpropi- 
 tious, they beat them ; when otherwise, they set them tip and adore 
 them again. Those over whom I reign, however, shall see that 1 am no 
 wooden idol, but a man and a monarch, who draws his sword to avenge 
 an affront from whomsoever received. Blood alone will extinguish the 
 fire of this rebellion, and it shall be quenched in the blood of the rebels. 
 
 " Many a throne has been overturned by the wild waves of human 
 blood," said Kaunitz thoughtfully, " and many a well-meaning prince 
 has been branded by history as a tyrant, because he would have forced 
 reform upon nations unprepared to receive it. The insurgent states have 
 some show of justice on their side; and if your Majesty adopts severe 
 measures towards them, they will parade themselves before the world 
 as martyrs." 
 
 " And yet i alone am the martyr." cried Joseph bitterly. " The mar-. 
 tyr of liberty and enlightenment. . O, Kaunitz how hard it is to be for- 
 ever misunderstood ! To see those whom we love led astray by the 
 wickedness of others ! 1 must crush this rebellion by force, and yet the 
 real cririiinals are the clergy." 
 
 " If you think so," said Kaunitz shrewdly, "then be lenient towards 
 the misguided people. Perhaps mildness may prevail. Belgium is 
 united to a man, and if you enforce your will, you must crush the entire 
 nation. Such extreme measures must be resorted .to, only, when all 
 other means shall have been exhausted." 
 
 " What other means do you counsel ?" asked Joseph, irritated. 
 " Wo'jlcl you have me treat with the rabble ?" 
 
" No, sire, but treat, uilii the {x^.c-i'lo. WLcu an cJitlre lirLlIv.uaro uni 
 ted, they rise to equality with their rulers, and it is no condescension 
 then on the part of the sovci oigu if he listen to their grievances and tera- 
 porise with the aggrieved. Yua have not yet, tried personal nefiotia- 
 tions with your Netherlandcrs, sire, ("ii!! adeputatinn of them lo \'icn- 
 na. We shall thereby g.iin time, the insurgents will giciw luure dispa.--- 
 sionate, and perhaps we may reason them into ac<|uiesoence. <Mce <Te!. 
 as far as an armi.siice with your rebels, aiKl the game is yours ; Tor in- 
 .surgents are poor diplonii;llsts. Let ine fidvise your Majesty to dissim- 
 ulate your anger, and s«^nd conciliatory nie«5sages." 
 
 "Well, well," .said the Kmperor with a deep sigh, " be it so. I ^}]| 
 do as you like, but 1 must f>>rever and ever \ield my will to that of oth- 
 ers. Call a deputation of tho provinces and cite the (tovernor-general 
 and hi^^ wife ;il.-o to Vienna. I will investigate as a father, before I con- 
 demn as a judge. But if this last proof of my goodness should be of no 
 avail, then I shall strike — and if blood flow in torrents — upon their heads 
 and not mine be the sin !"* 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 IHK IMPERIAL SriTOK. 
 
 A half year had parsed away. The deputation from Nethei lands had 
 visited Vienna, and had been deeply impressed with the affiibility of the 
 Emperor. They returned home, taking with them his assurance that, 
 their time-honored usages should be respected, and that Joseph himself 
 would be the guardian of their ancient rights. He merelv desired to 
 fre^ them from " certain abuses which in the lapse of time had crept in- 
 to their const'Lution." To this end he promised that an imncrial dele- 
 gation should visit BtussrIs to consult with ihe States. 
 
 The two Envoys publicly sent by the Emperor were Count Von Traut- 
 mannsdorf and General d'Alton. But to these he added a secret envov 
 in thp person of Count Dietrichstein, the. former Marshal f)f Maria The- 
 resa's household. 
 
 " 1 know that my two ambassadors will .find a wise mentor in you, 
 Count," said Joseph as Dietrichstein was taking leave of him. " I thank 
 you for sacrificing your pleasant home with its associations, to ray in- 
 terest; for no man, so well as yon, can enlighten public opinion as t<^ 
 my character and intentions."' 
 
 " Your Majesty knows that not only my comfort, but my life are at 
 
 • JofppliV, own woni* See inihr»>r TI. ? ^H. 
 
1*1) JoSKT'Il THK SECONIJ. 
 
 the disposal of my Emperor," replied llie Count. " I deserve no credit 
 (i)r this ; it comes to me as a proud inheritance from an ancestry who 
 have ever been the loyal subjects of the House of Hapsburg." 
 
 " I wish that I knew how to testify my sense of your loyalty, and to 
 prove to you that the Hapsburgers have grateful hearts," exclaimed the 
 Flmperori 
 
 " Sire," said Count Dietrichstein solemnly, " it is in your power to do 
 f^-o. If your Majesty really thinks that my lamily are deserving of it, 
 you can confer upon us a very great favor." 
 
 "Speak, then," replied Joseph eagerly. "Speak, for your wish is al- 
 ready granted. I well know that Count Dietrichstein can ask nothing 
 that I would not accord. !" 
 
 " I accept- your Majesty's kindness," said Dietrichstein, in the same 
 solemn tone. "My request is easy of fulfillment ; and will give but Ut- 
 ile trouble to my beloved Sovereign. It concerns my daughier Therese, 
 whom I shall leave behind in Vienna." 
 
 " You leave Therese?" said Joseph coloring. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty. My daughter remains under the protection of 
 her aunt." 
 
 " Ah, Therose is to be left !" cried the Emperor, and an expression of 
 happiness flitted over his features. 
 
 Count Dietrichstein saw it, and a cloud passed over his faCe. " f leave 
 her here,'' continued he, '" because the mission with which your Majesty 
 has entrused me, might possibly become dangerous. Unhappily, how- 
 ever, for young girls, there is danger everywhere ; and for this reason, I 
 scarcely deem the protection of her aunt sufficient." 
 
 While Count Dietrichstein had been speaking, Joseph had seemed un- 
 easy ; and finally he had walked to the window, where he was now look- 
 ing out in to the square. The Count was annoyed by this proceeding ; he 
 frowned and crossing the room, came directly behind the Emperor. 
 
 "Sire," said he, in a distinct voice, " I wish to marry Therese." 
 
 " With whom ?" asked Joseph without turning. 
 
 " With your Majesty's lord of the bed-chamber, Count Kinsky." 
 
 " And Therose V asked Joseph, without turning around. " Does she 
 love the Count." 
 
 " No, sire, she has never encouraged him. She affects to have a re- 
 pugnance to marriage, and has continually urged me to allow her to en- 
 ter a convent. But I will not give my consent to such a ridiculous whim. 
 Count Kinsky is a man of honor ; he loves Therose, and will make her 
 happy. TherCise is the true daughter of any house, sire ; a wish of your 
 Miijesty to her would be a law. I therefore beg of you as the greatest 
 favor you could testow, to urge her to accept Count Kinsky." 
 
 The Emperor turned hastilyaround, and his face was scarlet. "How?" 
 said he in a faltering voice. " You exact of me that I should woo your 
 daughter for Count Kinsky ?" 
 
 " It is this favor, sire, which you have so graciously promised to grant." 
 
 The Emperor made no reply. He gazed at the Count with gloomy. 
 
;-:Mfi:i<wi. 
 
 scirchinj:!; fyc^. Thp latler met his glance wilhf|\iii't rirmiip'=s. A lonj!: 
 pause ensued, and the Emperor's face chauijcd gradually until itbccaiutt 
 very pale. He sighed and seemed to awake from a reverie. 
 
 " Count Dietrichstein," said he in a trembling voice, " you have point- 
 ed out to me the means of serving you. I will do your behest, and urge 
 your daughter to be the wife of Count Kinsky." 
 
 " There spoke my n«>ble Kmperor !"' ( ried the Count, deeply moved, 
 while he pressed the hand which had been extended by Joseph, to his lips. 
 " In the name of my ancestors, 1 thank yriu, sire." 
 
 " Do not thank me, my friend," said Joseph sadly. " You have un- 
 derstood me, and I, you, — that is all. When shall 1 see your daughter?" 
 
 "Sire, I leave Vienna this evening, and 1 would gladly leave Thercse 
 an affianced bride. The marriage can take place on my return." 
 
 " Very well," said Joseph with a smothered sigh, " I will go at once. 
 Is the Countess in the city ?" 
 
 " No, sire, she is at the villa near Schonbrunn. But I will send for 
 her, and when she arrived, she shall have the honor of an interview with 
 your Majesty." ' 
 
 " No, no," said Joseph hastily ; " let her remain at the villa, and en- 
 joy one more day of maiden freedom. 1 myself will drive there to see 
 her. 1 shall be obliged to renounce the pleasure of your company thith- 
 er, for I know that you have important business today to transact with 
 Frince Kaunitz." 
 
 A distrustful look was the reply to this proposition. The Emperor 
 divined the cause and went on, " But if you cannot accompany, you can 
 follow me with Count Kinsky, that is if you really think that 1 can per- 
 suade the Countess to accept him." 
 
 " I know it, sire. Therc:se will be as docile to the wishes of your Ma- 
 jesty as her father. As 1 am ready, at your desire, to renounce the hap- 
 piness of accompanying you to my villa, so she, if you speak the word, 
 will renounce her foolish fancies, and consent to be Kinsky's wife." 
 
 " We can try," said the Emperor moodily. But he smiled as he gave 
 his hand to Count Dietrichstein, who perfectly reassured^ went olFtohis 
 alfairs of State. 
 
 When the Count had left the room, the expression of Joseph's face 
 changed at once. With a deep sigh he threw himself into an arm-chair, 
 and tor some time sat there motionless ; but when the little French clock 
 on the mantle-piece struck the hour, he started up exclaiming, " eleven 
 o'clock ! Time flies, and my word has been given — alas, it must be re- 
 deemed ! — An Emperor has no right to grieve ; but 0,|how hard it is, 
 sometimes, to perform one's duty ! — Wall — it must be : — I am pledged 
 to fulfill the motto of my escutcheon : " Viriute el exemplo.'''' 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, the Emperor was on his way to the villa, 
 which was situated in the midst of a fine park not far from the palace of 
 SchOnbrunn. Joseph drove himself, accompanied by a jockey, who stood 
 behind. The people on the road greeted their Sovereign as he passed. 
 He returned the greeting, and no one saw how pale, and wretched he 
 
>;>l.i'h lUJ. ^Lt'cM' 
 
 K)^jket3, fur he, like hiis riolher, was fond of fast diiving, und to day his 
 horse t^ped lilve the wind. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE LAST PREAM OF KOVE. 
 
 TiiERESE Von Diefrichstein v.-as alone in the little pavilion which her 
 fAt.her had bnilt expressly for her. It consisted of .a parlor and a boii- 
 d<ilr. The parlor was fitted up without magnificence, biitwi.th great ele- 
 jrance. Herein Therese was accustomed to receive her intinnate associ- 
 ates. But no one ever entered the boudoir VN'ithout an express invita- 
 tion, for it was her sanctuary and studii). Here the Countess was trans- 
 formed into an artist: there shp studied music and. painting, in both of 
 which she excelled. Her father, and her very dear friends, knew c>f her 
 great proliciency in art, but her reputation went no further, for Thert'^e 
 was as bhy as a gazelle, and as anxious to conceal her talents as many 
 women are to parade them. ^ 
 
 At her father's hotel, Therese received the distinguished guests who 
 visited there, with the stately courtesy befitting ^ high-born Countess; 
 but in her little pavilion she was the simple, and enthusiastic child of 
 Art. Her boudoir contained little besides a harp, a harpsichord and an 
 easel which stood by the arched window opening into a flower-garden. 
 Near the easel was a stnall marble table covered with palettes, brushes, 
 and crayons. When Therese retired to this boudoir, her rnaid was accus- 
 tomed to keep watch lest she should be surprised by visitors. If any 
 were announced. Therese came out of her boudoir, and carefully closing 
 the door, awaited her friends in the parlor. 
 
 To-day she sat in this boudoir, feeling so secure from visitors that she 
 had raised the portiere leading to her parlor, and had flung wide the case- 
 ment" which opeued upon the park. The sweet summer air was fanning 
 her brow as she sat at the harp, singing a sona of her own composition. 
 She had just concluded ; her little white hands had glided from the strings 
 to her lap, and her head rested against the harp, above the pillar of 
 which a golden eagle with outstretched wings seemed to be keeping 
 watch over the young girl, as though to shield her from approaching 
 misfortune. 
 
 With her head bent over her harp, she sat musing until two tears 
 which had long been gathering in her eyes, fell upon her hands. As she 
 felt them, she raised her head. Her dark blue eyes were full of sorrow, 
 and her cheeks were glowing with blushes. 
 
What n<^.t have 1 U. w.H.^ over . u.;..., ^^h. h is a. Air iVom mr. 
 as heaven .« from earth ?" said she. " [ will not repine, so iV.n^as ! am 
 f leo to drc-im of h,m wiihoi.L crime. But what if J .hould h-.s« that fi-ee- 
 dom ? What ^f my f^.thcr should ^i.h to force me into m.<irriaco ? 
 then I should take , efncr,. behind ihr f i i^^Jly portals of a convent '" ' 
 '' V^ hy take reluge in .-v convent '!'■' ^aid a'suft voice behind her 
 I her..se .spran- np x^ ith sueh ^. ijd aglt^Mion, that the liarp will* « clanf , 
 fell b|ick ap.nst, ihe wftll. Too well she knew .this musical voice-it 
 was the vo.ce which spoke to her in dreams ; and as its tones fell so sud- 
 denly upon her ear, she felt as if a holt from heaven had struck h«5r heart 
 and knew not whether she would die of ecstacy or frirrht 
 
 "Joseph !" exclaimed she. all vnconsciou* .jf the wT.rd, and sho sank 
 back nit<, her chair, not daring to raise her eyes. With one bound the 
 il-nnperor was at her side, takihg her hands, and pressing them within his 
 
 own. 
 
 Pardon me, Count^sss," said he tenderly. '' I have startled yon Ii 
 was wrong Of n)e to send away your maid, and to present myst-lf unan-^ 
 nounccd. In wy^ selfishness, / would not wait for form. an,f forgot tha'. 
 my xmt was totally unexpected. Say that you forgive me, let me read 
 my pardon m your heavenly eves." 
 
 Theruse^ slowly raised her head, and tried to speak. She; loncred to 
 say jhat she had nothing to forgive, but had not the courage to me'et lh<^ 
 glances ot iho^ eyes which were fixed ui.on her with an ""expression of 
 passionate entreaty, and seemed to be gazing into her heart, reading its 
 most cherished, most consecrated secrets. ' * - 
 
 Did he understand the language of her agitation ? " Look at nu- 
 ihercse, N^hispered he. - It is an et-ernity since we met, and now— 
 once more look at your angel-face, for I come to bid adieu to it forever " 
 Mie started, repeating his words, " bid adieir— adieu '" 
 
 T Z^^'a^^^ ''""' ^^'''"- , ^""''''^ ''■''''^^'■^ *^«« g"*-^-'^^^^^ ^he secret which 
 ] had fondly miagined was known to God. and to myself only. And yet 
 Jhercse, I have never even told yourself how passionately I love you ' 
 My eyes must have betrayed, me to others, for since that "happy day at 
 bchonbrunn when I kissed the rose which had dropped from your hair 
 you have not been seen at court. I should never have told'you this! 
 Toy best be oved but the anguish of this hour has wrung the confessiori 
 rom me. Jt wi 11 die away from your memory like the tones of a strange 
 ipelody, and be lost in the jubilant harmony of your happy married life " 
 ^ iie turned away that she might not see the tears which had gathered 
 in his eyes and were ready to fall. As for Therose, she rose to her feet 
 lor one moment, her heart stood st>ll-the next, her blood was cours! 
 mg so w.ldly through her veins that she thought he must surely hear its 
 mad throbbings m the stillness of, that little room. The Emperor turn- 
 ed again, and his face was gravfe, but calm. He had mastered his omo- 
 t.on, and ashamed of the weakness of the avowal he had made he deter- 
 mined to atone for it. He took the hand of the Countess and led her 
 to a divan, where he gently drew her down, while she obeyed, as thoucrh 
 
i:t-'i lO'^KPH rut; -iKcoNi;. 
 
 her will had sod lion ly been merged jnlo his. She was conscious of one 
 thing only.' He was there ! [le whoiie name was wriLtou upon her 
 heai'i, though she had never uttered it until that day ! 
 
 He stood before her with folded arms and contemplated her as an en- 
 thusiast might look upon the statue of a saint. 
 
 "Therese," said he after a long silence, " why did you say that you 
 wvuld go into a convent 1" 
 
 Therose grew pale and shivered, but said nothin*. Joseph, bending 
 down and looking intu her eyes, repeated his question. 
 
 " Because my liither wishes me to marry a man whom I do not love," 
 replied Therese, with a candor which yielded to the magic of his glance, 
 as the rose gives her heart's sweet perfume to the wooing of the sum- 
 mer breeze. 
 
 " But, Therese," said the Emperor, mindful of his promise, "you must 
 obey your father; It is your duty." 
 
 " No — 1 shall never marry," returned Therese eagerly. 
 
 " Marriage is the only vocation fit for a woman," replied Joseph. "The 
 wife is commanded to follow her husband." 
 
 " Yes, to follow the husband of her love," interrupted she with enthuc 
 siasm. "And O ! it must be heaven on earth to follow the beloved oue 
 through joy and sorrow, to feel with his heart, to see with his eyes, to 
 live for his love, or, if God grant such supreme happiness, to die for his 
 sake!" 
 
 '• Therese !" exclaimed Joseph passionately, as gazing upon her In- 
 spired countenance, he forgot everything except his love ! 
 
 She blushed, and her eyes sought the floor. "No," said she as if 
 communing with herself, " this blessing, 1 shall never know." 
 
 " And why not ?" cried he. " Why should one so young, so beauti- 
 ful, so gifted as you, cast away the ties of social life and pass beyond 
 the joyless portals of a convent ?" 
 
 Therese said nothing. She sat ashamed, bewildered, entranced ; and 
 in her confusion, her beauty grew tenfold greater. The Eniperor's res- 
 olutions were fast melting away. 
 
 Again he besought her in tender tones. " Tell me, my Therese,- con- 
 fide in me, fitr I swear that your happiness is dearer to me than my life." 
 He bent closer, and seized her hands. His touch was electric, for a tre- 
 mor took possession of them both, and they dared not look at one an- 
 other. Joseph recovered himself and began in low, pleading tones. 
 " Look at me, beloved, and let me read my answer in your truthful 
 eyes. Look at me, for those eyes are my light, my life, my heaven !" 
 
 Therese could not obey. Her head sank lower and lower, and deep, 
 convulsive sighs rent her lieart. The Emperor, scarcely knowing what 
 he did, knelt before her, and once more taking her willing hands, she 
 met his glance of intoxicated love, and^uaable to resist it, murmured, 
 
 " Because I love — thee." 
 
 Had he heard arjnjlit ! Was it not the trees whispering to the sum- 
 mer air? Or the birds cooing beneatli the eaves? Or had an angel 
 
EMPKI;iJK UF AUbTHIA. 1!25 
 
 borne the message from lli;it heaven which to-day was so radiant and so 
 silver-bright ! 
 
 JJe still kno.lt, and pressed her trembling hands to his lips, while his 
 faCH was lit up with a joy which Therrsc had never seen there before. 
 
 " O have I fotiiyl the last, jstar of my dark and t;olitary life !" said he 
 at last. "Are yon mine at last, shy gazelle, that so long have escaped 
 nie, bonndiiig higher and higher up the icy steeps of this cheerless world ! 
 O, 'Jhorose, why did I not lind you in the early years of life T And yet 
 I thank heaven that you are mine for these few fleeting moments, for 
 they have taken me back to the days of my youth and its beautiful illu- 
 sions ! Ah, Thcrose, from the first hour w-hen 1 beheld you advancing 
 on your father's artn to greet me, proud as an Empress, calm as a ves- 
 tal, beautiful as Aprt)dite, my heart acknowledged you as its mistress ! 
 iSincc then I have been your slave, kissing your shadow as it went be- 
 fore me, and yet not conscious of my insane passion until your father 
 saw mo with that rose — and then t knew that I loved you forever ! 
 Yes, Therosc, you are the last love of an unfortunate man, whom the 
 world calls an Emperor, but who lies at your feet, as the beggar before 
 his ideal of the glorious Madonna! Bend to roc. Madonna, and let me 
 drink my last draught of love ! I shall soon have quafied it, and then 
 — your father will be here to remind me that you are a high-bofn 
 Countess, the priceless treasure of whose love I may not possess! Kiss" 
 me, my Thercse, and consecrate my lips to holy resignation !" 
 
 And Thercse, too bewildered to resist, bent forward. Their lips met, 
 his arms were around her, and time, place, station, honor — everything 
 vanished before, the might of their love. 
 
 Suddenly they heard an exclamation — and there, at the j^oWicVe, stood 
 the father and the suitor of Thercse, their pale and angry faces turned 
 towards the lovers. 
 
 The Emperor, burning v/ith shame and fury, sprang to his feet. The- 
 rcse, with a faint cry, hid her face in her hands, and trembling with fear 
 awaited her sentence. 
 
 There was a deep silence. Each one seemed afraid to speak, for the 
 first word uttered in that room might be treason. With dark and sul- 
 len fiiCGs, the two noblemen looked at the imperial culprit, who leaning 
 against the window, with head upturned to heaven, seemed scarcely able 
 to sustain the weight of his own anguish. The stillness was insupport- 
 able, and it was his duty to break it. He glanced at the two men who, 
 immovable and frowning, awaited his explanation. 
 
 Joseph turned to Thercse, who had not yet withdrawn her hands. She 
 felt as if she could never face the world again. 
 
 " Rise, Thercse, and give me your hand," said he authoritatively. 
 
 She obeyed at once, and the Emperor, pressing tliat trembling hand 
 within his own, led her to her father. 
 
 • " Count Dietrichstein," said ho, " you reminded me to-day of the long- 
 tried loyalty of your house, and asked me, as your reward, to advise 
 your daughter'^ acceptance of the Imsbailtl you have chosen for her. I 
 
have fulfilled my promise and Thert'.'se has coiisented to oljey your com- 
 jiiands. She promises to renounce her dream of entering a convent, and 
 to become the wife of Count Kinsky. Is it not so, Thercso 1 Have I 
 not your approval in proraisins; these things to your father?" 
 
 " It is so," murmured Therrsc, turning pale as death. 
 
 '• And now, Count Dietrichstein," continued Joseph, " I will allow 
 you to postpone your mission to Brussels, so that before you leave Vi- 
 enna, you inay M'itness the nuptials of your daughter. In one week the 
 juarringe will be solemnized in the imperial chapel. Count Kinsky, I 
 dvlivur vour bride into your hands. Farewell ! 1 shall meet you in the 
 ch.'ipel."' 
 
 He bowed and hurried away. He heard the cry which broke from the 
 lips of There^e, although he did uot turn his head when her father's 
 voice called loudly fOr help. But seeing that the Countesses' maid was 
 Will king in t!ie park, he overtook her, sa_y ing hastily, " Go quickly to the 
 pavilion ; the Countess Therese has fainted." 
 
 Then he hastened away, not keeping the walks, but tramping heed-, 
 iessly over the flowers, and dashing past the lilacs and laburnums, think- 
 ing of that fearful day when Adam was driven from Paradise, and won- 
 dering whether the agony of the first man who sinned had been greater 
 than his to day, when the sun was setting upon the last dream of loye, 
 which he wo.u!d ever have in this world ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE TURKISH WAR. 
 
 The bolt had fallen. Russia had declared war against Turkey. On 
 the return of the Emperor from his unfortunate pilgrimage to Count 
 Dietrichstein's villa, three couriers awaited him, from Petersburg, Con- 
 stantinople and Berlin. Besides various dispatches from Count Cobenzl, 
 the courier from Petersburg brought an autographic letter from the Em- 
 press. Catharine reminded the Emperor of the promise which he had 
 made in St. Petersburg and renewed at Cherson, and announced that the 
 hour had arrived for its fulfillment. The enmity so long smothered un- 
 der the ashes of a simulated peace, had kindled and broken out into the 
 flames of open war. 
 
 The Porte himself had broken 1;he peace. On 'account of some arbi- 
 trary act of the Russian Ambassador, he had seized and confined him in 
 the Seven Towers. Russia had demanded his release and satisfaction 
 fur the insult. The Sultan had rcpUed by demanding the restoration of 
 
t;MPI:;K<JK UK Al/SIKJA. T^'/ 
 
 the Crimea a»)0 ihe wilhdruwal uf the Russian fleet fVoni the Black Sea. 
 The disputants had called in the Austrian internuncio, but all diplomacy 
 v;is vain. Indeed neither Kussia, Turkey, nor Austria, had placed any 
 relianco upon the ne-iotiatioris tor peace, for while they were pending, 
 tlio three powers \fere all assiduously preparing for war. In the. spring 
 of n>-<, the Austrian Intrmuncio declined any furtlipr attenipt at me- 
 diation, and hostilities between Russia and Turkey were renewed, 
 
 .loi^eph rpoeived the tidings with an outburst of joy. They lifted a 
 lojid of grief from his heart, fur war, lo him, was balsam for every 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Now I'shall be cured of this Jast woupd !" exclaimed he, as he paced 
 his cabinet, the dispatches in his hand. " God is niercilul — He has senc 
 the remedy, and I shall feel once more like a sovereign and a man! 
 How I long to hear the bullets hiss and the battle rage ! There are no 
 myrtles for me on earth ; perchance I may yet be permitted to gather 
 its laurels. Welcome, O, war ! Welcome the march, the camp, and 
 the balile-field '.': 
 
 He rang and commanded the presence of Field marshal Lacy. Then 
 he read his dispatches again, from lime to time glancing impatiently at 
 the door. Finally it opened and a page announced the Field-marshal. 
 Joseph came hurriedly forward and grasped the hands of his long tried 
 friend. . 
 
 " Lacy," cried he, " from this day you sh.-Ul be better pleased than 
 you have been with me of late. 1 have seen your reproving looks — 
 nay do not deny it — for they have been as significant as words; and if 
 1 made no answer, it was perhaps because I was guilty, and had nothing 
 to say. You have sighed over my dejection for months past, dea^ 
 friend, but it has vanished with thp tidings I have just received. I am 
 ready to rush out into the storm, bold and defiant as Ajax !" 
 
 " O how it rejoices my heart to hear such words," replied Lacy, pres- 
 sing Joseph's hand. " I recognise my hero, my Emperor again, and 
 victory is throned upon his noble brow ! With those flashing eyes and 
 that triumphant bearing, you will inspire your Austriaus with such en- 
 thusiasm, that every man of them will follow whithersoever his com- 
 mander leads !" 
 
 "Ah," cried Joseph joyfully, "you have guessed then why I request- 
 ed your presence here \ Yes, Lacy, War is not only welcome to you 
 and to me, but I know that it will also rejoice the hearts of the Austrian 
 artny. And now, I invite you to accompany me on my campaign 
 against the Turks, and I give you chief command of my armies ; for 
 your valor and patriotism entitle you to the distinction." 
 
 "Your Majesty knows that my life is ctmsccrated to your service," 
 replied Lacy with strong emotion. '• You know with what pride I would 
 fight at your side, secure that victory must always perch upon the ban- 
 ners of my gallant Emperor." 
 
 " And you rejoice, do you not, Lacv, that our fee is to be the Mos- 
 lem ?" 
 
128 JOSEfK THE SECON0. 
 
 Lacy was silent for awhile. " I should rejoice from my soul,"' replied 
 he with some hesitation, "if Austria were fighting her own battles." 
 
 " Our ally is distasteful to you?" asked Joseph laughing, "You 
 have not yet learned to love Russia?" 
 
 " I have no riglit to pass judgment upon those whom your Majesty 
 has deemed worthy of your alliance, sire." 
 
 " No evasions, Lacy. You are pledged to truth when you enter these 
 palace-walls." 
 
 "Well, sire, if we are in the Palace of Truth, I must confess to a pre- 
 judice against. Russia and Russia's Empress. Catharine calls for your 
 Majesty's assistance, not to further the cause of justice or of right, but 
 to aid her in making new conquests." 
 
 "I shall not permit her to make any new conquests," cried Joseph. 
 "She may tight out her quarrel with Turkey, and so far, 1 shall keep 
 my promise and sustain her. But I shall lend my sanction to none of 
 her ambitious schemes. 1 suffered the Porte to cede Tauris to Catha- 
 rine, because this cession was of inestimable advantage to me. It pro- 
 tected my boundaries from the Turk himself, and then it produced dis- 
 sension between the Courts of St. Petersburg and Berlin, and so depriv- 
 ed the latter of her powerful ally,* But having permitted Russia to 
 take possession of the Crimea, the aspect of afliiirs is changed. I never 
 shall suffer the Russians to establish themselves in Constantinople. The 
 Turban, I conceive to be a safer neighbor for Austria than the hat.* ' At 
 this present time, Russia offers me the opportunity of retaking Belgrade 
 and avenging the humiliation sustained by my father at the hands of the 
 Porte. For two hundred years these barbarians of the east have been 
 guilty of bad faith towards my ancestors, and the time has arrived when, 
 as the avenger of all mankind, I shall deliver Europe from the Infide), 
 and the world from a race who for centuries has been the scourge of 
 every Christian nation."f 
 
 "And in this glorious struggle of Christianity and civilization against 
 Jslainism and barbarism, I shall be at my Emperor's side and witness 
 his triumph ! This is a privilege which the last drop of my blood would 
 be inadequate to buy !" 
 
 The Emperor again gave his hand. " I knew that you would be as 
 glad to follow me as a war-horse • to follow the trumpet's call. This 
 time we shall have no child's play ; — it shall be war, grim, bloody war ! 
 — And now to work. In one hour, the courier must depart, who bears 
 my manifesto to the Porte. No, Lacy," continued the Emperor, as 
 Lacy prepared to leave, "do not go. As commander-inchie^ you 
 should be thoroughly acquainted with the premises of our affair with 
 Turkey and you must hear both the manifestoes which I am about to 
 dictate. The first of course declares war against the Porte. The sec- 
 ond is perhaps nothing more than a letter to the successor of the great 
 Frederic. His Majesty of Prussia, foreseeing in his extreme wisdom, 
 
 •The Emperor's own •words. ■ !?cn Oro9a-Hofflns;er III, p 4^8-9. 
 tTLe Krnperor own words. See Letters of Joseph 3'l. pa,':;c 1G5. 
 
li atu\>i\ ur ALOi jtj..^. 
 
 that I am likely to declare war against Turkey, is su ooiidescendiug as 
 to oiror hinisell' as mediator between us ! Yuu shall hoar my answer 
 and tell me what you think of it." 
 
 Lacy bowed, and the Emperor opening the door leading to the chan- 
 cery, beckoned to his private Secretary. He entered, took his seat and 
 held his pen ready to indite '.vhat Jo.-Jcpli should dictate. Lacy retired 
 to the embrasure of a window, and with his arnis crossed stood" partlv 
 hidden by the heavy crimson velvet curtains, his eyes li.ved upon hfs 
 idoli-^ed Sovereign. 
 
 Joseph went restlessly to and fro, and dictated his manifesto to the 
 Porte. Referring to his alliance with Russia and the flvilure of his at- 
 tempts at intervention, he went on to say that as the sincere friend and 
 iiWy of the Empress, he was compelled to fulfill his obligations, and re- 
 luctantly to take part in the war which Catharine had declared against 
 Turkey/- 
 
 " Now," said the Emperor, " take another sheet and write ' To His 
 Majesty the King of Prussia.'" 
 
 '• My royal brother — 
 
 "■It is with feelings of profound regret that 1 find nivself forced to de- 
 cline your Majesty's most friendly offers of mediation with Turkey. 1 am 
 obliged to unsheathe my sword, and 1 shall not return it to its scabbard 
 until it, shall have won full reparation for all the wrongs sustained bv 
 my forefathers at the hands of the Porte. Your Majesty is a monarch 
 and as such, you are acquainted with the rights of kings. And is this 
 undertakin;:, "f mine against Turkey anything more than an attempt to 
 resume the lights of which my throne has been dispossessed? 
 
 "The Turks (and perhaps not they alone) have a mtixim that what- 
 ever they lose in adverse times, they must win back when opportunity 
 is favorable. It is by such means that the House of Hohenzolleru at- 
 tained its present state of prosperity. Albert of Brandenburg wrested 
 the duchy of Prussia from its Order, and his successors .at the peace of 
 Oliva maintained their right to the sovereignty of that country. 
 
 " Your ^Majesty's deceased uncle, in like manner, wrested Silesia from 
 my mother at a time when, surrounded by enemies, her only defences 
 ■were her own true greatness and the loyalty of her subjects. 
 
 " What equivalent for her lost possessions has Austria received at the 
 hands of those European Courts who have blown so many blasts on the 
 balance of power ? ^ 
 
 " My forefathers were forced at diflereut times to yield up Spain, Na- 
 ples, Sicily, Belgrade, the Principality of Silesia, Parma, Piacenza, Guas- 
 talla, Tortonn and a portion of Lombardy. What has Austria taken in. 
 return for these heavy losses ? 
 
 " A porti(>n of the Kingdom of Poland I And one o( less value than 
 that assigned to Russia. 
 
 " I hope that you will no t dispute the justice of my resolve to make 
 • Habner 2, yagc 468. 
 
 r 
 
l.iV ' JoeKIMi IHESECONP. 
 
 WHf upon the Porte, and that you will not hold me less a fripud because 
 1 may do some injury to the Ottoman. Your Majesty may. rest assured 
 that tirider similar circumstauces, I should apply the same principles to 
 myself, were 1 poi:}sessed of any o^ your territory. 
 
 " I must also announce to you, that for some years to conie, diplo- 
 macy must give place to war. 
 
 "Hoping for a continuation of your Majesty's friendship, I am with 
 highest esteem, your friend and brother. JosEra."* 
 
 This letter concluded, the Emperor dismissed his Secretary and threw 
 himself into an arm-chair: 
 
 " Well, Lacy," said he, "are you pleased with my letter? Havel 
 convinced the King that it is my duty to declare war against the Mos- 
 Jem f ' 
 
 '■ Sire," said Lacy, approaching, " 1 thank you from my heart for the 
 privilege of hearing tTiat letter. 1 know not which to admire most, your 
 ALijcsty's admirable knowledge of the history of your House, or the 
 quiet sharpness with which you have made your statements. But this 
 I know, that had you forbidden me to accompany you, 1 should have 
 been for the first time in my life, rebellious ^ for if 1 had not been al- 
 lowed to fight as an officer, 1 should have done so as a private." 
 
 " There spoke my Lacy, my own gallant Austrian !" exclaimed Jo- 
 seph. " To work, then, to work! Promulgate your orders and set 
 •your men in motion.- In two days we n>ust have two hundred thousand 
 men on our frontiers. We must draw a gigantic cordon from the Dnies- 
 ter to yie Adriatic. The main body, however, must go forward toSem- 
 lin and Futak. We two follow the main arnjy, and day after to-mor- 
 row Vife must set out, and no," said the Emperor interrupting him- 
 self, while all the light died out from his countenance. " No — I cannot , 
 set out for a week yet. I must first bid adieu to the last tie that binds 
 my heart (as a man) to this life ! That tie riven, I live as an Emperor 
 and a warrior. Once in camp, J shall, Heaven be praised ! forget all 
 things else, and be myself again !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 MARRIAGE AKD SEPAKATION. 
 
 The eight long, weary days had gone by, the preparations tor war 
 were complete, and the Emperor was ready to join his .army. He bad 
 
 * Letters of -Joseph II. page 121, aud the following. 
 
wc>il<e(i day and night, refusing to rest, and answeiingall remonstrances 
 ■with a sad smile. 
 
 " 1 was not< born a Sovereign to devnte my lite to my own comfort," 
 .said he, "bnt to consecrate it to my empire. Whenever I become too fee- 
 ble to do rny duty, I will ask for a pcusioi), and retire to a convetil, like 
 Charles the Fifth. 1 have no Uiste. however, for the vocation, sincerely 
 hoping to die as I have lived — an Einperor." 
 
 "But, aire," said the imperial physician Von Quarin, "your first duty- 
 is to preserve your life for Austria's sake. You have a hot fever, and 
 your eyes and cheeks are hollow." . 
 
 "Give me a cool drink, doctor, perchance it may refresh my burning 
 heart," said Joseph, with sad irony. 
 
 "Cool drinks will do no good unless your Msjesty^ consents to take 
 some rest. Sleep is the sovereign remedy of which you are in need, 
 sire." ' , ' 
 
 "I do not wish to sleep." replied Joseph, gloomily. "Sleep brings 
 happy dreams, and 1 hate them because of their falsehood ! Who would 
 dream of bliss to wake and lind it all a lie!" 
 
 "Your valet told me that you did not lie down last night." 
 
 " My valot is a chatterbox and knows not what hi?, says." 
 
 " But, your Majesty, I know that you have not been to bed !" 
 
 "Then 1 slept in an arm-chair ! Rut no, 1 will not deny it. 1 sat up 
 all night, Quarin, for I had an important duty to perform before leaving 
 Vienna. 1 was making my will." 
 
 " Your will !" repeated Von Quarin. " Surely your Majesty docs not 
 fear-^^ " 
 
 " No, I fear nothing — certainly not death." returned the Emperor, 
 "It must be sweet to die and part from the disappointments of life; for 
 man either goes to eternal sleep, or wakes forever to eternal happiness ! 
 I am not afraid of death, but I must put my house in order, for bullets 
 respect no man, and they h.ive never yet been taught that an Emperor 
 is not to be approached without ceremony. One might strike mc on 
 the head and send me to my eternal rest. Why what a doleful face 
 you wear, Quarin ! U Emperexir est mort ! Vive V Empereur ! 1 shall 
 bequeath to you a noble young Emperor and a beautiful and charming 
 Empress. Is that not better than a surly old fellow like myself? 
 Francis is my pride, and his sweet Elizabeth is like a daughter to 
 mc. 1 must then make my will, and provide for my children. Now 
 Doctor, have you forgiven me for sitting up all night?" t 
 
 " 1 have nothing to forgive, sire, but i implore you grant me one re- 
 quest." 
 
 "Yon wish to dose me with medicine? I see it in yOur face ; you 
 carry an apothecary's shop in your eyes just now." 
 
 " No, sire, I wish to ask permission to follow you as your Surgeon, 
 that if anything should happen, I may be there." 
 
 " No, Quarin, you must not follow mc. 1 cannot be guilty of th© 
 egotism which would monopoli.c your valuable iiervices, A soldier in 
 
i;i'J JOSKPH TEIE SECOXU. 
 
 the field has no right to be sick, lest he be suspected of cowardice ; and 
 as for casualities — why if a ball should strike me, there are plenty of 
 army surgeons, who will dress my wounds as they dress those of my 
 men. Remain at home then, my friend, and do better service by far 
 than you could render me on the battle-field. Farewell, now. In two 
 hours I leave, but before that time. I have some important business oa 
 hand. First, I must go with my will to Prince Kaunitz.'' 
 
 " Did your Majesty hear ijiat he had almost struck the Countess Clary, 
 and had banished her from his presence for a week, because she had pro- 
 nounced the word ' testament' in his hearing I'-' 
 
 " Yes, I was told of it, and I shall take good -care not to bring down 
 the vials of his wrath upon my head," said Joseph laughing. '■'• I hhall 
 not pronounce the word ' testament,' I shall speak of ray treaty of peace 
 with life, and u^e every precaution to save, his Highness's feelings. 
 Strange mystery of life !" continued the Emperor musing, " forever 
 changing, shape, and- hue, like the nimble figures of a Kaleidoscope! — • 
 "Well — t must use stratageni in this matter of the ' testaaicnt,' for Kau- 
 nitz must assume the Regency of the empire, and then — then — I n>ust 
 attend a wedding. Afier that the battle-field ! Adieu, Quariu, if we 
 meet no more on earth, I hope that we shall meet above." 
 
 One hour later, the Emperor returned from the hotel of his prime 
 Minister, and entered the imperial chapel. He was in full dress, decked 
 with all his orders. It was only on state occasions that Joseph appear- 
 ed in his magnificent uniforms : he bad not worn it since the marriage of 
 . his nephew to the Princess Elizabeth of Wiirtemburg. But his face wore 
 another, and a sadder expression than it had done on that day of rejoic- 
 ing. He was very pale, and when he perceived the bri^e, he leaned for 
 one moment against a friendly pillar that saved him from reeling. This 
 weakness, however, lasted but a moment, and he walked firmly up to the 
 altar, where the bridal party stood awaiting the imperial entrance. 
 
 The Em.peror approached Count Dietrichstein, and greeted him cordi-, 
 ally ; then turning to Count Kinsky he extended his band. The bride- 
 groom did not appear to see this, for he cast down his eyes, and made a 
 deep inclination, while Joseph with a sad smile withdrew his hand. 
 
 He had not dared to look upon the trembling bride, who seated on a 
 chair, and surrounded by her attendants, had just recovered from a 
 .swoon. Her aunt, the Countess Dietriciistein, explained that from The- 
 rcse's childhood, she had never been able to overcome her terror of light-' 
 ning, and certainly, if this was w, she had every reason for terror now. 
 The whole sky was darkened by one dense pall of heavy clouds ; the 
 stained windows of the chapel were fiery with flash after flash of angry 
 lightning, whUe fierce above their heads the rolling thunder boomed 
 aioHg the heavens, and then died away in low mutterings that made the 
 earth tremble. 
 
 There was no time to await the passing away of the storm, for the 
 guests at that hurried bridal were impatient to depart. The carriages 
 of the Emperor and of Count Dlctrichsteia were without, and neither 
 
cr.uld irttry long in Vionnii. Ai. iho aitar s^tood TritT-'-^e's unde, dninl 
 Lfopold^^'ii Thuti, bishop cf Passau, and jnovind him was grouped a 
 s<ia(f!y j|^»^<'f prelates . 'Hill priests. Count; Di''rriclisf,i'in wliispcn^ in 
 his daiighBP* ear, b!ie losc from her beut, but her liglit figure stayed 
 to and tro/Tike a slender tree before the advancing; storm, and her love- 
 ly faeo was pale as that of a statue just, leaviug tlie hand of the sculptor. 
 Thert-se's fear of lightning was no fiction, and she almost sank to the 
 tloor as a livid fla«h glanced across the form of the Emperor, and en- 
 veloped him in a sheet of living flame. Unheeding it, he moved on to- 
 wards the unhappy girl, atid witht)ut a word or a look extended his 
 hand. Therose trembling, gave hifft ners, aod started when she felt the 
 burning clasp that closed upon he"- icy fiusers. The Emperor led nor tu 
 the altar ; behind, came the aunt, and liithcr of the bride, and between 
 them. Count Kinsky. whose jt^alous py^ watched every movement of 
 those hands Mhich joined together for tlip space of a moment, were about 
 to be sundered forever. '-M^Mt 
 
 Nothing,, however, was to be seen. ^Ii3|Emperrw's eyes were fixed 
 upon the altar, those of Thercse were cast ^wn. Neither saw the other. 
 Only the burning pressnic of one hand, and the clammy coldness of the 
 other, revealed to both l,ho extent of the sacrifice they were making to 
 th<p. Moloch of the world's opinion. 
 
 Now they stood before the altar. The Emperor gave the bride Into 
 the hands of the bridegroom, and stepped aside to take his place. 
 
 The ceremony over, the bishop pronounced the blessing, and all pre- 
 se»t kuelt to receive it. Joseph and Thercse were side by side. "NVith 
 A sigh, they raised their eyes to heaven, each praying f )r the other — The 
 Emperor's eyes were dim with tears, but he dashedLthem away, and ris- 
 ing from his knees prepared to congratulate the brine. 
 
 A peal of thunder drowned the few words which he murmured. But 
 her heart caught their meaning, and she whispered in return. 
 
 " \es, in heaven." 
 
 Then he dropped her hand, and addressed himself to the bridegroom. 
 " Count Kinsky," said he authoritatively, " I wish tu speak with you in 
 private."' The Count, with a scowl, followed his Soveieign to the nave 
 of the chapel, where, at a distance from the bridal party, they were in no 
 danger of being overheard. 
 
 " Count," said the Emperor gravely, " you love the Countess Therose?" 
 Count Kinsky was silent for a while; then suddenly he replied in sharp, 
 <;utting accents,'- 1 Jiave loved her." 
 
 The Emperor repeated his words. " You have loved her ! Do you 
 then love h<;r no longer?" 
 
 "No — I love her no longer." 
 
 " When did you cease to love her V 
 
 " On this day week, your Majesty," said the Count defiantly. 
 
 Joseph would not seem to observe the look which accompanied these 
 ■words. His voice was unchanged as he replied, " Count, although y«u feel 
 resentful tov?ards me, you believe me to be a man of honor, do you not '<" 
 
I :'.4 JOSEPR THE SECOND, 
 
 *' 1 do. sire !' 
 
 " Then 1 swear to yon by all that is sacred to me as man, and Sover- 
 eign, that Theiose is as pure in the sight of heaven as its* basMhtest an- 
 gle. I svvear to you that she is as worthy as ever she wasjf^be loved 
 and esteemed by her husband, as his wife, and the future mother of his 
 children. 
 
 "Your Majesty must have formed an intimate acquaintance with the 
 Countess, to be able to answer for her purity of heart," returned Kinsley 
 coldly. 
 
 Joseph looked up, pained. " Ah I" said he, "you are implacable! 
 But you believe me, do you not ?"?i 
 
 The Count inclined his head. •' I dare not doubt my Sovereign's 
 word." 
 
 '• Then you will love Thercgi^ as she deserves to be loved ?^' 
 
 " Love is not to be controriea— not even by an Emperor. My love 
 and hiite arc not to be drawn olTand on, like a glove !" 
 
 " Hate !" cried the Emperor, shocked. " Great God, it cannot be pos- 
 sible that you hate the woman whom yon have voluntarily chosen, and 
 whom even now, before yonder altar, you- have sworn to love ! Why- 
 then did you marry her ?" 
 
 " Sire, you commanded me to do so, just one week ago, and as a loy- 
 al subject I was compelled to obey. You gave me no alternative, and 
 ] married her." 
 
 " She will inake you happy," replied Joseph, in a falterino; voice. " I 
 beseech of you be gentle with her. Her heart is not at ease, and ^e 
 needs all your tenderness to restore her to happiness." 
 
 Count Kinsky bowed frigidly. " Will your Majesty allow me to ask 
 a favor of you '?" salll he. 
 
 " It will gratify me to do anything for you," replied Joseph, his eyes 
 lighting up with pleasure. 
 
 • "Then I ask of your Majesty, on your honor, to answer the question 
 I am about to ask." 
 
 " On my honor. Count, 1 will answer it," said Joseph smiling. 
 
 " What did your Majesty say to the Countess just now, and what was 
 her reply !" 
 
 The* Emperor was thunderstruck. He could not articulate a word. 
 
 " Your Majesty was so obliging as to promise an answer." 
 
 " Yes, Count — yes," faltered the Emperor. " You shall be satisfied. 
 I said, ' Farewell, Therese, f shall claim thee in heaven.' " 
 
 " Your Majesty was so condescending as to address my wife in this 
 f-xmiliar strain ! And her reply was " 
 
 " Only these words ? Yes, in heaven ?" 
 
 " I thank your Majesty." 
 
 They botjh returned to the company. Joseph cast one last look at 
 Therese, who pale and rigid was receiving the congratulations of his un- 
 suspecting friends, and then he addressed her lather. 
 
 " VVell, Count, I belieye that our furlough has expired, and we must 
 
EMl'EKnK OF ALSTRiA 1 j.; 
 
 I 
 
 roimn to our commands. Fiirevvell, and may we both return vlcforions 
 to Vienna." ' 
 
 A hiilt'an hour later, an imperial calcdie conveyed him to the array, 
 and to Ficld-inarshal Lacy, who had proceded hiin there by several 
 days. 
 
 At the same moment, the travelb'nir-ertrriage of Count Kinsky drove 
 up, to his- hotel. Count Dietrichstein, betore setting cniv,, hud accompa- 
 nied his daughter to her husband's re.sideuc »;, and had bidden her adieu. 
 Ther«';se was now ah>ne. She shuddered :is she heard Count Kinsky's 
 stpp, and wished from her soul that death would release her from the 
 hateful tie which bound them together,- r- 
 
 The door upened, and he appearedi. She uttered a faint cry, and 
 pressed her hands to her throbbing heart. Count Kinsky answered the 
 cry with a laugh of scorn. 
 
 "Are you afraid ?" said he, striding towards her, and contemplating 
 her with a face indicative of tsmothered passion. 
 
 Therese raised her eyes and looked fearlessly into his eyes. " No, 
 Count Kinskv, 1 am not afraid, nor would 1 fear if you had come to 
 kill me." 
 
 The Count laughed aloud. " Ah !'• cried he in a harsh, grating voice, 
 "you think that 1 might do like Prince' Bragation and th<; Duke of Orl- 
 eans who strangled their young wives because they suspected them of 
 infidelity ! My dear madam, these romantic horrors belong to a bygone 
 century. In th'rs sober and prosaic age, a nobleman avenges his woun- 
 ded honor not by murder but. by contempt. I have only intruded my- 
 self to ask if you are ready to start." 
 
 " 1 am ready," replied Therose, wearily. 
 
 "Then allow me to accompany you to the carriage." 
 
 " My father having given you my hand, I have no right to refuse 
 your escort." 
 
 " Before wc go, be so condescending as to say which one of my es- 
 tates you prefer for a residence." 
 
 "Select my residence yourself. Count; you know that )■ have never 
 visited your estates." 
 
 "Then I choose for you my castle in Hungary close by the Turkish 
 frontier, for there you will have the latest news from the' arn^y and its 
 comirianders." > 
 
 Therose made no reply to this sarcasm. She bent her bead and said, 
 " I am ready to submit myself to your decision in all things." 
 
 " I hop.e that the Countess Therrse will not long have to live in sub- 
 jection to her husband," continued he, " and that the journey which 1 am 
 about to undertake will result happily for us both. You go to Hungary 
 — I to Rome. I go to implore of the Pope a divorce." 
 
 " You are going to sue for a divorce f asked Therusc; "Perhaps 
 you can spare yourself the troublfi of a journey to Jiome, Count, for I 
 have already anticipated your wishes. My petition to his Holiness went 
 several dnv^ ajro. and " ' 
 
.f([ rHK -KCUM) 
 
 '• His Majesty, the Emperor, wrts so obliging as to send it by an im- 
 perial courier — i.; that what you were, ;^bout to say ?" 
 
 Therese continued as though she had not heard the interruption. 
 " My applicatioa vvent through Mon.si,rj;rjorc Garaiiipi, the papal nuncio, 
 who promised to use his influence in Uiy behalf." 
 
 "•' What an edifying coup'e '." exclaimed Kinsky, with another scorn- 
 ful laugh. '• How cohgeuial ! — The same wishes, and unconsciously the 
 very same deeds ! — What a pity we must part so soon, for 1 leave you 
 to-day; nor shall I have the pk-.asure <>f seeing you again, until I bring 
 you a decree of divorce." 
 
 "You will be most welcome, '^-cfurned Therrse, calmly. "Now be 
 so good as to escort roe to my caniuge." 
 
 " Pray give me vour arm, I have butone more observation to make. 
 I hope that you will now be able to prove substantially to the Emperor 
 that it was quite useless for him to shelter himself behind the words, ' I 
 shall claim thee in heaven !' But if I may presume so far, 1 request 
 that you will defer these demonstrations until I return from Rome with 
 r)\y letters of divorce." 
 
 Therese had no strength to retort. She hunsi down her head, and 
 large scalding tears fell from her eyes. Count Kinsky placed her in ihw 
 carriage, clo?ed the door, and then returned to his own travelling-charioc 
 which was a fetv paces behind. The two equipages thundered down the 
 streets together, but at the gates they parted, the one taking the road 
 lor Hungary, the oth<^r for Jiome.* 
 
 Cri AFTER XXXI V 
 
 THE LAST DREAM OF Cf-ORY, 
 
 Destiny was testing the fortitude of the Emperor with unrelenting 
 harshness. It would seem that inflexible Fate was standing by, while 
 one by one, this man's hopes of fame, honor* and love were wrested 
 away, that the world might see and know how much of bitterness and 
 disappointment it is in the power of one human heart to endure. 
 
 • This ■wh^le story is liistnrioal The "heavenly Therese," as sh« is called by TTormayr, was 
 really married and thus abandoned by her husband, who persisted in believinir thKtthe connection 
 between herpelf and the Emperor was not guiltless. But the Cuiint met with no auccess in the mat- 
 ter of the divorce The Pope refused it. purbap* because h^ wislied to prove to rebellious Austria 
 the power of the Church. Tears passed by before the decree was obtained. Finally Therese de- 
 posed that she was married under e impulsion, and ih.it the sifirni had so terrified her that she had 
 been almost insensible during the ceremony 80 much so thar. Bishop Leopold Von Thun also 
 deposed that he hud not heard her assent The«e declarations prov-ng th<> marriage to have been 
 invalid, the divorce was ffr"nted. After the death of Joseph, Therese married Count M.-ix Meer- 
 voldt, the samp who in 179T concluded the peace of CampoFormeo with Napoleon — SoHormayr 
 The Kmperor Fran? and Metternicli. A frngment Page 180. 
 
In N e til ei lands und in Flungary lie was ihroafoned with rebellion. 
 *The Magyar*! c>"pecially ii'sented th«; violati^'n of th(jir constitutional 
 rights; in Tyrol, too, the people were disatlpcitd ; and Rome had n«t 
 yet pardoned him the many indignities .she had endured at his hands. 
 'ITjits very war, which he had welcomed as a cure for his domestic sor- 
 rows, WHS yielding him naught but hunoyanoe and misery. , 
 
 Yes, JJifistiny had decreed that nothing which he" undertook should 
 prosper. His army which was encamped in the damp marshes that lie 
 between the Danube and Save, was atlaclced by a malarious fever more 
 destructive by far than the bloodiest strufrgle tbat ever reddened the 
 field of battle. The hospitals were crowded with the sick and dyini:, 
 and the enfeebled soldiers, who dragged themselves about their camps, 
 wore sullen and discontented faces ; a spirit of insubordination was 1)6- 
 ginning to manifest itself nmong the tioops, aiid the very men who 
 would have rushed to the cannon's wouth, grew cowardly at the approach 
 of the invisible foe who stole away their lives, by the gradual and insidious 
 poison of disease. The songs and jests of the bivouac were hushed, the 
 white tents were mournful as sepulchres, and the men lost all cotiddence 
 in fcheir leaders. They now accused the Emperor and Lacy of incapaci- 
 ty, and declared that they must either be disbanded or led against the 
 enemy. 
 
 This wafi precisely what Joseph had been longing to do, but he was 
 coiftpellod to await the advance of the Russians, with whom it had been 
 arranged that the Austrians were to make a junction before they rnarch- 
 ched into Turkey. The Russians, howe\er, had never joined the Em- 
 peror ; for soJiie misunderstanding with Sweden had compelled the Czar- 
 ina to defend her northern frontier, and so she had as yet been unable 
 to assemble an army of sufiicient strength to march against Turkey, 
 .loseph then was condemned to the very same inaction which had s() 
 chafed his spirit in Bavaria, for his own army of itself was not numer- 
 ous enough to attack the enemy. He could not make a move without 
 Russia. Russia tarried, and the fever in his camp grew every day more 
 Ifital. 
 
 Instead of advancing, the heartsick Emperor w^as forced to retreat. 
 His artillery was withdrawn to I'eterwardein, and the siege of Belgrade 
 entirely relinquished. Disease and death followed the Austrians to their 
 new encampment, and louder grew the mutterings of the men, and more 
 bitter their denunciations of the Emperor. 
 
 They little knew that while they were assailed by physical infirmities, 
 their hapless chieftain was sick both in body and mind. He shared all 
 their hardships, and \vatch<'d them with Tnost unremitting solicitude. 
 He erected camp hospitals, atid furnished the sick with wine and delica- 
 cies which he ordered from Vienna for their use. All military etiquette 
 was suspended ; even the approach of the Emperor for the time being 
 was to be ignored. Those who were lying down were to remain lying, 
 those who were sitting were to keep their seats. 
 
 Meanwhile Joseph walked daily through the hospitals, bestowing care 
 
I'.j^ jriSKTH rilK -KCONM). 
 
 and kindneF;?! \ipnn all, and no man there reraarUpJ that the deadly ma- 
 ];iria had ad'ected hun in an equal de<5ree with his troops. Heat, hard-^ 
 ships and disappointment had done their work as eflectually upon the 
 oomn^ander-in-chief as upon the common soldier; but no one suspected, 
 that fever was consuming his life, for by day. Joseph was the Providence 
 of his army, and by night, while his.mcti were sleeping, he was attend- 
 ing to the affiiirs of his vast empire. He worked as assiduousiy in camp 
 as he had. ever done ut home in his palace. Every important measure 
 of the Regency was i^ubmitted to him for approval; the heads of the. 
 several departments of st'ite were required to send him their reports; 
 and n);iny a night, surrounded by heaps of dispatches, he sat at his little 
 table, in the swampy woods, whose noxious atmosphere was fitter for 
 the snakes that infested them than for human beings of whatever condi- 
 tion in life.* 
 
 One little ray of light relieved the darkness of this gloomy period. 
 This was the taking of the fortress of Sabacz where Joseph led the assault 
 in person. Three cannoniers were shot by his side, and their blood he- 
 spattered his face and dress. But in the midst of danger he remained 
 perfectly composed, and for many a day, his countenance had not beam- 
 ed with an e.xpression of sych animated delight. This success, however, 
 was no more than a lightening flash relieving the darkness of a tempest- 
 uous night; The fortress won, the Austrians went baok to their raiser- 
 able encampment in the sickly morasses of Siebenbiirgen. ;-. 
 
 Suddenly the stagnant quiet was broken by the announcement that 
 the Turks had crossed the Danube. This aroused the army from their 
 sullen stupor, and Joseph, as if freed from an incubus, joyfully prepared 
 himself for action. The trumpet's shrill call was heard in the camp, and 
 the army commenced their march. They had advanced but a few miles 
 when they were met by several panic-stricken regiments, who announced 
 that the Austrian lines had been broken in two places, that General Pa- 
 pilla had been forced to retreat, and that the victorious Turks were pour- 
 ing their vast hordes into Plungary. 
 
 Like wildfire the tidings spread through the army, and they, too, be- 
 gan their retreat, farther and yet fiirther back; for ever as they moved 
 they were lighted on their way by the burning villages and towns that 
 were the tokens of a barbarous enemy's approach. The homeless fugi- 
 tives, too, rent the air with their cries, and clamored for protection 
 against the cruel Infidel. — No protection could they find, for the Aus- 
 trians were too few in number to confront the devastating hosts of the 
 invading army. They were still compelled to retreat as far as the town 
 of Lugo.s, where at last they might rest from the dreadful fatigues of thi.s 
 humiliating flight. With inexpressible relief, the boldiers sQught repose. 
 They were ordered to sleep on their arms nevertheless, so that the artil- 
 leryman was by his cannon, the mounted soldier near his horse, and the 
 infantry, clasping their muskets, lay in long rows together, all forgetting 
 
 • Fn UiP archivos of Vienna is preserved a dispatch of .Tnsepli's wiitloii in Uie open wood* on tlf" 
 Dii;tit bftorn 'hr- takinp. rriS:ibaci — Qro-ss-Kcffliitrer S. pag'i 404. 
 
S.SfPEKoH OF AUSTKIA, i'.'Ai 
 
 everyl,hing save the iueraimaWlfi blef\?iinf of rtrefching Ihoir limbs aiuJ 
 wooing sleep. The inild suiiim«ir n'looii looked down upon their rest, 
 and the Emperor, as he made a last tour of inspection to satisfy himself 
 that all lights were extinguished,. rejoice^ to think that the Turks were 
 far away, and his tired Austrians could sleep secure. 
 
 Joseph returned to his tent, that is, his caieche. lie, too, was ex- 
 hausted, and closed his (^yes with a sense of delicious languor. The 
 night-air blowing about his temples, refreshed his fevered brow, and he 
 gave himself tip to dreams such as are inspired b}' the silvered atmos- 
 phere, when the moon, in her pearly splendor, looks down upon the 
 troubled earth, and hushes it to repose. 
 
 The Emperor, however, did not sleep. For a while, he lay \\ith clos- 
 ed eyes, and then raising himself, looked up towards the heavens. 
 Gradually the sky darkened ; cloud met cloud and obscured the moon'a 
 disk, until at last the firmament was clothed in impenetrable blackness. 
 The Emperor, with a sad smile, thought how like the scene had been to 
 the panorama of his life, wherein every star had set, and whence every 
 ray of light had fled forever! 
 
 He dreamed on while his tired men slept. Not all, however, for far 
 towards the left wing of the army a band of huzzars were encamped 
 around a wagon laden with brandy, and having much more confidence 
 in the restorative powers of liquor than of sleep, they had. been invigo- 
 rating themselves with deep potations. Another company of soldiers 
 in their neighborhood, awakened by the noisy mirth of the hnzzars, canu^ 
 forward to claim their share of the brandy. It was refused and a brawl 
 ensued, in which the assailants were repulsed. 
 
 The huzzars, having driven them from the field, proceeded to celebrate 
 their victory by renewed libations, until finally, in a state of complete 
 inebriation, they fell to the ground, and there slept the sleep of the in- 
 toxicated. 
 
 'The men who had been prevented from participating in these drunken 
 revels resolved to' revenge themselves by a trick. They crept stealthily 
 up to the spot where the huzzars were. Iving, and firing off their mus- 
 kets, cried out, "The Turks ! The TurksV' 
 
 Stupefied by liquor, the sleepers sprang up, repeating the cry. It was 
 caught and echoed from man to man, while the huzzars with unsheathed 
 sabres ran wildly about, until hundreds and hundreds were awakened, 
 «;ach one echoing the fearful words, 
 
 "The Turks! The Turks !" 
 
 "Halt! Halt!" cried a voice to the terrified soldiers. "Plait, men, 
 halt!" 
 
 The bewildered ears mistook the command for the battle-cry of the 
 Turks; "Allah ! Allah !" and the panic increased tenfold. " We are sur- 
 rounded !" shrieked the terror-strickcji Austrians, and every sabre was 
 drawn, every musket cocked. The struggle began; and the screams of 
 the combattants, the groans of the wounded, the sighs of the dying filled 
 the air, while comrade against comrade, brother against brother, stood 
 
i 10 JuSF.ffi TRF .-iKfoM) 
 
 in mortnl st.rifo and slew r-ach othei- for the niiljolievin^ Tir.k. 
 
 The c;ilaiiiity was irretrievable. The darkness of the night deceived 
 every uuui in that army, not one of whom doubled that the enen^y v,';is 
 r.here. Some of the teniified sojdiers (l^id back to their camps, and even 
 there, mistaken for Turks, they were assaulted with sabre and musket, 
 and frightful was the carnage that ensued ! 
 
 Jn vain the oiricers attempted to restore discipline. There was no 
 more reason in those maddened human beinors than in the rnjiing waves 
 of the ocean. The'Emperor, at the first alarm, had driven in his caleche 
 to the place whence the sound seemed to come. 
 
 Cut what toa panic stricken multitude was the voice of their Empe- 
 ror '? Ball after ball whistled past his ears, while he vainly strove to 
 make them, understand that they were each one slaying his brother ! 
 And the night was so hideous, so relentless in its darkness! Not one 
 star glimmered upon the (ace of the frightful pall above — the stars could 
 not look upon that fratricidal striiggle! 
 
 The fugitives and their infuriated pursuers presided towards a little 
 bridge which spanned a stream near the encampment. The Emperor 
 drove rapidly around, and reached the banks of the river before them, 
 hoping from thence to be heard by his men, and to convince them thati 
 uo Turks were V>y. 
 
 But they heeded the sound of his voice no more than the sea heeded 
 that of the royal Canute. They precipitated themselves towards the 
 bridge, driving the carriage of the Emperor before them to the very edge 
 of the steep river- bank. It wavered ; they pushed against it with the 
 butt-ends of their njuskets. They saw nothing. — they knew nothing save 
 that the carriage impeded their flight ! 
 
 It fell rumbling down the precipice into the deep vvaters, which bub- 
 Wed and hissed and then closed over it forever. No man heeded its 
 fall. • Not one of all that crowd which oft had grown hoarse with shouts 
 at his coming, paused to save the Emperor from destruction. But he, 
 calm and courageous, although at that moment he could have parted 
 with life without a sigh, had made a desperate spring backward, and had 
 alighted on the ground. 
 
 When he recovered from the violence of the fall, he found himself un- 
 hurt, but alone. Not one of "his suite was to be seen ; in the mad rush 
 i->f the men for the crossing, they had been parted from him. The little 
 rustic bridge hiid fallen in, and those who remained behind, had rushed 
 with frantic yells in search of some other crossing. 'J'he Emperor could 
 hear their cries in the distance, and they filled his heart with anguish in- 
 expressible. 
 
 With desponding eyes he gazed upwards, and murmured, " O, that I 
 could die before the sun rises upon the horrors of this night! My soul 
 is weary — my every hope dead. Why did 1 turn back when death was 
 smiling from the crystal depths of that placid stream ! Even now, I 
 may still find rest. Who will ever know how the Emperor met his 
 death? He paused, and looked around to see if anything Avas nigh. 
 
KMPKKUli UK ACSIPIA. I U 
 
 Nothing — lie made one step forward, then shuddering, recoiled with au 
 oxclaniatiou of horror at his miserable cowardice. 
 
 " No !" cried he resolutely, " no I will not*die — I must not — dare not 
 die. I cannot go to the yrave misjudgec), and calumniated by my owu 
 .subjects ! I must live thtit they may sooner or later learn how faitbful- 
 Jy 1 have striven to make ihein haj>py ! 1 must live to convince them 
 that the promotion of their welfare has been the end and aim uf my 
 whole lili; !* 
 
 At that moment there was a rent in the blackened firmament, and the 
 moon emerged, gradually lighting up the dark waters, and the lonply 
 woods, until its beams shone full upon the pale, agitated features of that 
 4:)roken hearted monarch ! 
 
 '• The Emperor !"' cried a loud voice, not far awny. " The Emperor !" 
 — and a rider galloping forward threw himself from his horse. 
 
 " Here, your Majesty, here is my horse. Mount him. He is a sure 
 and fleet animal." 
 
 " You know me, then ?" asked Joseph. 
 
 "Yes, sire, I am one of yonr Majesty's grooms. Will you do me 
 the honor to accept my horse ?" 
 
 The Emperor replied by swinging himself into the saddle. " But you, 
 uiy good fellow, what will you do V' 
 
 " 1 shall accompany your Majesty," replied the groom, cheerfully. 
 "There is many a horse seeking its master to-night, and it will nor, be 
 long before I capture one. This done, if it please your Majesty, I will 
 conduct you to Karansebes. The moon has come out beautifully, and 
 1 can easily find the way." 
 
 " 1 have found my way," murmured the Emperor to himself " God 
 has pointed it out to me, by sending help in this dark, lonely hour. — 
 Well — Life has called me back, and I must bear its burthens until Hear' 
 • ven releases me." 
 
 Just then a horse came by at full speed. The groom, who was walk- 
 ing by the Emperor's side, darted forward, seized "the reins, and swung 
 himself triumphantly into the saddle. 
 
 '^ "Now, sire," said he, " we can travel lustily ahead. We are on the 
 right road, and in one hour will reach Karansebes." 
 
 "Karansebes!" mused the Emperor. '"■ Cara mihi sedes ! ' Thus 
 sung Ovid, and from his ode, a city took her name ; — the city where the 
 poet found his grave. A stately monument to Ovid is Karansebes ; and 
 now a lonely, heart-sick monarch is coming to make a pilgrimage thith- 
 er, craving of Ovid's tomb the boon of a resting-place for his weary 
 head. O, Cara mihi sedes, where art thou ?" 
 
 In the gray of the mormng they reached Karansebes. Here they 
 found some few of the regiments, the Emperor's suite, and his beloved 
 nephew, Franz, who like his uncle, had been almost hurried to destruc- 
 tion by the hapless army, but had been rescued by his bold and faithful 
 followers. Thev ha d shielde d the Archduke with their own bodies, 
 
 •Tbe Emporor'B own words. Hubncr II. p. 4S8. 
 
142 JOhiLi'ii rHR.'SELO>r). 
 
 forming a square around his person, and escorting him so guarded until 
 they had penetrated the dangerous ranks of the demented fugitives.* 
 
 All danger was past, bift the events of that night were too much for 
 the exhausted frame of the Emperor. The ievcr with which he had 
 wrestled so long, now mastered his body with such violence that he was 
 no longer able Lo mount his horse. Added to this came a blow to his 
 ho:irt. The army refused to follow him any longer. They called loud- 
 Jy fui' Loudon, the old hero, who in spite of his years, was the only man 
 ill Austria who would lead them to victory. 
 
 The Emperor stung to the soul by the mistrust of his men, gave up 
 his last hope of military glory. He sent tor Loudon, and Loudon, de- 
 spite his infirmities, came at the summons. 
 
 The old hero was received with shouts of welcome. The huzzahs 
 reached the poor, mean room, where Joseph lay sick with a burning fe- 
 ver. He listened with a sad smile, but his courage gave way, and 
 scalding tears of disappointed ambition moistened his pillow. 
 
 '• Loudon has con)e," thought he, "and the Emperor is forgotten! 
 
 No one cares for him more ! Well — I must return to Vienna, and 
 
 pray that the victory and fame which have been denied to me, may be 
 vouchsafed to Loudon !" ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE HUNGARIANS AGAIN. 
 
 Destiny had broken the Emperor's heart. He returned from the ar- 
 my seriously ill, and although he had apparently recuperated during the 
 winter, the close of the year found him beyond all hope of recovery. 
 
 Even the joyful intelligence of Loudon's victories were powerless to 
 restore him to health. Loudon had won several battles, and had accom- 
 plished that for which Joseph had undertaken the war with Turkey. He 
 had once more raised the Austrian flag over the towers of Belgrade.! 
 
 Vienna received these tidings with every demonstration of joy. The 
 city was illuminated for three days, and the Emperor shared the enthu- 
 siasm of the people. He took from his st*te-uniform the magnificent 
 cross of IMaria Theresa — the cross which none but an Emperor had ever 
 
 • Hubnc 2, page 477 
 
 t The conquest of Belgrade was accompanied by singular coincidences The Emp<»ror Francis, 
 (the husband of Maria Theresa,) had been in command when, in 1739, the Turks took rt from Aus- 
 tria. His grandson, Francis, with his own hand flred the first gun, when it was re-taken by Lon- 
 don. In 1789 General Wallace Rurrendprcd thp fortress to Osman Pacha. In 1789 Osman I'ncha, 
 th" SOD of the latte"-, surrendered it to General, afterwards Field-marshal Wallace, sou of (lie for- 
 mer — Hubner 2, papo 492. 
 
JiMT'KI;OK OF AlbTRlA. I ['-l 
 
 worn, nnd sent it to London wilh the title and patent of Generalissimo.* 
 He ;itlended ihe Tc Deum, and tr> all appearancos, was as clatrul as his 
 Mibjp.ct.s. Hut once alone with Lacy, the mask Icil, and the smile ladi-d 
 iVoni his CfiJorless lip«. 
 
 •' Lacy," said he, " I wonld bare bought ihosg ]n.sL superfluous laurels 
 of Loudon with my life, liut; for me no laurels have ever grown ; the. 
 cyprt'ss is my emblem — the emblem of <rri<'f." 
 
 Ho was ri^ht. Discontent reigned in Hungary, in Netherlands, and 
 latterly, in 'J'yrol. On every side were rnurinurs and threats of rebel- 
 lion against, him who would have devoted every hour of his life to the 
 enli^hlment of his subjects. All Belgium had taken up arms. The im- 
 perial troops had joined the insurgents, and now a formidable army 
 threatened the Emperor. Van der Noot, the leader of the revolt, pub- 
 lished a manifest declaring Belgium independent of the Austrian empire. 
 The insurgents numbered ten thousand. They were headed by the no- 
 bles and sustained by the clergy. Masses were said for the success of 
 the rebels, and requiems were sung for those who fell in battle or oth- 
 ei wise f The cities of Brussels, Antwerp, Lou vain, Mechlin and Namur 
 opened their doors to the patriots. The Austrian General D Alton fled 
 with his troops to Luxembourg, and three millions of florins, belonging 
 to the military coffers, fell into^he hands of the insurgents. | 
 
 Such was the condition of the Austrian empire, towards the close of 
 the year 178;^ The Emperor resolves! to make oiie more attempt to 
 bring the Belgians to reason, and to this end he sent Count Cobenzl to 
 Brussels, and after him, Prince de Ligne. 
 
 The Prince came to take leave of the Emperor. '• 1 send you as me- 
 diator between myself and your countrymen," said Joseph with a lan- 
 guid smile. '• Prove to those so-called patriots thatf you, who endeavor Icr 
 reconcile them to their Sovereign, are the only Belgian of them all, who 
 possesses true patriotism." 
 
 " Sire, I shall say to my misguided countrymen that 1 have seen your 
 Majesty weep over their disloyalty. I shall tell them that it is not an- 
 ger which they have provoked in your Majesty's heart, but sorrow." 
 
 " Yes," replied Joseph, " I sorrow for their infxtuation, aud they are 
 fast sending me to the grave. The taking of Ghent was my death- 
 struggle, the evacuation of Brussels my last e.xpiring sigh. Oh !" con- 
 tinued he, in tones of extreme anguish, " Oh, what humiliation ! I shall 
 surely die of it ! I were of stone to survive so many blows from the 
 hand of fate ! — Go, de Ligne, and do your best to induce your country- 
 men to return to their allegiance. Should you fail, dear friend, remain 
 there. Do not sacrifice your future to me, for you have children. "§ 
 
 " Yes, sire," replied de Ligne, with emotion, "1 have children, but. 
 they are not dearer to me than my Sovereign. And now, with your 
 
 • Thi?" cross was wortli 24,000 ducats — Gr^fs-Hoffingor 3, page 500. 
 t Gross-Hrtffinger .S, page 2S9. 
 
 t D'A'ton wascitod before the Emperor, but on his way to Vicrna uc took poison, and died fo'ir 
 days before .lo.'it'ph. 
 § The Kmpcror's own words Oouvrea du Priuce ic Ligiie 
 
1 1-i JOSEi'H TH£ SECWND. 
 
 Majesty's permijssion, I will withdraw, for the hour of my departure is 
 at hand. I do not despair of success. Farevyell, sire, for awhile." 
 
 " Farewell forever," murmured Joseph, as the door closed behind tke 
 Prince. " Death is not far oft" and I have so much to do!" 
 
 iJe rose hastily fioni his arm-chair, and opening the door that led into 
 the chancery, called his'three Secretaries. 
 
 " Let us to work," said he, as they entered. 
 
 " Sire," replied one of them in faltering tones, " Herr Von Quario de- 
 sired us in his name to implore of your Majesty to rest for a few days." 
 
 " I cannot do it," said Joseph impatiently. " If I postpone this wri- 
 ting another day, it may never be accomplished at all. Give in your re- 
 ports. What dispatches have we from Hungary?" 
 
 " They are most unsatisfactory, sire. The landed proprietors have 
 refused to contribute their share of the imposts, and the people rebel 
 against the conscription-act, and threaten the officers of the crown with 
 death." 
 
 '•Revolt, revolt everywhere !" exclaimed the Emperor shuddering. 
 *' But I will not yie.ld ; they shall all submit !" 
 
 The door of the cabinet opened and the Marshal of the Household en- 
 tered, announcing a deputation of Magyars. 
 
 " A deputation ! From whom ?" askpd Joseph eagerly. 
 
 " I do not know, sire, but Count Palfy is one of the deputies." 
 
 " Count Palfy again !" cried t^e Emperor scornfully. " When the 
 Hungarians have a sinister message to send, they are sure to select Count 
 Palfy as their ambassador. Show them to the reception-room which 
 opens into my cabinet. Count. I will see them there." 
 
 He dismissed the Secretaries and rang for his valet. He could scarce- 
 ly stand, while Giinther was assisting him to change his dressing gown 
 for his uniform. His toilet over, he was obliged to lean upon the valet 
 lor support, for his limbs were almost foiling him. 
 
 '• !" cried he bitterly, " how it will rejoice them to see me so weak 
 and sick. They will go home and tell their Hungarians that there is no 
 strength left ia me to fight with traitors! But thoy shall not know it, 
 1 joill be the Emperor if my life pay the forfeit of the exertion. Lead 
 me to the door, Giinther, I will lean against one of the pillars and 
 btand while I give audience to the Magyars." 
 
 Giinther supported him tenderly to the door, and then threw it wide 
 open. In the reception-room stood the twelve deputies, not in court- 
 dress but in the resplendent costume of their own nation. .They were 
 the same men who several years before had appeared before the Em- 
 peror, and Count Palfy, the Chancellor of Hungary, was the first one to 
 advance. 
 
 The Emperor bent his head, and eyed his visitors. 
 
 " If I am not mistaken," said he, " these are the same geotlsraen who 
 apppared here as Hungarian deputies several years ago." 
 
 " Yes, sire, we are the same men," replied Count Palfy. 
 
 " Why are you here again?" 
 
KMfFKOr. OV AlSTKiA. 1 -lo 
 
 "To repeat our remonstrances, sire. Tlie kingJom of IJungary has 
 chosen the same, representatives that. y>ur Mnjesiy may see how unalte- 
 rable is our detenu ination to defend our lights with our lives. ITunca- 
 ry has not changed her attitude, sire, and sfie will never change it.'' 
 
 " Nor shall I ever clinniie mine," criod Joseph pa9i?ionately. "My 
 will to-day is the same as it was six yeais ago." 
 
 "Then, sire, \ou must e.xpect an uprising of the whole Hungarian ra- 
 tion," returned Count Palfy, gravely. '' For the last time we implore 
 your Majesty to restore us our rights." 
 
 " What do you call your right^s?" asked Joseph sarcastically. 
 
 " All that for centuries past has been guaranteed to us by our consti- 
 tution : all tliat each king of Hungary, as he came to the throne, has 
 sworn to preserve inviolate. Sire, we will not become an Austrian pro- 
 vince: we are Hungarians, and are r^'solved to retain our natioualitv. 
 The integrity of Hungary is sorely threatened, and if your Majesty re- 
 fuse to rescue it, we must ourselves hasten to the rescue. Not only our 
 liberties are menaced, but our monied interests too. Hungary is on the 
 road to ruin, if your Majesty does not consent to revoke your arbitrary 
 laws, or " 
 
 •' Or 1" asked Joseph, as Palfy hesitated. 
 
 " On the road to revolution," replied the deputy firmly. 
 
 " You presume to threaten me !" cried Joseph in aloud voice. 
 
 " 1 dare deliver the message entrusted to me, and, had / been too 
 weak to speak it, entrusted to those who accompany me. Is it not «o 
 Magyars ?" 
 
 " It is, it is," cried all, unanimously. 
 
 " Sire, I 'repeat to you that Hungary is advancing cither towards ruin, 
 or revolution. Like the Netherlanders, we will- defend our constitution 
 or die with it. O, your Majesty, all can yet be remedied ! Call a con- 
 vention of the States — return the crown of St. Stephens, and come to 
 Hungary to take the coronation-oath — Then you will see how gladly we 
 shall swear allegiance to our King, and how cheerfully we will die for 
 him, as our fathers did before us, in defence of the Empress-queen his 
 mother." 
 
 "Give us our constitution and we will die for uur King !" cried the 
 Magyars in chorus. 
 
 "Yes! — humble myself before you," exclaimed Joseph furiousJv. 
 '' You would have the Sovereign to bow before the will of his vassals !" 
 
 " No, sire," returned Count Palfy, with feeling. We would have vour 
 Majesty adopt the only means by which Hungary can be retained to the 
 Austrian Empire. If you refuse to bear us, we rise to defend our coun- 
 try, as one man. We swear it in the name of the Hungarian nation." 
 
 " We swear it in the name of the Hungarian nation !" echoed the 
 Magyars. 
 
 " And I," replied Joseph pale and trembling with passion, " J swear it, 
 in the name of niy dignity as your Sovereign, that 1 will never vield to 
 men who defy me, nor will I over forgive those who by treasonable im- 
 portunity have sought to wring from me what 1 have not thought it ex- 
 pedient to grant to respectful expostulation !" 
 
].].•:> JOSKFB THE SECUNJX 
 
 " Sire, if you would give this proof of love to your subjects, if for their 
 sakes you would condescend to forget your imperial station, you cannot 
 conceive what enthusiasm of loyalty -would be your return for this con- 
 cession. We await yourlinal answci in mortal ai)xiety, and await it 
 until to niorrov/ at this hour." 
 
 ''^h! — You are so magnanimous a:s to grant me a short reprieve !" 
 
 shouted the infuriated Eulperor, losing all command of himself, '• You 
 1) 
 
 Suddenly he ceased, and became very pale. lie was sensible that he 
 had burst a blood-vessel, and he felt the warm stream of his life welling 
 upwards, until it moistened his pallid lips. With a hasty inoveraent he 
 drew out his handkerchief, held it for a moment before his* mouth, and 
 then replaced it quickly in his hu^o!^. Large drops of cold sweat stood 
 out from his brow, and the light faiJcJ from his eyes. But these haugh- 
 ty Ma'\yars should not see him fall ! They should not enjoy the sight 
 of bis sufferitigs ! " 
 
 With one last desperate eflbrt he collected his expiring energies, and 
 stood erect. '"Go," said he in firm, distinct tones, " you have stated 
 your grievances, you shall have my answer to-morrow," 
 
 " We await your Majesty until to-morrow at noon," returned Count 
 ■Palfy. " Then we go, never to return." 
 
 " Go,"- cried the Emperor, in a piercing voice, and the exasperated 
 Magyars mistook this last cry of agony fur theculmination of his wrath. 
 
 They bowed in sullen silence, and left the room. 
 
 The" Emperor reeled back to his cabinet, and fell into a chair. He 
 reached the bell, and rang it feebly. 
 
 " Gtinther," said he to his valet, and now his voice was hardly audi- 
 ble, " send a carriage for Quarin. I must see him at once." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV !. 
 
 THE KKV0CATI0>'. 
 
 When Quarin entered the Emperor's cabinet, he found him quietly 
 seated before his escritoire, half buried in documents. The physician 
 remained standing at the door, waiting until, he sho;ild be ordered to ap- 
 proach. 
 
 Suddenly Joseph was interrupted in his writing by a spell of cough- 
 ing.. He dropped his pen and leaned back exhausted. Quarin hastened 
 to his side. 
 
 " Your Majesty must not write," said he gravely. " You must lay 
 aside all work for a time." 
 
 " I believe that 1 shall have to lay it aside forever," replied Joseph 
 jan<yuidly. " I sent for you to say that I have a lawsuit with my lungs, 
 
 and you must tell m e which of us is to gain it." * 
 
 • Joaev'h's own wordt. Ghariclerislics of Josfpli II, page 14, 
 
SMf'KKOK OT ^LSTRI' 
 
 ii: 
 
 " What am 1 to tell your Majesty V asked the physician disturbed. 
 The Eropeior looked up with eyes which glowed with tlie fl.miing 
 liuht, of fever, " Qiiarin, you understand me perfectly. Yon must 
 lell ine. in regard to this lawsuit with my lungs, which is to gain it, my- 
 self or dealh? Here is my evidence," 
 
 Willi these word-^ he drew out hi^ handkerchief and held it open be- 
 tween his vf&n, trinisp;irtnt hands. It was died in blood. 
 
 " Hlood !" exclaimed Quarin, in a tone of alarm. " Your Waj»-ty has 
 received a Monnd ? ' 
 
 " Yes. an interior wound. The Hungarians have dealt me my death- 
 blow. This hk)od is welling up from u wounded heart. Do not look 
 so mournful, docti^r. Let us speak of death as man to man. Look at 
 me now, and say whether my malady id incurable." 
 
 '• Why should it be incurable'?" asked the physician faltering. "You 
 are voung, sire, and have- a sound constitution." 
 
 "No eommonplaces, Quarin, no equivocation,'' cried Joseph impa- 
 tientlv. " 1 must have the truth, do you hear me? Tho truth. 1 can- 
 not aflurd to be surprised by death, fi.r I must provide for a nation, and 
 iny house must be set in order. I am not afiiiid of death, my friend, it 
 (Mimes to me in the smiling guise of a lil>erat.or. Therefore, be frank, 
 iU'.d tell nie at Duoe whether my malady is dangerous," 
 
 Ajjiiii he raised his largi-, brilliant eyes to the face of the physician. 
 Qiiaiii.'s features were convulsed with distress, and tear^ stood in his 
 vyi-<. His voice was very tremulous as he replied, 
 
 '• Yes, sire, it is dangerous." 
 
 The Emperor's countenance remained perfectly calm. '= Can you tell 
 me, with any degree of precision, how Ipng I have to live?"' 
 
 " No, sire,, yoii may live yet for several weeks, or some excitement 
 may put an end to your existence in a few days. In this malady, the 
 **. patiiMit must be prepared at any moment for death." 
 
 " Then it is incurable ?" 
 
 " Ye«. sire," faltered Quarin, his tears bursting forth afresh. 
 
 The Emperor looked thoughtfully before him, and for some time kept 
 silence. Then extending his hand with a smili* he said, "From ray 
 t^oul 1 thank you for the manly frankness with which you have treated 
 ine, Quarin, and I desire now to give you a tcstii;nony of my gratitude. 
 You have children, have you not ?" 
 
 '• Yes, siie — two daughters." 
 
 " And you are not rich, 1 helicve V 
 
 "The salary which I receive from yoyr Majesty, united to my prac- 
 tice, allords us a comfortable independence." 
 
 The Emperor nodded. "You must do a little commission for me," 
 paid he, turning to the escritoire and writing a few lines, which he pre- 
 sented to Quarin. 
 
 " Take this paper to the Court Chancery and present it to the Bureau 
 of Finances. You will there receive ten thousand florins wherewith to 
 portion your daughters," 
 
 " O, sire !" exclaimed Quarin, deeply moved. " I thank you with all 
 the strength of mv naterral heart," 
 
) 4s JuSKFii lit K Shi I'NJ , 
 
 " >fo," replie<3 Josepli gently, "it is ray duly tx) roward merit."* In 
 .iddition to this T. would wish to leave you a personal souvenir of my 
 trieiidship. I bestow upon you, as a last token of my affection, the title 
 of Freiherr^ and 1 will take out the patent \'ov you niyselt'. Not a word, 
 <iear Iriend, not a word ! "Leave me now, for I must work diligently. 
 Since my hours are numbeied, [ must make the most of ihem. Fare- 
 well ! \Vrio knows how soon I may have to leoall you here V 
 
 The physician kissed the Emperor's hand with fervor, and turned has- 
 tily away. Joseph sank baek in the chair. ITis lar<,'c eyes were raised 
 10 heaven, and his wan face beamed wiih something brighter than resig- 
 nation. 
 
 At that moment, the doi.ir of the chancery was opened and the first 
 privy-counsellor came hastily forward. 
 
 " What is it?" said Joseph, with a slight start. 
 
 '•Sire, two couriers have just arrived. The first is fron\ Count Co- 
 benzl. He announces that all CclgiuDi, with the exception of Luxem- 
 burg, is in the hands of the patriots ; that Van der Noot has called a 
 convention of the United Provinces, which has declared Belgium a re- 
 j)ablic, her independence is to be guaranteed by England, Prussia and 
 Flolland. Count Cobenzl is urgent in his reqne.si for instructions. He 
 is touilly at a loss what to do."' 
 
 'I'he Eniperor had listened with mournful tranquility. " .\ndthesec- 
 viud courier?" said be. 
 
 "The second courier, sire, comes from the imperial Stadtholder of 
 Tyrol.;' 
 
 * VVhat says he ?' . 
 
 ,'\IIe brings evil tidings, sire. The people have rebelled, and cry out 
 against the conscription, and the church- reforms. tTnless these laws are 
 repealed, there is danger tif revolution." 
 
 The Emperor uttered a piercing cry and pre.«sed his hands to his breast. 
 " It is nothing," said he in reply to the anxious, and alarmed looks of 
 the privy. couijsellor. " A. momentary pang, which has already passed 
 away — nothing more. Continue your report." 
 
 "This is all, your Majesty. The Stadtholder entreats you to quiet 
 this rebellion and " 
 
 " And to revoke my decrees, is it not so ? The same croaking which 
 for eight years has been dinned into my ears. Well — I must have time 
 to reflect, and as soon as I shall have determined upon my course of ac- 
 tion, you shall learn my decision " 
 
 *' Rebellion in Tyrol, in Hungary, in the Netherlands !" murmured 
 the Emperor when he found himself alone. " From every side I hear 
 my dcath-knell ! My people would bury me ere I have drawn my last 
 sigh. My great ancestor, Charles, stood beside his open grave, and vol- 
 untarily contemplated his last resting-place; but I ! unhappy monarch, 
 am forced into mine by the ingratitude of a people for whom alone I 
 have lived ! — Is it indeed sol Must I die with the mournful convictioa 
 ib.at I have lived in vain? O, my God, what e.xcess of humiliation thou 
 hast forced upon me ! And what hMve I done to deserve such a fate \ 
 
 'Tbefi? are thp Kmp9ror''fi worHe. Tlii? scene is bistyricfti- Hubner If, "j 49C. 
 
Wherein have 1 sinned that my imperial crown should have been lined 
 with feo many cruel thorns '? Is there no remedy — must I drink this last, 
 bitter chalice? Must I revoke that which I have published to the world 
 as my sovereign will !' 
 
 He ceased, and foldiug his arms, faced his difficult position. For one 
 hour he sat in,otionless, his face growing gradually paler, his brow dark- 
 er, yiis lips wore rigidly compressed together. 
 
 At Icgiith he heaved one long, oouvul&ive sigh. " No — there is no 
 other remedy. 1 hav** toiled iu vain— My beautiful structure has fallen, 
 and my yrave is urrder its ruins! O my God, why may 1 not have a 
 few months more of life, wherewith to crush these as[.iiring rebels? — 
 But no ! — I must die now, and leave them to triumph over my defeat ; 
 fur I dare not leave to my succes.-or the af^cursed inheritance of civil 
 war. To the last hour of my life I must humble my will before the de- 
 ( ices of that cruel destiny which has per.^ecuted me from boyhood ! IJe 
 ,, so ! — 1 must clutch at the remedv — the fearful remedy — I uiust re- 
 voke !" 
 
 fie shuddered, and covered his face with his hands. There had been 
 one struggle with his will, there was now another with his despair. He. 
 moaned aloud — scalding tears trickled thiough his poor, wasted fingers, 
 and his whole being bowed before the sujwcmacy of this last, great sor- 
 ?<>w. Once — only once, he uttered a sharp cry, and lor a moment his 
 t ouvulsed countenance was raised to heaven. Then his head fell upon 
 the table, and his wretchedness found vent in low, heart-rendering subs. 
 
 And thus he spent another long hour. Finally he looked up to heav- 
 en and tried to murmur a lew words of resignation. But the spectre of 
 his useless stiivings still haunted his jiiind. "All my plans to be buried 
 in the grave — not one trace of my reigu left to posterity !" sighed the 
 unhappy monarch. " But enough of repining, I have resolved to make 
 the sacrifice — it is time to act !" 
 
 He clutched his bell, and ordered a page to summon the privy-coun- 
 sellor frour the adjoining room. 
 
 " Now," said the Emperor, " let us work. My hand is too tremulous 
 to hold a pen, you mus't write for me— First in regard to Hungary. 
 Draw up a manifest in which I restore their constitution in all its integ- 
 rity." 
 
 lie paused for a few moments, and wiped the large drops of cold 
 sweat which were gathering over his forehead. " Do you hear?" con- 
 tinued he, "1 revoke all my laws except one, and that is, the edict of re- 
 ligious toleration. I promise to convoke the imperial diet, and to re- 
 place the administration of justice upon its old footing. 1 repeal the 
 laws relating to taxes and conscription. I order the Hungarian crown 
 to be returned to Ofen, and as soon as I shall have recovered from my 
 illness, I promise to take the coronation-oath * Write this out and bring 
 it to me for signature. Then deliver it into the hands of Count Pulfy. 
 He will publish it to the Hungarians." 
 
 " So much for Hungary !— Now for Tyrol. Draw up a second man- 
 
 • Ihis is the revocati'^n-edict, which promu'gaied a few w<>el;s before the Qoath of .Joseph, caused 
 such astonifhmeul thvonghont Furope, Gross-HofTins^PTS, pa^e "'•'f^- 
 
^'^^ lOHF.FH IHE .^Ktf).\!j. 
 
 ifest. i repeal the conscripiion-act, as well as all my reforms with respect 
 to Mie Church. When this is ready, brinp: it to me for signature : and 
 dispatcli a courier with it to the imperial Stadiholder. Huvintr satisfied 
 die. exactions of Hungary and Tyrol, it remains to restore order in the 
 Aelherlands. But there, matters are mure complicated, and I fear that 
 .lo concession on my part will avail at this late hour. 1 must trample 
 my personal pride in the dust then, and humble myself befure the Pope ' 
 
 4 [-^ore M^ Pojje. I will write requesting him to act as mediator, 
 aud beg Ins Holiness to admonish the cle.-y to maive peace with me.* 
 W hy do you look so sad, my friend ? 1 am making" my peace with the 
 ^v•orJd ; I am drawing a pen across the events of my life, and blotting 
 out my reforms with ink— Muke out these documents at once, and send 
 me a courier for Rome. Meanwhile 1 will write to the Pope. Appear- 
 m<: before him as .-i petitioner, it is incumbent upon me to send an auto- 
 graphic letter. Return to me in an hour.'' 
 
 When one hour later, the private-counsellor re-entered the cabinet the 
 etter to the Pupe lay folded and addressed on tiie table. But this'last 
 humiliation had been too much for the proud spirit of the Emperor to 
 brook. *■ 
 
 He l:iy insensible in his chair, a stream of blood oozln<T slowly from 
 his ghastly lip--. ■ 4 => / 
 
 CHAPTEli XXXVII. 
 
 THE DEATH' OF THE MARTVK. 
 
 He had made his peace with the world and with God ! He had taken 
 eave of his fimily, his friends, and his atcendants. He had. made his 
 last confession, and had received the sacraments of the Chu\h. 
 
 His struggles were at an end. All sorrows overcome, he lay happy 
 and tranquil on his death-bed, no more word of complaint passing the 
 Jips which had been consecrated to the Lord. He comforted his weep- 
 ing relatives, and had a word of affectionate greeting for every one who 
 approached him. With his own feeble hand he wrote farewell letters to 
 all his absent sisters, to Prince Kaunitz,'and to several ladies for whom 
 he had an especial regard, and on the seventeenth of February he slaa- 
 ed his name eighty times. " 
 
 He felt that his end was verv near; and when Lacy and Rosenberg 
 \yho were to pass the night with him, entered his bed-chamber, he signed 
 them to approach. 
 
 ^ " It will soon be over," whispered he. " The lamp will shortly be ex- 
 tinguished. Hush, do not weep— you grieve me. Let us part from each 
 other with fortitude." 
 
 " Alas, how can we part with fortitude, when our parting is for life '" 
 said Lacy. *^ . " 
 
 • Orosfl-Trnfflnsjpr S, pa»t ?T0. ' 
 
SMI-KKUK OK AUSTRIA. 151 
 
 The Emperor raised his eyps, and looked thouchtfnily up to heaven. 
 " Wc shall meet a^ain," said he after a pause. /•' I believe in another* 
 and a better world, where I shall fiud compensation lor all that 1 havj 
 endured here below." 
 
 " And whe)e punishment .nwaits those who have b?en the cause of 
 your sorrows," relumed itosenberg. 
 
 " \ have forgiven them all," said the dying monarch. 
 "There is no room in tny heart fur resentment, dear friends. I have 
 honestly striven to make my subjects happy, and feel no animosity to- 
 wards them for refusing the boon I protTered. I should like to have in- 
 scribed up'.n my tomb, ' Here lies a Prince whose intentions were pure, 
 but who was so unfortunate as to fail in every honest undertaking of hiJ 
 life. — 0, h(»w mistalcen was the poet who wrote, 
 
 ' Ijt du trone an cercncil )e passajre est terrible !' 
 I do not deplore the loss of my ihroce, but! feel some Hnqerina re- 
 grct that 1 should have made so few of my fellow-beings happy*'— so 
 many of them ungrateful. That, however, is' the usual lot of Princes I'"* " 
 
 '' It IS the lot of all those who are too enlightened for their times ! It 
 15 the lot of all great men who would elevate, and ennoble the masses !" 
 cried Lacy. " It is the fate of greatness, to be the martyr of stupiditv 
 bigotry, and malice !" .*' ' 
 
 " Yes— that is the word," said Joseph smiling." I am a martyr but 
 nobody will honor my relics." ' 
 
 " Yes, beloved Sovereign," cried Rosenberg weeping. " your Majesty's 
 love, we shall bear about our hearts, as the devotee wears the relic of a 
 martyred saint." 
 
 " Do not weep so," said Joseph. " We have spent so many happy 
 days together that we must pass the few fleeting hours remaining to us 
 in rational intercourse. Show me a cheerful countenance, Rosenberg 
 you from whose hands I received my last cup of earthly comfort. What 
 blessed tidings you brought me ! My sweet Elizabeth is a mother, and 
 1 shall carry the consciousness of her happiness to the grave. I shall die 
 with 07ie joy at my heart— a beautiful hope shall blossom as I fall !— 
 Elizabeth is your future Empress ; love her for my sake— you know 
 how unspeakably dear she is to me— And now that 1 think of 'it, 1 have 
 not heard from her since this morning. How is she?" 
 The two friends were silent, and cast down their eyes. 
 " Lacy !" cried the Emperor, and over his inspired features there pass- 
 ed a shade of human sorrow. " Lacy, speak— You are silent— O God 
 what has happened ?— Rosenberg, tell me, O tell me, how is my Eliza- 
 beth, my darling daughter V 
 
 So great were his anxiety and distress that he half rose in his bed 
 l-hey would not meet his glance, but Roisenberg in a low voice replied. 
 " iu ■^'■^^^"^^^ss is very sick. The labor was long and painful." 
 "Ah, she is dead !" exclaimed Joseph, " she is dead, is she not '" 
 Neither of his weeping friends spoke a word, but the Emperor com- 
 prehended their silence. 
 
 _JFalHng_back u pon his pillow he raised his wast ed arms to heaven. 
 • The Emreror'i own word*. Oharacteriettcj of Joseph 2d, page 28. 
 
1 ;>,; J'lSKPH THti SKCUND. 
 
 '•O God, Thy will be done ! but my sutrerlngs are beyond expression ! 
 I thought thiit I had outlived sorrow, buc the stroke which has come to 
 embitter iny last moments, exceeds all that 1 have endured throughout 
 ;i life of unchecqiiered misery !"* 
 
 For a long time he lay co'd and rigid. Then raising himself upon 
 his arm, he signed to Rosenberg to approach. His eye beamed as of 
 erst, and his whole demeanor was that of the Sovereign who has learned 
 above all things to control himself. 
 
 " She must be buried with all the tenderness and honor of which she 
 was deserving," said he. " Rosenberg, will you attend to this for nie ? 
 Let her body be exposed in the court-chapel to-morrow. After that, 
 lay her to rest in the itnperial vaults and let the chapel be in readiness 
 to receive my own remains."! 
 
 This was the last command given by the Emperor. From that hour 
 he was nothing more than a poor, dying mortal, whose last thoughts are 
 devoted to his" Maker. He sent for his confessor and asked him to read 
 something appropriate and consolatory. With folded hands, his large, 
 violet eyes reverently raised to heaven, he listened to the holy scriptu- 
 ral words. Suddenly his countenance brightened and his lips moved. 
 
 •' Now there remaineth Faith, Hope, and Love," read the priest. 
 
 The Emperor repeated the three last words. " Faith — Hope," — and 
 when he pronounced the word, " Love !" his face was illumined with a 
 joy which had its source far, far away frotu earth ! 
 
 Then all was silent. The prayer was over, and the dying Emperor 
 lay motionless with his hands folded upon his breast. 
 
 Presently his feeble voice was heard in prayer. " Father thouknow- 
 est my heart — Thou art my witness that 1 meant — to do — well. Thy 
 will be done !"J 
 
 Then all was still. Weeping around the bed, stood Lacy, Rosenberg, 
 and the Archduke Francis. The Emperor looked at them with staring 
 eyes, but he recognized them no longer. Those beautiful eyes were 
 dimmed forever ! 
 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by a long, long sigh. 
 
 It was the death-sigh of Joseph the Secoxd ! 
 
 • The Kmperor'8 own vrords. 
 
 t .Togeph'8 own words See Hnbncr II, P. 49t. 
 
 X Banashom, page 449, 
 
 Joseph died on the 20th of February, 1190. But his spirit outlived him, and sur- 
 vives to the present day. His subjects, who had so misjudged him, deplored his 
 loss, and felt how dear he had been to them. Now that he was dead— now that 
 they had broken his heai-t, they grieved and wept for him. Poets sang his praises 
 in elegies, and wrote epitaphs laudatory of him who may be considered as the great 
 martyr of political and social culighlenment. 
 
 THE END. 
 
^ 
 
GOETZEL'S LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 life f! 
 
 ¥ mm 
 
 LIGITIOI 
 
 HARDEE'S INFANTRY TACTICS. 9tli Edition. 
 WHEELER'S CAVALRY TACTICS. 
 LADY AUDLEY'S SIXRET. 
 SILAS MARNER. 
 
 RAIDS AND ROMANCES OF MORGAN AND HIS 
 • MEN. 2nd Edition. 
 
 TANNHAUSER. 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE. 
 
 CHAUDRON'S SPELLING BOOK. 
 
 do FIRST READER. J 
 
 do SECOND READER. 
 
 do. THIRD READER. 
 
 THREE MONTHS IN THE SOUTHERN STATES,, 
 By Lieut. Col. Fremantle. 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
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