THE INTERVIEW WITH KAUNITZ.
From earliest morning the streets of Vienna had been thronged by a
joyous multitude, eagerly awaiting the sight of their restored
sovereign. All Vienna had mourned when the empress lay ill; all Vienna
now rejoiced 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
students of every college, and every citizen that was at liberty to
leave home, flocked to congratulate the well-beloved sovereign. The
streets through which she had to pass were lined with people bearing
flags, banners, and emblems, while near them stood the children of the
educational and orphan asylums, which had been endowed by the
munificence of the empress. Lofty and lowly, rich and poor, stood in
friendly contact with each other; even the nobles, imitating Maria
Theresa's affability, mixed smiling and free among the people. All sense
of rank and station seemed lost in the universal 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 toward 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 happy,
proud, triumphant empress, who in the eyes of her people was both
beautiful and beloved. For the moment her widow's sorrows were
forgotten; and when surrounded by so many loyal hearts, she sank on her
knees before the altar of St. Stephen, 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
welcome.
Exhausted not only by emotion, but by the heat of the July sun which
shone on her head as she returned, the empress at last reached her own
rooms. Her tire-women hastened to relieve her of her coverings and to
dry her 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 skilful 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 people mean by a draught," replied
the empress, laughing and taking her seat; "but I know that the good God
has sent this air from heaven for man's enjoyment; and when I feel its
cool kiss upon my cheek, I think that God is nigh. I have always 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 throw the burden away."
She let fall her mantle, and gave her bare shoulders to the wind,
enjoying the breeze, and frightening her maids of honor out of their
propriety.
"Now, let me 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. [Footnote: Caroline Pichler, "Memoirs," vol i., pp.
18,19. Maria Theresa supported without pain extreme degrees of heat and
cold. Summer and winter her windows stood open, and often the
snow-flakes have been seen to fall upon her escritoire while she wrote.
In winter, the Emperor Joseph always came into his mother's rooms
wrapped in furs.]
She was interrupted, in the midst of all this comfort, by another page,
who announced Prince Kaunitz. Maria Theresa rose hastily from her seat.
"Shut all the doors and windows," exclaimed she, "do not let him scent
the draught." [Footnote: Wraxall, vol. ii., p. 380.]
While her orders were being obeyed, she looked around to convince
herself that every avenue was closed through which the wind might
penetrate, and that done, she ordered the door to be thrown open, and
the prince admitted.
Prince Kaunitz approached with his usual serious and tranquil demeanor.
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 empress, 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 sleepless nights
I have longed for a sight of your grave face, and it grieved me to think
that perchance we might never meet again to talk of Austria, 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 as 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.
"I do, indeed, your majesty."
"But if God had called me to Himself, what would you have done?"
"I would still have labored, as in duty bound, for my country; but I
would have owed a lifelong grudge to Providence for its want of wisdom."
"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 behindhand. Each day adds to our
internal strength, that gives us consideration abroad, and soon we shall
hold our own as one of the four great European powers, mightier than in
the days when the sun never set upon Austrian realms. The empire of
Charles V. was grand, but it was not solid. It resembled 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. [Footnote: "Letters of a French Traveller," volt i., p.
421.] 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 majesty."
"If Silesia were but ours again! As for Naples and Alsatia, they were
never more than disjecta membra of our empire; and they were always 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
front the blow that I received when I lost Silesia."
"We shall have restitution some of these days, your majesty," said
Kaunitz.
"Do you mean to say that I shall ever recover 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 attained the
noontide 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; Frederick of Prussia knows it, and he already seeks the
friendship of Russia, that he may gain an accomplice as well as an
ally."
"God forbid that I should follow in the wake of the King of Prussia!"
cried Maria Theresa. "Never will I accept, much less seek an alliance
with this cruel woman; whose throne is blood-stained and whose heart is
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 neighboring empire."
"Russia is not a neighboring empire," exclaimed the empress. "On one
occasion I wrote to the Empress Elizabeth, 'I will always be your
friend, but with my consent you shall never be my neighbor.' [Footnote:
Historical.] 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 are difficult because we
dare not attempt them. [Footnote: Kaunitz's own words. Hormayer,
"Plutarch," vol. xii., p. 271.] The Empress of Russia dares do any
thing; for she knows how to take things 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 the
good-will of this wicked empress, who mounted her throne upon the dead
body of her husband, while her lovers stood by, their hands reeking with
the blood of the murdered emperor! Oh, Kaunitz! you would never ask me
to do this thing?"
"Your majesty is great enough to sacrifice your personal antipathies to
the good of your country. Your majesty once condescended to write to
Farinelli and THAT act won us the friendship of the King of Spain and of
his sons; THAT letter will be the means of placing an Archduchess of
Austria on the throne of Naples."
"Would have been," said Maria Theresa, heaving a sigh. "The bride of the
King of Naples is no more! My poor Johanna! My beautiful 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 highness."
"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 sorry 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 lazzaroni
who are his chosen associates. Josepha will not be happy with such a
man."
"Your majesty, her highness does not marry the young ignoramus who, to
be sure, knows neither how to read nor write--she marries the King of
Naples; and surely if any thing 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 disdained to
write. Surely when wise statesmanship prompts your 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 Kaunitz, and
in her eagerness laying her hand upon his shoulder. "Tell me--what wise
and wicked stratagem do you hatch within your brain to-day?"
"My plans, so please your majesty," said the prince, raising his eyes so
as to meet those of the empress, "my plans are not of to-day. They--"
But suddenly he grew dumb, and gazed horror-stricken at the face of
Maria Theresa. Kaunitz was short-sighted, and up to this moment be had
remained in ignorance of the fearful change that had forever transformed
the empress's beauty into ugliness. The discovery had left him
speechless.
"Well?" cried the empress, not suspecting the cause of his sudden
silence. "You have not 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 retreated
toward 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?" 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 did
so, her eyes lit accidentally upon the mirror, and she saw her own image
reflected in its bright depths.
She started; for she had already forgotten the "ugly old woman" whom she
had apostrophized on the day previous. Suddenly she burst into a peal of
laughter, and cried out. "No wonder poor Kaunitz looked as if he had
seen something horrible! HE SAW ME--and I am the Medusa that turned him
into stone. Poor, short-sighted man! He had been in blissful ignorance
of my altered looks until I laid my hand upon his shoulder. I must do
something to heal the wound I have inflicted. I owe him 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 dashing through the
palace corridors to his carriage. With an impatient gesture he motioned
to his coachman to drive home with all speed.
Not with his usual stateliness, but panting, almost running, did Kaunitz
traverse the gilded halls of his own palace, which were open to-day 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 celebrate
the event. Without a word to the Countess Clary, who came forward
elegantly attired for the occasion, Kaunitz flew to his study, and
sinking into an arm-chair, he covered his face with his hands. He felt
as if he had been face to face with death. That was not his beautiful,
majestic, superb Maria Theresa; it was a frightful vision--a messenger
from the grave, that forced upon his unwilling mind the dreadful
futurity that awaits all who are born of woman.
"Could it be? Was this indeed the empress, whose beauty had intoxicated
her subjects, as drawing from its sheath the sword of St. Stephen, 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 death he had never done--he wept.
But gradually he overcame his grief, the scanty fountain of his tears
dried up, and he resumed his cold and habitual demeanor. For a long time
he sat motionless in his chair, staring at the wall that was opposite.
Finally he moved toward his escritoire and took up a pen.
He began to write instructions for 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 official 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 prepare the
guests of the prince, and caution them against the use of the offensive
words. [Footnote: Hormayer, "Austrian Plutarch," vol. xii., p. 374.]
When Kaunitz had completed these singular instructions, he rang, and
gave the paper to a page. As he did so, a servant entered with a letter
and a package from her majesty the empress.
The package contained the grand cross of the order of St Stephen but
instead of the usual symbol the cross was composed of costly brilliants.
The letter was in the empress's own hand--a worthy answer to the
"instructions" which Kaunitz was in the act of sending to his
secretaries.
The empress wrote as follows: "I 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
opportunity which presents itself to offer you a tribute of that
gratitude which I feel for your services, and shall continue to feel
until the day of my death. MARIA THERESA." [Footnote: Wraxall, vol.
ii., p. 479.]