A LETTER TO THE EMPRESS OF RUSSIA.
With flushed face and panting bosom, Maria Theresa paced her cabinet,
sometimes glancing with angry eyes at the heaps of papers that covered
her escritoire; then wandering hastily to and fro, perfectly insensible
to the fatigue which in her advancing years generally overwhelmed her
whenever she attempted to move otherwise than leisurely. The empress had
received bad news from every quarter; but worst of all were the tidings
that came from Bohemia. For more than a year the Austrian and Prussian
armies had threatened one another; and yet nothing had been accomplished
toward 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
Frederick, and had sacrificed the dearest wishes of her heart to appease
the fury of her imperial son. Notwithstanding this, no battle had been
fought, for Frederick was quite as desirous as the empress could be, to
avoid an engagement. He had declared war against his old adversary with
the greatest alacrity; but when it became necessary to manoeuvre his
army, the hero of so many fights was obliged to confess in the secrecy
of his own heart that his gouty hand was impotent to draw the sword, and
his tottering limbs were fitter to sink into an arm-chair than to
bestride a war-horse.
Irritable, crabbed, and low-spirited, his campaign had proved a
disastrous failure. Instead of planning battles, he had planned
pillaging and foraging expeditions, and his hungry and disaffected army
had converted the rich fields of Bohemia into a gloomy and desolate
waste. At last succoring winter 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 son to inactivity, in
new negotiations for peace. Count von Mercy had sought for intervention
on the part of France, and Baron Thugut had made new proposals to
Prussia. Until to-day the empress had indulged the hope of terminating
this unhappy and ridiculous war; but her hopes had been frustrated by
the dispatches she had just received from France and Bohemia. Count von
Mercy wrote that so far from accepting the role of mediator, the French
king expostulated with him upon the injustice of the claims of Austria,
and earnestly recommended their total relinquishment as the only road to
peace.
Another courier from Joseph announced that the winter season having
almost closed, he hoped that he might now be permitted to prosecute the
war with firmness and vigor. Circumstances were favorable to Austria,
for General Wurmser had succeeded in surprising the Prince of
Philippsthal, and in driving the Prussian garrison from their
stronghold. The emperor, therefore, declared his intention of giving
battle to Frederick, that he might at one stroke free Bohemia from the
presence of a tyrannical 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. "I cannot go to my grave
burdened with the crime of an unrighteous war. Peace! peace! Heavenly
Father, send us peace! Something I must do, and that at once; and if my
son still vituperates his unhappy mother, I know that my subjects, the
people of Germany, and all Europe, will sustain me by their
approbation."
Filled with the idea, she approached her escritoire, and again her eyes
rested upon the papers and pamphlets that lay there. Her cheeks flushed
and her eyes flashed fire, as lifting from the desk 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? I must stop that man's mouth, and
teach him discretion!"
Here the empress rang and gave two messages to the page who answered 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, who at last began to feel that she was
exercising her limbs beyond all power of endurance, sank into an
arm-chair and continued her reflections. They were any thing but
consolatory. She could not humble herself to make any more proposals to
Frederick. He was so arrogant that he 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 difficulty
obtained from her husband a promise not to sustain Prussia.
"I have a most disobliging son-in-law in Louis," thought the empress,
"and if Marie Antoinette were not in a condition where anxiety of mind
might be fatal to her life, I should very soon speak plainly to the
king, and let him understand distinctly how little I care for his
approval or disapproval! But I must be patient for my daughter's sake;
and if she gives birth to a dauphin, I shall be too happy to quarrel
with her stubborn king. I had reckoned upon France, however, and I am
disappointed and grieved."
So saying, the empress bent once more over her papers, and this time she
opened a dispatch from her ambassador at St. Petersburg. She began to
read:
"The King of Prussia is asking succor from Russia. The empress is quite
ready to grant it, and has already marched an auxiliary force into
Galicia. But she exacts that her troops shall act independently of
Frederick, and requires of him for the prosecution of her war with
Turkey, 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. If the empress-queen could bring herself to pen a
letter to Catharine requesting her intervention--"
"No," exclaimed Maria Theresa, interrupting herself, "to such
degradation I cannot 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 that abandoned wretch who degrades the
divine birthright of royalty by a dissolute life? How could Maria
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 that he was unable to obey her
majesty'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 retreats to his hole
like a discreet fox. I wish to Heaven that I 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 quickly, or Joseph
will be before me. Oh, my God, help me in my great need."
She re-read the dispatches from her different ambassadors, and each one
breathed the same spirit. From every court in Europe camp disapprobation
and blame. Every one of the great powers counselled peace--speedy peace,
lest all should be drawn into the strife, and Austria 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 feel otherwise than resentful toward the minister and
the son who had brought her into this mortifying position? Suddenly she
dried her tears and once more took up the dispatch from St. Petersburg.
The silence in that little room was broken only by her sighs, and the
rustling of the papers which she held in her hand. She paused, and those
trembling hands fell into her lap. She threw back her head as if trying
to make a difficult resolve.
"There is one way--but oh, how disgraceful!" murmured she. Again the
gathering tears were dashed from her eyes, and she tried to read.
"It must be," sighed she, as she replaced the paper on the desk; "and if
so, it must be done quickly. Oh, my Creator! Thou alone knowest how
fearful to my heart is this sacrifice of womanly pride; but thou willest
my humiliation, and I submit! Let me drink the chalice!"
She took up her pen and began to write. Often she hesitated--threw
aside her sheet, and took another. Sometimes she read aloud what she had
written; then starting at the sound of the words, resumed her writing in
silence. At last the task was accomplished, and her eyes scanned the
concluding paragraph
"With the conviction that my honor could be intrusted to no abler hands,
I leave it to your majesty, in conjunction with France, to make such
propositions as you may esteem best calculated to promote peace. In this
trust I remain,
"Your majesty's true and devoted sister,
"MARIA THERESA." [Footnote: This letter of the empress is yet in the
archives of St. Petersburg. Coxe, who copies it word for word, saw it
there himself. See Coxe's "History of the House of Austria," vol. iv.,
page 592.]
As she read these words, the cheeks of the empress crimsoned with shame,
and, burying her face in her hands, she sobbed aloud. When the paroxysm
of her grief was over, her face was very pale and her eyes dim and
swollen. "I must complete the humiliation," thought she; then folding
the letter, it was directed "To Her Majesty the Empress of Russia."
She took up a tiny gold bell, and ringing it so that it gave out but a
few strokes, a portiere was raised, and Koch entered the room.
"Take a copy of this letter, and send a courier with it to St.
Petersburg. I have at last yielded to the wishes of my counsellors, and
have written to the Empress of Russia. Peace, Koch--not a word!--my
heart is not yet strong enough to bear the grief and shame of this
hour."
The private secretary had scarcely left the room, when the page
reentered, 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."