PRINCE KAUNITZ.
For three days Prince Kaunitz had not left his cabinet. No one was
allowed to approach him, except the servant who brought the meals, which
the prince sent away almost untouched. His household were sorely
troubled at this, for no one had as yet ventured to communicate the
tidings of the empress's death. Still he seemed to know it, for
precisely on the day of her demise, Kaunitz had retired to his cabinet,
whence he had not emerged since.
To-day the tolling of bells and the dull sound of muffed drums had
doubtless revealed to him that the funeral was at hand. Still he had
questioned nobody, and sat in stupid silence, apparently unmindful of
the tumult without. Even when the procession passed his own house, he
remained rigidly in his chair, his large eyes glaring vacantly at the
wall opposite.
Baron Binder, who had noiselessly entered the room, and had been
watching the prince, saw two large tears rolling slowly down 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 a
start.
"Take compassion upon us who love you," said he, in a low, trembling
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 behavior?" 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 parade
your troubles go out and ask sympathy of the contemptible world, but
leave to me the freedom of sorrowing alone: My grief is self-sustaining.
It needs no prop and no consolation. Attend to your affairs of state,
and go hence. I wish no spies upon my 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
assist me as a statesman. Go, therefore, and confine your efforts to the
business of your office."
Binder heaved a sigh, and obeyed. It was useless to offer sympathy when
it provoked such stinging resentment.
The state referendarius had scarcely reached his study, before the
folding-doors of Prince Kaunitz's entrance-rooms were flung wide open,
and the valet in attendance announced--
"His majesty the emperor."
A shudder was perceptible through the frame of the prince, and he
clutched at the arms of the chair in an attempt to rise.
"Do not rise," said Joseph, coming forward; "I have intruded myself upon
you without ceremony, and you must receive me in like manner."
Kaunitz sank back, and inclined his head. He had not the power to make a
reply. Joseph then motioned to the valet to withdraw, and drew a chair
to the prince's side.
There was a short silence and the emperor began: "I bring you greetings
from my mother."
Kaunitz turned and gazed at the emperor with a look of indescribable
anguish. "Her last greeting," said he, almost inaudibly.
"You know it, then? Who has been bold enough to break this sad
intelligence to 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 were
racking the statesman's whole being, burst from his heart. His head fell
upon his breast, and his whole body trembled. Joseph comprehended the
immensity of his grief, and made no ineffectual attempt to quell 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 remind you of
the day on which you dedicated your life to Austria's welfare. She 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 transfer the rich boon of
your services to me?"
The prince opened his lips, but not a sound came forth. For the second
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
emperor, that 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 himself
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
momentary weakness, and I promise that you shall never see me so
overwhelmed as long as I live."
The emperor, with an affectionate smile, pressed the old statesman's
hand. "I have nothing to forgive, dear prince. I have to thank you for
permitting me to view the penetralia of a great man's heart. And still
more have I to thank you for the sincerity with which you have loved
Maria Theresa. I accept it as a pledge of your obedience to her last
wishes. May I not?"
Kaunitz looked up, and answered with firmness, "Sire, this is the hour
of unreserve, and I will speak the unvarnished truth. I have been
expecting the last greeting of my empress, and had I not received her
command 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; for I never could
have tasted food again, had I once obtained the conviction that I had
become superannuated and useless. Your majesty has saved my life, for I
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 heart and features. Let me resume it
then, to wear it for life. Had we worn our political mask a little
longer, Frederick 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
diplomatist."
"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 me a
helping hand until my stately edifice is complete?"
"Your edifice, above all things, will need to be upon a secure
foundation. It must be fast as a mountain, behind which we can intrench
ourselves 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 triumphed 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 castle;
and we shall shake off 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 me, the priest shall he made as
homeless as Christ and His apostles!"
"If your majesty can compass this, your people will adore you as a
second Messiah."
"I will do it! I will free my people from bondage, and if I am made to
die the death of the cross, I shall exult in my martyrdom," exclaimed
Joseph, with flashing eyes. "The internal administration of Austria
calls for reform. The empire over which I am to reign must be governed
according to my principles. Religious prejudices, fanaticism, 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 I shall turn the
whole fraternity of contemplatives into a body of industrious burghers."
[Footnote: This whole conversation is historical. The expressions are
those of the emperor. See "Letters of Joseph II.," p. 98.]
"Oh, sire," exclaimed Kaunitz, "your words affright me. Bethink you that
you throw the brand of revolt among a numerous and influential class."
"We will strip them of their armor, and so they shall become innoxious,"
"Gracious Heaven!" ejaculated Kaunitz, "your majesty, will--"
"Capture the convents, and carry off the booty."
"But that will be tantamount to a declaration of war against Rome!"
"Exactly what I propose to bring about. I desire to teach this servant
of God that I am absolute monarch of my own dominions, and that his--"
"True, sire, true, but be cautious, and go warily to work."
"I have no time to temporize," 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 of expediency
also. They abound in objects of value, and my treasury needs
replenishing. The state debt is large, and we must retrench. I shall
not, like my gracious 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 Maria Theresa,
dispense ducats and smiles in equal profusion. My people must be
satisfied with a greeting that is not set to the music of the chink of
gold. Neither shall I, like my imperial lady-mother, keep two thousand
horses in my stables. Moreover, the pension-list shall be decreased--let
the retrenchment fall upon whom it may. But all this will not suffice to
straighten my financial affairs. I need several millions more. And as
they are to be found in church and convent, I shall seek them there."
Prince Kaunitz had listened to this bold harangue with perfect
astonishment. Several times in the course of it, he had nodded his head,
and more than once he had smiled.
"Sire," said he, "you have such an intrepid spirit that my seared old
heart beats responsive to the call like an aged war-horse that neighs at
the trumpet's note. Be it so, then. I will fight at your side like a
faithful champion, happy, if, during the strife, I be permitted to ward
off from my emperor's head a blow from his adversary's hands. Remember
that we go forth to fight thousands. For the people are with the clergy,
and they will cry out even more bitterly than 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 prevail over Rome and all monkdom; and when we shall have utilized
their treasures, the people will return to their senses, and applaud the
deed." [Footnote: Joseph's own words. See Letters, etc., p. 49.]
"So be it then, your majesty. I will help you to pluck the poisonous
weeds, and sow in their places good secular grain."