Joseph II. and His Court Part 140

"In war, delay is often the best strategy, sire. The great Maurice, of Saxony, has said that fighting is an expedient by which incompetent commanders are accustomed to draw themselves out of difficult positions.

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. Frederick 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 in the field against him than our expertest generalship."

"Who is that?" asked Joseph, who was listening in no amiable mood to Lacy's dissertation on strategy.

"It is old age, sire, which hourly reminds Frederick that his hand is too feeble to wield a sword or pluck new laurels. Frederick accompanied 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 consequence of which he reviewed his troops in an ill-humor, cursed the war, and wished Austria to the devil."

"And this is the end of a great military chieftain," said Joseph sadly; "the close of a magnificent career! May G.o.d preserve me from such a fate! Sooner would I pa.s.s from exuberant life to sudden death, than drag my effete manhood through years of weariness to gradual and ignominious extinction!

"But," continued the emperor, after a pause, "these are idle musings, Lacy. Your picture of the great Frederick has made me melancholy; I cannot but hope that it is overdrawn. It cannot be that such a warrior has grown vacillating; he will surely awake, and then the old lion will shake his mane, and his roar--"

At this moment a horseman at full speed was seen coming toward the house. He stopped immediately before the window. A little behind came another, and both dismounting, spoke several words to the soldiery around, which evidently produced a sensation.

"Lacy," said Joseph, "something has happened; and from the countenances of the men, I fear that these messengers have brought evil tidings. 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 intelligence."

"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 glorious news!"

cried he.

"Glorious news, sire?" exclaimed the astounded adjutant. "The courier who brings the intelligence has no words strong enough to depict the terror of the inhabitants. They were gathering their effects and flying to the interior, while the Prussian troops occupied the villages without opposition."

"The count is correct," said Lacy, who just then reentered the room. "I have spoken with the man who brought the tidings. He is the mayor of his village, and he fled as the staff of the king entered the place."

"I must speak with him myself," cried Joseph quickly; and the adjutant opening the door, the villager was introduced into the room.

"Did you see the King of Prussia?" asked the emperor.

"Yes, sire, I saw him," replied the man, gloomily. "I heard him order his men to forage their horses from our barns, and to strip our gardens of their fruit and vegetables. I heard him give orders to spare nothing; for, said he, 'the people must be made to feel that the enemy is in their midst.'" [Footnote: Frederick's own words. Dohm's Memoirs, vol.

i., p. 130.]

"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 bridegroom; but his words are the words of a hangman, and his eyes dart fire 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 nothing. He has not even appointed a general staff, and has no one to attend to the wants of his army." [Footnote: Historical. See Dohm, vol. i., p. 183.]

"Further, further!" cried Joseph, as the man paused.

"I have nothing further to tell, sire. As the king and his people left my house, it was growing dark, so I slipped out. The curates were in the churches with the women 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 King of Prussia take us, as he did Silesia."

"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 Frederick who has thrown down the glove, and I too, shall emerge from obscurity, and prove to the world that others besides the King of Prussia are worthy to lead their 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 the age!"

CHAPTER CXXIV.

SECRET NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE.

After the departure of the emperor for the seat of war, the court of Vienna became supremely dull. All the state apartments were closed, the gentlemen and ladies in waiting went about silent as ghosts, the archd.u.c.h.esses 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 all sounds of joy hushed into speechless anxiety. Above all, since it had become known that Frederick had invaded Bohemia, the Viennese were in a state of painful excitement, 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 archd.u.c.h.esses and ladies of honor were importuning the empress to leave Vienna, and remove the court to Presburg. [Footnote: Dohm's Memoirs, vol. i., p. 187.]

Maria Theresa turned a deaf ear to these entreaties. Her eyes, which had grown dull through weeping, flashed with defiant courage as she replied: "I remain here in Vienna, and if the King of Prussia lays siege to my capital, I shall die like an empress in imperial panoply. I have never known what it was to fear for my life, and if now my heart throbs with uneasiness, it is for my people, it is not for myself. I mourn for my subjects, should Heaven, in its wrath, permit Frederick 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 G.o.d."

And leaning upon the arms of the Archd.u.c.h.esses Elizabeth and Christina, the empress proceeded to the chapel. Behind them, with downcast eyes and reluctant steps, came the ladies of the court, all of one mind as to the weariness of too much G.o.dliness and too much 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 Archd.u.c.h.ess Elizabeth told me that toward the end her senses began to fail her, and she was scarcely able to utter the responses. How is the Archd.u.c.h.ess Marianna to-day?"

"Her highness," whispered the first lady, "is too sensible to recover in a hurry. The wound in her cheek has reopened, and she really suffers a great deal at present. But she bears her pain with great fort.i.tude.

Yesterday the English amba.s.sador was paying her a visit of condolence, and as he was expressing his sympathy, the archd.u.c.h.ess interrupted him 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 G.o.dsend. Nothing that varies the dull uniformity of my life comes amiss.'" [Footnote: The archd.u.c.h.ess's own words. See "Courts of Europe at the Close of the Last Century," by Henry Swinburne, vol. i., p. 342.]

Both ladies t.i.ttered, 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, "who 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 you have had so good an influence over the Countess Julia, for she is not wont to be too zealous at prayer. I will remember you both for your piety, dear children and will see that you are both well married. There is the young Baron of Palmoden and Count--",

But the empress, who, in her darling schemes of marriage, had forgotten for a moment whither they were going, suddenly crossed herself, saying, "Forgive me, ladies; let us hasten our steps."

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 all the fervor of her honest and believing 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 ended, 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 Christina, sobbing. "Has not my cruel and avaricious brother forced my husband into this wicked war?

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 imperial commands!"

"Dry your tears, my daughter," replied the empress, kissing her tenderly; "I have prayed so fervently for wisdom in this matter, that I feel as if my prayers had been answered. What He has commanded I 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, I may find him so to the end. Go, now, Christina, and remember that G.o.d directs all things."

The empress dismissed her daughters and entered her room, pa.s.sing rapidly to the place where hung the portrait of the Emperor Francis. For a long, long while she looked at it without any thing but a vague yearning to be united to her adored husband. Finally, as was her custom, she began to speak to it.

"Franz, I have prayed from my soul for light. It seems to me that G.o.d has spoken, but, oh, my darling, if what I am about to do is unwise, whisper me one word of warning, and I shall be pa.s.sive. Sometimes I think that you visit me, beloved, and whisper words of angelic sweetness 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. Finally she sighed. "Your dear face still smiles upon me," murmured she, "and I must believe that I have decided for the best. I will act."