Joseph II. and His Court Part 163

"Count Carl von Podstadsky-Liechtenstein," said she, "you are a man, and yet you tremble."

"Yes, Arabella, I tremble, but not for myself. As I look upon you, in the fulness of your incomparable beauty, my blood freezes with terror, and a voice whispers to me, 'Have mercy on this woman whose beauty is so akin to that of angels! You both stand upon the edge of a precipice: 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, we shall lose the game, Count 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 contemplate it fearlessly, and so we shall grow accustomed to our danger, and learn to escape it. Why do you wish to rescue me, Carl? I do not wish to be rescued. I like the giddy brink, and look down with defiance 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, 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 silvery laugh when I entered this room awhile ago."

"To be sure you did, faint-hearted knight of the card-table! I laughed for joy when I thought of former misery; and compared it with present splendor; the more so, that I am the bold architect who raised the edifice of my own fortune. We need not be grateful to Heaven for our luck, Carl, for we are not in favor with the celestial aristocracy; we have no one to thank for 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 sh.o.r.e. So away with your misgivings!

they do not become the career you have chosen."

"Right, Arabella, right. They do not, indeed! But promise me that I shall always have you at my side to share my fate, whatever it bring forth."

"I promise," said she, raising her starry eyes to his, and clasping with her small, firm hand his cold and clammy fingers. "By the memory of Rome, and the dark-rolling waters of the Tiber, from which you rescued me that night, I promise. And now let us pledge each other in a draught from the depths of the Styx. Look around you, Carl, and realize that all this magnificence is ours, and to-night I play the hostess to the proud aristocracy of Vienna. But one question before the curtain rises. 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 c.h.i.n.k 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 pa.s.sing the portals of her princely abode.

CHAPTER CXLIV.

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 at the chair of St. Peter. This blow was directed toward the chief pastors of the Austrian church--the bishops. Their allegiance, spiritual as well as temporal, was due to the emperor alone, and no order emanating from Rome could take effect without first being submitted for his approval. The bishops were to be reinstated in their ancient rights, and they alone were to grant marriage dispensations and impose penances.

But this was only one step in the new "reformation" of the Emperor 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 without 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 flocks. This, too, must be annihilated; and now every thing was ready for the great final blow which was to crush to the earth every vestige 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 were no longer to he 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 throughout the land, from palace to hovel. The people were more indignant--they were terror-stricken; for the emperor was not only an unbeliever himself, he was forcing his people to unbelief. The very existence 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 for what I am doing. When they see that the heavens have not fallen because a set of silly nuns are 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 that opinion. They hated the imperial freethinker who with his brutal hands was thrusting out helpless women 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 mult.i.tude had a.s.sembled before the convent of the Clarisserines whence the sisters were about to be expelled, and where the sacred vessels and vestments appertaining 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 writing-materials, and around them swarmed a crowd of Jewish tradesmen eagerly awaiting the sale!

"See them," said a priest to the mult.i.tude, "see those hungry Jews, hovering like vultures over the treasures of the church! 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!

Unhappy servants of the Most High! ye are driven from His temple, that 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 clinched at the Jews, who were laughing and chattering 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 absolute 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 Heaven and Earth can suffer it, so can we. But see--they come--the victims of an unbelieving sovereign!"

And the priest pointed to the convent-gates through which the procession had begun to pa.s.s. 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 came the nuns, first those who had grown gray in the service of the Lord, then the young ones, and finally the novices.

The people looked with heart-felt 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 face of the venerable prioress, who, 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 emblem of her office and of her faith, the courage of the poor old woman almost deserted her. She offered it, as the commissioner extended his hand, she shrank involuntarily, and once more pressed the cross to her quivering lips. Then, raising 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.

The prioress raised her head, and stared at him with vacant, tearless eyes.

"We must go into the wide, wide world," replied she. "The emperor has forbidden us to serve the Lord."

"The emperor intends you to become useful members of society," said a voice among the crowd. "The emperor intends that you shall cease your everlasting prayers, and turn your useless hands to some account.

Instead of living on your knees, he intends to force you to become honest wives and mothers, who shall be 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 are you going to live?" asked the priest, when the murmurs had ceased.

"The emperor has given us a pension of 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 you are afraid of the world, go among the Ursulines who serve the emperor by educating children. The Ursulines are not to be suppressed."

"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 themselves useful?"

And thus were the sympathies of the people withdrawn from the unhappy nuns. They, meanwhile, went their way, chanting as they walked:

"Cujus animam gementem, contristanten et dolentem pertransivit gladius."

While the Clarisserines were pa.s.sing from sight, the people, always swayed by the controlling influence of the moment, returned quietly to their homes.