"I see through him," said Hudelist, looking with a smile after the emperor, who closed the door of the cabinet behind him, to repair to the small reception-room; "yes, I see through the emperor. He is glad of my return, for I am a good spy for him in regard to the doings of his brothers, of whom he is jealous, and whom he hates with all his heart. If I succeed one day in communicating to him things capable of rendering the archdukes suspicious to him, or even convicting them of a wrong committed against him, the emperor will reward and promote me, and, as he says, satisfy the cravings of my ambition. Well, well, we shall see. If you watch a man very closely and are really intent on spying out something suspicious in his conduct, you will in the end surely find some little hook or other by which you may hold him, and which you may gradually hammer out and extend until it becomes large enough to hang the whole man on it. In the first place, I shall pay particular attention to the Archduke John, for his brother is particularly jealous of and angry with him. Ah, if I could discovery such a little hook by which to hold him, the emperor would reward my zeal with money, honors, and orders, and he would henceforward repose the most implicit confidence in my fidelity. Well, I shall think of it; the idea is a good one, and worthy of being matured. I shall form a scheme to make the good and munificent Archduke John the ladder by which I shall rise. I must conquer, and if I can do it only by pulling down others, it is the duty of self-preservation for me not to shrink from the task. I will now go to the chancery and wait there for the emperor's return. Ah, how his old limbs trembled when he heard of Napoleon's return. How hard and unpleasant it was for him to swallow the bad news which I communicated to him! There is no more interesting spectacle than that presented by a human face passing through all the various stages of excitement, and involuntarily performing in its features the five acts of a tragedy. And all the better when this human face is that of an emperor. During my whole journey from Paris to Vienna I was enjoying, by anticipation, the moment when I should deliver this Pandora's box to the emperor. He is opposed to war, and must nevertheless wage it; that is the best part of the joke. Aha! it is a fine sight to behold the gods of this earth a prey to such human embarrassments! I felt like bursting into loud laughter at the woe-begone appearance of the emperor. But hush, hush! I will go to the chancery until he returns."
In the meantime the emperor had repaired to the small reception- room, where Count Andreossi, the French ambassador, was already waiting for him.
Francis responded to the respectful greeting of the ambassador by a scarcely perceptible nod, and strode, with head erect, into the middle of the room. There he stood still, and casting a stern and almost defiant glance on the ambassador, he said in a cold, dignified tone: "You requested an audience of me in a very unusual manner. I granted it to prove to you my desire to remain at peace with France. Now speak; What has the ambassador of the Emperor of the French to say to the Emperor of Austria?"
"Your majesty, I have to present to you, in the first place, the respects of my master, who has returned from Spain to Paris."
Francis nodded his head slowly. "What next?" he asked.
"Next, my sovereign has charged me with a very difficult commission, for the execution of which I must first, and above all things, beg your majesty's pardon."
"You are your master's servant, and it is your duty to obey him," said the emperor, dryly. "Say, therefore, what he ordered you to tell me."
"Well, then, as your majesty has granted me permission, I will say that my master, the Emperor of the French, has taken deep umbrage at the hostile course which Austria has of late pursued toward him."
"And what is it that your emperor complains of?" asked the emperor, with perfect composure.
"In the first place, the Emperor Napoleon has taken deep umbrage at
Austria's still hesitating to recognize King Joseph as King of
Spain, and to send a minister plenipotentiary to his court."
"I did not know where to send my ambassador, and where he would find M. Joseph Bonaparte, King of Spain, for the time being—whether at Madrid or at Saragossa; in the camp, on the field of battle, or in flight. Hence I did not send an ambassador to his court. So soon as the Spanish nation is able to inform me where I may look for the king it has elected and recognized, I shall immediately dispatch a minister plenipotentiary to this court. State that to your monarch."
"Next, his majesty the Emperor Napoleon complains bitterly that Austria, instead of being intent on maintaining friendly relations with France, has left nothing undone to reconcile the enemies of France who were at war with each other, and to restore peace between them; and that Austria, by her incessant efforts, has really succeeded now in bringing about a treaty of peace between Turkey and England. Now, my master the emperor must look upon this as a hostile act on the part of Austria, against France; for to reconcile England with Turkey is equivalent to setting France at variance with Turkey, or at least neutralizing entirely her influence over the Sublime Porte."
"Turkey is my immediate neighbor, and it is highly important to Austria that there should be no war-troubles and disturbances on all her frontiers. Every independent state should be at liberty to pursue its own policy; and while this policy does not assume a hostile attitude toward other independent states, no one can take umbrage at it. Are you through with your grievances?"
"No, your majesty," said Andreossi, almost mournfully. "The worst and most unpleasant part remains to be told; but, as your majesty was gracious enough to say, I must obey the orders of my master, and it is his will that I shall now communicate to your majesty the emperor's views in his own words. It has given great offence to the Emperor Napoleon that Austria should place herself in a posture of open hostility against France, when France has given her so many proofs of her forbearance, and has hitherto always spared Austria, notwithstanding the numerous acts of duplicity and evident hostility of the Austrian court. The Emperor Napoleon informs your majesty that he is well aware of the ambitious schemes of Austria, but that lie thinks your majesty is not strong enough to carry them into effect. He requests your majesty never to forget the magnanimity which the Emperor Napoleon manifested toward you after the battle of Austerlitz. The Emperor Napoleon has instructed me to remind you of the fact, well known to you, that you can confide in his generosity, and that he is firmly resolved to observe the treaties. Naples, Prussia, and Spain, would stand erect, yet, if their rulers had relied on their own sagacity, and not listened to the fatal advice of their ministers, or even of courtiers, women, and ambitious young princes. His majesty beseeches the Emperor of Austria not to listen to such insidious advice, nor to yield to the wishes of the war- party, which is intent only on gratifying its passionate ambition, and whose eyes refuse to see that it is driving Austria toward the brink of an abyss where she must perish, as did Prussia, Naples, and Spain." [Footnote: Hormayr, "Allgemeine Geschichte," vol. iii., p. 205.]
"It is very kind in his majesty the Emperor Napoleon to give me such friendly advice," sail the Emperor Francis, smiling. "But I beg his majesty to believe that, in accordance with his wishes, I rely only on my own individual sagacity; that I am influenced by no party, no person, but am accustomed to direct myself the affairs of my country and the administration of my empire, and not to listen to any insinuations, from whatever quarter they may come. I request you to repeat these words to his majesty the Emperor Napoleon with the same accuracy with which you communicated his message to me. And now, Count Andreossi, I believe you have communicated to me all that your master instructed you to say to me."
"Pardon me, your majesty, I am instructed last to demand in the emperor's name an explanation as to the meaning of the formidable armaments of Austria, the organization of the militia, and the arming of the fortresses on the frontiers, and to inquire against whom these measures are directed. The emperor implores your majesty to put a stop to these useless and hurtful demonstrations, and orders me expressly to state that, if Austria does not stop her armaments and adopt measures of an opposite character, war will be inevitable." [Footnote: Napoleon's own words.—See "Lebensbilder," vol. ii., and Hormayr, "Allgemeine Geschichte," vol. iii.]
"In that case, Mr. Ambassador of the Emperor Napoleon, war is inevitable," cried Francis, who now dropped the mask of cold indifference, and allowed his face to betray the agitation and rage filling his bosom, by his quivering features, flashing eyes, and clouded brow. "I have calmly listened to you," he added, raising his voice; "I have received with silent composure all the arrogant phrases which you have ventured to utter here in the name of your emperor. I look on them as one of the famous proud bulletins for which your emperor is noted, and to whose overbearing and grandiloquent language all Europe is accustomed. But it is well known too that these bulletins are not exactly models of veracity, but sometimes the very reverse of it. An instance of the latter is your emperor's assertion that he observes the treaties, and that he gave me proofs of his magnanimity after the battle of Austerlitz. No, the emperor did no such thing; he made me, on the contrary, feel the full weight of his momentary superiority. He was my enemy, and treated me as an enemy, without magnanimity, which, for the rest, I did not claim at the time. But he has proved to me, too, that he does not observe the most sacred treaties. He violated every section of the peace of Presburg; he did not respect the frontiers as stipulated in that treaty; he forced me, in direct violation of the treaties, to allow him the permanent use of certain military roads within the boundaries of my empire; he hurled from their thrones dynasties which were related to me, and whose existence I had guaranteed; he deprived, in violation of the law of nations, the beloved and universally respected head of Christendom of his throne, and subjected him to a most disgraceful imprisonment; he exerted on all seas the most arbitrary pressure on the Austrian flag. And now, after all this has happened, after Austria has endured all these wrongs so long and silently, the Emperor Napoleon undertakes even to meddle with the internal administration of my empire, and forbids me what he, ever since his accession, has incessantly done, to wit: to mobilize my army, levy conscripts for the troops of the line and the reserves, and arm the fortresses. He asks me to put a stop to my armaments; else, he says, war will be inevitable. Well, Mr. Ambassador, I do not care if the Emperor Napoleon looks at the matter in that light, and I shall not endeavor to prevent him from so doing, for I shall not stop, but continue my preparations. I called out the militia, just as the Emperor of the French constantly calls new levies of conscripts into immediate activity; and if war should be inevitable in consequence thereof, I shall bear what is inevitable with firmness and composure."
"Your majesty, is this your irrevocable resolution?" asked
Andreossi. "Is this the answer that I am to send to my master, the
Emperor Napoleon?"
"I think it will be better for you to convey this answer in person to your emperor," said Francis, calmly. "As no one has witnessed our interview, only you yourself can repeat my words with perfect accuracy; and it is therefore best for you to set out this very day for Paris."
"That is to say, your majesty gives me my passports, and war will immediately break out between France and Austria!" sighed Andreossi. "Your majesty should graciously consider—"
"I have considered every thing," interrupted Francis, vehemently, "and I request you not to speak to me again in the style of your French bulletins. I will hear the bulletins of the Emperor Napoleon on the field of battle rather than in my cabinet. Set out, therefore, for Paris, Mr. Ambassador, and repeat to the emperor what I have said to you."
"I will comply with your majesty's orders," said Andreossi, with a sigh; "I will set out, but I shall leave the members of my legation here as yet, for I do not yet give up the hope that it may be possible for the two courts to avoid a declaration of war; and to spare such a calamity to two countries that have such good reasons to love each other."
"Let us quietly await the course of events," replied the emperor. "Farewell, Count Andreossi. If you will accept my advice, you will set out this very day; for so soon as my dear Viennese learn that war is to break out in earnest, they will probably give vent to their enthusiasm in the most tumultuous and rapturous demonstrations, and I suppose it would be disagreeable to you to witness them. Farewell, sir!"
He waved his hand toward tile ambassador, bent his head slowly and haughtily, and left the reception-room without vouchsafing another glance to Count Andreossi.
"Now my brothers will be in ecstasies," said the emperor to himself, slowly walking up and down, his hands folded on his back, in the sitting-room adjoining the reception-room. "They will be angry, though, because I did not consult them, and decided the whole affair without listening to their wisdom."
"Your majesty," said a footman, who entered the room at this moment, "their imperial highnesses, the Archdukes Charles and John, request an audience of your majesty."
"They are welcome," said the emperor, whose features were lit up by a faint smile. "Show my brothers in."
CHAPTER IV.
THE EMPEROR AND HIS BROTHERS.
A few minutes afterward the two archdukes entered the room of the emperor, who slowly went some steps to meet them, and greeted them with a grave, cold glance.
"Why, this is a rare spectacle," said Francis, sneeringly, "to see my brothers side by side in such beautiful harmony. In truth, it was only wanting to me that even you two should be of the same opinion, and come to me for the purpose of inviting me, as Schiller says, to be the third in your league."
"Your majesty would always be the first in this league," said the Archduke John, in his clear, ringing voice; "my brother would be the second, and I only the third."
"See, see, my brother is very modest and humble to-day," said Francis, smiling. "This means doubtless that you have come to ask a favor of me, and that, by your kindness and devotedness, you wish to induce me to comply with your request, as a dog is decoyed with cakes and sweets by the thief who intends to steal something from the dog's master."
"Oh, your majesty, we do not intend to steal any thing from our master!" exclaimed John, laughing. "But there is really an attack to be made on our master's property; only he who intends to make it does not decoy us with cakes and sweets, but assails us with the sword and coarse invectives."
"It was very shrewd in you to mention at once the subject on which you wished to speak with me," said the emperor, with a slight sneer. "But permit me first to say a word to my brother Charles there, and bid welcome to his imperial highness, the illustrious captain, the generalissimo of our army, the hope and consolation of Austria."
"Your majesty wishes to mock me," said the Archduke Charles, in a mournful voice.
"I repeat only what I read every day in the newspapers,, and what the dear Viennese are singing and shouting in every street!" exclaimed the emperor. "Yes, yes, my dear brother, you must consent to be the hope and consolation of Austria, and to be praised as the august and invincible hero of our immediate future."
So saying, the emperor gazed with a long and searching look at his brother's form, and a scornful expression overspread his features.
Indeed, the epithets which the emperor had applied to his brother corresponded but little to the appearance of the Archduke Charles. His small, bent form, with its weak, shrivelled limbs, was not the form of a hero; his pale, wan face, with the hollow cheeks; the dim eyes deeply imbedded in their sockets, and the clouded brow, on which thin tufts of hair hung down, was not the face of a bold captain, confident of achieving brilliant triumphs by his heroic deeds, and deserving of the name of the hope and consolation of Austria. But the Austrians did call him by that name, and the glory of his military achievements, which filled not only Austria but the whole of Germany, caused them really to build their hopes on the Archduke Charles, despite his very feeble health. The Emperor Francis was aware of this; he knew that the Archdukes Charles and John were by far more popular than he was; hence he was jealous of and angry with them—nay, he almost hated them.
"You look very pale and sick to-day, my dear Archduke Charles," said the emperor, after a pause, during which he had contemplated the archduke with a searching expression.
"I am very feeble and unwell, your majesty," sighed Charles; "and but for the special request of my brother, the Archduke John, I should not have dared to come here this morning. However, I am afraid that I can do but little to comply with his wishes, and that my brother John will soon think it would have been better for him not to ask me to accompany him to your majesty."
"Ah, then, you are after all not so harmonious as I thought when I saw you entering here together!" exclaimed the emperor, laughing. "There are still differences of opinion, then, between the two pillars of my throne, and were I to lean on one, the other would totter and give way. Well, what do you want? What brought you here?"
"Your majesty, only the intense desire to dedicate our services to Austria and our emperor!" exclaimed John, enthusiastically. "We wished to implore your majesty to utter at length the word that will deliver Austria and all Germany. Your majesty, this hesitation and silence rests like a nightmare on every heart and every bosom; all eyes are fixed hopefully on your majesty: Oh, my lord and emperor; one word from your lips, and this nightmare will disappear; all hearts will rejoice in blissful ecstasy, and every bosom will expand and breathe more freely when your majesty shall utter this word: 'War! war!' We hold the sword in our hands; let the will of my august emperor give us the right now to draw the sword against him who, for years past, has swept like a destructive hurricane through all Germany, all Europe, and who tramples alike on princes and peoples, on liberty and law. Your majesty, in the name of your people, in the name of all German patriots, I bend my knees here before my lord and emperor, and thus, kneeling and full of reverence. I implore your majesty to let the hour of deliverance strike at length; let us, with joyful courage, expel the enemy who has already so long been threatening our frontiers with defiant arrogance: let us take the field against the impudent usurper, and wrest from him the laurels which he gained at Austerlitz, and of which he is so proud. Your majesty, your people are filled with warlike ardor; your faithful Tyrolese are waiting only for a signal to break their chains and rise for their beloved emperor. Your Italian provinces are longing for the day when war shall break out, in order to avenge themselves on the tyrant who promised them liberty and brought them only slavery. The hour of retribution has come for Napoleon; may your majesty consult our best interests by saying that we are to profit by this hour, and that war, a mortal struggle, is to begin now against the Emperor of the French!"
And, still bending his knees before the emperor, John looked up to him with longing, beseeching eyes.
Francis looked down on him with a gloomy air, and the noble and enthusiastic face of his brother, who was ten years younger, and much stronger and better-looking, made a disagreeable impression on him.
"Rise, brother," he said, coldly; "your knees must ache, and I, for my part, do not like such theatrical scenes at all, and such fine phrases make but little impression on my cold and prosy heart. I am accustomed to follow always my convictions, and when I advance a step, I must be sure not to fall to an abyss which some poetical hero may perhaps have merely covered for me with his flowery phrases. That I am aware of the dangers threatening us on the part of France I have proved by putting the army on the war footing, by intrusting you, Archduke John, with organizing the militia and the reserves in accordance with the plan you drew up for that purpose; and by placing you, Archduke Charles, at the head of my army and appointing you generalissimo."
"An honor, your majesty, which I accepted with reverent gratitude, although it almost crushes me at the present time," said the Archduke Charles, with a sigh. "Permit me now, your majesty, to open my heart to you, and lay my innermost thoughts at your feet. To do so, I accompanied my brother John to you. He said he would implore your majesty once more to postpone the declaration of war no longer, but utter at length the decisive word. I implored him not to do so, and not to force us to engage prematurely in a war that could not but bring the greatest calamities on Austria. But my dear brother would not listen to my remonstrances and prayers; he called me a secret friend and admirer of Napoleon; he demanded that I should at least speak out, freely and openly in your majesty's presence, and refute him if I could, or yield to him if my arguments should prove untenable. Your majesty, I have therefore complied with the wishes of my brother, the Archduke John; I have come to you, but only to say to my lord and emperor: Your majesty, I implore you, in the name of your people and your throne, do not yet unsheath the sword! Wait until our army is ready for the contest, and until our armaments are completed. Do not plunge rashly into war, lest victory escape us. A great deal remains to be done yet before we can say that our armaments are completed; and only after being fully prepared can we dare to take the field against the Emperor Napoleon and his hitherto victorious legions."
"Ah, do you hear our Fabius Cunctator, brother John, the Lion- hearted!" exclaimed the emperor, sarcastically. "Which of you is right, and whose wise advice shall I follow now—I, the poor emperor, who is not strong and sagacious enough to be his own adviser and advance a step without his brothers? John, the learned soldier, beseeches me to declare war, and Charles, the intrepid hero, implores me not to do so. What am I, the poor emperor, who cannot advise himself, and who receives too much advice from others, to do under such circumstances? Whose will must I submit to?"
"Your majesty," cried John, in dismay, "it is we that must submit; it is your will on which depends the decision. I implore your majesty to declare war, because I deem it necessary; but, if your majesty should take a different resolution, I shall submit silently and obediently."
"And I," said Charles, "requested you to postpone the declaration of war, because I do not believe that we are sufficiently prepared for the contest; but, like my brother, I shall submit silently if your majesty should take a different resolution."
"Indeed, will you do so, archdukes?" asked the emperor, in a scornful tone. "Will you be mindful of your duties as subjects, and, instead of giving me unnecessary advice, obey me silently?"
The two archdukes bowed to indicate their submissiveness. The emperor advanced a few steps, and proudly raising his head, he looked at his two brothers with a stern and imperious expression.
"Let me tell you, then, archdukes, what I, your lord and emperor, have resolved," said Francis, sternly. "I have resolved to declare war!"
Two loud cries resounded with one accord; a cry of joy burst from John's lips, a cry of dismay from those of Charles. Pale, reeling like a drunken man, the generalissimo approached the emperor and held out his hands to him with a beseeching expression.
"Your majesty," he said, "you have resolved to declare war, but you do not mean to say that it is to commence immediately?"
"That is what I mean to say," replied the emperor, sarcastically.
The Archduke Charles turned still paler than before; a strange tremor passed through his frame, his head dropped on his bosom, and a deep groan issued from his breast.
The Archduke John, forgetful of his quarrel with his brother Charles, at the sight of the latter's profound grief, hastened to him, and tenderly grasped both his hands.
"Brother," he asked, anxiously, "what is the matter? Are you unwell?"
"I am," said Charles, wiping from his forehead the large drops of sweat standing on it. "I am unwell, but I must say a few additional words to the emperor. I must disclose to him a melancholy secret of which I heard only an hour ago.—Your majesty, I implore you once more, postpone the war as long as possible; for—hear my terrible secret—we have been infamously defrauded by Commissary-General von Fassbender."
"Your intimate friend?" interposed the emperor, with a scornful laugh.
"Yes, my intimate friend," exclaimed the archduke, in a loud, shrill voice; "he deceived me most shamefully. All the army contracts had been intrusted to him, and he assured me he had filled them in the most conscientious manner. I believed him, and it is only now that I find out that he has shamefully deceived me and his emperor. All his bills for the supplies which he pretended to have furnished are in my hands, but the troops did not get the supplies. The scoundrel sent only sour flour, bad linen, and moth-eaten uniform cloth to the regiments, and yet he drew enormous sums of money for the full amount of his contracts."
"We shall compel the thief to disgorge his ill-gotten gains," cried the emperor.
"No, your majesty," said Charles, with a groan; and leaning more firmly on his brother's arm, in order not to sink to the floor, he added: "no, your majesty, the criminal is beyond the reach of your power. He escaped from human justice by committing suicide an hour ago. The criminal has fled from his judges, but his crimes remain, and our army suffers in consequence of them. Now your majesty knows all, you will take back your word, and say no longer that you will declare war. You will be gracious enough to give me time to repair the injury resulting from the crimes of the commissary-general, and to provide the army with all that is unfortunately wanting to it as yet."
"No," cried the emperor vehemently, "I will not! I will not take back my word, and I had already made up my mind before you, my brothers, entered here to assist me so generously by your wisdom. War will be declared immediately; my resolution is irrevocable. I have already informed the French ambassador of it, and ordered him to leave Vienna this very day. Your warnings come just as much too late as did John's entreaties. I did what I myself deemed best; and I deemed it best to declare war against Bonaparte, in reply to his intolerable arrogance. Every thing is fixed and settled; war will commence without delay: and you, Archduke Charles, are the generalissimo of my army."
The Archduke Charles made no reply; he uttered a painful groan and sank to the floor by John's side. All his limbs trembled and quivered; his pale face became distorted, he clinched his fists, and his eyes were glassy as though he were dying.
"He has one of his fits," said the emperor calmly, looking down on his brother. "Call his servants and his doctor, Archduke John, that they may remove the generalissimo to another room and administer medicine to him."
John rushed to the door, and soon the servants and the physician, who always accompanied the Archduke Charles, hastened into the room. They lifted with practised hands the archduke, who was still writhing in convulsions, and carried him tenderly out of the room.
John, who, with touching solicitude, had remained near the sufferer, would have accompanied him; but a word from the emperor called him back.
"Stay a moment, archduke," said Francis; "the Archduke Charles only has his fits, and his servants will take care of him. I have yet to speak a few words with you. This will be a formidable war, brother, and we must see to it that it breaks out at the same time in all quarters of our empire, and that the people rise with one accord and take up arms. We have made our preparations everywhere, and our emissaries have done their duty; they have everywhere enlisted friends of our cause, and established committees which have made all necessary dispositions for the defence of the country. You yourself sent your emissary, Baron von Hormayr, to your beloved Tyrol; if I am correctly informed, he has already returned to Vienna."
"Your majesty, he arrived here this morning," said John, looking at his brother with an air of surprise and even terror.
This did not escape the emperor, and a smile of satisfaction lit up his face.
"You see, my agents serve me very well, and I am aware of all that is going on," said Francis, gravely. "I know, too, that Baron von Hormayr has returned to Vienna not alone, but accompanied by some good friends. I believe you did not come here to give me your advice, but to beg permission to receive your Tyrolese friends at your palace to-night."
"What?" asked John, surprised; "your majesty is aware of this, too?"
"I have told you already that my agents serve me very well. Let this be a warning to you not to do or undertake any thing that you would like to conceal from me. I know that Andreas Hofer is here, to concert with you some sort of plan for the insurrection of the Tyrol. Under the present circumstances I permit you to do so, for it is really important that the German and Italian Tyrol should rise; and as we are going to have war, we will strive to recover our Tyrol. But we must proceed cautiously, and the world must not find out that we instigated the Tyrolese to rise in arms. That would be setting a bad example to the other nations of our empire. We may at times profit by popular insurrections, but must beware of letting the world know that we ourselves brought them about. Hence, I do not want to know any thing of your Tyrolese, and shall not grant them an audience. But I permit you to do so, and you may tell these brave Tyrolese, too, that I should be glad if they would become again my dear subjects."
"Your majesty," exclaimed John, joyously, "these words of their emperor will be the signal for them to rise as one man, take their rifles, and expel the Evil One, that is to say, the Bavarians."
"I shall be glad to see the Tyrolese do so, and, moreover, do it in time," said the emperor, nodding his head. "Repeat my words to Andreas Hofer, brother John, and pledge him my word that, if we recover the Tyrol this time, we shall never give it up again. But Andreas Hofer must behave with great prudence, and not show himself to the public here, but keep in the background, that the police may wink at his presence in Vienna, and act as though they did not see him and his friends. And now, brother, farewell, and inquire if the generalissimo has recovered from his fit. It would be bad, indeed, if these fits should befall him once in the midst of a battle. Well, let us hope for the best for us all, and especially for the Tyrol. You have now a great task before you, John, for you will receive a command; you shall assist the Tyrolese in shaking off the foreign yoke."
"Oh, my lord and emperor," exclaimed John, with a radiant face and fiery glance, "how kind and gracious you are to-day! It is the heart of a brother that speaks out of your mouth—of a brother who wishes to make me happy, and knows how to do so. Yes, send me with a corps to the assistance of the Tyrolese; let me bring freedom and salvation to my beloved mountaineers. That is a task which fills me with boundless ecstasy, and for which I shall always be grateful and devoted to you, brother."
"Be devoted to your emperor, archduke," said Francis, smiling; "the brothers will get along well enough; they have nothing to do with politics and public affairs. Farewell, John. But, remember, we shall meet again to-day, for I shall summon the ministers and generals to a consultation, and you will, of course, be present. Once more, then, farewell!"
He nodded repeatedly to the archduke and left the room with unusual quickness. The emperor walked hastily and with a gloomy face through the adjoining room, and entered his cabinet, the door of which he closed rather noisily. "I am to let him bring freedom and salvation to his beloved mountaineers," murmured Francis to himself—"to HIS mountaineers! I believe he would be glad if they really were his, and if he could become King of the Tyrol. Well, we shall see. I have lulled his suspicion by permitting him to hold intercourse with the Tyrolese, and concert plans with them. We shall see how far my brother will go, and what his gratitude and devotion will amount to. It is a troublesome burden for me to have such dangerously ambitious and renowned brothers, against whom I must be constantly on my guard. I would I could pick them off as quickly as I remove the flies from this wall."
So saying, he took from the table the fly flap which had always to lie on it in readiness, and entered upon his favorite amusement, the pursuit of the flies on the wall and furniture, which his servants took good care not to drive from the emperor's cabinet, because Francis would never have pardoned them for spoiling his sport.
Walking along the walls with a rapid step, the emperor commenced killing the flies.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, striking a fly, "ha! brother Charles, this stroke is intended for you. Really, there lies the fly writhing, as the generalissimo did, on the floor. But he has a tougher life than the fly; for the fly will writhe until it is dead, but the generalissimo always revives; and when he has no fits, he is a very brave and illustrious man, before whom his emperor must humbly stand aside. I cannot take the fly-flap and strike his writhing limbs as I do this miserable fly, the little Archduke Charles, that is writhing on the floor there. So, now you are dead, confounded little brother Charles, and we will hunt for your brother John. See, see, there he sits on the wall, cleaning his wings and making himself tidy and pretty. There! There is an affectionate blow from your imperial brother, and you are done for. Now you will never fly to YOUR mountaineers and BRING them freedom and salvation. You will, on the contrary, stick to the wall of your emperor's room, and learn that your brother is your master. Why, this is most amusing sport to day! I shall not stop before killing a dozen Archdukes Charles and John!"
And Francis hunted eagerly on the walls and the furniture for other flies, which he pursued and killed with his fly-flap, always applying the name of Charles to one, and that of John to the next.
In the excitement of this strange sport he had not noticed that, soon after he entered the cabinet, the door had opened, and Counsellor von Hudelist had come in. Francis did not remember at that moment that he had given express orders to Hudelist to re-enter the cabinet as soon as he heard the emperor return to it; he had fixed his thoughts exclusively on the cruel pleasure of killing the flies Charles and John, and Hudelist took good care not to disturb him in this pleasant pastime. He stood leaning against the wall close to the door; his small, flashing eyes followed every motion of the emperor with rapt attention, and whenever Francis, on killing a fly, pronounced the name of either of his brothers in a triumphant tone, a malicious smile overspread the pale and ugly face of the counsellor.
Now, however, Francis, in hunting for flies, had arrived at the extreme end of the room. Until then, his back had been turned to Hudelist. If he should turn now and continue his sport on the other side of the room, he would discover him, and be disagreeably surprised at his presence. Therefore, before the emperor turned, Hudelist opened once more the door near which he was standing, and closed it rather noisily.
The emperor turned and asked gayly: "Well, what is it, Mr.
Counsellor?"
"Your Majesty ordered me to return to the cabinet as soon as you should be back."
"But I returned some time ago," said Francis, casting a distrustful, searching glance on Hudelist.
"Pardon me, your majesty, I believed I heard you only just now close the door, and had until then vainly waited for some sound in the cabinet," replied Hudelist, with a perfectly innocent expression of countenance. "The second door separating the conference-room from your majesty's cabinet is so heavily lined with cushions as to render it almost impervious to sound, and I beg your pardon again for not having heard despite the most eager attention."
The emperor's face had again entirely cleared up. "Never mind," he said; "I am glad that those in the adjoining room cannot hear what is going on here. I like to have ears for all, but do not like anybody to have ears for me. Now let me hear what you have brought for me from Paris."
"Above all things, your majesty, I succeeded in obtaining for a considerable sum of money, the receipt for making Spanish sealing- wax, from a Spanish refugee, who was formerly employed at the royal sealing-wax factory of Madrid, and was perfectly familiar with the formula for making it. Your majesty knows that this receipt is a secret, and that the officers and workmen employed at the factory must even swear an oath not to divulge it."
"And you obtained the receipt nevertheless, and brought it with you?" inquired the emperor.
"Here it is, your majesty."
Francis hastily seized the paper which Hudelist handed to him with a respectful bow.
"See, see, this is a very kind service which you have rendered me, and I shall be grateful for it!" he exclaimed. "You shall test the receipt with me alone; we will try it right away. But hold on; I must first tell you some grave news. We shall declare war. I have already told the French ambassador to leave Vienna to-day, and Metternich can come home too. I will hold a council of the ministers and generals to-day. Tell the functionaries at the chancery to inform the ministers, archdukes, and generals that I wish to see them in the conference-room at four. Make haste, and then come to my laboratory. We will try the Spanish receipt."
CHAPTER V.
THE PERFORMANCE OF "THE CREATION."
A brilliant festival was to take place to-night in the large aula of the Vienna University. All the composers, musicians, dilettanti, and amateurs of Vienna, had joyously consented to participate in it. The most distinguished names of the aristocracy and the artistic circles of Vienna were at the head of the committee of arrangements. Among those names were those of the Princes Lichnowsky and Lichtenstein, the Countesses Kaunitz and Spielmann, of Beethoven and Salieri, Kreutzer and Clementi, and finally, those of the poets Collin and Carpani.
Every one wished to participate in this festival, which was to render homage to the veteran German composer, the great Joseph Haydn, on the occasion of the twenty-fifth performance of the maestro's great work, "The Creation." Ten years had elapsed since the first performance of "The Creation" at Vienna, and already the sublime composition had made the tour of Europe, and had been performed amid the most enthusiastic applause in London and Paris, in Amsterdam and St. Petersburg, in Berlin, and all the large and small cities of Germany. Everywhere it had excited transports of admiration; everywhere delighted audiences had greeted with rapturous enthusiasm this beautiful music, so full of holy ardor and childlike piety, this great work of the German composer, Joseph Haydn.
To-day the twenty-fifth performance of "The Creation" was to take place at Vienna, and Joseph Haydn himself was to be present at the concert. The committee of arrangements had invited him, and he had accepted the invitation. Although his seventy-seven years were resting heavily on his head, and had paralyzed his strength, be could not withstand the honorable request of his friends and admirers, and he had replied with a touching smile to the committee of arrangements, whose delegates had conveyed the invitation to him "I shall come to take leave of the world with my 'Creation,' and bid a last farewell to my dear Viennese. YOU will often yet sing my 'Creation,' but I shall hear it for the last time!"
"For the last time!" These were the words which had thrilled all the friends and admirers of the maestro, and filled them with the ardent desire to greet him once more, and render him homage for the last time. For all felt and knew that Haydn had spoken the truth, and that his end was drawing near. All, therefore, longed to take part in this last triumph of the composer of "The Creation," whom death had already touched with its inexorable finger.
Hence, there was a perfect jam in front of the university building; the equipages of the high nobility formed two immense lines down the long street; like a black, surging stream, rising from moment to moment, the part of the audience arriving on foot moved along the houses and between the double line of carriages toward the entrance of the building. Thousands had vainly applied for admission at the ticket-office; there was room only for fifteen hundred persons in the aula and the adjoining rooms, and perhaps as many thousands had come to hear the concert. As they could not be admitted into the hall, they remained in the street in front of the building; as they could not hear Haydn's music, they wished at least to see his face and cheer him on his arrival at the door.
But there was a surging crowd also in the festively-decorated university hall. All had come in their holiday attire, and joy and profound emotion beamed from all faces. Friends shook hands and greeted each other with radiant eyes; and even those who did not know each other exchanged kindly greetings and pleasant smiles on seating themselves side by side, and looked at each other as though they were friends and acquaintances, and not entire strangers.
For all felt the great importance of this hour; all felt themselves Germans, owing to the homage which they were to render to the German maestro and to German music; and all knew that this festival would be looked upon beyond the Rhine as a hostile demonstration of the Germans against French pride and arrogance. They wished to show to France that, although Germany was dismembered, the heart of the Germans throbbed for Germany and German art, and that they did not feel at all alarmed at the grandiloquent threats of the Emperor of the French, but yielded with undisturbed equanimity to the enjoyment of German art. While the threatening words of the Emperor Napoleon were resounding, like ringing war-fanfares, from Paris, the Viennese desired to respond to him by the beautiful notes of sublime music; and, regardless of the growls of the lion beyond the Rhine, they wished to delight in the soul-stirring harmonies of "The Creation."
All preparations were now completed. The hall was all ablaze with the wax-lights which were beaming down from those gigantic lustres, and whose rays were reflected in the large mirrors covering the walls. The imperial box was splendidly festooned with rare flowers, and decorated with carpets and gilt candelabra, whose enormous wax- lights filled the interior of the spacious box with broad daylight.
Opposite the imperial box, on the other side of the hall, rose the large tribune destined for an orchestra of eighty performers and a choir of one hundred singers. All the latter, too, were in joyous spirits; all were animated to-day, not by the envy and jealousy so often to be found among artistes, but by the one great desire to contribute their share to the homage to be rendered to German art. They did not wish to-day to exhibit themselves and their artistic skill, but desired only to render homage to the music of the great maestro, and to German art.
And now the hour was at hand when the concert was to commence. The audience had taken their seats, the orchestra ceased tuning their instruments, the singers were in readiness, and the committee of arrangements had gone down to the street-door to await Haydn's arrival.
The door of the imperial box opened at this moment, and the emperor and empress entered, followed by the archdukes and their suites. To- day for the first time the audience took no notice of these august persons; they did not rise to greet the imperial couple and the archdukes. No one had perceived their arrival, for all eyes were steadfastly fixed on the large folding-doors by which Joseph Haydn was to enter the hall.
He had been expected already for some time, and the audience began to whisper anxiously: "Will he, perhaps, not come, after all? Will his physician not permit him to go to the concert because the excitement might be injurious to him?"
But all at once the silence was broken by a noise in the street, which sounded like the roar of the stormy ocean; it rent the air, and caused the windows of the hall to rattle. And the audience was joyfully moved; all faces became radiant, all turned their eyes toward the door.
Now this door opened, and a beautiful though strange group appeared in it. In its midst, on the shoulders of eight strong young men, arose an easy chair, festooned with flowers, and in this chair sat the small, bent form of an old man. His face was pale and wan, and in his forehead the seventy-seven years of his life had drawn deep furrows; but from his large blue eyes beamed the eternal fire of youth, and there was something childlike and touching in the smile of his mouth. On the right side of his easy-chair was seen the imposing form of a gentleman, plainly dressed, but with a head full of majestic dignity, his face gloomy and wild, his high forehead, surrounded by dense dishevelled hair, his eyes now gleaming with sombre fires, now glancing mildly and amiably. It was Louis von Beethoven, whom Haydn liked to call his pupil, and whose fame had at that time already penetrated far beyond the frontiers of Austria. On the left side of the easy-chair was seen the fine, expressive face of Salieri, who liked to call himself Gluck's pupil; and side by side with these two walked Kreutzer and Clementi, and the other members of the committee of arrangements.
Thundering cheers greeted their appearance; the whole audience rose; even the Empress Ludovica started up from her gilded chair and bowed smilingly; and the Archduke John advanced close to the railing of the box to greet again and again with pleasant nods of his head and waves of his hand Joseph Haydn, thus borne along above the heads of the audience. But the Emperor Francis, who was standing by the side of his consort, looked with a somewhat sneering expression on the crowd below, and, turning to the empress, he said: "Perhaps my dear Viennese may consider Haydn on his easy-chair yonder their emperor, and I myself may abdicate and go home. They did not even look at us to-night, and are raising such a fuss now as though God Almighty had entered the ball!"
In effect, the exultation of the audience increased at every step which the procession advanced, and endless cheers accompanied the composer to the seat which had been prepared for him on an estrade in front of the orchestra.
Here two beautiful ladies of high rank came to meet him, and presented to him, on cushions of gold-embroidered velvet, poems written by Collin and Carpani and printed on silken ribbons. At the same time many hundred copies of these poems flittered through the hall, and all shouted joyously, "Long live Joseph Haydn, the German maestro!" And the orchestra played a ringing flourish, and the cheers of the audience rent the air again and again.
Joseph Haydn, quite overcome, his eyes filled with tears, leaned his head against the back of his chair. A mortal pallor overspread his cheeks, and his hands trembled as though he had the fever.
"Maestro, dear, dear maestro!" said the Princess Esterhazy, bending over him tenderly, "are you unwell? You tremble, and are so pale! Are you unwell?"
"Oh, no, no," said Haydn, with a gentle smile, "my soul is in ecstasies at this hour, which is a precious reward for a long life of arduous toils. My soul is in ecstasies, but it lives in such a weak and wretched shell; and because the soul is all ablaze with the fires of rapturous delight, the whole warmth has entered it, and the poor mortal shell is cold and trembling."
The Princess Esterhazy took impetuously from her shoulders the costly Turkish shawl in which her form was enveloped; she spread it out before Haydn and wrapped it carefully round his feet. Her example was followed immediately by the Princesses Lichtenstein and Kinsky, and the Countesses Kaunitz and Spielmann. They doffed their beautiful ermine furs and their Turkish and Persian shawls, and wrapped them around the old composer, and transformed them into cushions which they placed under his head and his arms, and blankets with which they covered him. [Footnote: See "Zeitgenossen," third series, vol. vi., p. 32]
Haydn allowed them smilingly to do so, and thanked, with glances of joyful emotion, the beautiful ladies who manifested so much tender solicitude for him.
"Why can I not die now?" he said to himself in a low voice. "Why does not Death kiss my lips at this glorious hour of my triumph? Oh, come, Death! waft me blissfully into the other world, for in this world I am useless henceforth; my strength is gone, and my head has no more ideas. I live only in and on the past!"
"And yet you live for all time to come," said the Princess Esterhazy; enthusiastically, "and while German art and German music are loved and honored, Joseph Haydn will never die and never be forgotten."
Hushed now was every sound. Salieri had taken his seat as conductor of the concert, and signed now to the orchestra.
The audience listened in breathless silence to the tumultuous notes depicting in so masterly a manner the struggle of light and darkness, the chaos of the elements. The struggle of the elements becomes more and more furious, and the music depicts it in sombre, violent notes, when suddenly the horizon brightens, the clouds are rent, the dissonant sounds pass into a sublime harmony, and in glorious notes of the most blissful exultation resound through the struggling universe the grand, redeeming words, "Let there be light!" And all join in the rapturous chorus, and repeat in blissful concord, "Let there be light!"
The audience, carried away by the grandeur and irresistible power of these notes, burst into long-continued applause.
Haydn took no notice of it; he heard only his music; his soul was entirely absorbed in it, and lifting both his arms to heaven, he said devoutly and humbly, "It comes from above!" [Footnote: "Zeitgenossen," ibid.]
The audience had heard these loud and enthusiastic words; it applauded no longer, but looked in reverent silence toward the aged composer, who, in the midst of his most glorious triumph, rendered honor to God alone, and bowed piously and modestly to the work of his own genius.
The performance proceeded. But Joseph Haydn hardly heard much of the music. His head leaned against the back of the chair; his face, lit up by a blissful smile, was deathly pale; his eyes cast fervent glances of gratitude toward heaven, and seemed, in their ecstatic gaze, to see the whole heavens opened.
"Maestro," said the Princess Esterhazy, when the first part of the performance was ended, "you must no longer remain here, but return to your quiet home."
"Yes, I shall return to the quiet home which awaits us all," said Haydn, mildly, "and I feel sensibly that I shall remain no longer among men. A sweet dream seems to steal over me. Let the performers commence the second part, and my soul will be wafted to heaven on the wings of my music."
But the Princess Esterhazy beckoned to his friends. "Take him away," she said, "the excitement will kill him, if he stays any longer."
They approached his chair and begged permission to escort him home. Haydn nodded his assent silently and smilingly, and his eyes glanced dreamily round the hall.
Suddenly he gave a start as if in great terror, and rose so impetuously that the furs and Turkish shawls, which had been wrapped round him, fell to the floor. His face crimsoned as if in the light of the setting sun; his eyes looked up with a radiant expression to the box yonder—to his emperor, whom he had loved so long and ardently, for whom he had wept in the days of adversity, for whom he had prayed and sung at all times. Now he saw him who, in his eyes, represented fatherland, home, and human justice; he felt that it was the last time his eyes would behold him, and he wished to bid farewell at this hour to the world, his fatherland, and his emperor.
With a vigorous hand he pushed back the friends who would have held him and replaced him in his chair. Now he was no longer a weak and decrepit old man; he felt strong and active, and he hastened forward with a rapid step through the orchestra toward the conductor's seat and the piano in front of it. He laid his hands, which trembled no longer, on the keys, and struck a full concord. He turned his face toward the imperial box; his eyes beamed with love and exultation, and he began to play his favorite hymn with impressive enthusiasm— the hymn which he had composed ten years ago in the days of Austria's adversity, and which he had sung every day since then,— the hymn, "Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser, unsern guten Kaiser Franz!" And the audience rose and gazed with profound emotion upon Joseph Haydn's gleaming face, and then up to the emperor, who was standing smilingly in his box, and the empress, from whose eyes two large tears rolled down her pale cheeks; and with one accord the vast crowd commenced singing:
"Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,
Unsern guten Kaiser Franz!
Lange lebe Franz der Kaiser
In des Glueckes hellem Kranz!
Ihm erbluehen Lorbeerreiser,
Wo er geht, zum Ehrenkranz.
Gott erhalte—"
[Footnote:
"God preserve the emperor
Francis, our good emperor!
Long live Francis, brightest gem
In fair Fortune's diadem
O'er him see the laurel wave,
Honoring the true, the brave!
God preserve—"]
Haydn's hands dropped exhausted from the keys; his form rocked to and fro, and, half fainting, he sank back into the arms of Salieri and Kreutzer.
The audience paused; all forgot the imperial hymn, and looked only at the venerable old maestro, whom Salieri and Kreutzer lowered now softly into the easy-chair, which had been brought to them.
"Take me home, dear ones," he said, faintly, "sing on, my 'Creation'; my soul will remain with you, but my body can no longer stay. Old age has broken its strength. Farewell, farewell, all of you! My soul will always be among you when you sing my music; my body will go, but the soul will remain. Farewell!"
And the votaries of art who had conveyed him to the hall now placed the maestro's chair again on their shoulders, and carried it slowly through the hall toward the entrance.
The audience stood in silent reverence and looked up to Haydn's passing form, and durst not break this profound stillness by uttering a sound. They bade farewell to the universally beloved and revered maestro only by bowing their heads to him and shedding tears of emotion—farewell for evermore!
The solemn procession had now arrived at the door. Joseph Haydn lifted his weary head once more; his spirit gleamed once more in his eyes; an expression of unutterable love beamed from his mild face; he stretched out his arms toward the orchestra as if to bless it, and greeted it with his smile, with the nodding of his head, and the tears which filled his eyes. [Footnote: "Zeitgenossen," third series, vol iv., p. 33]
A low rustling and sobbing passed through the hall; no one was courageous enough to clap his hands; all hearts were profoundly moved, all eyes filled with tears.
But now he disappeared, and the door closed behind Joseph Haydn. The German maestro had to-day celebrated his apotheosis amidst the enthusiastic people of Vienna. Life had dedicated to him the laurel- wreath which usually only death grants to poets and artists.
The Audience was still silent, when all at once a powerful voice exclaimed: "Let us sing the second verse of Haydn's favorite hymn— the second verse of 'Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser!'"
"Yes, yes," shouted all, enthusiastically, "the second verse! the second verse!"
And hundreds of voices shouted to the orchestra beseechingly, imperiously, thunderingly, that it should play the accompaniment; and the musicians complied with this tumultuous request.
The audience expressed their gratitude by an outburst of applause, and sang thereupon the second verse:
"Lass von seiner Fahne Spitzen
Strahlen Sieg and Furchtbarkeit
Lass in seinem Rathe sitzen
Weisheit, Klugheit, Redlichkeit,
Und mit seiner Hoheit Blitzen
Schalten our Gerechtigkeit.
Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,
Unsern guten Kaiser Franz!"
[Footnote:
"Before his banner floating high
Let victory shout and foemen fly!
In his connsels let preside
Wisdom, prudence, noble pride!
Homely justice delling find!
God preserve the emperor,
Francis, our good emperor!"]
The emperor bowed his thanks to the audience, the orchestra commenced again playing the air, and the audience sang anew:
"Lass von seiner Fahne Spitzen
Strahlen Sieg und Furchtbarkeit!"
And arms and hands were lifted here and there beseechingly toward the emperor; in vain the orchestra tried to play on; the audience, with rare unanimity, as if seized with one sentiment and one wish, sang again and again:
"Lass von seiner Fahne Spitzen
Strahlen Sieg und Furchtbarkeit!"
And then all shouted loudly, beseechingly, and withal angrily and courageously,
"War! war! Lass von seiner Fahne
Spitzen strahlen Sieg and Furchtbarkeit!"
The excitement of the audience grew constantly bolder and more impetuous. The men left their seats and crowded around the imperial bog, repeating again and again the words
"Lass von seiner Fahne Spitzen
Strahlen Sieg and Furchtbarkeit!"
The emperor withdrew in confusion into the background of his box, and whispered quickly a few words to the Archduke John. The archduke advanced to the railing of the box, and commanded silence by waving his hand to the audience.
The singers paused immediately, and amidst the breathless silence which ensued, the Archduke John shouted in a loud and powerful voice: "The emperor announces to his dear Viennese that he is determined to submit no longer to the arrogance of France, and that war is irrevocably resolved on."
A cry of rapture burst from all lips; all shouted exultingly, "War! war! We shall at length bid defiance to the arrogance of the French emperor! We shall have war with France; we shall avenge the wrongs which we have suffered so long, and set bounds to the encroachments of France!"
And friends and acquaintances greeted each other with radiant eyes and glowing cheeks; neighbors, entirely unknown to each other, shook hands and said, smilingly: "Now at length we shall have war! At length we shall remove from our German honor the stains with which France has sullied it. At length we shall have war, and God will grant us—"
The ringing notes of the orchestra interrupted the animated conversation of the excited audience. Salieri had taken his seat again, he raised his baton, and the second part of "The Creation" commenced.
CHAPTER VI.
ANDREAS HOFER.
The streets of Vienna were silent and deserted; all houses were dark; everywhere the note of life had died away, and only here and there a hackney-coach was heard to drive slowly through the lonely streets, or a belated wanderer was seen to return home with a weary step.
Vienna slept and dreamed of the welcome news which, despite the late hour, had spread like wild-fire from the concert-hall through the city—of the joyful intelligence that war against France was resolved on, and that the time was at length at hand when the wrongs perpetrated by Napoleon were to be avenged.
Vienna slept and dreamed; only in the wing of the imperial palace where lay the rooms occupied by the Archduke John, the lights had not yet been extinguished, and at times dark figures were seen moving to and fro behind the windows.
The Archduke John did not sleep yet, but he had already dismissed Conrad, his valet de chambre; he had permitted the other footmen to retire from the anteroom to their bedchambers, and had then himself locked the door of the outer anteroom.
"I do not trust Conrad, my valet de chambre," he said to Count Nugent, who was with him in his cabinet; "it is he, doubtless who has been placed as a 'guardian angel' by my side, and is to report regularly all I am doing."
"Your highness ought to discharge the fellow forthwith," exclaimed
Count Nugent, indignantly.
"I shall take good care not to do so," said John, smiling; "on the contrary, I shall try to keep Conrad as long as possible in my service, for I know him, and shall be able to mystify him. I shall always have to suffer a spy by my side, for the love and solicitude of my imperial brother will never leave me for a single moment without close surveillance; and Conrad is less distasteful to me than another spy probably would be. Still, I did not want him to report any thing about the visitors who will be here to-night, and therefore I dismissed him for the night."
"But he will probably stand in the street to watch his master's windows," said Nugent, with a shrug; "and the shadows which he will see he may distort into all sorts of spectres which will be mentioned in the emperor's police report to-morrow morning."
"Oh, I am not afraid of that at this hour," exclaimed John. "The emperor knows that I am to receive the delegates of the Tyrolese; I myself told him so to-day, and he approves of it. But harm might befall my Tyrolese at their homes, if their plans were discovered previous to their deliverance from the Bavarian yoke. But hush, did you not hear a rustling sound in the corridor?"
"Yes, I did; it is drawing near—it is at the door now, and— somebody raps already."
"Our friends are there," exclaimed John, hastening to the door, and drawing back the bolt.
The archduke was not mistaken; his friends were there, and entered his cabinet now by the secret door. They were headed by Baron von Hormayr in his brilliant gold-embroidered uniform, which rendered doubly conspicuous the beauty of his slender yet firmly-knit form, and the noble expression of his prepossessing, youthful face. He was followed by three Tyrolese, clad in their national costume, and holding their rifles in their arms.
The first of them was a man about forty years old. His frame was Herculean, his shoulders broad, his strength immense; his head was covered with dense black hair, his bronzed face was radiant with kind-heartedness and good-humor. His dress was the common habit of the country, with some trifling variations: a large black hat, with a broad brim, black ribbons, and a dark curling feather; a green jacket, red waistcoat, broad green braces crossed on the breast; a black leathern girdle, adorned, according to the Tyrolese custom, with all sorts of ivory and other ornaments; black breeches, red stockings, and black shoes with buckles. About his neck was always to be seen a silver crucifix fastened to a heavy gold chain, and over it, down to the girdle, flowed his large black beard, which imparted a strange, fantastic air to his whole appearance. This man was Andreas Hofer, the innkeeper of Passeyr, to whom the Italian Tyrolese, on account of his long beard, had given the name of "Barbone."
The second of the Tyrolese who entered the archduke's cabinet was a man of no less imposing appearance, dressed entirely like Andreas Hofer; only the long beard was wanting to him, and, instead of a black hat, he wore the pointed green Tyrolese hat, adorned with hunting ornaments. His face, less good-natured and serene than that of his friend, was expressive of energy and resolution; courage and shrewdness beamed from his black eyes, and a peculiar expression of defiance and scorn played around his full lips. This was Joseph Speckbacher, known by every inhabitant of the northern Tyrol as "the bold chamois-hunter."
He was followed by a third Tyrolese, as proud and strong, as robust and fine-looking, as his two companions. It was Anthony Wallner, the innkeeper of Windisch-Matrey, and, like Speckbacher, Hofer's intimate friend.
The archduke advanced to meet the Tyrolese, and shook hands with each of them.
"Welcome, my Tyrolese, welcome!" he said, in a deeply-moved voice; "may God and the Holy Virgin grant that no harm result, from your visit to me! You know that I have never ceased to love you, and that when, in the year 1805,I had to bid farewell to Andreas Hofer and the dear Tyrol, my heart almost broke with grief and despair."
"Look, look!" exclaimed Andreas Hofer, turning with a radiant smile to his two friends; "he is indeed the same man who bade us farewell at that time in Brunecken, and was not ashamed of embracing Andreas Hofer and shedding tears on his shoulder for the poor sacrificed Tyrol."
"And who is glad to-day to be able to embrace Andreas Hofer again," said the archduke, encircling the Herculean form of the Tyrolese innkeeper with his arms. "But I will shed no tears to-day, Andreas, for I hope the time of tears is over, and you have come to tell me so, to bring me love-greetings from the Tyrolese, and the hope of better times. Say, you three brave men from the Tyrol, Andreas Hofer, Joseph Speckbacher, Anthony Wallner, is it not so? Have you not come to tell me that the Tyrol is longing for her emperor and desirous of getting rid of the Bavarians?"
"Yes, we have come to say this to our dear John," exclaimed Andreas
Hofer.
"We have come to ask if Austria does not intend to call upon her
Tyrol to rise and fight under her banners," said Joseph Speckbacher.
"We have come to ask our Archduke John if he will help us with his troops and cannon in case we Tyrolese should rise now to expel the Bavarians from the country," said Anthony Wallner, with flashing eyes.
"We have come to ask our John, Is it time?" exclaimed Andreas Hofer.
The archduke held out his hand to him with a firm and resolute glance. "Yes," he said, "yes, Andreas Hofer, it is time! Yes, Anthony Wallner, Austria will assist the Tyrolese with her troops and cannon in expelling the Bavarians and French from their country. Yes, Joseph Speckbacher, Austria intends to call upon her faithful Tyrol to rise and fight under her banners; she will engage in a mortal contest for you and with you!"
"God grant success to our united efforts!" said Andreas Hofer, folding his hands over the crucifix on his breast. "During all these years I have prayed every day to the Holy Virgin to let me live and see the day when the Austrian eagle shall once more adorn our boundary-posts, and when we may again fondly and faithfully love our Emperor Francis as our legitimate sovereign. The good God in heaven, I hope, will forgive me for having been a very bad and obstinate subject of the King of Bavaria. I would never submit to the new laws, and could not discover in my old Austrian heart a bit of loyalty or love for the ruler who was forced upon us."
"No, you were a stubborn disloyalist, Andy." said Hormayr, "and, as spokesman of your whole district, you raised your voice against every new law which the Bavarian government promulgated in your country. But, it is true the Tyrolese love their Andy for this, and say that he is the most honest, faithful, and reliable man in the whole valley of the Adige."
"To be courageous is not so difficult if the cause which you fight for is a good one," said Andreas Hofer, calmly. "God Himself engraved on my heart the commandment to be loyal to my emperor, my country, and its laws; and if you call me reliable, dear friend, you merely say that I do my duty as a Christian, for the Bible says, 'Let your communication be Yea, yea; nay, nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of sin.' Therefore, do not praise me for that which is only my duty, and which Speckbacher and Wallner, and all our dear friends in the valley of the Adige, do just as well as I. For the rest, I must tell you, gentlemen, it is not so strange that we should be attached to the emperor; for the Bavarians are governing our country in such a manner as if they were intent only on making us love our emperor every day more and more, and long for him more intensely."
"It is true, Andy is right," exclaimed Anthony Wallner; "the Bavarians oppress us fearfully, and we will not stand it any longer; we will become Austrians again, as our fathers were, and will fight for our liberty and our old privileges which Bavaria solemnly guaranteed, and which her authorities basely intend to overthrow."
"Which they have already overthrown," cried Joseph Speckbacher, his eyes flashing with anger. "The court of Munich seems intent only on making the utmost of their new acquisition. Our old constitution has been overthrown by a royal edict; the representative estates have been suppressed, and the provincial funds seized. No less than eight new and oppressive taxes have been imposed and are being levied with the utmost rigor; the very name of our country has been abolished; the royal property has all been brought into the market; new imports are daily exacted without any consultation with the estates of the people; specie has become scarce, from the quantity of it which is being drawn off to the Bavarian treasury; the Austrian notes have been reduced to half their value; and, to crown all these wrongs, compulsory levies are held among our young men, who are to serve in the ranks of our oppressors! No, we must break the yoke weighing us down—we will become freemen again—as freemen we will live and die- -as freemen we will belong again to our beloved Emperor Francis, whose ancestors have ruled over us for so many centuries past."