"But the works of man come likewise from God, for it was He who gave him the strength to create them," replied Iffland, warmly. "Did not the great and glorious creations of your genius come just as much from God as the flowers which you hold in your hand, and the perfumes of which delight you so visibly?"

"Yes, these flowers are beautiful," said Haydn, musingly.

"The bouquet is doubtless a gift from one of the many fair admirers of our maestro?" asked Schmid, laughing.

Haydn looked up to him smilingly and shook his head gently. "No," he said, "it is the last souvenir of Nature, to which I have bidden farewell. I worshipped to-day in the open air, and this is the rosary with which I will pray. Ah, I love Nature so passionately!"

"And you have taught those whose eyes and ears were closed against the holy charms of Nature, how to see and hear," said Iffland. "Your 'Seasons' is the most glorious hymn on God's splendid world."

"Yes, the 'Seasons,'" cried Haydn, almost vehemently, "gave me the death-blow. It was so difficult for me to derive enthusiasm from the words of the text. The words said so little, really so very little! Frequently a single passage caused me a great deal of trouble for several days, and I did not succeed after all in expressing the idea I wished to convey to the hearers. The words were a dead weight on my music. Well, it is all over now. Yes, you see, it is all over now. The 'Seasons' is to blame for it, for it exhausted my last strength. I have had to work hard all my lifetime; I had to suffer hunger, thirst, and cold in my wretched attic, whence I had to descend a hundred and thirty steps before reaching the street. Privations, hard work, hunger, in short, all that I suffered in my youth, are now exerting their effects on me and prostrating me. But it is an honorable defeat—it is hard work to which I am succumbing. However, God assisted me. I never felt it more strikingly than this very day, and therefore I am so happy, oh! so happy, that I must shed tears of blissful emotion. Do not laugh at me on this account. I am a weak old man, and when any thing affects me profoundly, I must weep. It was otherwise in former years. Ah, in former years!" He turned his tearful eyes toward the window, and gazed into vacancy. "In former years my mind was strong and vigorous," he sighed, "and when I wrote my 'Creation,' a manly fire filled my heart."

"Your enthusiasm is imprinted on your great work, and it will never disappear from it," said Iffland. "Joseph Haydn's 'Creation' is immortal and full of eternal youth. The Viennese proved it to you on hearing your sublime music the other day."

"But I proved to them that I had become so feeble that I could no longer bear listening to my own music. I had to leave the room long before the performance was at an end."

"You ought not to have gone to the concert at all," said Schmid. "The excitement might have been injurious to your health."

"It was injurious to me," said Haydn, "but considerations of health had no right to prevent me from being present. It was not the first time that homage had been rendered to Haydn, and I wished to show that I was able to bear it this time too. Ah, it was a glorious evening, and never did I hear a better performance of my 'Creation.'"

"It was the great composer's apotheosis which the musicians and singers were celebrating," said Iffland, deeply moved. .

"It is true the Viennese have done a great deal for me. They are so good, and they love me dearly."

"Oh, the Viennese are not ahead of the people of Berlin in this respect," exclaimed Iffland. "In Berlin, too, every one knows and loves the great Joseph Haydn, and his 'Creation' is likewise recognized there as a masterpiece. It was performed in Berlin quite recently at a charity concert, the receipts of which amounted to over two thousand dollars—"

"Over two thousand dollars for the poor," said Joseph Haydn, with beaming eyes; "oh, my work, then gave the poor a good day. That is splendid, that is the most beautiful reward for a life of toils and privations. But," he added, after a brief pause, "it is all over now. I can no longer do any thing. I am a leafless tree, which will break down to-day or to-morrow."

"The fall of this tree will move the whole of Germany as a great calamity befalling every lover of his country."

"Yes, it is true, much love has been manifested for me, much homage has been rendered to me," said Haydn, musingly.

"All nations and all princes have rendered homage to you," exclaimed Iffland. "The laurel-wreath, for which we other poets and artists arc struggling all our lifetime, and which is generally bestowed upon us only after we are in the grave, was long since granted to you in the most flattering and gratifying manner. Europe has presented you, not with one, but with many laurel-wreaths, and you may look back on your life like a victorious hero, for each of your exploits was a triumph for which you received laurel-wreaths and trophies."

"Yes, I have many souvenirs of my past," said Haydn, smilingly. "I will show. them to you.—Conrad, give me my treasures."

Conrad opened the drawer of the large writing-table which was standing close to Haydn, and which contained a great many large and small etuis, caskets and boxes.

"You shall see my treasures now," exclaimed Haydn, cheerfully. In the first place, he showed them a beautiful casket made of ebony and gold. It was a gift with which the young Princess Esterhazy had presented the beloved and adored friend of her house only a few weeks ago, and on whose lid was painted a splendid miniature representing the scene at the last performance of "The Creation," when Haydn received the enthusiastic homage of the audience. He then showed them the large gold medal sent him; in 1800, from Paris, by the two hundred and fifty musicians who, on Christmas evening in that year, had performed "The Creation," and thereby delighted all Paris. Then followed many other medals from musical societies and conservatories, and valuable diamond rings, snuff-boxes, and breastpins from kings and emperors. Last, Haydn showed them, with peculiar emotion, the diploma of citizenship which the city of Vienna had conferred on him: It was contained in a silver case, and its sight caused his eyes even now to flash with the most intense satisfaction.

He had placed on the table before him every piece, after showing it to them and explaining its meaning; and now that all the treasures were spread out before him, he contemplated them with a blissful smile, and nodded to them as if to dear old friends.

"Do not laugh at me," he said, lifting his eyes to Iffland, almost beseechingly. "I am fondly attached to these things, and hence it delighted me to look at them from time to time with my friends. You will say they are the playthings of an old man. But they are more than that to me; on beholding them, I think of my past life, and my recollections render me young again for a few moments. After my death all these things will pass into dear hands, and I hope that, when I am slumbering in my grave, my souvenirs will be carefully preserved and honored if only for my sake." [Footnote: Haydn bequeathed all his trinkets and manuscripts to the Esterhazy family, who had honored him so highly during his whole life.]

"I hope the day is distant when Germany will have to lament the death of her favorite, Joseph Haydn," exclaimed Iffland.

"That day is close at hand," said Haydn, calmly; "I feel to-day more distinctly than ever before that my end is drawing nigh. My strength is exhausted."

"Let us go," whispered Schmid, pointing to Haydn, who had feebly sunk back into his easy-chair, and was leaning his pale head against the cushions.

Iffland fixed his eyes for a long time with an expression of heart- felt grief on the groaning, broken form reposing in the easy-chair.

"And that is all that is left of a great composer, of a genius who delighted the whole world!" he sighed. "Ah, what a fragile shell our body is, a miserable dwelling for the soul living in it! Come, my friend, let us softly leave the room. Only I would like to take a souvenir with me, a flower from the bouquet which Haydn held in his hands. May I venture to take one?"

At this moment Haydn opened his eyes again, and fixed them with a gentle expression on Iffland. "I heard all you said," he remarked; "but I was too feeble to speak. You wish to get one of my flowers? No, you shall have them all."

He took the bouquet, looked at it tenderly, and buried his whole face for a moment in the flowers, and then handed it to Iffland with a gentle smile.

"Farewell," he said; "remember me on looking at these flowers. I would I had known you in happier days, when I should have been able to enjoy your genius and admire your art. You must be a great actor, for you have a wonderfully sonorous and pliable voice. I should like to hear you declaim, even though you should recite but a few verses."

"Permit me, then, to recite the lines in which Wieland celebrated your 'Creation,'" said Iffland; and, advancing a few steps, holding the bouquet in his hand, and fixing his gleaming eyes on Haydn, who gazed at him with a gentle smile, Iffland recited in his full sonorous voice Wieland's beautiful lines:

"Wie stroem't dein wogender Gesang In uns're Herzen ein! Wir sehen Der Schoepfung maecht'gen Gang, Den Hauch des Herrn auf dem Gewaesser wehen; Jetzt durch ein blitzend Wort das erste Licht entstehen, Und die Gestirne sich durch ihre Bahnen drehen; Wie Baum und Pflanze wird, wie sich der Berg erhebt, Und froh des Lebens sich die jungen Thiere regen. Der Donner rollet uns entgegen; Der Regen saeuselt, jedes Wesen strebt In's Dasein; und bestimmt, des Schoepfers Werk zu kroenen Sehn wir das erste Paar, gefuehrt von Deinen Toenen. Oh, jedes Hochgefuehl, das in dem Herzen schlief, Ist wach! Wer rufet nicht: wie schoen ist diese Erde? Und schoener, nun ihr Herr anch dich in's Dasein rief, Auf dass sein Werk vollendet werde!"

[Footnote: "Thy wondrous song in melting strains To our mute hearts swift entrance gains; By magical yet unfelt force, We see creation's mighty course: The firmament appears in space— God breathes upon the water's face. One flashing word bids primal light appear, Revolving stars begin their vast career; Upheaving mountains now are seen, Tall trees and tender herbage green; Young animals to being rise, And animate by living cries; We hear the mighty thunder roar, And rains in gushing torrents pour. All creatures struggle into life; and stand Before our eyes, fresh from their Maker's hand, The first pair, led by thy sweet tones. Now waked by inspiration's art, Enthusiasm stirs our heart. Who cries not, 'Earth is passing fair!' Yet far more fair her Maker is, How perfect every work of his!"

After concluding his recitation, Iffland approached the old man quickly, knelt down before him and imprinted a kiss on his clasped hands. Then, without adding another word, he rose, and, walking backward as if before a king, approached the door, opened it softly, and went out, followed by Schmid. [Footnote: The whole account of this interview between Joseph Haydn and Iffland is in strict accordance with Iffland's own report of it in his "Theatre-Almanac," pp. 181-207.]

"Farewell!" exclaimed Haydn, in a deeply-moved voice, and sank back in the easy-chair. Profound silence now reigned around him; but all at once this silence was broken by a thundering crash, which caused the windows to rattle and shook the walls. The deafening noise was repeated again and again, and rolled through the air like the angry voice of God.

And now the door opened, and Conrad and Kate, the aged servant- woman, rushed into the room. "Ah, master, master, it is all up now, and we are all lost! The Austrians and the French are in force close to Vienna, and the battle has already commenced."

"The battle has commenced!" exclaimed Joseph Haydn, rising from his easy-chair, and lifting his hand to heaven. "The battle has commenced! Good and great God in heaven, protect our fatherland, and grant Austria a glorious victory over her arrogant foe! Do not allow Austria and Germany to succumb; help us to defeat the proud enemy who has humiliated and oppressed us so long! O Lord my God, shield the honor of Germany and Austria! Protect the emperor!"

And Joseph Haydn walked through the room with the vigor and alacrity of a youth, dropped his hands on the keys of the piano, and began to play in full concords the melody of his imperial hymn, "Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser!" Conrad and Kate stood behind him, singing in a low, tremulous tone; but outside, the booming of artillery continued incessantly, and they heard also the cries of the people who were hurrying in dismay through the streets, and the tolling of all the church-bells, which called upon the Viennese to pray to God.

All at once Haydn paused in the middle of the tune; his hands dropped from the. keys, a long sigh burst from his lips, and he sank fainting into the arms of his faithful Conrad. His servants carried him to his couch, and soon succeeded in restoring him to consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, and his first glance fell upon Conrad, who stood weeping at his bedside.

"The nightingale was right; my end is drawing nigh," he said, with a faint smile. "But I will not die before learning that the Austrians have defeated the enemy, and that my emperor has gained a battle."

And in truth Joseph Haydn's strong will once more over-powered death, which had already touched him with its finger. He raised himself upon his couch; he would not die while Austria was struggling on the reeking, gory field of battle for the regeneration or her end.

Two days followed, two dreadful days of uncertainty and terror; they heard incessantly the booming of artillery; but although the Viennese gazed down from their church-steeples all day, they were unable to discern any thing. Tremendous clouds of smoke covered the country all around, and wrapped the villages of Aspern and Essling and the island of Lobau in an impenetrable veil of mist.

Joseph Haydn passed these days, the 21st and 22d of May, in silent grief and gentle resignation; he prayed often, and played his imperial hymn three times a day.

Thus the morning of the 22d of May had come. Conrad had gone into the street to ask for news, for the booming of artillery had ceased, and the battle wars over. "Which side was victorious?" That was the question which caused all to tremble, and which filled all hearts with intense anxiety.

Haydn's heart, too, was full of grave anxiety, and, to overcome his impatience till Conrad's return, he had caused Kate to conduct him to his piano.

"I will play my imperial hymn," he said, hastily; "I have often derived comfort and relief from it in the days of uneasiness and anxiety; and when I play, it my heart is always so much at ease. Its strength will not fail me to-day either." [Footnote: Haydn's own words.—See "Zeitgonosson," vol. iv., third series, p. 36.]

He commenced playing; a blissful smile illuminated his features; he lifted his radiant eyes to heaven, and his music grew louder and fierier, and his fingers glided more powerfully over the keys of the piano. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and Conrad rushed in, panting from the rapid run, flushed with excitement, but with a joyful face.

"Victory!" he shouted. "Victory!" And he sank down at Haydn's feet.

"Which side was victorious?" asked Haydn, anxiously.

"The Austrians were victorious," said Conrad, pantingly. "Our Archduke Charles has defeated the Emperor Napoleon at Aspern; the whole French army retreated to the island of Lobau, whence it can no longer escape. Thousands of French corpses are floating down the Danube, and proclaiming to the world that Austria has conquered the French! Hurrah! hurrah! Our hero, the Archduke Charles, has defeated the villainous Bonaparte! Hurrah!"

"Hurrah! hurrah!" repeated the parrot on its pole; and the cat raised its head from the cushion on which it had lain, and gazed with keen, searching eyes at the parrot, as if it had understood Paperl's jubilant notes.

Joseph Haydn said nothing, but clasped his hands and looked rapturously upward. After a pause he exclaimed, in a loud and joyous voice: "Lord God, I thank Thee for not disappointing my firm trust, but protecting Austria and helping her to vanquish her foe. I knew full well that the just cause would triumph, and the just cause is that of Austria; for France, hypocritical France alone provoked this war, and Austria drew the sword only to defend her honor and her frontiers. The just cause could not but triumph, and hence Austria had to conquer, and France, had to succumb in this struggle. God protect the Emperor Francis! I may lay down now and die. Austria is victorious! That is the last joyful greeting which the world sends to me. With this greeting I will die—ay, die! Death is already drawing nigh. But Death wears a laurel-wreath on its head, and its eye is radiant with triumphant joy. Glory to Austria! Glory to the German fatherland!"

These were Joseph Haydn's last words. He fainted away. It is true the physicians succeeded in restoring him to life, and he breathed yet for six days; but his life resembled only the last feeble flicker of the dying flame, and in the night of the 30th of May death came to extinguish this flickering flame.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ARCHDUKE JOHN AT COMORN.

The unheard-of event, then, had taken place. Napoleon had been defeated by the Austrians. The Archduke Charles had gained a brilliant victory; Napoleon had transferred his whole army to the island of Lobau; he himself passed his time in moody broodings at the castle of Ebersberg, and the unexpected disaster which had befallen him and which at the same time had brought about the death of one of his favorites, Marshal Lannes, seemed to have suddenly deprived the emperor of all his energy. He did not speak, he did not eat; he sat for whole days in his cabinet, staring at the maps spread out before him on his table, and yet forgetting to cover them, as he used to do on conceiving the plans of his campaigns, with the colored pins which represented the different armies. Victory had no longer been able to soften this marble Caesarean face, but defeat caused his features now to wear an expression of profound anger and grief. Nevertheless, he did not complain, and never did he confess even to his confidants that he was suffering. Only once, for a brief moment, he lifted the veil concealing his feelings, and permitted his marshals to see into the innermost recesses of his soul. Marmont had dared to pray the emperor, in the name of all the marshals, to yield no longer to his grief at what had occurred, but bear in mind that it was incumbent on him to preserve himself for the welfare of his subjects and the glory of his future. Napoleon had answered with a faint smile: "You think I am sitting here to brood over my misfortune? It is true, I am burying my dead, and, as there are unfortunately a great many of them, it takes me a long time to do it. But over the tomb of the dead of Essling I am going to erect a monument which will be radiant with the splendor of victory, and on its frontispiece shall be read the word 'Vengeance!' The Emperor of Austria is lost. Had I defeated him in this battle, I should, perhaps, have forgiven his arrogance and perfidy; but as he defeated me, I must and shall annihilate him and his army."

While Napoleon was thus burying his dead, and reflecting on his "monument of vengeance," the utmost rejoicings reigned at the headquarters of the Archduke Charles, the victor of Aspern; and all Austria, all Germany joined in these rejoicings, and blessed the glorious day of Bonaparte's first humiliation.

And this victory was soon followed by the news of a triumph hardly less glorious than the battle of Aspern. The Tyrolese, those despised peasants, had gained a brilliant victory over the French veterans, and their Bavarian auxiliaries, on the 21st of May, on Mount Isel, near the city of Innspruck. Andreas Hofer, commander-in- chief of the united forces of the Tyrolese, jointly with Speckbacher, Wallner, and the Capuchin Haspinger, had again defeated the Bavarians and French, who had re-entered the Tyrol, and delivered the province a second time from the enemy.

Count Nugent, quartermaster-general of the Archduke John, had entered the latter's room with this joyful news, and told him with sparkling eyes of the heroic deeds of the Tyrolese; of Hofer's pious zeal; of the bold exploits of Wallner and Speckbacher, whose deeds recalled the ancient heroes of Homer; of the intrepid Capuchin friar, Haspinger, who, with a huge wooden cross in his hand, led on the attack, and animated his followers not less by his example than the assurances of Divine protection which he held forth. Count Nugent had related all these heroic deeds with fervid eloquence to the archduke, and yet, to his utter astonishment, the latter's face had remained gloomy, and not a ray of joy had illuminated it.

"Your imperial highness, then, does not share my exultation?" he asked, mournfully. "You receive the news quite coldly and indifferently, and yet I am speaking of your beloved Tyrolese, of your heroes, Andreas Hofer, Joseph Speckbacher, and Anthony Wallner? They and their heroic men have delivered the Tyrol a second time from the enemy, and your imperial highness does not rejoice at it?"

"No, my dear Count," said the archduke, sighing, "for they will lose it again. All this blood will have been shed in vain, and my poor Tyrol will be lost in spite of it."

"You believe so?—you who called upon the Tyrolese to take up arms, who invited its heroes and champions to such daring efforts, who are ready yourself to fight for the courageous mountaineers to the last extremity?"

"Yes, I am always ready to do so," cried John, laughing bitterly, "but what good will it do? They will wind cunning shackles enough round my feet to make me fall to the ground; they will manacle my hands again, and put my will into the strait-jacket of loyalty and obedience. I cannot do what I want to; I am only a tool in the hands of others, and this will cause both my ruin and that of the Tyrol. I am willing to sacrifice my life for the Tyrol, and yet I shall be unable to save it. For the rest, my friend, I knew already all these particulars of the battle on Mount Isel. A courier from Hormayr had just reached me and brought me full details. I was able to send back by the courier a fine reward for the brave Tyrolese, a letter from the emperor, my august brother, which I received this morning with the order to forward it to them. I kept a copy of the imperial letter, for there may be a day when it will be necessary for me to remind the emperor of this letter. Here is the copy. Read it aloud, that I may hear, too, how fine the imperial words sound."

The archduke handed a paper to Count Nugent, who read as follows:

"After our arms had suffered heavy reverses, and after the enemy had captured even the capital of the empire, my army succeeded in defeating the French army under Napoleon on the 21st and 22d of May, on the Marshfield, and driving it in disorder across the Danube. The army and people of Austria are animated with greater enthusiasm than ever; every thing justifies the most sanguine hopes. Trusting in God and my just cause, I declare to my loyal provinces of the Tyrol and Vorarlberg, that they shall never again be separated from the Austrian empire, and that I will sign no peace but one which will indissolubly incorporate these provinces with my other states. Your noble conduct has sunk deep into my heart; I will never abandon you. My beloved brother, the Archduke John, will speedily be among you, and put himself at your head. FRANCIS."

[Footnote: Hormayr, "Das Heer von Inner-Oesterreich unter den Befehlen des Erzherzogs Johann," p. 189.]

"And your imperial highness doubts, even after this solemn promise given to the Tyrolese by his majesty the emperor?"

"My friend," said the archduke, casting a long, searching look round the room, "we are alone, no one watches, and, I trust, no one hears us. Let me, therefore, for once, speak frankly with you; let me unbosom to you, my friend, what I have hitherto said to God alone; let me forget for a quarter of an hour that I am a subject of the emperor, and that his majesty is my brother; permit me to examine the situation with the eyes of an impartial observer, and to judge of men as a man. Well, then, I must confess to you that I cannot share the universal joy at the recent events, and—may God forgive me!—I do not believe even in the promises which the emperor makes to the Tyrolese. He himself may at the present hour be firmly resolved to fulfil them; he may have made up his mind never to sign any peace but one which will indissolubly incorporate the Tyrol with his empire; but the events, and especially men, will assuredly compel him to consent to another treaty of peace. You know full well that there are two parties about the emperor, and that there is a constant feud between these two parties. One wants war, the other wants peace; and the peace-party is unfortunately headed by the Archduke Charles, the generalissimo of our army. You know the fawning and submissive letter which the generalissimo addressed to Napoleon after the defeat of Ratisbon, and which Napoleon disdained to answer. [Footnote: The Archduke Charles wrote to Napoleon on the 30th of April, 1809: "Your Majesty announced your arrival by a salvo of artillery; I had no time to reply to it. But, though hardly informed of your presence, I speedily discovered it by the losses which I experienced. You have taken many prisoners from me, sire, and I have taken some thousands from you in quarters where you were not personally present. I propose to your majesty to exchange them, man for man, rank for rank; and, if that proposal proves agreeable to you, point out the place where it may be possible to carry it into effect. I feel flattered, sire, in combating the greatest captain of the age; but I should esteem myself much happier if Heaven had chosen me to be the instrument of procuring for my country a durable peace. Whatever may be the events of war, or the chances of an accommodation, I pray your majesty to believe that my desires will always outstrip your wishes, and that I am equally honored by meeting your majesty either with the sword or the olive- branch in your hand."] The war-party is headed by the empress and Count Stadion. But the empress has unfortunately little influence over her husband, and Count Stadion is no more influential than her majesty. His generous enthusiasm and fiery impetuosity are repugnant to the emperor, who will remove him so soon as he has discovered a more submissive and obsequious successor who has as much work in him as Stadion. But there is one point as to which these incessantly quarrelling parties are agreed and join hands, and that is their common hostility against the arch-dukes, the emperor's brothers; so virulent is this hatred, that the peace-party deserts its leader in order to operate with the war-party against him and his interests. The Austrian nobility has always claimed the privilege of filling all superior offices, and it is furious at seeing the archdukes animated with the desire of dedicating their abilities to their fatherland and their emperor. Hence, the nobility is decidedly opposed to the success of the archdukes, which might set bounds to its oligarchy. It opposes me as well as the other archdukes, whether this opposition may endanger the interests of the fatherland, and even the emperor, or not. Things would be even more prosperous in this campaign, if the generals serving under the archdukes had carried out the orders of their superiors with greater zeal, promptness, and willingness. But they have been intentionally slow; they have often hesitated, misunderstood, or purposely forgotten their orders. They are intent on proving the incapacity of the archdukes in order to overthrow them; and they well know that they are rendering a service to the emperor by doing so, for they are aware that the emperor does not love his brothers."

"No, your imperial highness," exclaimed Nugent, when the archduke paused with a sigh. "I hope that this is going too far, and that you are likewise mistaken about it. It is impossible that the emperor should not love his brothers, who are doing so much honor to the imperial house by their surpassing accomplishments, virtues, and talents."

"My friend, you speak like a courtier," said John, shaking his head, "and you exaggerate as a friend. But even though you were right, those qualities would not be calculated to render the emperor's heart more attached to us. He wants the emperor alone to shed lustre on, and do honor to the imperial house, and not the archdukes, his father's younger sons, whom he hates."

"No, no, your imperial highness, it is impossible that the emperor should hate his brothers!"

"And why impossible?" asked John, shrugging his shoulders. "Do not his brothers, the archdukes, hate each other? Or do you believe, perhaps, that the Archduke Charles, our generalissimo, loves me, or even wishes me well? I was so unfortunate as to be twice victorious during the present campaign, while he was twice defeated; I beat the French at Sacile and St. Boniface, while he lost the battles of Landshut and Ratisbon. This is a crime which the archduke will never forgive me, and for which he will revenge himself."

"Perhaps he thinks that he took a noble and glorious revenge at the battle of Aspern?"

"Oh, my friend, you forgot that our mother was a daughter of Italy, and that we, therefore, do not care for a noble and glorious revenge, but long for an Italian vendetta. The generalissimo will not content himself with having obtained glory, but I must suffer a defeat, a disgrace, which will neutralize what few laurels I gathered at Sacile and St. Boniface. Oh, I know my brother the generalissimo; I see all the little threads which he is spinning around me, and which, as soon as they are strong enough, he will convert into a net, in which he will catch me, in order to exhibit me to the world as an ignoramus and dreamer, destitute both of ability and luck as a general. Do not tell me that I am mistaken, my friend; I have hitherto observed every thing with close attention, and my observations unfortunately do not deceive me. The generalissimo is desirous of punishing me for my victories at Sacile and St. Boniface, and for advocating a declaration of war when he pronounced three times against it. He has already several times told the emperor that I am self-willed, disobedient, and always inclined to oppose his orders by words or even deeds; and the emperor always takes pleasure in informing me of the generalissimo's complaints."

"It is true," sighed Count Nugent; "this aversion of the generalissimo to your imperial highness unfortunately cannot be denied, and you yourself have to suffer by it."

"Oh," cried John, impetuously, "if that were all, I should not complain; I should add it to the many other pin-pricks of my fate, and strive to bear it without murmuring. But my soldiers and the glory of the Austrian arms suffer by it, and it will destroy the liberty of the Tyrol. It is well known that this is my most vulnerable point; that I love the Tyrol, and am determined to leave nothing undone in order to redeem the emperor's pledges to preserve the Tyrol to the imperial house, and restore its ancient privileges and liberties. It is known, too, that I long intensely to live in the future days of peace as the emperor's lieutenant in the Tyrol; to live, far from the noisy bustle of the capital, in the peaceful seclusion of the mountain country, for myself, my studies, and the men whom I love, and who love me. Oh, my poor, unfortunate Tyrol will grievously suffer for the love which I bear it; Austria will lose it a second time, and now, perhaps, forever."

"Does your imperial highness believe so?" cried Nugent, in dismay. "You believe so, even after communicating to me the letter in which the emperor promises to the Tyrolese never to sign a peace that will not indissolubly incorporate the Tyrol and Vorarlberg with his monarchy, and in which he announces the speedy arrival of his beloved brother John, who is to put himself at the head of the Tyrolese?"

"My friend, these numerous and liberal promises are the very things that make me distrustful, and convince me that they are not meant seriously. If the emperor had the preservation of the Tyrol really at heart, and intended earnestly that my army should succor and save the Tyrolese, would he not have left me at liberty to operate according to the dictates of my own judgment and in full harmony with the Tyrolese, instead of tying my hands, and regarding and employing my force only as a secondary and entirely dependent corps of the generalissimo's army? Look into the past, Nugent, bear in mind all that has happened since we took the field, and tell me then whether I am right or not?"

"Unfortunately you are," sighed Nugent; "I can no longer contradict your imperial highness, I cannot deny that many a wrong has been inflicted on you and us; that you have have always been prevented from taking the initiative in a vigorous manner; that you and your army have constantly been kept in a secondary and dependent position; that your plans have incessantly been frustrated, and that your superiors have often done the reverse of what you wished and deemed prudent and advisable."

"My friend at they will hereafter say that I was alone to blame for the failure of my plans," cried the archduke, with a mournful smile; "they will charge me with having been unable to carry out the grandiloquent promises which I made to the emperor and the Tyrolese, and the emperor will exult at the discomfiture of the boastful archduke who took it upon himself to call out the whole people of the Tyrol, put himself at their head, and successfully defend against all enemies this fortress which God and Nature erected for Austria. The faithful Tyrolese have taken up arms; I am ready to put myself at their head, but already I have been removed from the Tyrol, and my arm is paralyzed so that I can no longer stretch it out to take the hand which the Tyrol is holding out to me beseechingly. If I had been permitted to advance after the victories which my army gained over the Viceroy of Italy and Marmont, I should probably now already have expelled the enemy from Upper Italy and the Southern Tyrol. But I was not allowed to follow up my successes; I was stopped in the midst of my victorious career. Because the generalissimo's army had been defeated at Ratisbon, I was compelled, instead of pursuing the enemy energetically and obliging him to keep on the defensive, to retreat myself, and, instead of being the pursuer, be pursued by the forces of the viceroy. Instead of going to the Tyrol, I was ordered by the generalissimo to turn toward Hungary and unite with the volunteers in that country. No sooner had I done so, than I was ordered to advance again toward the Southern Tyrol, march upon Villach and Salzburg, unite with Jellachich, form a connection with Field-Marshal Giulay, and operate with them in the rear of the enemy, who was already in the immediate neighborhood of Vienna. And he who gave me these orders did not know that Jellachich had in the meantime been beaten at Wurzl; that Villach had been occupied by the French; that I was not in the rear of the enemy, but that the enemy was in my rear; be did not or would not know that the Viceroy of Italy was in my rear with thirty-six thousand men, and that the Duke of Dantzic was in front of my position at Salzburg. Since then we have been moving about amidst incessant skirmishes and incessant losses; and scarcely had we reached Comorn to re-organize and re-enforce my little army, when we received orders to march to the island of Schutt and toward Presburg. I vainly tried to remonstrate and point to the weakness and exhaustion of my troops; I vainly asked for time to reorganize my forces, when I would attack Macdonald and prevent him from uniting with Napoleon. I vainly proved that this was his intention, and that no one could hinder him from carrying it into effect, so soon as I had to turn toward Presburg and open to Macdonald the road to Vienna. My remonstrances were disregarded; pains were taken to prove to me that I was but a tool, a wheel in the great machine of state, and the orders were renewed for me to march into Hungary. Well, I will submit again—I will obey again; but I will not do so in silence; I will, at least, tell the emperor that I do it in spite of myself, and will march to Presburg and Raab only if he approves of the generalissmo's orders."

"That is to say, your imperial highness is going to declare openly against the generalissimo?"

"No; it is to say that I am going to inform my sovereign of my doubts and fears, and unbosom to him my wishes and convictions. You smile, my friend. It is true, I am yet a poor dreamer, speculating on the heart, and believing that the truth must triumph in the end. I shall, however, at least be able to say that I have done my duty, and had the courage to inform the emperor of the true state of affairs. I shall repair this very day to his majesty's headquarters at Wolkersdorf. I will dare once more to speak frankly and fearlessly to him. I will oppose my enemies at least with open visor, and show to them that I am not afraid of them. God knows, if only my own personal honor and safety were at stake, I should withdraw in silence, and shut up my grief and my apprehensions in my bosom; but my fatherland is at stake, and so is the poor Tyrol, so enthusiastic in its love, so unwavering in its fidelity; and so are the honor and glory of our arms. Hence, I will dare once more to speak the truth, and may God impart strength to my words!"



CHAPTER XXV.

THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AT WOLBERSDORF.

The Emperor of Austria was still at his headquarters at Wolkersdorf. The news of the victory at Aspern had illuminated the Emperor's face with the first rays of hope, and greatly lessened the influence of the peace-party over him. The war-party became more confident; the beautiful, pale face of the Empress Ludovica became radiant as it had never been seen before; and Count Stadion told the emperor he would soon be able to return to Vienna.

But the Emperor Francis shook his head with an incredulous smile. "You do not know Bonaparte," he said, "if you think he will, because he has suffered a defeat, be immediately ready to make peace and return to France. Now he will not rest before he gains a victory and repairs the blunders he has committed. There is wild and insidious blood circulating in Bonaparte's veins, and the battle of Aspern has envenomed it more than ever. Did you not hear, Stadion, of what Bonaparte is reported to have said? He declared that there was no longer a dynasty of the Hapsburgs, but only the petty princes of Lorraine. And do you not know that he has addressed to the Hungarians a proclamation advising them to depose me without further ceremony, and elect another king, of course one of the new-fangled French princes? Do you not know that he has sent to Hungary emissaries who are calling upon the people to rise against me and conquer their liberty, which he, Bonaparte, would protect? In truth, it is laughable to hear Bonaparte still prating about liberty as though it were a piece of sugar which he has only to put into the mouth of the nations, when they are crying like babies, in order to silence them, and thereupon pull the wool quietly over their eyes. But it is true, the nations really are like babies; they do not become reasonable and wise, and the accursed word 'liberty,' which Bonaparte puts as a flea into their ears, maddens them still as though a tarantula had bitten them. They have seen in Italy and France what sort of liberty Napoleon brings to them, and what a yoke he intends to lay on their necks while telling them that he wishes to make freemen of them. But they do not become wise, and who knows if the Magyars will not likewise allow themselves to be fooled and believe in the liberty which Bonaparte promises to them?"

"No, your majesty," said Count Stadion, "the Magyars are no children; they are men who know full well what to think of Bonaparte's insidious flatteries, and will not permit him to mislead them by his deceptive promises. They received the Archduke John with genuine enthusiasm, and every day volunteers are flocking to his standards to fight against the despot who, like a demon of terror, tramples the peace and prosperity of all Europe under his bloody feet. No, Bonaparte can no longer count upon the sympathies of the nations; they are all ready to rise against him, and in the end hatred will accomplish that which love and reason were unable to bring about. The hatred of the nations will crush Bonaparte and hurl him from his throne."

"Provided the princes of the Rhenish Confederation do not support him, or provided the Emperor Alexander of Russia does not catch him in his arms," said Francis, shrugging his shoulders." I have no great confidence in what you call the nations; they are really reckless and childish people. If Bonaparte is lucky again, even the Germans will idolize him before long; but if he is unlucky, they will stone him. Just look at my illustrious brother, the generalissimo. After the defeats of Landshut and Ratisbon, and the humble letter which he wrote to Bonaparte, you, Count Stadion, thought it would be good for the Archduke Charles if we gave him a successor, and if we removed him, tormented as he is by a painful disease, from the command-in-chief of the army. We, therefore, suggested to the archduke quietly to present his resignation which would be promptly accepted. But the generalissimo would not hear of it, and thought he would have first to make amends for the defeats which he had sustained at Landshut and Ratisbon. Now he has done so; he has avenged his former defeats and achieved a victory at Aspern; and after this brilliant victory he comes and offers his resignation, stating that his feeble health compels him to lay down the command and surrender if to some one else. But all at once my minister of foreign affairs has changed his mind: the victory of Aspern has converted him, and he thinks now that the generalissimo must remain at the head of the army. If so sagacious and eminent a man as Count Stadion allows success to mould his opinion, am I not right in not believing that the frivolous fellows whom you call 'the nations' have no well-settled opinions at all?"

"Pardon me, sire," said Count Stadion, smiling; "your majesty commits a slight error. Your majesty confounds principles with opinions. An honorable man and an honorable nation may change their opinions, but never will they change their principles. Now the firmer and more immovable their principles are, the more easily they may come to change their opinions; for they seek for instruments to carry out their principles; they profit to-day by the cervices of a tool which seems to them sufficiently sharp to perform its task, and they cast it aside to-morrow because it has become blunt, and must be replaced by another. This is what happens to the nations and to myself at this juncture. The nations are bitterly opposed to France; the whole German people, both north and south, is unanimous in its intense hatred against Napoleon. The nations do not allow him to deceive them; they see through the Caesarean mask, and perceive the face of the tyrant, despot, and intriguer, lurking behind it. They do not believe a word of his pacific protestations and promises of freedom and liberal reforms; for they see that he always means war when he prates about peace, that he means tyranny when he promises liberty, and that he gives Draconic laws instead of establishing liberal institutions. The nations hate Napoleon and abhor his despotic system. They seek for means to annihilate him and deliver at length the bloody and trembling world from him. If the princes were as unanimous in their hatred as the nations are, Germany would stand as one man, sword in hand; and this sublime and imposing spectacle would cause Napoleon to retreat with his host beyond the Rhine, the German Rhine, whose banks would be guarded by the united people of Germany." "You speak like a Utopian, my dear count," said the emperor, with a shrug. "If the united people of Germany are alone able to defeat and expel Bonaparte, he will never he defeated and expelled, for Germany will never be united; she will never stand up as one man, but always resemble a number of rats grown together by their tails, and striving to move in opposite directions. Let us speak no more of a united Germany; it was the phantom that ruined my uncle, the Emperor Joseph, whom enthusiasts call the Great Joseph. But I do not want to be ruined, and therefore I do not want to hear any thing of a united Germany. Thank God, since 1806, I am no longer Emperor of Germany, but only Emperor of Austria, and that is enough for me. I do not care what the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine are doing, nor what intrigues Prussia is entering into in order to rise from its humiliating prostration; I fix my eyes only on Austria, and think only whether Austria will be able to cope with Bonaparte, or whether she may not ultimately fare as badly as Prussia did. We have unfortunately experienced already one Austerlitz; if we should suffer another defeat like it, we would be lost; hence we must be cautious, and I ask you, therefore, why you do not want me now to accept the resignation of the generalissimo, when, only a fortnight ago, you advocated his removal from the command-in-chief of the army?"

"Your majesty, because a fortnight ago he had been repeatedly defeated, and because he has now gained a brilliant victory. This shows your majesty again the difference between opinions and principles. Opinions change and are influenced by success. After the battle of Ratisbon, the generalissimo was looked upon with distrust and anxiety by his army, nay, by the whole people of Austria, who turned their eyes to the Archduke John, the victor of Sacile and St. Boniface, and wanted to see at the head of the army a victorious general, instead of the defeated Archduke Charles; but the latter has acted the hero, and been victorious at Aspern, and the love and confidence of the army and people are restored to him; all look upon him as the liberator of the fatherland, and will stand by him until- -"

"Until he loses another battle," interrupted the emperor, sneeringly. "My dear count, one swallow does not make a summer, and- -Well, what is it, Leonard?" said the emperor, turning quickly to his footman, who entered the room at this moment.

"Your majesty, his imperial highness the Archduke John has just arrived, and requests an audience."

"Let the archduke come in," said the emperor; and when the footman had withdrawn, Francis turned again to the minister. "He is the second swallow in which the childish people here are hoping," he said. "But two swallows do not make a summer either; there may still be a frost under which John's young laurels of Sacile and St. Boniface will wither.—Ah, here is my brother."

The emperor advanced a few steps to meet the Archduke John, who had just crossed the threshold, and stood still at the door to bow deeply and reverentially to his imperial brother.

"No ceremonies, brother, no ceremonies," said the emperor, smiling; "we are here not in the imperial palace, but in the camp; my crown is in Vienna, and my head is therefore bare, while yours is wreathed with laurels."

The emperor said this in so sarcastic a tone that the archduke gave a start, and his cheeks crimsoned with indignation. But he restrained his anger, and fixed his eyes calmly on the sneering face of the emperor.

"Your majesty condescends to jest," he said, composedly, "and I am glad to see from this that my brother, the victor of Aspern, has gladdened your majesty's heart."

"Your majesty," said Count Stadion, in a low, pressing tone, "will you not graciously permit me to withdraw?"

"Ah, you think your presence would be inconvenient during our interview, and might hinder the free exchange of our confidential communications? But I do not believe that I and my brother have any special secrets to communicate to each other, so that the presence of my minister would be inconvenient to us. However, let the archduke decide this point. Tell me therefore, brother, is it necessary that you should see me alone and without witnesses?"

"On the contrary, your majesty," said John, calmly, "it will be agreeable to me if the minister of foreign affairs is present at our interview; for, as your majesty deigned to observe, we never have confidential communications to make to each other, and as we shall speak only of business affairs, the minister may take part in the conversation."

"Stay, then, count. And now, my esteemed brother, may I take the liberty of asking what induced the commanding-general of my army of Upper Austria, now stationed at Comorn, to leave his post and pay me a friendly visit here at Wolkersdorf?"

"Your majesty, I come to implore my sovereign to graciously fulfil the promise which your majesty vouchsafed to me at Vienna. Your majesty promised me that I should succor with the forces intrusted to me the Tyrolese in their heroic struggle for deliverance from the foreign yoke, and that I might devote all my efforts to aiding this noble and heroic people, which has risen as one man in order to be incorporated again with Austria. It was I who organized the insurrection of the Tyrol, who appointed the leaders of the peasants, and fixed the day and hour when the insurrection was to break out."

"Yes, yes, it is true," interrupted the emperor; "you proved that you were a skilful and shrewd revolutionist, and it was really fortunate for me that you availed yourself of your revolutionary talents, not AGAINST me, but FOR me. If I shall ever recover full possession of the Tyrol, I shall be indebted for it only to the revolutionary skill of my brother John; and I shall always look upon it as an act of great disinterestedness on your part to leave me the Tyrol, and not keep it for yourself; for it is in your hands, and it is you whom the Tyrolese in their hearts call their real emperor."

"Your majesty is distrustful of the love of the faithful Tyrolese," said John, mournfully, "and yet they have sealed it with their blood since the insurrection broke out; it was always the name of their Emperor Francis with which they went into battle, the name of the Emperor Francis with which they exulted triumphantly when God and their intrepidity made them victorious."

"No, archduke, I know better!" exclaimed the Emperor, vehemently. "They did not confine themselves to rendering homage to me, but when the peasants had taken Innspruck, they placed the Archduke John's picture on the triumphal arch by the side of my own portrait, surrounded it with candles, and rendered the same homage to it as to that of the emperor."

"It is true, the honest peasants know nothing of etiquette," said John, sadly." They believed in their simplicity that they might love a little their emperor's brother, who had been sent to their assistance by his majesty, and that they might place his picture without further ceremony by the side of that of the emperor. But that they nevertheless knew very well how to distinguish the emperor from the archduke, and that they granted to the emperor the first place in their hearts, and deemed him the sole object of their loyalty, is proved by the song which the Tyrolese sang with enthusiastic unanimity on fastening the Austrian eagle to the imperial palace at Innspruck. As such full particulars of the events in the Tyrol were sent to your majesty, I am sure this beautiful song was likewise communicated to you."

"No, it was not," said the emperor, carelessly. "What song is it?"

"Your majesty, it is a hymn of joy and triumph which, ever since that day, is sung by all Tyrolese, not only by the men, but also by the women and children, and which resounds now as the spring-hymn of the new era both in the valleys and on the summits of the mountains. I am sorry that I do not know the words by hearts, but I shall have the honor of sending them to your majesty. I remember only the refrain of every verse, which is as follows:"

"'Ueberall lebt'st seh treu und bieder, Wo der Adler uns angeschaut, Und nu' haben wir unsern Franzel wieder, Weil wir halt auf Gott and ihn vertraut.'" [Footnote: "Far reaching as the eagle's view, Are beating loyal hearts and true; Once more our Francis can we claim, Because we trust in God's great name!"]

"That is quite pretty," said the emperor, smiling. "And is that the song they are singing now in the Tyrol?"

"Your majesty, they not only sing it, but they believe in it too. Yes, the Tyrolese confide in your majesty; they believe implicitly in the promises which your majesty has made to them, and they would punish as a traitor any one who should dare to tell them that these promises would not be fulfilled."

"And who asserts that they will not be fulfilled?" asked the emperor.

"Your majesty, the facts will unfortunately soon convince the Tyrolese that they must not look for the fulfilment of these promises," said the archduke, sighing. "At the very moment when the Tyrol is being threatened by two hostile armies, those of the Viceroy of Italy and the Duke of Dantzic, and when the Tyrol, therefore, if it is not to succumb again to such enormous odds, urgently needs assistance and succor, I receive orders to leave the Tyrol and march to Hungary. That is to say, I am to give up Salzburg, which is occupied by the French; I am not to succor Innspruck, which is menaced by Baraguay d'Hilliers. Not only am I not to lend any assistance to the Tyrolese, but I am to break their moral courage and paralyze their energy, by showing to them by my retreat that the emperor's promises will not be fulfilled, and that the army of Upper Austria abandons the Tyrol to succor Hungary."

"Well, the Tyrol is not yet abandoned, even though the Archduke John is no longer there," said the emperor, shrugging his shoulders. "We have two generals with corps there, have we not? Are not the Marquis of Chasteler and Count Buol there?"

"They are, your majesty; but the Marquis of Chasteler is morally paralyzed by the sentence of outlawry which Napoleon has issued against him, and Count Buol has too few troops to oppose the enemy's operations, which are not checked by any corps outside the Tyrol."

"Ah, you wish to give me another proof of the fraternal love reigning between you and the Archduke Charles?" asked the emperor sarcastically. "You wish to oppose the orders of your generalissimo?"

"I wish to ask the emperor, my sovereign, whether I am to give up the Tyrol or not; I wish to ask him if he orders me to march my army to Presburg, unite with the insurgent forces, and operate there against the enemy."

"Are these the generalissimo's orders?"

"They are, your majesty."

"And what else does he command?"

"He commands me, further, to make myself master of the two islands of Schutt in front of Presburg, take Altenburg by a coup de main, and garrison, supply, and provision the two fortresses of Raab and Comorn for six months."

A sarcastic expression overspread the emperor's face.

"Well, these are excellent and most energetic orders," he said. "Carry them out, therefore."

"But, your majesty, it is not in my power to do so. These orders look very fine on paper, but they cannot be carried into effect. I have neither troops nor supplies enough to garrison, supply, and provision Raab and Comorn, and hold Presburg, even after effecting a junction with the troops of the Archduke Palatine and the Hungarian volunteers. And the generalissimo is well aware of it, for I have always acquainted him with what occurred in my army; he knows that my forces and those of the Archduke Palatine together are scarcely twenty-five thousand strong, and that one-half of these troops consists of undisciplined recruits. He knows that the enemy is threatening us on all sides with forty thousand veteran troops. The generalissimo is so well aware of this, that he spoke of the weakness of the remnants of my army in the dispatches which he addressed to me only a few days ago. But the victory of Aspern seems suddenly to have made the generalissimo believe that, inasmuch as he himself has performed extraordinary things, he may demand of me what is impossible."

"What is impossible?" said the emperor, with mischievous joy. "So brave and heroic a soldier as you, archduke, will not deem impossible what his chief orders him to do. The Archduke Charles is your chief, and you have to obey him. He orders you to hold Raab and Presburg. Go, then, and carry out the orders of your commander-in- chief."

"As your majesty commands me to do so, I shall obey," said John, calmly; "only I call your majesty's attention to the fact that, if the enemy accelerates his operations and compels me soon to give battle, I shall be unable to hold Raab, for which so little hag been done hitherto, and that I shall lose the battle unless the generalissimo sends a strong corps to my assistance."

"It is your business to come to an understanding with the generalissimo as to that point. He possesses my full confidence, for he showed excellent generalship at Aspern. There is no reason why I should distrust him."

"And God forbid that I should wish to render you distrustful of him!" exclaimed John, vehemently. "I hope my brother Charles will remain yet a long while at the head of the army, and give many successors to the victory of Aspern."

"But you doubt if he will, do you not?" asked the emperor, fixing his small light-blue eyes with a searching expression on John's face. "You do not rejoice much at the brilliant victory of Aspern? You do not think that Bonaparte is entirely crushed and will hasten to offer us peace?"

"Your majesty, you yourself do not believe it," said John, with a smile. "Napoleon is not the man to be deterred by a defeat from following up his plans; he will pursue them only the more energetically, and he will attain his ends, though, perhaps, somewhat less rapidly, unless we adopt more decisive measures."

"Look, Stadion," exclaimed the emperor, smiling, "I am glad that the Archduke John agrees with me. He repeats only what I said to you about Bonaparte."

"But, your majesty, the archduke added something to it," said Count Stadion, quickly; "he said Austria ought to adopt more decisive measures."

"Ah, and now you hope that the archduke will say to me what you have already said so often, and that he will make the same proposals in regard to more decisive measures as you did, minister?"

"Yes, I do hope it, your majesty."

"Well, let us see," exclaimed the emperor, with great vivacity. "Tell me, therefore, archduke, what more decisive measures you referred to."

"Your majesty," replied John, quickly, "I meant that we should strive to get rid of our isolated position, and look around for allies who will aid us not only with money, as England does, but also with troops."

"And what allies would be most desirable for Austria, according to your opinion, archduke?"

The archduke cast a rapid, searching glance on the face of the minister, who responded to it by a scarcely perceptible nod of his head.

"Your majesty," said Archduke John, quickly, "Prussia would be the most desirable ally for Austria."

The emperor started back, and then turned almost angrily to Stadion. "In truth," he said, "it is just as I thought; the archduke repeats your own proposals. It seems, then, that the formerly so courageous war-party at my court suddenly droops its wings, and thinks no longer that we are able to cope single-handed with Bonaparte. Hence, its members have agreed to urge me to conclude an alliance with Prussia, and now come the besieging forces which are to overcome my repugnance. The minister himself was the first to break the subject to me; now he calls the Archduke John to his assistance, and takes pains to be present at the very hour when the archduke arrives here to second his efforts in attacking me. Half an hour later, and the empress will make her appearance to assist you, and convince me that we ought to secure, above all things, the alliance of Prussia."

"Pardon me, your majesty," said Count Stadion, earnestly; "I have, unfortunately, not the honor of being one of the archduke's confidants, and I pledge you my word of honor that I did not know at all that his royal highness was coming hither."

"And I pledge your majesty my word of honor that neither the empress nor Count Stadion ever intimated to me, directly or indirectly, that they share my views, and have advocated them already before your majesty."

"Then you have come quite independently, and of your own accord, to the conclusion that we ought to form an alliance with Prussia?"

"Yes, your majesty; I believe that this has now become a necessity for us."

"But Prussia is a humiliated and exhausted state, which exists only by Bonaparte's grace and the intercession of the Emperor of Russia."

"Your majesty speaks of Prussia as it was in 1807," said Count Stadion, "after the defeats of Jena, Eylau, and Friedland. But since then two years have elapsed, and Prussia has risen again from her prostration; she has armed secretly, rendered her resources available, and found sagacious and energetic men, who are at work silently, but with unflagging zeal, upon the reorganization of the army, and preparing every thing for the day of vengeance."

"Let us ally ourselves with regenerated Prussia, which is longing for vengeance!" cried John, ardently; "let us unite with her in the struggle against our common foe. Prussia and Austria should be harmonious, and jointly protect Germany."

"No," said the emperor, almost angrily, "Prussia and Austria are natural enemies; they have been enemies ever since Prussia existed, for Prussia, instead of contenting herself with her inferior position, dared to be Austria's rival; and, moreover, Austria can never forgive her the rapacious conquest of Silesia."

"Oh, your majesty," exclaimed John, impetuously, "let us forget the past, and fix our eyes on the present and future France is the common enemy of all Europe; all Europe ought to unite in subduing her, and we will not even solicit the cooperation of our neighbor! But an alliance between Austria and Prussia will render all Germany united, and Germany will then be, as it were, a threatening rock, and France will shrink from her impregnable bulwarks, and retire within her natural borders."

"Words, words!" said the emperor, shrugging his shoulders. "You enthusiasts always talk of a united Germany, but in reality it has never existed yet."

"But it will exist when Prussia and Austria are allied; only this alliance must be concluded soon, for we have no time to lose. and every delay is fraught with great danger. France is intent on establishing a universal monarchy; Napoleon does not conceal it any longer. If France really succeeds in keeping the German powers at variance and enmity, and uniting with Russia against them, our last hour will strike; for these two powers, if united, will easily come to an understanding as to the division of Europe; and even though Russia did not entertain such an intention, France would communicate it to her. [Footnote: The archduke's own words.—See "Letters from the Archduke John to Johannes von Mueller," p. 81.] Hence, Russia. should likewise be gained, and its alliance, by Russia's intercession, be secured, so that Germany, in days of adversity, might count upon her."

"You believe then, archduke, that days of adversity are yet in store for us?" asked the emperor.

"Your majesty, I am afraid they are, if we stand alone. All is at stake now, and all must be risked. We are no longer fighting for provinces, but for our future existence. We shall fight well; but even the best strength is exhausted in the long run, and he who holds out longest remains victorious. Which side has better chances? Austria, so long as she opposes France single-handed, has not; but Austria and Prussia, if united, assuredly have. If Austria falls now, the best adversary of France falls, and with her falls Prussia, and Germany is lost."

"And what would you do, archduke, if Austria, as you say, were lost?"

"Your majesty, if Austria should sink into ruin, I should know how to die!"

"You would, like Brutus of old, throw yourself upon your sword, would you not? Well, I hope we shall not fare so badly as that, for you have pointed out to me a way of saving the country. You have proved to me that Austria can be saved by an alliance with Prussia. Fortunately, I have sometimes ideas of my own, and even a head of my own. I had this morning a long interview with the Prince of Orange, who has just arrived from Koenigsberg, where he saw the King of Prussia. He laid before me a detailed report of what he had seen there, and I made up my mind before I had heard your advice.—Count Stadion, be so kind as to take the paper lying on the desk. Do you know the handwriting?"

"I believe it is your majesty's handwriting," said Count Stadion, who, in accordance with the emperor's order, had taken the paper from the desk.

"Yes, it is my handwriting; for, though not as learned as my brother John, I am at least able, if need be, to write a letter. Be so kind, minister, as to read my letter aloud."

Count Stadion bowed, and read as follows:

"To his majesty, King Frederick William of Prussia: "Headquarters, Wolkersdorf, June 8, 1809.

"SIR, MY BROTHER: The Prince of Orange, who has arrived at my headquarters here, has told me unreservedly, and with full confidence, of the repeated conversations he had with your majesty during his recent sojourn at Koenigsberg. You left no doubt in his mind as to your firm conviction that the existence of our two monarchies can be protected from the rapacious system of the Emperor Napoleon only by an active and cordial alliance. For a long time past, aware of the opinions and wisdom of your majesty, I could foresee that your majesty would not refuse to take a step, justified not less by the logic of events than the loyalty of the nations which Providence has confided to our care."

"The bearer, Colonel Baron Steigentesch, a distinguished staff- officer of my army, will confer with your majesty's government as to the questions which may arise in regard to an alliance between the two countries: he is authorized to regulate the proportions of the forces to be employed on both sides, and the other arrangements not less salutary than indispensable for the security of the two states. For the same reasons I shall speedily send instructions to my ambassador at Berlin in conformity with the overtures made by Count von der Goltz."

"Your majesty will permit me to assure you that I remain as ever, Your most obedient, FRANCIS, Emperor of Austria." [Footnote: "Lebensbilder," vol, iii., p. 266.]

While Count Stadion was reading the letter, the emperor closely watched the effect it produced upon the archduke. He saw that John was at first surprised, that his eyes gradually brightened, that his face crimsoned with joy, and that a smile played round his lips.

When Count Stadion was through, the archduke stepped up to the emperor with an expression of profound emotion and intense gratitude.

"Your Majesty," he cried, "you have filled me both with shame and ecstasy. Oh, give me your hand, let me press it to my lips; let me thank you for this gracious punishment! I am grateful, too, for the gracious confidence with which you initiate me into your plans."

"That is unnecessary," said the emperor, without giving him his hand; "you need not thank me. Nor was it my intention to give you a special proof of my confidence. I did not cause the letter to be read to you in order to have you participate in my plans, but only to prove to you that I can make up my mind without your advice, and to request you not to molest me henceforth with any such suggestions. Now, brother, we have nothing further to say to each other. Return to Comorn, and carry out the generalissimo's order, as behooves a good officer, promptly, carefully, and without grumbling. Fortify and hold Raab, defend Presburg, take Altenburg by a coup de main; in short, do all that the generalissimo wants you to do. If I should need your advice and wisdom, I shall send for you; and when Baron Steigentesch returns from his mission to Prussia, you shall be informed of the results. Farewell, brother, and let me soon hear of new victories!"



CHAPTER XXVI.

THE REPLY OF THE KING OF PRUSSIA.

Two weeks after this interview between the Archduke John and the emperor, the archduke, at the request of the emperor, repaired again to the imperial headquarters at Wolkersdorf, and sent in his name to his brother.

"You come just in time, brother," said the emperor, when John entered his cabinet." I knew that Baron Steigentesch would arrive here to-day, hence I sent for you, for I promised to let you hear the reply of the King of Prussia to my proposal. The colonel did arrive a few minutes ago, and waits in the anteroom for an audience."

"Before admitting him, your majesty, pray listen to me," said John, in a grave, tremulous voice.

"I hope you do not intend to reveal a secret to me?" asked the emperor.

"No, your majesty; unfortunately that which I have to say to you will soon be known to everybody, and our enemies will take care to let their triumphant bulletins circulate the news throughout Europe."

"It is a defeat, then, that you have to announce to me?" asked the emperor, gloomily.

"Yes, your majesty, a defeat. I met the enemy yesterday at Raab [June 14, 1809]. Our men fought bravely; some performed the most heroic exploits; but the odds of the enemy were too overwhelming. The Viceroy of Italy attacked us with his well-disciplined veteran troops, thirty-nine thousand strong. In the outset, we, that is, the Archduke Palatine and I, were about as strong, including the Hungarian volunteers. But the very first attack of the enemy, the first volleys of musketry, caused the volunteers to fall back; they fled panic-struck, abandoned the hill where I had posted them, and rushed in wild disorder from the field of battle. The enemy then occupied the hill, and this decided the fate of the day against us, shortly after the commencement of the battle. However, we might have held out and gained a victory, if all had carried out my orders promptly and carefully, and if, as usually during this campaign, no obstacles had been placed in my way."

"Ah, archduke, to avoid charges being preferred against yourself, you intend to prefer charges against others!" exclaimed the emperor, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes your majesty; I charge Ignatius Giulay, Ban of Croatia, with violation of my orders, disobedience, and intentional delays in making the movements I had prescribed. I had ordered the Ban in time to join me at Comorn on the 13th of June, and he had positively assured me, by letter and verbally, that he would promptly be on hand on the stated day. I counted upon his arrival, and made my dispositions accordingly. The generalissimo had instructed me to keep open my communications with the main army on the right bank of the Danube by way of Raab; and I, therefore, started on the morning of the 13th from Comorn, firmly convinced that Giulay's troops would join me in time and follow me. But I waited for him in vain; he failed me at the critical moment, despite my orders and his promises, and this was the principal reason why we lost the battle." [Footnote: See Schlosser's "History of the Eighteenth Century," vol. vii., p. 540.]

"You prefer a grave charge against a man whom I have always found to be faithful, brave, and honorable," said the emperor, with cutting coldness.

"Your majesty, I beg you to be so gracious as to call the Ban of Croatia to a strict account," exclaimed John, vehemently. "I beg you to be so gracious as to send for the orders which I gave him, and ask him why he did not obey them."

"I shall do so," replied the emperor, "and it is my conviction that he will be able to justify himself completely."

The Archduke John gave a start, a deathly pallor overspread his cheeks, his eyes shot fire, his lips opened to utter an impetuous word, but he restrained it forcibly; compressing his lips, pale and panting, he hastily moved back a few steps and approached the door.

"Stay!" ordered the emperor, in a harsh voice. "I have yet some questions to put to you. You are responsible for this battle of Raab, and you owe me some explanations concerning it. How was the retreat effected? Where are your forces now?"

"The retreat was effected in good order," said John, in a low, tremulous voice. "I marched with four battalions of grenadiers and two battalions of Gratz militia slowly along the heights to Als, where we arrived at midnight; and to-day we went back to Comorn. There our forces are now."

"And Raab? Have the enemy taken it already?"

"No, your majesty, it still holds out: but it will fall, as I told your majesty two weeks ago, for the generalissimo has sent me neither ammunition nor re-enforcements, despite my most pressing requests."

"Is that to be another charge?" asked the emperor, sternly.

"No," said John, mournfully; "it is only to be my defence, for unfortunately it is always necessary for me to defend myself."

"Ah, archduke, you always consider yourself the victim of cabals," exclaimed the emperor; "you believe yourself always persecuted and calumniated; you suspect invariably that you are slighted and placed in false positions by those who are jealous of your exalted qualities, and envious of your talents. You think that your greatness excites apprehensions, and your genius and learning create misgivings, and that you are therefore persecuted; that intrigues are entered upon against you, and that not sufficient elbow-room is given to your abilities. But you are mistaken, archduke. I am not afraid of you, and although I admire you, and think, like you, that you are the greatest captain of the age—"

"Your majesty," interrupted John, in a loud, vehement voice, "your majesty, I—"

"Well, what is it?" cried the emperor, hastily advancing a few steps toward his brother, and staring at him with defiant eyes. "What have you got to say to me?"

"Nothing, your majesty," said John, in a hollow voice; "you are the emperor! I am silent, and submit."

"And you are very prudent in doing so, for, as you say, I am the emperor, and I will remain the emperor, despite all my great and august brothers. If your imperial highness does not like this, if you think you are treated unjustly, if you consider yourself a martyr, why do you not imitate what the generalissimo has done already three times during the present campaign—why do you not offer your resignation? Why do you not request your emperor to dismiss you from his service?"

"Will your majesty permit me to make a frank and honest reply to this question?" asked John, looking at the emperor firmly and gravely.

"I will."

"Well, then, your majesty, I do not offer my resignation because I am not an invalid; because I am young, strong, and able to work. I request the emperor not to dismiss me from the service, because I serve not only him, but the fatherland, and because I owe to it my services and strength. I know well that many would like me to retire into privacy and withdraw entirely from public affairs; but I cannot fulfil their wishes, and never shall I withdraw voluntarily from the service. No matter what wrongs and slights may be inflicted upon me, they will be fruitless, for they will never shake my purpose. All the disagreeable things that happen to me in my career, I think proceed from individuals, and not from the fatherland; why should I, then, avenge myself on the fatherland by resigning and depriving it of my services when it has done me no wrong? [Footnote: The archduke's own words.—See his "Letters to Johannes von Mailer," P. 92.] I serve the fatherland in serving your majesty; should I resign, I should be unfaithful to both my masters, and only then would your majesty have a right to despise me."

"Listen," said the emperor; "the word fatherland is a dangerous and two-edged one, and I do not think much of it. The insurgents and revolutionists have it always in their mouths; and when rising against their prince and refusing him obedience, they likewise say that they do so in the service of the fatherland, and devote their strength and fidelity to it. The soldier, above all, has nothing to do with the fatherland, but only with his sovereign; it is to him alone that he has sworn allegiance, and to him alone he must remain faithful. Now, as you are a soldier and wish to remain in the service, pray bear in mind that you have sworn allegiance to your emperor, and let me bear no longer any of your subtle distinctions between your emperor and your fatherland. And now that you have reported to me the result of the disastrous battle of Raab, Baron Steigentesch may come in and report the results of his mission to Koenigsberg. Stay, therefore, and listen to him."

The emperor rang the bell, and ordered the footman who entered the room to admit immediately Minister Count Stadion and Colonel Baron Steigentesch. A few minutes later the two gentlemen entered the cabinet.

"Now, colonel," said the emperor to him, "you are to report the results of your mission to Koenigsberg, and I confess I am quite anxious to hear them. But before you commence, I wish to say a few words to your minister of foreign affairs. On the same day that I dispatched Colonel Steigentesch to Koenigsberg, I handed you a sealed paper and ordered you to preserve it till my ambassador's return. Have you done so?"

"I have, your majesty."

"And have you brought it with you now?"

"Here it is, your majesty," said Count Stadion, drawing a sealed envelope from his bosom, and presenting it to the emperor, with a low bow. Francis took it, and examined the seal with close attention, then held it to his nose and smelled it.

"Indeed," he exclaimed joyfully, "it has retained its perfume, and is as fresh and brilliant as though it had been put on only at the present moment. And what a beautiful crimson it is! I have, then, at length, found the right receipt for good sealing-wax, and this, which I made myself, may vie with that made at the best Spanish factories. Oh, I see, this sealing-wax will drive my black cabinet to despair, for it will be impossible to open a letter sealed with it; even the finest knife will be unable to do it. Do you not think so too, minister?"

"I am no judge of sealing-wax," said Count Stadion, coldly, "and I confess that I did not even look at the seal of this envelope; your majesty ordered me to keep it and return it to you after Baron Steigentesch's return. I complied with your majesty's orders, that is all."

The emperor smiled, and laid the sealed paper with a slight nod on the table by his side; then he sank into an easy-chair, and beckoned to the gentlemen to take seats on the chairs on the other side of the table.

"Now, Colonel Steigentesch, let me hear the results of your mission. In the first place, tell me, has King Frederick William sent no letter to me in reply to mine?"

"No, your majesty," replied Colonel Steigentesch, with a significant smile; "I am only the bearer of a verbal reply. I believe the king thought a written answer too dangerous, or he was afraid lest he should thereby compromise himself. But after every interview I had with the king or the queen, I noted down every word their majesties spoke to me; and if your majesty permits, I shall avail myself of my diary in replying to you."

"Do so," said Francis, "let us hear what you noted down in your diary."

Colonel Steigentesch drew a memorandum-book from his bosom and opened it.

"Well, then, how did the king receive you?" inquired Francis, after a pause.

"The king received me rather coldly and stiffly," read Colonel Steigentesch from his diary; "he asked me what was the object of my mission. I replied that my emperor's letter stated this in a sufficiently lucid manner. The king was silent for a while; then he said rather morosely: 'The emperor asks for succor now; but hereafter he will, perhaps, conclude a separate peace and sacrifice me.' I replied, 'The Emperor Francis, my august master, does not ask for succor. The battle of Aspern has proved that means of defence are not wanting to Austria. But as it is the avowed object of this war that the powers should recover their former possessions, it is but just and equitable that they should take an active part in the contest, whose only object can be attained by seizing the favorable moment. I have not been sent to you to argue a question which should be settled already, but to make the arrangements necessary for carrying it into effect.'"

"An expedient reply," exclaimed the emperor, nodding his head eagerly. "And what did the King of Prussia answer to you?"

"The king was silent a while, and paced his room repeatedly, his hands clasped on his back. Then he stood still in front of me, and said in a loud, firm voice: 'Despite the fear which I might have of being deserted by Austria, I am determined to ally myself ONE DAY with your court; but it is not yet time. Continue the war; in the mean time I will gradually strengthen my forces; only then shall I be able to take a useful part in the contest. I lack powder, muskets, and money; my artillerists are all young and inexperienced soldiers. It is painful to me to avow the whole wretchedness of my position to an Austrian officer; but I must do so to prove to your master what it is that keeps me back at this juncture. You will easily convince yourself that I am striving to be useful to you by all means. Your sick soldiers are nursed at my hospitals and sent to their homes; I give leave of absence to all my officers who wish to serve in your army. But to ask me to declare now in your favor, is to call upon me to sign my own ruin. Deal the enemy another blow, and I will send an officer out of uniform to your emperor's headquarters to make all necessary arrangements.' [Footnote: The king's own words.—See "Lebensbilder," vol. iii., p. 262.] After these words the king bowed to me and dismissed me."

"Ah, indeed, the King of Prussia gives very wise advice," exclaimed the emperor; "we are to deal Bonaparte another blow, and then Prussia will negotiate with us. After we have gained another victory, the cautious King of Prussia will enter into secret negotiations with me, and send to my headquarters an officer, but, do you hear, out of uniform, in order not to compromise himself. Did you not wear your uniform, then, colonel?"

"Pardon me, your majesty, I did. But this seemed to be disagreeable to the king, and he asked me to doff my uniform at Koenigsberg; but I replied, that I was, since the battle of Aspern, so proud of my uniform that I could not doff it. [Footnote: Ibid] The king thereupon requested me to state publicly that I had come to Prussia only for the purpose of asking of the king permission to buy corn in Silesia and horses in Prussia."

"And you complied with this request, colonel!"

"I did not, your majesty. I replied that I could not even state this, for it was repugnant to my sense of honor; however, I would not contradict such a rumor if it were circulated."

"Very well, colonel," said the emperor, smiling; "you have acted in a manner worthy of a true Austrian. And now tell me, did you see the queen also?"

"I did, your majesty. Her majesty sent for me on the day of my arrival. The queen looked pale and feeble, but she seemed to take pains to conceal her sufferings under a smile which illuminated her face like a sunbeam."

"See, see." exclaimed the emperor, sarcastically; "our colonel talks in the enthusiastic strain of a poet now that he refers to the queen. Is she so very beautiful, then?"

"Your majesty, she is more than beautiful; she is at the same time a noble, high-spirited woman, and an august queen. Her misfortunes and humiliations have not bent her neck, but this noble lady seems even more august and majestic in the days of adversity than in those of splendor and prosperity."

"And what did the queen say to you? Was she of her husband's opinion that Austria should not be succored at this juncture, and that Prussia, before declaring in our favor, ought to wait and see if Austria can defeat France single-handed?"

"Your majesty, the queen was more unreserved and frank in her utterances than the king. She openly avowed her hatred against Napoleon, and it is her opinion that Prussia should take a decided stand against France. 'For,' she said, 'I am convinced that the hatred of the French emperor against Austria, and his intention to overthrow all dynasties, leave no hope of peace. I am the mother of nine children, to whom I am anxious to preserve their inheritance; you may, therefore, judge of the wishes which I entertain.'" [Footnote: The queen's own words. See "Lebensbilder," vol. iii., p. 280.]

"If such were the queen's sentiments, I suppose she profited by the great influence which she is said to have over her husband, to prevail upon him to take a bold stand, and you bring me the news of it as the final result of your mission, do you not?"

"Pardon me, your majesty, I do not. It seems the influence of the queen does not go far enough to induce the king to change his mind after he has once made it up. Now, the king has resolved not to ally himself with Austria at this juncture, but to wait until Austria, as he says, 'has dealt the Emperor of the French another blow.' All my interviews with the king were, as it were, only variations of this theme. In the last interview which I had with the king, he did not express any thing but what he had already told me in the first. He repeated that he would, as soon as Austria had dealt France another decisive blow, send an officer out of uniform to the headquarters of your majesty; but then, he added, 'I hope to come myself, and not alone.' When I took leave of the queen, she was even sadder than usual, and her voice was tremulous, and her eyes filled with tears, when she said to me she hoped to meet me soon again under more favorable circumstances."

"And what did the other persons at the Prussian court say? How did the princes, the generals, and ministers express themselves?"

"Prince William, the king's brother, said to me with a shrug: 'You will not find the spirit reigning here much to your taste. The king's irresolution will ruin him again.' The princess, his wife, apologized for not inviting me to dinner, the king having positively forbidden her to do so. The king's generals and ministers unreservedly gave vent to their impatience and indignation. Grand- chancellor von Beyme said to me: 'The king would like to unite with you, but he cannot make up his mind to do so. However, as everybody about him is earnestly in favor of an alliance with Austria, I hope that the king will be carried away.'[Footnote: "Lebensbilder," vol. iii., p.262] General Blucher wrote to the king in his impetuous, frank manner, that 'he would not witness the downfall of the throne, and would prefer serving in a foreign army provided it were at war with the French.' Scharnhorst, the minister of war, spoke as violently, and with as undisguised hostility against France. He presented to the king a memoir, in which he said: 'I will not go dishonored into my grave; I should be dishonored did I not advise the king to profit by the present moment, and declare war against France. Can your majesty wish that Austria should return your states to you as alms, if she were still generous enough to do so; or that Napoleon, if victorious, should disarm your soldiers like the militia of a free city?' But all these remonstrances, these supplications, nay, even the tears of the queen, were in vain. The king repeated that he would unite with Austria one day, but it was not yet time. Austria ought first to deal France another blow, and gain a decisive victory; then would have come for Prussia the moment to declare openly against France. This, your majesty, is the only reply which I bring with me from my mission to Prussia."

"Well, I must confess that this reply is decidedly cautious and wise!" exclaimed the emperor, laughing. "After we have drawn the chestnuts out of the fire, Prussia will be kind enough to sit down with Austria and help her to eat them. Well, what do you think of it, brother John?"

"I think that this hesitating policy of Prussia is a misfortune not only for Austria and Prussia, but for Germany. For if France and Russia join hands now against our disunited country, Germany will be lost. The welfare of Europe is now inseparably bound up with an alliance between Austria and Prussia, which can alone prevent the outbreak of a European war. But this alliance must be concluded openly, unreservedly, and with mutual confidence. No private interest, no secondary interests calculated to frustrate the enterprise, but the great ends of saving the states, and restoring peace and prosperity to humanity, should be kept constantly in view; then, and then only, success will crown the great undertaking." [Footnote: The archduke's own words.—See his "Letters to Johannes von Willer,"]

"And Prussia seems little inclined to keep such ends in view," said the emperor. "Well, minister, you do not say a word. You were so eloquent in trying to gain me over to this alliance with Prussia; you assured me so often that Prussia was waiting only for me to call upon her, when she would ally herself with me; and now—"

"Now, your majesty," said Count Stadion, mournfully, "I see, to my profound sorrow, that Prussia prefers her separate interests to the interests of Germany; and I confess that I was mistaken in Prussia."

"And you tried to convince me that I was wrong in entertaining a different opinion; and my esteemed brother yonder spoke so wisely and loftily of our Prussian brethren, and the united Germany which we would form together! Well, you shall see at least that, although I yielded, and, to get rid of all you wise men, applied to Prussia, I did not believe in the success of the mission. Minister; be kind enough now to take the letter which you have kept for me so long. There! Now break the nice seal, open the letter, and read to us what I wrote on the day when I dispatched Colonel Steigentesch to the King of Prussia. Read!"

Stadion unfolded the letter and read:

"Colonel Steigentesch will return from his mission without accomplishing anything. Prussia and Austria are rivals in Germany, and will never join hands in a common undertaking. Austria can never forgive Prussia for taking Silesia from her, and Prussia will always secretly suspect that Austria is intent upon weakening her rising power and humbling her ambition. Hence, Prussia will hesitate and temporize even at this juncture, although it is all-important now for Germany to take a bold stand against her common enemy, rapacious and insatiable France; she will hesitate because she secretly wishes that Austria should be humiliated; and she will not bear in mind that the weakening of Austria is fraught with danger for Prussia, nay, the whole of Germany."

"Now. gentlemen," said the emperor, when Count Stadion was through, "you see that my opinion was right, and that I well knew what I had to expect from Prussia. We must now carry on the struggle against France single-handed; but, after dealing her another blow, for which the King of Prussia longs, we shall take good care not to invite Prussia to our victorious repast. It would be just in us even to compel her to give us the sweet morsel of Silesia for our dessert. Well, we shall see what time will bring about. Our first blow against France was successful.—Archduke, go and help us to succeed in dealing her another; and, after defeating France single-handed, we shall also be masters of Germany."



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM.

"At length!" exclaimed the Archduke John, joyously, holding up the letter which a courier of the generalissimo had just brought him from the headquarters of Wagram. "At length a decisive blow is to be struck.—Count Nugent, General Frimont, come in here! A courier from the generalissimo!"

So saying, the archduke had opened the door of his cabinet, and called the gentlemen who were in the anteroom.

"A courier from the generalissimo," he repeated once more, when the two generals came in.

"Your highness's wish is fulfilled now, is it not?" asked Nugent. "The generalissimo accepts the assistance which you offered to him. He permits you to leave this position with your troops and those of the Archduke Palatine and re-enforce his own army?"

"No, he does not reply to my offer. It seems the generalissimo thinks that he does not need us to beat the French. But he writes to me that he is about to advance with his whole army, and that a decisive battle may be looked for. He says the enemy is still on the island of Lobau, busily engaged in erecting a TETE-DE-PONT, and building a bridge across the Danube."

"And our troops do not try to prevent this by all means!" cried General Frimont, vehemently. "They allow the enemy to build bridges? They look on quietly while the enemy is preparing to leave the island, and do not prevent him from so doing?"

"My friend," said the archduke, gently, "let us never forget that it does not behoove us to criticise the actions of the generalissimo, and that our sole duty is to obey. Do as I do; let us be silent and submit. But let us rejoice that something will be done at length. Just bear in mind how long this inactivity and suspense have lasted already. The battle of Aspern was fought on the 22d of May, to-day is the 3d of July; and in the mean time nothing has been done. The enemy remained quietly on the island of Lobau, nursing his wounded, reorganizing his troops, erecting TETES-DE-PONT, and building bridges; and the generalissimo stood with his whole army on the bank of the Danube, and took great pains to watch in idleness the busy enemy. Let us thank God, therefore, that at last the enemy is tired of this situation, that he at length takes the initiative again, and brings about a decision. The generalissimo informs me that the enemy's artillery dislodged our outposts yesterday, and that some French infantry crossed over to the Muhlau. The generalissimo, as I told you before, advanced with his troops, and hopes for a decisive battle within a few days."