CHAPTER CLXXV.
THE REVOCATION.
When Quarin entered the emperor's cabinet, he found him quietly seated before his escritoire half buried in documents: The physician remained standing at the door, waiting until he should be ordered to approach.
Suddenly Joseph was interrupted in his writing by a spell of coughing. He dropped his pen, and leaned back exhausted. Quarin hastened to his side.
"Your majesty must not write," said he, gravely. "You must lay aside all work for a time."
"I believe that I shall have to lay it aside forever," replied Joseph, languidly. "I sent for you to say that I have a lawsuit with my lungs, and you must tell me which of us is to gain it." [Footnote: Joseph's own words.—"Characteristics of Joseph II." p. 14]
"What am I to tell your majesty?" asked the physician, disturbed.
The emperor looked up with eyes which glowed with the flaming light of fever. "Quarin, you understand me perfectly. You must tell me, in regard to this lawsuit with my lungs, which is to gain it, myself or death? Here is my evidence."
With these words he drew out his handkerchief and held it open between his wan, transparent hands. It was dyed in blood.
"Blood!" exclaimed Quarin, in a tone of alarm. "Your majesty has received a wound?"
"Yes, an interior wound. The Hungarians have dealt me my death-blow. This blood is welling up from a wounded heart. Do not look so mournful, doctor. Let us speak of death as man to man. Look at me now, and say whether my malady is incurable."
"Why should it be incurable?" asked the physician, faltering. "You are young, sire, and have a sound constitution."
"No commonplaces, Quarin, no equivocation," cried Joseph, impatiently. "I must have the truth, do you hear me?—the truth. I cannot afford to be surprised by death, for I must provide for a nation, and my house must be set in order. I am not afraid of death, my friend; it comes to me in the smiling guise of a liberator. Therefore be frank, and tell the at once whether my malady is dangerous."
Again he raised his large, brilliant eyes to the face of the physician. Quarin's features were convulsed with distress, and tears stood in his eyes. His voice was very tremulous as he replied
"Yes, sire, it is dangerous."
The emperor's countentance remained perfectly calm. "Can you tell me with any degree of precision how long I have to live?"
"No, sire; you may live yet for several weeks, or some excitement may put an end to your existence in a few days. In this malady the patient must be prepared at any moment for death."
"Then it is incurable?"
"Yes, sire," faltered Quarin, his tears bursting forth afresh.
The emperor looked thoughtfully before him, and for some time kept silence. Then extending his hand with a smile, he said,
"From my soul I thank you for the manly frankness with which you have treated me, Quarin, and I desire now to give you a testimony of my gratitude. You have children, have you not?"
"Yes, sire—two daughters."
"And you are not rich, I believe?"
"The salary which I receive from your majesty, united to my practice, affords us a comfortable independence."
The emperor nodded. "You must do a little commission for me," said he, turning to the escritoire and writing a few lines, which he presented to Quarin.
"Take this paper to the court chancery and present it to the bureau of finances. You will there receive ten thousand florins wherewith to portion your daughters."
"Oh, sire!" exclaimed Quarin, deeply moved, "I thank you with all the strength of my paternal heart."
"No," replied Joseph, gently, "it is my duty to reward merit. [Footnote: These are the emperor's words. This scene is historical.—Hubner. ii., p. 496.] In addition to this, I would wish to leave you a personal souvenir of my friendship. I bestow upon you, as a last token of my affection, the title of freiherr, and I will take out the patent for you myself. Not a word, dear friend, not a word! Leave me now, for I must work diligently. Since my hours are numbered, I must make the most of them. Farewell! Who knows how soon I may have to recall you here?"
The physician kissed the emperor's hand with fervor, and turned hastily away. Joseph sank back in the chair. His large eyes were raised to heaven, and his wan face beamed with something brighter than resignation.
At that moment the door of the chancery was opened, and the first privy-councillor came hastily forward.
"What is it?" said Joseph, with a slight start.
"Sire, two couriers have just arrived. The first is from the Count Cobenzl. He announces that all Belgium, with the exception of Luxemburg, is in the hands of the patriots; that Van der Noot has called a convention of the United Provinces, which has declared Belgium a republic; her independence is to be guaranteed by England, Prussia, and Holland. Count Cobenzl is urgent in his request for instructions. He is totally at a loss what to do."
The emperor had listened with mournful tranquillity. "And the second courier?" said he.
"The second courier, sire, comes from the imperial stadtholder of
Tyrol."
"What says he?"
"He brings evil tidings, sire. The people have rebelled, and cry out against the conscription and the church reforms. Unless these laws are repealed, there is danger of revolution."
The emperor uttered a piercing cry, and pressed his hands to his breast. "It is nothing," said he, in reply to the anxious and alarmed looks of the privy-councillor. "A momentary pang, which has already passed away—nothing more. Continue your report."
"This is all, your majesty. The stadtholder entreats you to quiet this rebellion and—"
"And to revoke my decrees, is it not so? The same croaking which for eight years has been dinned into my ears. Well—I must have time to reflect, and as soon as I shall have determined upon my course of action, you shall learn my decision."
"Rebellion in Tyrol, in Hnngary, in the Netherlands!" murmured the emperor, when he found himself alone. "From every side I hear my death-knell! My people would bury me ere I have drawn my last sigh. My great ancestor, Charles, stood beside his open grave, and voluntarily contemplated his last resting-place; but I! unhappy monarch, am forced into mine by the ingratitude of a people for whom alone I leave lived! Is it indeed so? Must I die with the mournful conviction that I have lived in vain? O my God, what excess of humiliation Thou hast forced upon me! And what have I done to deserve such a fate? Wherein have I sinned, that my imperial crown should have been lined with so many cruel thorns? Is there no remedy? must I drink this last bitter chalice? Must I revoke that which I have published to the world as my sovereign will?"
He ceased, and folding his arms, faced his difficult position. For one hour he sat motionless, his face grooving gradually paler, his brow darker, his lips more rigidly compressed together.
At length he heaved one long, convulsive sigh. "No—there is no other remedy. I have toiled in vain—my beautiful structure has fallen, and my grave is under its ruins! O my God, why may I not have a few months more of life, wherewith to crush these aspiring rebels? But no!. I must die now, and leave them to triumph over my defeat; for I dare not leave to my successor the accursed inheritance of civil war. To the last hour of my life I must humble my will before the decree of that cruel destiny which has persecuted me from boyhood! Be it so!—I must clutch at the remedy—the fearful remedy—I must revoke!"
He shuddered, and covered his face with his hands. There had been one struggle with his will, there was now another with his despair. He moaned aloud—scalding tears trickled through his poor, wasted fingers, and his whole being bowed before the supremacy of this last great sorrow. Once—only once, he uttered a sharp cry, and for a moment his convulsed countenance was raised to heaven. Then his head fell upon the table, and his wretchedness found vent in low, heart-rending sobs.
And thus he spent another long hour. Finally he looked up to heaven and tried to murmur a few words of resignation. But the spectre of his useless strivings still haunted his mind. "All my plans to be buried in the grave—not one trace of my reign left to posterity!" sighed the unhappy monarch. "But enough of repining. I have resolved to make the sacrifice—it is time to act!"
He clutched his bell, and ordered a page to summon the privy-councillor from the adjoining room.
"Now," said the emperor, "let us work. My hand is too tremulous to hold a pen; you must write for me.—First, in regard to Hungary. Draw up a manifesto, in which I restore their constitution in all its integrity."
He paused for a few moments, and wiped the large drops of cold sweat which were gathering over his forehead. "Do you hear?" continued he; "I revoke all my laws except one, and that is, the edict of religious toleration. I promise to convoke the imperial diet, and to replace the administration of justice upon its old footing. I repeal the laws relating to taxes and conscription, I order the Hungarian crown to be returned to Ofen, and, as soon as I shall have recovered from my illness, I promise to take the coronation-oath. [Footnote: This is the revocation edict, which, promulgated a few weeks before the death of Joseph, caused such astonishment throughout Europe—Gross-Hoffinger, iii., p. 290.] Write this out and bring it to me for signature. Then deliver it into the hands A Count Palfy. He will publish it to the Hungarians.
"So much for Hungary!—Now for Tyrol. Draw up a second manifesto. I repeal the conscription-act, as well as all my reforms with respect to the church. When this is ready, bring it to me for signature; and dispatch a courier with it to the imperial stadtholder. Having satisfied the exactions of Hungary and Tyrol, it remains to restore order in the Netherlands. But there, matters are more complicated, and I fear that no concession on my part will avail at this late hour. I must trample my personal pride in the dust, then, and humble myself before the pope! Yes—before the pope! I will write, requesting him to act as mediator, and beg his holiness to admonish the clergy to make peace with me. [Footnote: Gross-Hoffinger, iii., p.379] Why do you look so sad, my friend? I am making my peace with the world; I am drawing a pen across the events of my life and blotting out my reforms with ink. Make out these documents at once, and send me a courier for Rome. Meanwhile I will write to the pope. Appearing before him as a petitioner, it is incumbent upon me to send an autographic letter. Return to me in an hour."
When, one hour later, the privy-councillor re-entered the cabinet, the letter to the pope lay folded and addressed on the table. But this last humiliation had been too much for the proud spirit of the emperor to brook.
He lay insensible in his chair, a stream of blood oozing slowly from his ghastly lips.