"Whence it follows that you are proud to be the cause of the unholy war which now rages throughout Germany," said the empress in a voice of indignation. "It is you, then, whose pen has metamorphosed itself into a sword wherewith to take the lives of thousands of good and honest men! What right had you to publish impartial thoughts upon the Bavarian succession? I suppose you had an idea that in so doing, you were proving to the world what an important part you play in the affairs of the nation!"
"Your majesty," stammered Von Schrotter, utterly at a loss to understand his crime—"your majesty, through Prince Kaunitz, conveyed to me your entire satisfaction with my researches into the imperial archives, and the emperor himself requested me to write the second pamphlet."
"I am in no wise indebted to you for your complaisance," replied the empress; "for your ink has changed itself into blood, and your stupid vagaries, hatched in the comfortable quiet of your own room, have driven my poor soldiers from their homes, out into the pitiless storm of hardship, danger, and death. What right had you to meddle with the difficulties of the succession? Did you expect that, in gratitude for your valuable services to the crown, I would reward you with a title and an estate in Bavaria?"
"No, your majesty," replied Von Schrotter, blushing, I was but doing my duty as a jurist and civil officer of the crown."
"And do you suppose you have succeeded in proving any thing with your rubbish?" asked the empress, scornfully. "Do you imagine that any one word take the trouble to read your balderdash?"
"In defending the claims of the crown, I was performing an act of sacrred duty toward my country," replied Von Schrotter, emboldened to reply, by a just sense of the indignity offered him.
"Oh, yes, I know something of the vanity of authors," said the empress. "They imagine themselves to be Atlas, each one with the world upon his shoulders, which must certainly fall, if they are not there to uphold it. I, however, take the liberty of judging that if they were all to be blown to atoms, nobody would be the worse for their disappearance. What has come of your writings? A paper war of such dimensions, that I think the foul fiend must have plucked all the geese in Avernus, and have thrown their quills at your heads. What with your imbecile pens, nobody knows who is right!"
"But, your majesty, "remonstrated Von Schrotter, "discussion is indispensable to the discovery of truth, and as I am sure that I have contributed to this discovery, I cannot regret what I have done."
"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed the enraged empress. "You think you have contributed to the discovery of truth! I will tell you to what you have contributed, sir: you are the cause that the emperor became so headstrong on the subject, that sooner than give up Bavaria he has involved me in war; you are the cause that the whole world has had something to say on the subject of our claims; whereas, had you held your tongue, they might have passed for what they are not—just. You are the cause that my days are spent in sorrow, and my nights are sleepless; that in the despair of my heart, I have been reduced to write to a woman whom I despise! Yes, of all this you are the cause, and more than this—you will be guilty of my death; for I repeat to you that this war has broken my heart, and will be the last nail in my coffin. [Footnote: Maria Theresa's own words.] When my people, then, mourn for my death (and I hope that they will regret me), you may boast of having compassed it yourself; and from my grave I shall arise to—"
"No more, your majesty, no more! Spare me, in mercy," sobbed he, "if you would not see me die at your feet!"