The Daughter of an Empress

by L. Mühlbach

  THE DOOMING LETTER

  Groaning, supported by his faithful Lorenzo's arm, Pope Ganganellislowly moved through the walks of his garden. Some months had passedsince the suppression of the order of the Jesuits--how had these fewmonths changed poor Clement! Where was the peace and cheerfulness ofhis face, where was the sublime expression of his features, the firm andnoble carriage of his body--where was it all?

  Trembling, shattered, with distorted features, and with dull,half-closed eyes, crawled he about with groans, his brow wrinkled, hislips compressed by pain and inward sorrow.

  No one dared to remain with him; he spoke to no one. But Lorenzo was yetsometimes able to drive away the clouds from his brow, and to recall afaint smile to his thin pale lips.

  He had also to-day succeeded in this, and for the first time in severalweeks had Ganganelli, yielding to his prayers, consented to a walk inthe garden of the Quirinal.

  "This air refreshes me," said the pope, breathing more freely; "it seemsas if it communicated to my lungs a renewed vital power and caused theblood to flow more rapidly in my veins. Lorenzo, this is a singularlyfortunate day for me, and I will make the most of it. Come, we willrepair to our Franciscan Place!"

  "That is an admirable idea," said Lorenzo, delighted. "If your holinesscan reach it, you will recover your health, and all will again be well."

  Ganganelli sighed, and glanced toward heaven with a sad smile.

  "Health!" said he. "Ah, Lorenzo, that word reminds me of a lostparadise. The avenging angel has driven me from it, and I shall neversee it again."

  "Say not so!" begged Lorenzo, secretly wiping a tear from his cheek."No, say not so, you will certainly recover!"

  "Yes, recover!" replied the pope. "For death is a recovery, and in theend perhaps the most real."

  They silently walked on, and making a path through the bushes, they atlength arrived at the place, with the construction of which Lorenzo hadsome months before surprised the pope, and which Ganganelli had sincenamed the "Franciscan Place."

  "So," joyfully exclaimed Lorenzo, while the exhausted pope glided downupon the grass-bank--"so, brother Clement, now let us be cheerful!You know that here we have nothing more to do with the pope. You haveyourself declared that here you would be brother Clement, and nothingmore; now brother Clement was always a healthy man, full of juvenilespirits and strength."

  "Ah, my friend," responded Ganganelli, "I fear the pope has secretlyfollowed brother Clement even to this place, and even here no longerleaves him free! No, no, it is no longer brother Clement who sitsgroaning here, it is the vicegerent of God, the father of Christendom,the holy and blessed pope! And if you knew, Lorenzo, what thisvicegerent of God has to suffer and bear, how his blood like streams offire runs through his veins, carbonizing his entrails and parching theroof of his mouth, so that the tongue fast cleaves to it, and he hasno longer the power to complain of his misery! And such a crushedearth-worm this miserable, infatuated people call the vicegerent ofGod, before whom they bow in the dust! Ah, foolish children, are you notyourselves disgusted with your masquerade, and do you not blush for thisjest?"

  "See you not," said Lorenzo, with forced cheerfulness, "that since youare here you have, against your will, again become brother Clement, andinveigh against God's vicegerent who holds his splendid court in theVatican and Quirinal! Yes, yes that was what brother Clement used to doin the Franciscan convent; he was always scolding about the pope."

  "And yet he let men befool him and make a pope of him," said Ganganelli."Ah, Lorenzo, they were indeed good purposes that decided me, and goodand holy resolutions were in me when I bore this crown of St. Peter forthe first time. Ah, I was then so young, not in years, but in hopes andillusions. I was so enthusiastic for the good and noble, and I wished toserve it, to honor and glorify it in the name of God!"

  "And in the end you have done so!" solemnly responded Lorenzo.

  "I have wished to do so!" sighed Ganganelli, "but there it has ended.I have been hemmed in everywhere; wherever I wished to press through,I have always found a wall before me--a wall of prejudices, of ancientcustoms, once received as indifferent, and at this wall my cardinals andofficials held watch, taking care that my will should be broken againstit, and not be able to speak through, in order to let in a littlefreedom, a little fresh air, into our walled realm! They have curbed andweakened my will, until nothing more of it subsists, and of my holiestresolutions they have made a scarecrow before which foreign kings andprinces cry murder, and prophesy the downfall of their kingdoms if Iadhere to my innovations. Ah, the princes, the princes! I tell you,Lorenzo, it is the princes who have undermined the happiness of theworld with their ideas of absolute power; they are the robbers of allmankind; for freedom, which is the common property of all men, thathave they, like regular lawless highwaymen, appropriated for themselvesalone. They plundered the luck-pennies of all mankind, and coined theminto money adorned with their likenesses, and now all mankind run afterthis money, thinking: 'If I gain that, then shall I have recovered mypart of human happiness which once belonged to all in common!' It hascome to this, Lorenzo, through the rapacity of princes, and yet theystill tremble upon their thrones, and fear that the people may one dayawake from their stupid slumber, all rising as one man, and cry inthe paling faces of their robbers: 'Give back what you have taken fromus--we will have what is ours; we require freedom and human right; wewill no longer remain slaves to tremble before a bugbear; we will befree children of God, and have no one to fear but the God above us andthe consciences within our own breasts!' Come down, therefore, from yourusurped thrones, become once more human--labor, enjoy, complain, andrejoice, as other men do; live not upon the sweat of your subjects, butnourish yourselves by your own efforts, that justice may prevail in theworld, and humanity regain its rights!"

  And Ganganelli's eyes flashed, his sunken cheeks were feverishlyflushed, while he was thus speaking. Lorenzo observed it with anxiouseyes; and when the pope made a momentary pause, he said: "You are againaltogether the good and brave brother Clement, but even he should thinkabout sparing himself!"

  "And to what end should he spare himself?" excitedly exclaimedGanganelli; "Death sits within me and laughs to scorn all my efforts,burying himself deeper and deeper in my inward life. You must know,Lorenzo, that my cause of sorrow is precisely this, that I now live invain, and that I cannot finish what I began! I wished to make my peoplehappy and free; that was what alarmed all these princes, that was anunheard-of innovation, and they have all put their heads together andwhispered to each other, 'He will betray to mankind that they haverights of which we have robbed them. He wishes to give back to mankindhis inherited portion of the booty! But what will then become of us?Will not our slaves rise up against us, demanding their human rights? Wecannot suffer such innovations, for they involve our destruction!' Thushave they cried, and in their anxiety they have decided upon my death!Then they threw me in a crumb exactly suited to my dreams of improvingthe happiness of the people; they all consented that I should relievemankind from that dangerous tapeworm, Jesuitism, and with secretlaughter thought, 'It will be the death of him!' And they were right,these sly princes, it will be the death of me! I have abolished theorder of Jesuits--in consequence of which I shall die--but the Jesuitswill live, and live forever!"

  The echo of approaching footsteps was now heard, and, sinking withfatigue, he directed Lorenzo to go and meet the intruder, and by nomeans to let any one penetrate to him.

  Returning alone, Lorenzo handed the pope a letter.

  "The courier whom you sent out some days since has returned," said he."This is his dispatch."

  Taking the letter, with a sad smile, the pope weighed it in his hand."How light is this little sheet," said he, "and yet how heavy are itscontents! Do you know what this letter contains, Lorenzo?"

  "How can I? A poor cloister brother is not all-knowing!"

  "This letter," said the pope, with solemnity, "Brings me life or death.It is the answer of the learned physician, Professor Brunell
i, ofBologna!"

  "You have written to him?" asked Lorenzo, turning pale.

  "I wrote him, particularly describing my condition and sufferings; inGod's name I conjured him to tell me the truth, and Brunelli is a man ofhonor; he will do it! Am I right, therefore, in saying that the contentsof this letter are very heavy?"

  Lorenzo trembled, and, grasping the pope's hand, he hastily andanxiously said: "No, read it not. Of what use will it be to learn itscontents? It is tempting God to endeavor to learn the future in advance!Let me destroy this fatal letter!"

  And, while his faithful servant respectfully stood back, Ganganellibroke the seal.

  A pause ensued--a long, excruciating pause! Lorenzo, kneeling,prayed--Pope Ganganelli read the letter of the physician of Bologna. Hisface had assumed a mortal pallor; while reading, his lips trembled, andtear-drops rolled slowly down over his sunken cheeks.

  Falling from his hand, the letter rustled to the earth; with hanginghead and folded hands sat the pope. Lorenzo was still upon his kneespraying. Ganganelli suddenly raised his head, his eyes were turnedheavenward, a cheerful, God-given peace beamed from his eyes, and with aclear, exulting voice, he said: "Lord, Thy will be done! I resign myselfto Thy holy keeping."

  "The letter, then, brings good news?" asked Lorenzo, misled by thejoyfulness of the pope. "There is, then, no ground for the presentimentsof death, and the learned doctor says you will live?"

  "The life eternal, Lorenzo!" said Ganganelli. "This letter confirms mysuppositions! Brunelli is a man of honor, and he has told me thetruth. Lorenzo, would you know what signifies this consuming fire,this weariness and relaxation of my limbs? It is the effect of _AcquaTofana_!"

  "Oh, my God," shrieked Lorenzo, "you are poisoned!"

  "Irretrievably," calmly responded the pope; "Brunelli says it, and Ifeel in my burning entrails that he speaks the truth."

  "And are there no remedies?" lamented Lorenzo, wringing his hands. "Nomeans at least of prolonging your life?"

  "There is such a means; and Brunelli recommends it. The application ofthe greatest possible heat, the production of a continual perspiration,which may a little retard the progress of the evil, and perhaps prolongmy life for a few weeks!

  "Lorenzo, it is my duty to struggle every day with death. I have yetmuch to complete before I die, yet much labor before I go to my eternalrest, and, as far as I can, I must bring to an end what I have commencedfor the welfare of my people! Come, Lorenzo, let us return to theVatican; set pans of coals in my room, procure me furs and a glowing hotsun! I would yet live some weeks!"

  With feverish impetuosity Ganganelli grasped Lorenzo's arm and drew himaway. Then, suddenly stopping, he turned toward his favorite place.

  "Lorenzo," he said in a low tone, and with deep sadness, "it was yetvery pleasant in the Franciscan cloister. Why did we not remain there?Only see, my friend, how beautifully the sun glitters there among thepines, and how delightfully this air fans us! Ah, Lorenzo, this world isso beautiful, so very beautiful! Why must I leave it so soon?"

  Lorenzo made no answer; he could not speak for tears.

  Ganganelli cast a long and silent glance around him, greeting with hiseyes the trees and flowers, the green earth and the blue sky.

  "Farewell, farewell, thou beautiful Nature!" he whispered low. "We takeour leave of each other. I shall never again see these trees or thisgrassy seat. But you, Lorenzo, will I establish as the guardian of thisplace, and when you sometimes sit here in the still evening hour, thenwill you think of me! Now come, we must away. Feel you not this cool andgentle air? Oh, how refreshingly it fans and cools, but I dare not enjoyit--not I! This cooling cuts off a day from my life!"

  And with the haste of a youth, Ganganelli ran down the alley. Bathedwith perspiration, breathless with heat, he arrived at the palace.

  "Now give me furs, bring pans of coals, Lorenzo, shut all the doors andwindows. Procure me a heat that will shut out death--!"

  But death nevertheless came; the furs and coverings, the steamingcoal-pans with which the pope surrounded himself, the glowing atmospherehe day and night inhaled, and which quite prostrated his friends andservants, all that could only keep off death for some few weeks, notdrive it away. More dreadful yet than this blasting heat with whichGanganelli surrounded himself, yet more horrible, was the fire thatconsumed his entrails and burned in his blood.

  Finally, withered and consumed by these external and internal fires, thepope greeted Death as a deliverer, and sank into his arms with a smile.

  But no sooner had he respired his last breath, no sooner had thedeath-rattle ceased in this throat, and no sooner had death extinguishedthe light in his eyes, than the cold corpse exhibited a most horriblechange.

  The thin white hair fell off as if blown away by a breath of air, theloosened teeth fell from their sockets, the formerly quietly smilingvisage became horribly distorted, the nose sank in and the eyes fellout, the muscles of all his limbs became relaxed as if by a magicstroke, and the rapidly putrefying members fell from each other.

  The pope's two physicians, standing near the bed, looked with terrorupon the frightful spectacle.

  "He was, then, right," murmured the physician Barbi, folding his hands,"he was poisoned. These are the effects of the _Acqua Tofana_!"

  Salicetti, the second physician, shrugged his shoulders with acontemptuous smile. "Think as you will," said he, "for my part I shallprove to the world that Pope Clement XIV. died a natural death."

  Thus saying, Salicetti left the chamber of death with a proudstep, betaking himself to his own room, to commence his history ofGanganelli's last illness, in which, despite the arsenic found in thestomach of the corpse and despite the fact that all Rome was convincedof the poisoning of the pope, and named his murderer with loud curses,he endeavored to prove that Ganganelli died of a long-concealedscrofula!

  And while Ganganelli breathed out his last sigh, resounded the bellsof St. Peter's, thundered the cannon of Castle Angelo, and the curiouspeople thronged around the Vatican, where the conclave was in solemnsession for the choice of a new pope. Thousands stared up to the palace,thousands prayed upon their knees, until at length the doors of thebalcony, behind which the conclave was in session, were opened, and thepapal master of ceremonies made his appearance upon it.

  At a given signal the bells became silent, the cannon ceased to thunder,and breathlessly listened the crowd.

  The master of ceremonies advanced to the front of the balcony. Apause--a silent, dreadful pause! His voice then resounded over thegreat square, and the listeners heard these words: "_Habemus pontificemmaximum Pium VI.!_" (We have Pope Pius VI.)

  And the bells rang anew, the cannon thundered, drums beat, and trumpetssounded; upon the balcony appeared the new pope, Juan Angelo Braschi,Pius VI., bestowing his blessing upon the kneeling people.

  As they now had a new pope, nothing remained to be done for the deceasedpope but to bury him; and they buried him.

  In solemn procession, followed by all the cardinals and high churchofficials, surrounded by the Swiss guards, the tolling of the bells andthe dull rolling of the muffled drums, the solemn hymns of the priests,moved the funeral _cortege_ from the Vatican to St. Peter's church.In the usual open coffin lay the corpse of the deceased pope, that thepeople might see him for the last time. As they passed the bridge of St.Angelo, when the coffin had reached the middle of the bridge, arose ashriek of terror from thousands of throats! A leg had become severedfrom the body and hung out of the coffin, swinging in a fold of thewinding-sheet. Cardinal Albani, who walked near the coffin, was touchedon the shoulder by the loosely swinging limb, and turned pale, but heyet had the courage to push it back into the coffin. The people loudlymurmured, and shudderingly whispered to each other: "The dead man hastouched his murderer. They have poisoned him, our good pope! His membersfall apart. That is the effect of _Acqua Tofana_."(*)

  (*) Archenholz relates yet another case where the Acqua Tofana had a similar violent and sudden effect. "A respectable Ro
man lady, who was young and beautiful, and had many admirers, made in the year 1778, a similar experiment, to rid herself of an old husband. As the dose was rather strong, death was followed by the rapid and violent separation of the members. They employed all possible means to retain the body in a human form until the funeral was over. The face was covered with a waxen mask, and by this means was the condition of the corpse concealed. This separation of the members seems to be the usual effect of this poison, and is said to occur as soon as the body is cold."

  The infernal work had therefore proved successful, the vengeance wascomplete--Ganganelli was no more, and upon the papal throne sat Braschi,the friend of the Jesuits and of Cardinal Albani, to whom he hadpromised the crowning of the improvisatrice Corilla.

  And as this cost nothing to the miserly Pope Pius, he this time found noinconvenience in keeping his sacred promise, though not so promptly asCorilla and the passionate cardinal desired.

  Not until 1776, almost two years after Braschi had mounted the papalthrone, took place the crowning of the improvisatrice in the capitol atRome.

  She had therefore attained the object of her wishes. She had finallyreached it by bribery and intrigue, by hypocritical tenderness, by theresignation of her maiden modesty and womanly honor, and by all the artsof coquetry.

  But this triumph of hers was not to be untroubled. The _nobili_ shoutedfor her, and the cardinals and princes of the Church, but the peopleaccompanied her to the capitol with hissing and howling. Poems camefluttering down on all sides; the first that fell upon Corilla's head,Cardinal Albani eagerly seized and unfolded for the purpose of readingit aloud. But after the first few lines his voice was silenced--it wasan abusive poem, full of mockery and scorn.

  But nevertheless she was crowned. She still stood upon the capitol, withthe laurel-crown upon her brow, cheered by her respectable protectorsand friends. But the people joined not in those cheers, and, as theexulting shouts ceased, there swelled up to the laurel-crowned poetess,from thousands of voices, a thundering laugh of scorn, and this scornfullaugh, this hissing and howling of the people, accompanied her upon herreturn from the capitol, following her through the streets to her owndoor. The people had judged her!

  Corilla was no poetess by the grace of God, and only by the grace of manhad she been crowned as queen of poesy!

  Mortified, crushed, and enraged, she fled from Rome to Florence.She knew how to flatter the great and win princes. She was aprincess-poetess, and the people rejected her!

  But the laurel was hers. She was sought and esteemed, the princesadmired her, and Catharine of Russia fulfilled the promise Orloff hadmade the improvisatrice in the name of the empress. Corilla received apension from Russia. Russia has always promptly and liberally paid thosewho have sold themselves and rendered services to her. Russia is veryrich, and can always send so many thousands of her best and noblest towork in the mines of Siberia, that she can never lack means for payingher spies and agents.