This Is a Revelation

St. Stephen's Cathedral was the largest church in Vienna and the place where the Emperor of Austria was crowned and buried. It could be called a symbol of Vienna. It also stood right in the heart of the city, earning it the name "the Heart of Vienna."

The cathedral was built in 1304 and completed two centuries later. It combined Gothic style with a touch of the Renaissance.

From outside the church, one could see the 230,000 colored tiles on its roof. Bathed in sunlight, the tiles arranged in the shape of a double-headed eagle were a masterpiece.

Pushing open the church doors, one was met by the smell of age and dust, followed by the scent of resin and frankincense.

Inside the cathedral, the light gradually dimmed, and only the candles on the shrines glimmered brightly. The temperature seemed to drop as well, bringing a sense of peace and calm.

An atmosphere far removed from the clamor of everyday life hung in the air, solemn and sacred. Franz II's heart seemed to quiet, too.

With the emperor's arrival, Rauscher, the Archbishop of Vienna, naturally came out to greet him in person.

But his corpulent frame and ostentatious vestments seemed utterly out of place in this ancient, holy church.

Franz II was in a hurry this time and did not wait for Archbishop Rauscher, who was always so tardy. He went straight to the family shrine and gently brushed his fingers over the ancient words engraved on it.

Unexpectedly, Archbishop Rauscher, usually so slow-moving, arrived with unusual speed this time. After all, how could a bishop appointed by the emperor neglect his sovereign?

"Oh! Praise be for the grace of Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit! What has brought the great Monarch of this earthly realm here?"

Franz II waved a hand. "Spare me the pleasantries. I'm only here to pay my respects to my ancestors."

Archbishop Rauscher could tell there was more to those words than met the ear. As God's representative, he had originally wanted to maintain a dignified air. But then he remembered that His Majesty was a proud man with little patience.

"Your Majesty, in God's house, you may speak freely."

"I..." Franz II pondered for a moment, then decided to speak. After all, he was a devout Catholic, and the Archbishop of Vienna standing before him was the very man he had appointed—not some outsider. Most importantly, the fat man would certainly tell him what he wanted to hear. He was very good at that.

(European monarchs also used special first-person pronouns. The Tsar referred to himself as мы, the first-person plural, to emphasize his unique status as a monarch. French monarchs used je or nous. German monarchs called themselves Wir. All of these translate as "I" in the sense of the imperial "We.")

"My grandson, Little Franz, recited Frederick III's prophecy in the nursery today."

"What was that?" Rauscher asked instinctively. The next second, he realized his mistake. Wasn't it written right there on the shrine he faced every day? To cover up his embarrassment, he could only assume a perfectly nonchalant air, as if nothing had happened.

"A.E.I.O.U." Franz II blurted it out, with what sounded like a touch of pride in his voice.

"This is a revelation," the Archbishop declared, instantly becoming a soothsayer.

Charlatans throughout history and across the world were all alike, and Rauscher was no exception. He liked to go along with the emperor's words, and he was an old-school believer who had spent his entire life searching for a so-called "born saint."

"Archbishop, are you saying...?" Franz II seemed a little excited, because he thought so too. Unfortunately, he was no great ruler. Even when he had an idea of his own, he wanted the gods and spirits to back it up.

Rauscher naturally wasn't about to miss this opportunity. He promptly delivered a flattering remark.

"This is an auspicious sign, foretelling that the Austrian Empire's grand ambitions will surely be realized." Archbishop Rauscher looked utterly certain, as if he truly had received some kind of revelation.

On close examination, what he said was no different from saying nothing at all. Archbishop Rauscher had declared that the empire's ambitions would eventually be fulfilled, but he had said nothing about when or to what extent. Strictly speaking, then, he had neither lied nor gone against the Church's teachings.

But for the hesitant and indecisive Franz II, it was undoubtedly a shot in the arm. This wasn't his own idea, after all. It was God's will. In short, if anything went wrong, he wouldn't have to shoulder the blame, and his spirits lifted at once.

Rauscher had held the post of Archbishop of Vienna for so many years, so he was certainly skilled at reading people.

He thought to himself, The emperor's acting strange today. Is he planning to pass the throne to his grandson?

Then Rauscher thought of the Pragmatic Sanction, and his heart tightened. But then he remembered Empress Theresa, and the prosperity of her era and the Church's strength, and his unease subsided.

"Your Majesty, I've met Archduke Franz, too. He really is a remarkable child. I still remember when I baptized him—he sprayed me from head to toe!"

Rauscher had a good impression of Franz, because Franz always had a Bible in his hands and seemed unable to put it down. Surely he must be a devout believer.

In truth, Franz couldn't read much German yet. He liked carrying the Bible because it was large enough to stand on and its cover was soft enough to use as a cushion. Sometimes, as a member of the royal family, Franz had to maintain a dignified posture, so he needed to pile a few books under his bottom.

Besides, it could also be used to beat up his younger brother, Maximilian.

Maximilian was Franz's second-youngest brother. The two seemed born under incompatible stars and were always fighting. Maximilian was no match for Franz, who had lived two lives, but Franz couldn't bring himself to pick on a little child.

Then Franz came up with a solution: find a thick, oversized book, lay it across Maximilian's back, and sit on top. That way, he could peacefully settle the squabble between the children. As it happened, the book was the Bible.

The result was that Maximilian was often pinned down by Franz with the Bible, able to move only his hands and feet. He looked just like a little turtle with its shell held down.

But what the Archbishop saw was a devout believer who never let go of his Bible.

On the other hand, Archbishop Rauscher himself had always wanted to find a born saint and restore the people's faith in the Catholic Church.

But after so many years of searching and countless failures, he had made a decision.

Rather than wait for a saint to appear, he would create one himself.

Now that the old emperor was considering it, Rauscher naturally wouldn't let this opportunity slip by. If the child inherited the throne one day, wouldn't that make him the emperor's godfather? At the very least, he could become a Richelieu—wielding power over the court in life and leaving a name that would live on for generations after death.

(Richelieu was a famous cardinal in history.)

"Your Majesty, you should follow the choice in your heart. Your choice is God's will." Rauscher couldn't say what he wanted for himself, so he could only shift the burden onto God.

"Archbishop, what are you trying to say?"

Rauscher hadn't expected the old emperor, who was usually so forthright, to say that. The man really had no shame. He gave an awkward laugh.

"May the Austrian Empire enjoy lasting peace and stability."

The old emperor smiled, too. He wasn't an enlightened ruler, but neither would he let a charlatan sway him. That was the pride he took in being emperor, though it wasn't much use.

"Perhaps this really is a revelation."