Chapter 13

VIENNA in the early part of the last century was looked uponas the gayest capital in Europe. Even the frightfulconvulsion it had passed through only checked for a while itschronic pursuit of pleasure. The cynical philosopher mightbe tempted to contrast this not infrequent accessory ofpaternal rule with the purity and contentment so fondlyexpected from a democracy - or shall we say a demagoguey?

　　The cherished hopes of the so-called patriots had beencrushed; and many were the worse for the struggle. But themajority naturally subsided into their customary vocations -beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, music, dancing, and play-going.

　　The Vienna of 1848 was the Vienna described by Madame deStael in 1810: 'Dans ce pays, l'on traite les plaisirs commeles devoirs. . . . Vous verrez des hommes et des femmesexecuter gravement, l'un vis-a-vis de l'autre, les pas d'unmenuet dont ils sont impose l'amusement, . . . comme s'il[the couple] dansait pour l'acquit de sa conscience.'

　　Every theatre and place of amusement was soon re-opened.

　　There was an excellent opera; Strauss - the original -presided over weekly balls and concerts. For my part, beingextremely fond of music, I worked industriously at theviolin, also at German. My German master, Herr Mauthner byname, was a little hump-backed Jew, who seemed to know everyman and woman (especially woman) worth knowing in Vienna.

　　Through him I made the acquaintance of several families ofthe middle class, - amongst them that of a veteran musicianwho had been Beethoven's favourite flute-player. As myveneration for Beethoven was unbounded, I listened with aweto every trifling incident relating to the great master. Ifear the conviction left on my mind was that my idol, thoughtranscendent amongst musicians, was a bear amongst men.

　　Pride (according to his ancient associate) was his strongpoint. This he vindicated by excessive rudeness to everyonewhose social position was above his own. Even those that didhim a good turn were suspected of patronising. Condescensionwas a prerogative confined to himself. In this respect, tobe sure, there was nothing singular.

　　At the house of the old flutist we played family quartets, -he, the father, taking the first violin part on his flute, Ithe second, the son the 'cello, and his daughter the piano.

　　It was an atmosphere of music that we all inhaled; and myhappiness on these occasions would have been unalloyed, hadnot the young lady - a damsel of six-and-forty - insisted onpoisoning me (out of compliment to my English tastes) with abitter decoction she was pleased to call tea. This delicateattention, I must say, proved an effectual souvenir till wemet again - I dreaded it.

　　Now and then I dined at the Embassy. One night I met therePrince Paul Esterhazy, so distinguished by his diamonds whenAustrian Ambassador at the coronation of Queen Victoria. Hetalked to me of the Holkham sheep-shearing gatherings, atwhich from 200 to 300 guests sat down to dinner every day,including crowned heads, and celebrities from both sides ofthe Atlantic. He had twice assisted at these in my father'stime. He also spoke of the shooting; and promised, if Iwould visit him in Hungary, he would show me as good sport ashad ever seen in Norfolk. He invited Mr. Magenis - theSecretary of Legation - to accompany me.

　　The following week we two hired a BRITZCKA, and posted toEisenstadt. The lordly grandeur of this last of the feudalprinces manifested itself soon after we crossed the Hungarianfrontier. The first sign of it was the livery and badge wornby the postillions. Posting houses, horses and roads, wereall the property of His Transparency.

　　Eisenstadt itself, though not his principal seat, is a largepalace - three sides of a triangle. One wing is theresidence, that opposite the barrack, (he had his owntroops,) and the connecting base part museum and partconcert-hall. This last was sanctified by the spirit ofJoseph Haydn, for so many years Kapellmeister to theEsterhazy family. The conductor's stand and his spinetremained intact. Even the stools and desks in the orchestra(so the Prince assured me) were ancient. The very dust wassacred. Sitting alone in the dim space, one could fancy thegreat little man still there, in his snuff-coloured coat andruffles, half buried (as on state occasions) in his 'ALLONGEPERUCKE.' A tap of his magic wand starts into life hisquaint old-fashioned band, and the powder flies from theirwigs. Soft, distant, ghostly harmonies of the SurpriseSymphony float among the rafters; and now, as in a dream, weare listening to - nay, beholding - the glorious process ofCreation; till suddenly the mighty chord is struck, and weare startled from our trance by the burst of myriad voicesechoing the command and its fulfilment, 'Let there be light:

　　and there was light.'

　　Only a family party was assembled in the house. A Baronsomething, and a Graf something - both relations, - and theson, afterwards Ambassador at St. Petersburg during theCrimean War. The latter was married to Lady Sarah Villiers,who was also there. It is amusing to think that thebeautiful daughter of the proud Lady Jersey should be lookedupon by the Austrians as somewhat of a MESALLIANCE for one ofthe chiefs of their nobility. Certain it is that the youngPrincess was received by them, till they knew her, with morecondescension than enthusiasm.

　　An air of feudal magnificence pervaded the palace: spaciousreception-rooms hung with armour and trophies of the chase;numbers of domestics in epauletted and belaced, but ill-fitting, liveries; the prodigal supply and nationality of thecomestibles - wild boar with marmalade, venison and game ofall sorts with excellent 'Eingemachtes' and 'Mehlspeisen'

　　galore - a feast for a Gamache or a Gargantua. But then, allsave three, remember, were Germans - and Germans! Noteworthywas the delicious Chateau Y'quem, of which the Princedeclared he had a monopoly - meaning the best, I presume.

　　After dinner the son, his brother-in-law, and I, smoked ourmeerschaums and played pools of ECARTE in the young Prince'sroom. Magenis, who was much our senior, had his rubberdownstairs with the elders.

　　The life was pleasant enough, but there was one littlemedieval peculiarity which almost made one look for retainersin goat-skins and rushes on the floor, - there was not a bath(except the Princess's) in the palace! It was withdifficulty that my English servant foraged a tub from thekitchen or the laundry. As to other sanitary arrangements,they were what they doubtless had been in the days of Almosand his son, the mighty Arped. In keeping with thesevenerable customs, I had a sentry at the door of myapartments; to protect me, belike, from the ghosts ofpredatory barons and marauders.

　　During the week we had two days' shooting; one in thecoverts, quite equal to anything of the kind in England, theother at wild boar. For the latter, a tract of theCarpathian Mountains had been driven for some days beforeinto a wood of about a hundred acres. At certain pointsthere were sheltered stands, raised four or five feet fromthe ground, so that the sportsmen had a commanding view ofthe broad alley or clearing in front of him, across which thestags or boar were driven by an army of beaters.

　　I had my own double-barrelled rifle; but besides this, a manwith a rack on his back bearing three rifles of the prince's,a loader, and a FORSTER, with a hunting knife or short swordto despatch the wounded quarry. Out of the first rush ofpigs that went by I knocked over two; and, in my keenness,jumped out of the stand with the FORSTER who ran to finishthem off. I was immediately collared and brought back; andas far as I could make out, was taken for a lunatic, or atleast for a 'duffer,' for my rash attempt to approach unarmeda wounded tusker. When we all met at the end of the day, thebag of the five guns was forty-five wild boars. The biggest- and he was a monster - fell to the rifle of the Prince, aswas of course intended.

　　The old man took me home in his carriage. It was a beautifuldrive. One's idea of an English park - even such a park asWindsor's - dwindled into that of a pleasure ground, whencompared with the boundless territory we drove through. Tobe sure, it was no more a park than is the New Forest; but ithad all the character of the best English scenery - miles offine turf, dotted with clumps of splendid trees, and giganticoaks standing alone in their majesty. Now and then a herd ofred deer were startled in some sequestered glade; but nocattle, no sheep, no sign of domestic care. Struck with thecharm of this primeval wilderness, I made some remark aboutthe richness of the pasture, and wondered there were no sheepto be seen. 'There,' said the old man, with a touch ofpride, as he pointed to the blue range of the Carpathians;'that is my farm. I will tell you. All the celebrities ofthe day who were interested in farming used to meet atHolkham for what was called the sheep-shearing. I once toldyour father I had more shepherds on my farm than there weresheep on his.'