Tracks Of A Rolling Stone - Henry J. Coke (novels in english .TXT) 📗

Chapter 12 Pg 72

One End Of The Barricade Abutted On The 'Golden Lamm.'  With

The Exception Of The Soldiers,  The Inn Seemed To Be Deserted;

And I Wanted Both Food And Lodging.  The Upper Floor Was Full

Of Jagers.  The Front Windows Over-Looked The Bastei.  These

Were Now Blocked With Mattresses,  To Protect The Men From

Bullets.  The Distance From The Ramparts Was Not More Than

150 Yards,  And Woe To The Student Or The Fat Grocer,  In His

National Guard Uniform,  Who Showed His Head Above The Walls. 

While I Was In The Attics A Gun Above The City Gate Fired At

The Battery Below.  I Ran Down A Few Minutes Later To See The

Result.  One Artilleryman Had Been Killed.  He Was Already

Laid Under The Gun-Carriage,  His Head Covered With A Cloak.

 

The Storming Took Place A Day Or Two Afterwards.  One Of The

Principal Points Of Resistance Had Been At The Bottom Of The

Jagerzeile.  The Insurgents Had A Battery Of Several Guns

Here; And The Handsome Houses At The Corners Facing The

Prater Had Been Loop-Holed And Filled With Students.  I

Walked Round The Town After All Was Over,  And Was Especially

Impressed With The Horrors I Witnessed.  The Beautiful

Houses,  With Their Gorgeous Furniture,  Were A Mass Of Smoking

Ruins.  Not A Soul Was To Be Seen,  Not Even A Prowling Thief. 

I Picked My Way Into One Or Two Of Them Without Hindrance. 

Here And There Were A Heap Of Bodies,  Some Burnt To Cinders, 

Some With Their Clothes Still Smouldering.  The Smell Of The

Roasted Flesh Was A Disgusting Association For A Long Time To

Come.  But The Whole Was Sickening To Look At,  And Still More

So,  If Possible,  To Reflect Upon; For This Was The Price

Which So Often Has Been,  So Often Will Be,  Paid For The

Alluring Dream Of Liberty,  And For The Pursuit Of That

Mischievous Will-O'-The-Wisp - Jealous Equality.

 

 

 

Chapter 13 Pg 73

 

 

Vienna In The Early Part Of The Last Century Was Looked Upon

As The Gayest Capital In Europe.  Even The Frightful

Convulsion It Had Passed Through Only Checked For A While Its

Chronic Pursuit Of Pleasure.  The Cynical Philosopher Might

Be Tempted To Contrast This Not Infrequent Accessory Of

Paternal Rule With The Purity And Contentment So Fondly

Expected From A Democracy - Or Shall We Say A Demagoguey? 

The Cherished Hopes Of The So-Called Patriots Had Been

Crushed; And Many Were The Worse For The Struggle.  But The

Majority Naturally Subsided Into Their Customary Vocations - 

Chapter 13 Pg 74

Beer-Drinking,  Pipe-Smoking,  Music,  Dancing,  And Play-Going.

 

The Vienna Of 1848 Was The Vienna Described By Madame De

Stael In 1810:  'Dans Ce Pays,  L'on Traite Les Plaisirs Comme

Les Devoirs. . . . Vous Verrez Des Hommes Et Des Femmes

Executer Gravement,  L'un Vis-A-Vis De L'autre,  Les Pas D'un

Menuet 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,  Being

Extremely Fond Of Music,  I Worked Industriously At The

Violin,  Also At German.  My German Master,  Herr Mauthner By

Name,  Was A Little Hump-Backed Jew,  Who Seemed To Know Every

Man And Woman (Especially Woman) Worth Knowing In Vienna. 

Through Him I Made The Acquaintance Of Several Families Of

The Middle Class,  - Amongst Them That Of A Veteran Musician

Who Had Been Beethoven's Favourite Flute-Player.  As My

Veneration For Beethoven Was Unbounded,  I Listened With Awe

To Every Trifling Incident Relating To The Great Master.  I

Fear The Conviction Left On My Mind Was That My Idol,  Though

Transcendent Amongst Musicians,  Was A Bear Amongst Men. 

Pride (According To His Ancient Associate) Was His Strong

Point.  This He Vindicated By Excessive Rudeness To Everyone

Whose Social Position Was Above His Own.  Even Those That Did

Him A Good Turn Were Suspected Of Patronising.  Condescension

Was A Prerogative Confined To Himself.  In This Respect,  To

Be 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,  I

The Second,  The Son The 'Cello,  And His Daughter The Piano. 

It Was An Atmosphere Of Music That We All Inhaled; And My

Happiness On These Occasions Would Have Been Unalloyed,  Had

Not The Young Lady - A Damsel Of Six-And-Forty - Insisted On

Poisoning Me (Out Of Compliment To My English Tastes) With A

Bitter Decoction She Was Pleased To Call Tea.  This Delicate

Attention,  I Must Say,  Proved An Effectual Souvenir Till We

Met Again - I Dreaded It.

 

Now And Then I Dined At The Embassy.  One Night I Met There

Prince Paul Esterhazy,  So Distinguished By His Diamonds When

Austrian Ambassador At The Coronation Of Queen Victoria.  He

Talked To Me Of The Holkham Sheep-Shearing Gatherings,  At

Which From 200 To 300 Guests Sat Down To Dinner Every Day, 

Including Crowned Heads,  And Celebrities From Both Sides Of

The Atlantic.  He Had Twice Assisted At These In My Father's

Time.  He Also Spoke Of The Shooting; And Promised,  If I

Would Visit Him In Hungary,  He Would Show Me As Good Sport As

Had Ever Seen In Norfolk.  He Invited Mr. Magenis - The

Secretary Of Legation - To Accompany Me.

 

The Following Week We Two Hired A Britzcka,  And Posted To 

Chapter 13 Pg 75

Eisenstadt.  The Lordly Grandeur Of This Last Of The Feudal

Princes Manifested Itself Soon After We Crossed The Hungarian

Frontier.  The First Sign Of It Was The Livery And Badge Worn

By The Postillions.  Posting Houses,  Horses And Roads,  Were

All The Property Of His Transparency.

 

Eisenstadt Itself,  Though Not His Principal Seat,  Is A Large

Palace - Three Sides Of A Triangle.  One Wing Is The

Residence,  That Opposite The Barrack,  (He Had His Own

Troops,) And The Connecting Base Part Museum And Part

Concert-Hall.  This Last Was Sanctified By The Spirit Of

Joseph Haydn,  For So Many Years Kapellmeister To The

Esterhazy Family.  The Conductor's Stand And His Spinet

Remained Intact.  Even The Stools And Desks In The Orchestra

(So The Prince Assured Me) Were Ancient.  The Very Dust Was

Sacred.  Sitting Alone In The Dim Space,  One Could Fancy The

Great Little Man Still There,  In His Snuff-Coloured Coat And

Ruffles,  Half Buried (As On State Occasions) In His 'Allonge

Perucke.'  A Tap Of His Magic Wand Starts Into Life His

Quaint Old-Fashioned Band,  And The Powder Flies From Their

Wigs.  Soft,  Distant,  Ghostly Harmonies Of The Surprise

Symphony Float Among The Rafters; And Now,  As In A Dream,  We

Are Listening To - Nay,  Beholding - The Glorious Process Of

Creation; Till Suddenly The Mighty Chord Is Struck,  And We

Are Startled From Our Trance By The Burst Of Myriad Voices

Echoing The Command And Its Fulfilment,  'Let There Be Light: 

And There Was Light.'

 

Only A Family Party Was Assembled In The House.  A Baron

Something,  And A Graf Something - Both Relations,  - And The

Son,  Afterwards Ambassador At St. Petersburg During The

Crimean War.  The Latter Was Married To Lady Sarah Villiers, 

Who Was Also There.  It Is Amusing To Think That The

Beautiful Daughter Of The Proud Lady Jersey Should Be Looked

Upon By The Austrians As Somewhat Of A Mesalliance For One Of

The Chiefs Of Their Nobility.  Certain It Is That The Young

Princess Was Received By Them,  Till They Knew Her,  With More

Condescension Than Enthusiasm.

 

An Air Of Feudal Magnificence Pervaded The Palace:  Spacious

Reception-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 The

Comestibles - Wild Boar With Marmalade,  Venison And Game Of

All Sorts With Excellent 'Eingemachtes' And 'Mehlspeisen'

Galore - A Feast For A Gamache Or A Gargantua.  But Then,  All

Save Three,  Remember,  Were Germans - And Germans!  Noteworthy

Was The Delicious Chateau Y'quem,  Of Which The Prince

Declared He Had A Monopoly - Meaning The Best,  I Presume. 

After Dinner The Son,  His Brother-In-Law,  And I,  Smoked Our

Meerschaums And Played Pools Of Ecarte In The Young Prince's

Room.  Magenis,  Who Was Much Our Senior,  Had His Rubber

Downstairs With The Elders.

Chapter 13 Pg 76

The Life Was Pleasant Enough,  But There Was One Little

Medieval Peculiarity Which Almost Made One Look For Retainers

In Goat-Skins And Rushes On The Floor,  - There Was Not A Bath

(Except The Princess's) In The Palace!  It Was With

Difficulty That My English Servant Foraged A Tub From The

Kitchen Or The Laundry.  As To Other Sanitary Arrangements, 

They Were What They Doubtless Had Been In The Days Of Almos

And His Son,  The Mighty Arped.  In Keeping With These

Venerable Customs,  I Had A Sentry At The Door Of My

Apartments; To Protect Me,  Belike,  From The Ghosts Of

Predatory Barons And Marauders.

 

During The Week We Had Two Days' Shooting; One In The

Coverts,  Quite Equal To Anything Of The Kind In England,  The

Other At Wild Boar.  For The Latter,  A Tract Of The

Carpathian Mountains Had Been Driven For Some Days Before

Into A Wood Of About A Hundred Acres.  At Certain Points

There Were Sheltered Stands,  Raised Four Or Five Feet From

The Ground,  So That The Sportsmen Had A Commanding View Of

The Broad Alley Or Clearing In Front Of Him,  Across Which The

Stags Or Boar Were Driven By An Army Of