Even while bantering himself in that way, there was a charm about his words of which it is difficult to convey an idea. I kept telling him that age had glided off him without leaving a mark, and that time honoured him by forgetting him. He believed my words, and his handsome face was lighted up with happiness.
On going downstairs we found some of the savants who constantly worried him, and his features lost their happy expression, although he managed to dismiss the intruders with a few polite remarks, and went on his way. ‘How I detest those savants of verbosity, those gatherers of clever sayings, those walking dictionaries, whose sole stock-in-trade in the matter of genius is their memory! The best book to study is the world itself, but that book will always be a closed one to them,’ he said.
In a few moments we were rumbling in the direction of Schönbrunn. Unfortunately, the prince’s carriage did not deserve the compliment I had just addressed to the prince himself. It was impossible to believe that the vehicle had ever been young, and its springs piteously cried out to be exchanged for a set more elastic and in keeping with the requirements of our own time. I can still picture the cumbrous, grey conveyance drawn by two bony white horses. The panels displayed the prince’s scutcheon, surmounted by the motto of the House of Egmont, whence the prince sprung:
‘Quô res cumque cadunt, semper stat linea recta.’
Behind this ancient coach stood a kind of footman, an old Turk, six feet high, a present from Prince Potemkin at the assault of Ismaël, and who bore the name of the conquered town. The marshal, however, had the art of abridging distances, just as he had the art of supplying the scantiness of his dinner-entertainments, by his conversation. The journey of nearly an hour seemed very short, and it was with some surprise that I beheld the gates of the imperial country-seat.
Schönbrunn, the building of which was begun by the princes of the House of Austria, was the object of Maria-Theresa’s particular affection. It was she who completed it, and, in order to accelerate the work, part of it was done by torchlight. The castle is delightfully situated on the right bank of the Wien. The majestic ensemble of its architecture proclaims it at once to be a royal residence. The gardens, nobly and most gracefully planned, interspersed with sheets of limpid water skilfully disposed, planted with trees of the most luxuriant vegetation, and studded with most precious marble and bronze statuary, harmonise most imposingly with the magnificence of the palace itself. The park is alive with deer of all kinds, the peaceful tenants of those beautiful spots, and they, as it were, seem to invite the approach of the visitors. Every day and at all hours these glades and avenues are open to the public. Numberless carriages and horsemen are constantly there. The park is surrounded by pleasaunces, the inmates of which in the milder season are the eye-witnesses of a succession of fêtes and rejoicings. The sound of those rejoicings pierces the walls of the imperial habitation, and adds by its animation to the charms of the noble pile.
The apartments of the palace are spacious and furnished with exquisite taste. There are several rooms entirely draped with black: they have remained in that condition since the death of Maria-Theresa’s husband. A small study is decorated with drawings by the various archduchesses. This is the room where Napoleon, during his sojourn at Schönbrunn, retired to work. It is there he beheld for the first time the portrait of Marie-Louise, and perhaps conceived the idea of a union which had such an influence on his destiny.[44]
A staircase leads from that room into the garden. On a wooded height stands a charming pavilion built by Maria-Theresa, and called ‘La Gloriette’; that elegant structure of fairy-like design, composed of arcades, colonnades, and trophies, bounds the vista and constitutes one of the most delightful pieces of decorative architecture. It is at the same time a palace and a triumphal arch. It is reached by a double staircase. The view from the principal drawing-room defies description: there are immense masses of green as far as the eye can reach, and at the horizon are the city of Vienna, the course of the Danube, and finally the high mountains whose outlines constitute the background of the magnificent landscape. It is difficult to imagine a more splendid panorama.
The greenhouses of Schönbrunn are perhaps the most beautiful in Europe. They contain precious samples of the vegetation of the universe. It was there that Emperor Francis, who had a particular liking for botanical pursuits, himself attended to the rarest plants.
