Then there was an interruption of the games. Sixteen large tables were spread on a vast lawn, the four thousand veterans sat down to a profusely served repast, while from several bandstands, decorated with standards and panoplies of war, there uprose the strains of military symphonies. In another part of the park, four elegantly decorated tents in which companies of Bohemians, Hungarians, Austrians, and Tyrolese respectively, in the picturesque dresses of their countries, performed national dances to the sound of their own particular instruments, diversified by their patriotic songs.
The sovereigns during the whole of the time wandered about, unescorted, taking stock of everything, and chatting familiarly with the veterans, many of whose faces were absolutely riddled with scars. There was something patriarchal in their thus mingling with the crowd, which eyed them curiously, respectfully following them everywhere.
When night fell, a hundred thousand lamps converted the Augarten into a blaze of light, and then there were magnificent fireworks in front of the palace. The principal pieces represented the monuments of Milan, Berlin, and St. Petersburg. There was an immense crowd in the avenues of the Augarten, but at no moment was order disturbed in the slightest. This popular rejoicing was marked by a serious and thoughtful calm, for which the German character alone, perhaps, can offer a model.
At the termination of the fireworks, the sovereigns strolled through the streets, and were everywhere hailed with unanimous cheers. Then the entire Court repaired to the theatre of the Carinthian Gate to witness the performance of the ballet Flore et Zéphire. All the palaces, mansions, and private dwellings were most brilliantly illuminated; and ‘transparencies,’ bearing enthusiastic mottoes, had not been spared. Dancing and music went on throughout the whole of the night; it was, in fact, an uninterrupted scene of magnificence and happiness. Joy prevailed everywhere, a joy due less perhaps to the fête that had been offered to the people than to the hope of a durable peace, the price of which had been paid by many years of constant sacrifices.
CHAPTER V
The Prater—The Carriages—The Crowd and the Sovereigns—The Sovereigns’ Incognito—Alexander Ypsilanti—The Vienna Drawing-Rooms—Princesse Bagration—The Narischkine Family—A Lottery.
I had promised to meet Alexander Ypsilanti in the grand avenue of the Prater, and at the appointed time I was there. To me the beautiful spot teemed with delightful recollections; each scene reminded me of a fête, of a love-tryst, or of a meeting with friends, of dreams, of hopes, of illusions, perhaps gone for ever.
During a long pilgrimage in my younger days, I have seen all the renowned public promenades of Europe, and everywhere the people maintained that the one adorning their own capital was superior to any other. I have always preferred the Vienna Prater to the Bois de Boulogne, to Kensington Gardens, to the Wood at the Hague, to the Cascines of Florence, and to all the other vaunted resorts whether at Moscow, Petersburg, or Constantinople; for in the first-named spot are united the beauties of nature that delight the eye, and the sight of a happy condition, comforting and refreshing to the soul.