The fêtes succeeded each other uninterruptedly; the time not given to pleasure was looked upon as wasted. Every week there was a grand reception and ball at the Court. Taking their cue from highest quarters, the foremost members of Austrian society also had their appointed days for welcoming in their drawing-rooms the numberless strangers whom business or pleasure had brought to Vienna. On Mondays the Princesse de Metternich threw open her house; on Thursdays the Master of the Horse, the Prince de Trauttmansdorff, did the same, and on Saturdays, the beautiful Comtesse Zichy followed suit. As a return for this gracious hospitality, the ambassadors and representatives of the great Powers on their side gave most brilliant entertainments. In virtue of this constant exchange of magnificent functions, the days went by without counting, and everybody appeared to have adopted the maxim—the first necessity of mankind is to be happy.
The Empress of Austria was practically the soul of that succession of balls, banquets, receptions and masques. Born in Italy, and sprung from that illustrious House of Este, sung by Ariosto and by Tasso, she had, as it were, inherited from her ancestors the taste and the instinctive feeling for everything pertaining to art. Her goodness of heart was beyond compare, her youthful and fresh imagination took a delight in the arrangement of all those joyous details. She was admirably seconded by two French artists, M. Isabey and M. Moreau—the latter a most talented architect—who were her usual auxiliaries. She invented and ordained; their task consisted in faithfully reproducing and carrying out her bright ideas.
One of her favourite pleasures was the giving of theatrical performances in her apartments. Defying the difficulties attached to the rôle of impresario, she had succeeded in recruiting and composing a company of amateur actors. Some among these would have done credit to any stage, no matter where. In this company figured the most aristocratic names: the Comtes Ojarowski, Stanislas Potocki, de Wallstein, Woyna, Mmes. Edmond de Périgord and Flora Wurbna, shone in comedy; opera had its interpreters in the Prince Antoine Radziwill, the Marquis de Salvox, the Comtes Petersen de Bombelles,[59] the Comtesses d’Apponyi, Charles Zichy, de Woyna, and the Princesse Yblonowska; while German tragedy fell to the lot of the Comtesse Julie Zichy, the Comtesse Esterhazy and the Comte Zichy. Our theatrical literature, so rich in all genius, was especially laid under contribution; often there was a mixed performance of German and French pieces. At one of those performances, Schiller’s Wallenstein and the charming comedy of Rivaux d’eux-mêmes were played with really remarkable casts.
Some young men, as a relief from the arid labours of diplomacy, which at that period, it was said, constituted by no means a lively pursuit, had organised among themselves an artistic gathering, which was called the ‘company of Troubadours.’ Foremost among these were the Prince Radziwill, the Comtes Batthyani, Zichy, and the Prince Leopold de Saxe-Cobourg. It was a graceful revival of the chivalrous and poetic customs of the Middle Ages. There was, furthermore, the ‘Festal Committee,’ appointed by the emperor, and composed of the foremost personages of the Court. It really did appear as if the whole of society was wrapped round by a vast association, the bright network of which spread everywhere, and which had but one aim—the pursuit of pleasure.
The entertainment offered by the Court on that particular evening was of an entirely novel kind as far as the majority of the spectators were concerned. It consisted of the representation of pictures and of songs put into action by living personages. The Prince de Ligne and I went early to the Imperial Palace. Though the performance had not commenced, the rooms were full. Thanks to the Comte Arthur Potocki, we were enabled to get to the seats he had reserved for us between the Princesse Marie Esterhazy and the Prince Leopold de Saxe-Cobourg. It was the first time I met this young man in society; he was known to the Prince de Ligne, who soon made us acquainted with each other. At that time, he seemed to me as timid as he was handsome. Never did noble birth and blood show themselves more conspicuously than in the distinguished air and easy bearing of this scion of an illustrious house. At that period he was doubtlessly far from foreseeing the fortunate position destiny had in store for him, by uniting him at first to a great princess, by placing him afterwards on the throne of regenerated Belgium, and finally by giving him as consort an accomplished princess from the blood royal of France. To-day the future happiness of two families, of perhaps two peoples, is centred in him.[60]
After having exchanged a few courteous words, Prince Leopold left us to prepare for his part in one of the tableaux; we remained with the Princesse Esterhazy.
The illustrious and princely House of Esterhazy has so often been described as to render the task of adding anything fresh to those descriptions a difficult one. Everybody knows that its noble origin is virtually lost in the mist of ages, and that its power equals that of kings. Its magnificence, its wealth, and the splendour of its establishment are such as to convey but a faint idea to those who have not seen them, and those who have are tempted to consider them as so many parts of a fairy dream induced by the reading of some fabulous story. Its territorial possessions comprise more than a hundred villages and burghs, something like forty townships and over thirty castles and fortresses.[61] The country seats which constitute, as it were, the capitals of those veritable states comprise an enormous number of apartments, picture-galleries and theatres. The Hungarian hussar’s dress, entirely embroidered with pearls, which is transmitted in the family from father to son, is estimated at four millions of florins, and costs twelve thousand florins to repair each time it is worn. On those vast domains the Esterhazys exercise the power of life and death; they have troops and guards in their own pay. Moreover, an imperial decree, dating from 1687, conferred upon them the right to mint their own money and to grant patents of nobility. Many sovereigns would be tempted to exchange their crowns for the lot of such subjects.
The Princesse Marie Esterhazy, née Princesse de Lichtenstein, though at that period no longer in the flush of youth, was still possessed of a charming grace. She was above all endowed with that winning kindness which imparts a charm to women who physically are least attractive. Her equable temperament and her fascinating kindness induced me to seek her society on all possible occasions. Some years before I had met her husband, the Prince Nicolas,[62] in Paris, at Mme. Récamier’s, that friend of my childhood, the most beautiful of women and the most worthy of admiration and respect. An enthusiastic and enlightened amateur of every branch of art, and above all of music, the prince was the Mæcenas of literary men and artists. He treated them as a connoisseur and rewarded them like a king.
I was very fond of the society of Prince Paul, their son, whose senior I was by a few years. Our tastes and habits were pretty well the same. I often met him at the house of Mme. de Fuchs, who was the friend of both. Since then called in virtue of his name and his solid attainments to most important diplomatic positions. Prince Paul[63] has shown a constant moderation and a rectitude of thought and judgment which only belong to a noble disposition and a superior intellect. He is one of the men who during the recent negotiations have contributed most to the preservation of peace in Europe.
Our conversation with the Princesse Marie turned on the kind of amusement the Court of Austria was providing for us that evening. She told us that she had often organised similar tableaux at Eisenstadt in a rotunda constructed for the purpose in the midst of a lake, and that during the performances Haydn, the director of her private band, improvised on the organ some pieces in keeping with the optical effects, and which added marvellously to the illusion.