He Invited Mr. Magenis - The
Secretary Of Legation - To Accompany Me.
The following week we two hired a BRITZCKA, and posted to
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:
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