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 -
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.
