VIENNA
If Americans continue to flock to Europe in such numbers, the whole
country will in time be as Americanised as the hotels are becoming.
Vienna, with her beautiful Hotel Bristol, is such an advance in modern
comfort from the best of her accommodations for travellers of a few
years ago that she affords an excellent example, although for every
steam-heater, modern lift, and American comfort you gain, you lose a
quaintness and picturesqueness, the like of which makes Europe so worth
while. The whole of civilised Europe is now engaged in a flurried debate
as to the propriety of remodelling its travelled portions for the
benefit of ease-loving American millionaires.
It was not the season when we arrived in Vienna, but we had letters to
the old Countess von Schimpfurmann, who had been lady-in-waiting to the
Empress Elizabeth when she first came to the court of Austria, a mere
slip of a girl, with that marvellous hair of hers whose length was the
wonder of Europe, dressed high for the first time, but oftenest flowing
silkily to the hem of her skirt. The countess was something of an
invalid, and happened to be in town when we arrived. Her husband, the
old count, had been a very distinguished man in his day, standing high
in the Emperor's favour, and died full of years and honour, and more
appreciated, so rumour had it, by his wife in his death than in his
life.
We also had letters from a lady whose friendship Mrs. Jimmie made at
Ischl, to her daughter-in-law, Baroness von Schumann, the baron being
attached to an Austrian commission then in Italy; to several officers
who were friends of our officers in Ischl, and, last but not least, to a
little Hungarian, to whom I had a letter from America, who was so kind,
so attentive, so fatherly to us, that he went by the name of "Little
Papa"--a soubriquet which seemed to give him no end of pleasure.
Thus well equipped, we prepared to fall in love with Vienna, and we
found it an easy task, for in spite of it being out of season, we were
vastly entertained, and in all likelihood obtained a more intimate
knowledge of the inner life of our Vienna friends than we could have
done if we had arrived in the season of formal and more elaborate
entertainment.
The opera was there, and, with all due respect to Mr. Grau, I must admit
that we saw the most perfect production of "Faust" in Vienna than I ever
saw on any stage.
The carnival was going on, where no Viennese lady, so the baroness
declared, would _think_ of being seen, because confetti-throwing was
only resorted to by the _canaille_ (and officers and husbands of
high-born ladies, who went there with their little friends of the ballet
and chorus), but where we _did_ go, contrary to all precedent,
persuading the baroness to make up a smart party and "go slumming." Her
husband being in Italy, she had no fear of meeting _him_ there, and she
took good care to send an invitation to any one who might have been
inclined to be critical, to be of the party, which, after one mighty
protest as to the propriety of it, they one and all accepted with
suspicious alacrity.
It was not so very amusing. It consisted of merely walking along a broad
avenue lined with booths, and flinging confetti into people's faces.
More rude than lively or even amusing, it seemed to me, and my curiosity
was so easily satisfied that I was ready to go after a quarter of an
hour. But do you think we could persuade the other ladies to give it up?
Indeed, no! Like mischievous children, with Americans for an excuse,
they remained until the last ones, laughing immoderately when they
encountered men they knew. But as these men always claimed that they had
heard we were coming, and immediately attached themselves to our party
as a sort of sheet armour of protection against possible tales out of
school, our supper party afterward was quite large. A carnival like that
in America would end in a fight, if not in murder, for the American
loses sight of the fact that it is simply rude play, and when he sees a
handful of coloured paper flung in his wife's face, it might as well be
water or pebbles for the stirring effect it has on his fighting blood.
The baroness had such a beautiful evening that she quite sighed when it
was over.
"Don't you ever have this in America?" she asked Bee.
"No, indeed," said Bee. "And if we did, we wouldn't go to it. We reserve
such frolics for Europe."
"Exactly as it is with us," declared the baroness; "Carl and I always go
in Paris and Nice, but here--well, we had to have you for an excuse. I
must thank you for giving us such an amusing evening!" she added, gaily.
"After all, it is so much more diverting to catch one's friends in
mischief than strangers whom no one cares about!"
I suppose, in showing Vienna to us, we showed more of Vienna to the
baroness and her friends than they ever had seen before. We went into
all the booths and shows; we were in St. Stephen's Church at sunset to
see the light filter through those marvels of stained-glass windows.
Instead of stately drives in the Prater, we took little excursions into
the country and dined at blissful open-air restaurants, with views of
the Danube and distant Vienna, which they never had seen before. They
became quite enthusiastic over seeking out new diversions for us, and,
through their court influence, I feel sure that few Americans could have
got a more intimate knowledge of Vienna than we.
An amusing coincidence happened while we were there, concerning the gown
Mrs. Jimmie was to be painted in. The baroness's brother, Count Georg
Brunow, was an authority on dress, and, as he designed all the gowns for
his cousin, who was also in the Emperor's suite, he begged permission to
design Mrs. Jimmie's. His English was a little queer, so this is what he
said after an anxious scrutiny of Mrs. Jimmie's beauty:
"You must have a gown of white--soft white chiffon or mull over a white
satin slip. It must be very full and fluffy around the foot, and be
looped up on the skirt and around the decollete corsage with festoons of
small pink considerations."
"Considerations?" said Mrs. Jimmie.
"Carnations, you mean," said Bee.
"Yes, thank you. My English is so rusty. I mean pink carnations."
Mrs. Jimmie thanked him, and we all discussed it approvingly. Still,
she told me privately that she would not decide until she got back to
Paris to her own man, who knew her taste and style.
"You know, for a portrait," said Count Georg, "you do not want anything
pronounced. It must be quite simple, so that in fifty years it will
still be beautiful."
When we got back to Paris, we presented ourselves before Mrs. Jimmie's
dressmaker, who has dressed her ever since she was sixteen. She told him
to design a gown for a full-length portrait. He looked at her carefully
and said, slowly:
"I would suggest a gown of soft white over a white satin slip. It should
be cut low in the corsage, and have no sleeves. A touch of colour in the
shape of loops of small pink roses at the foot, heading a triple flounce
of white, and on the shoulders and around the top of the bodice. You
know for a portrait, madame, you want no epoch-making effect. It should
be quite simple, so that in the years to come it may still please the
eye as a work of art and not a creation of the dressmaker's skill."
Bee and I nearly had to be removed in an ambulance, and even Mrs.
Jimmie looked startled.
"Order it," I whispered. "Plainly, Providence has a hand in this design.
It might be dangerous to flout such a sign from heaven."
All of which goes to prove that the eye of the artist is true the world
over. Or, at least, that is the deduction I drew. Bee is more skeptical.
The Countess von Schimpfurmann lived in a marvellous old house, to which
we were invited again and again, her dear old politeness causing her to
give three handsome entertainments for us, so that each could be a guest
of honour at least once, and be distinguished by a seat on the sofa. The
Emperor being at Ischl, we were permitted all sorts of intimate
privileges with the Imperial Residenz, the court stables and private
views not ordinarily shown to travellers, which were more interesting
from being personally conducted than by the marvels we saw, for several
years of continuous travel rather blunt one's ecstasy and effectively
wear out one's adjectives.
Again, as in Munich, we were never tired of the picture-galleries, the
whole school of German and Austrian art being quite to our taste, while
if there exists anywhere else a more wonderful collection of original
drawings of such masters as Raphael, Durer, Rubens, and Rembrandt which
comprise the Albertina in the palace of the Archduke Albert, I do not
know of it.
The old countess had numerous anecdotes to tell of the beautiful
Empress, all of which confirmed and strengthened my belief that she was
most of all a glorious woman gloriously misunderstood by her nearest and
dearest. What other prince or princess of Europe in all history turned
to so noble a pursuit as culture, learning, and travel to cure a broken
heart and a wrecked existence in the majestic manner of this silent,
haughty, noble soul? The excesses, dissipation, and intrigue which
served to divert other bruised royal hearts were as far beneath this
imperial nature as if they did not exist. Her life, in its crystal
purity and its scorn of intrigue, is unique in royal history. Yet she,
this blameless princess, this woman of imperial beauty, this noblest of
all empresses, was marked to be stricken down by the red hand of
anarchy, to whose crime, and poison, and danger we open our national
ports with an unwisdom which is criminal stupidity, and of which we
shall inevitably reap the benefit. America cannot warm the asp of
anarchy in her bosom without expecting it to turn and sting her.
The deference paid to royalty is so difficult of comprehension to the
republican mind that every time we encountered it it gave us a separate
shock of surprise. At least, it gave it to me. I have an idea from the
way events finally shaped themselves that Bee and Mrs. Jimmie were a
little more alive to its possibilities than I was.
The Bristol was quite full when we arrived and Jimmie could not get
communicating rooms, nor very good ones. I did not particularly notice
it at the time, but I remembered afterward that Bee kept urging him to
change them, and Jimmie made two or three endeavours, but seemed to
obtain no favour at the hands of the proprietor.
One morning, however, when Jimmie started to leave the sitting-room, he
opened the door and closed it again suddenly. We were sitting there
waiting for breakfast to be served, and we were all three struck by the
expression on his face.
"What's the matter, Jimmie?"
He looked at us queerly.
"What have you three been up to?" he asked.
"Nothing. Honestly and truly!" we cried. "What's out in the hall? Or are
you just pretending?"
"The hall is full of menials and officials and gold lace and brass
buttons. I hope you haven't done anything to be arrested for!"
Bee began to look knowing, and just then came a knock at the door.
"If you please," said the interpreter, bowing at every other word, "here
is one of the Emperor's couriers just from Ischl, with despatches from
the court of his Imperial Majesty for the ladies if they are ready to
receive them. The courier had orders not to disturb their sleep. He
waited here in the corridor until he heard voices. Will the excellent
ladies be pleased to receive them? His orders are to wait for answers."
Jimmie signified that we would receive them, when forth stepped a man
in the imperial liveries and handed him a packet on a silver tray.
Jimmie had the wit to lay a gold piece on the tray, at which the courier
almost knelt to express his thanks. The other attendants drew long
envious breaths.
The door was shut, and Mrs. Jimmie and Bee opened their letters. Both
were from Count Andreae von Engel, saying that he and Von Furzmann,
rendered desperate by the near departure of his Majesty for the
manoeuvres, had resolved to risk dismissal from his suite by absence
without leave. The letter said that on that day--the day on which it was
written--they had both attended his Majesty on a hunt, and as he seldom
hunted with the same officers two days in succession, they bade fair not
to be on duty after noon the next day. Therefore, if we heard nothing to
the contrary, they would leave Ischl on the one o'clock train in
uniform, as if on official business. Their servants would board the
train at Gmund with citizens' clothes, and they would be with us soon
after seven that night. They begged leave to dine with us in our
private dining-room that evening, and would we be so gracious as to
receive them until midnight, when they must take train for Ischl, and be
on duty in uniform by seven in the morning.
I simply shrieked, as I looked at Jimmie's perplexed face.
"What shall we do?" he said. "We can't have 'em here! We must stop 'em!
Get a telegraph blank, Bee! We haven't any private dining-room, anyhow,
and if they got caught we might be dragged into it! Well, what is it?"
He turned to the door half savagely, and there stood the proprietor,
with some ten or twelve servants at his heels.
"You were speaking to me the other day about better rooms? Will it
please you to look at some on the second floor, which have never been
occupied since they were done over? There are five rooms _en
suite_--just about what your Excellency desires."
Jimmie turned to us with a sickly grin.
We all waited for Mrs. Jimmie to speak.
"Jimmie, dear," she said at last, "if you don't object, I think it would
be very nice to take those rooms, and entertain the gentlemen this
evening. Of course, they cannot be seen in the public dining-room, and,
after all, they _are_ gentlemen and in the Emperor's suite, so their
attentions to us, while a little more pronounced than we are accustomed
to, _are_ an honour."
Jimmie said nothing, but went to the door and signified that we would
look at the rooms.
We did look; we took them, and before noon every handsome piece of
furniture from all over the house had been placed in our suite; flowers
were everywhere, and servants fairly swarmed at our commands.
Jimmie, in reality, was not at all pleased by any of this, but he has
such a blissful sense of humour that he could not help seeing the
pitiful front it put upon human nature, both Austrian and American. He
permitted himself, however, only one remark. This was now done with his
wife's sanction, and loyalty to her closed his lips. But he beckoned me
over to the window, and, handing me a paper-knife, he turned up the sole
of his shoe, saying:
"Scrape 'em off!"
"Scrape what off, Jimmie?"
"The servants! I haven't been able to step to-day without crushing a
dozen of 'em!"
As I turned away he called out:
"There aren't any on the shoes I wore yesterday!"
A rumour somewhat near the truth had swept through the hotel, for
wherever we appeared we found ourselves the object of the deepest
attention, not only by the slavish minions of the hotel from the
proprietor down, but from the other guests.
It was so pronounced that my feeble spirit quaked, so to borrow some of
my sister's soul-sustaining joy, I went into her room and said:
"Bee, what does all this mean, anyhow? Where will it land us?"
Bee's eyes gleamed.
"If you aren't actually blind to opportunity," she said, slowly, "you
certainly are hopelessly near-sighted. Don't you understand how nobody
can do anything or be anybody without royal approval? Haven't you seen
enough here to-day, to say nothing of the attentions we had from women
in Ischl, to know what all this counts for?"
"Yes, I know," I hastened to say. "But what of these men? You know what
they will think; they are Austrians, Russians, and Hungarians, remember,
not Americans!"
Bee laughed.
"A man is a man," she said, sententiously. "Don't worry for fear the
poor dears' hearts will be broken. Now I'll tell you something. Mrs.
Jimmie's sincere indifference and my silent eye-homage have stirred
these blasé officers out of their usual calm. There you have the whole
thing. Von Engel thinks Mrs. Jimmie's indifference is assumed, and both
Von Engel and Von Furzmann are determined that my silence shall voice
itself. I have no doubt that they would like to have me _write_ it, so
that they could boast of it afterward to their fellow officers. Now, as
Jimmie would say in his frightful slang, 'I'm going to give them a run
for their money.' Von Engel will probably beseech you to arrange to keep
Jimmie at your side, so that he can have a few words with Mrs. Jimmie.
Von Furzmann will plead with you to permit him a word with me. I need
hardly tell you that your role to-night is to make yourself as
disagreeable as possible to both of them by keeping the conversation
general, and by cutting in at any attempt at a _tête-à-tête_."
I felt limp and weak. "And all this display, this dinner, this added
expense?"
"Part of the game, my dear!"
"And the end of it all? When they come back from the manoeuvres?"
"We shall be gone! Without a word!"
"Then this _isn't_ a flirtation?"
"Only on their parts. They are after our scalps. But we are actuated by
the true missionary spirit."
We leaned over and shook hands solemnly. I do _love_ Bee!
That night--shall I ever forget it? Those stunning men dashed into our
rooms muffled in military cloaks, which they tossed aside with such
grace that they nearly secured _my_ scalp, for all they were after Bee's
and Mrs. Jimmie's. They were in velveteen hunting costumes; we in the
smartest of evening dress. Jimmie had given his fancy free rein in
ordering the dinner, but, to his amazement and indignation, the little
game being played by the rest of us so surprised and baffled our guests
that Jimmie's delicacies were removed with course after course untasted.
The officers searched the brilliant room with their eyes, hoping for a
quiet nook, or balcony. There was none, and their disguise effectually
prevented them from suggesting to go out. I saw that, finally, they
pinned their hopes to me, and the way I clung to Jimmie to prevent their
speaking to me almost roused his suspicions that I was in love with him.
We stuck doggedly to the table, even after dinner was over and the
servants dismissed. Finally, Von Furzmann, who spoke English rather
well, rose in a determined manner, and quite forgetful of our proximity,
said to Bee in a loud, distinct tone:
"My heart is on fire!"
It was too much. Jimmie and I led the way in a general shout of
laughter, and then, as a happy family party, we adjourned to the single
salon, where we grouped ourselves together, and, strive as they might,
the officers could not outwit my sister nor upset her plan.
Toward midnight, when the hour of parting drew near, they grew so
desperate I almost feared that they would say something rash. But they
were diplomats and game. Occasionally a gleam of suspicion would appear
on their countenances--it was so very unusual, I imagined, for their
plans so persistently to miscarry--but both Bee and I have an extremely
guiltless and innocent eye, and we used an unwinking gaze of genial
friendliness which disarmed them.
At last they flung their cloaks around them, as their servants announced
their carriage for the third time.
"_Such_ an evening!" moaned Von Engel.
It might mean anything!
Bee bit her lip.
"I was never more loath to leave. Promise that you will be here when we
return. It will only be ten days! Promise us!"
"I hardly think--" began Jimmie, but Bee trod on his foot.
"Ouch!" said Jimmie, fiercely.
"I beg your pardon, Jimmie, dear!" murmured Bee. "It is possible," said
Bee to Von Engel. "We never make plans, you know. We go whenever we are
bored, or when we have nothing pleasant to look forward to."
"Oh, then, pray remain! We shall _fly_ to see you the moment we are
free!"
"That surely is an inducement," said Bee, with a little laugh, which
caused Von Engel to colour.
Von Engel's servant, under pretext of arranging the collar of his
master's cloak, here whispered peremptorily to him, and the officer
started with a hurried "Yes, yes!" to his servant.
They bent and kissed our hands, and Von Furzmann, in the violence of his
emotion, flung his arms around Jimmie and kissed him on the cheek. Then
they dashed away down the long corridor, looking back and waving their
hands to us.
Jimmie came into the room with his hand on the spot where Von Furzmann
had kissed him.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he said. "That was all _your_ fault," he added,
looking at Bee.
"I've always said somebody would steal you, Jimmie!" I said.
"Did you enjoy yourself, dear?" asked Mrs. Jimmie kindly of Bee.
Bee stood up yawning.
"Oh, I don't know," she said. "These officers try to be so impressive.
They urge you to take a little more pepper in the same tone that they
would ask you to elope."
Jimmie beamed on her.
When Bee and I were alone, I dropped limply on the bed. Bee turned to
the light and read a crumpled note which Von Furzmann had thrust into
her hand at parting. She handed it to me:
"I shall write every day, and shall count the hours until I see you
again!" it read. I could just hear him shouting, "My heart is on fire!"
"Well, did you enjoy it?" I asked her.
"Enjoy it? Certainly not!"
"Why, I thought you were having the time of your life!" I cried.
She laughed.
"Oh, yes, in a way it was amusing. But did it ever occur to you that it
wasn't very flattering for those two unmarried officers to select the
two married women in our party for their attentions when you, being
unmarried, were the only legitimate object of their interest?"
I said nothing. To tell the truth I had _not_ thought of it.
"No, these officers need just a few kinks taken out of their brains
concerning women, and I propose to do it. I told Jimmie to-day that if
he would be handsome about to-night, I would start to-morrow for Moscow.
Mrs. Jimmie is perfectly willing, and I know you are dying to get on to
Tolstoy. I've only stayed over for to-night. I knew this was coming when
we were in Ischl, and I wanted them to see how lightly we viewed their
risking dismissal from his Majesty's service for us. We have paid up all
our indebtedness to everybody else, so nothing but farewell calls need
detain us."
"And the officers?" I stammered. "How will they know?"
"I'll get Jimmie to send them a wire saying we have gone. They won't
know where. Hurry up and turn out the lights. They hurt my eyes."