Vienna.
The Emperor is of a middle size, well made, and of a fair complexion.
He has a considerable resemblance to his sister, the Queen of France,
which, in my opinion, is saying a great deal in favour of his looks.—Till
I saw something of his usual behaviour, I did not think it possible for
a person in such an elevated situation, to put every body with whom he
conversed upon so easy a footing.
His manner, as I have often mentioned, is affable, obliging, and
perfectly free from the reserved and lofty deportment assumed by some on
account of high birth. Whoever has the honour to be in company with him,
so far from being checked by such despicable pride, has need to be on
his guard, not to adopt such a degree of familiarity as, whatever the
condescension of the one might permit, would be highly improper in the
other to use.
He is regular in his way of life, moderate in his pleasures, steady in
his plans, and diligent in business. He is fond of his army, and inclines
that the soldiers should have every comfort and necessary consistent with
their situation. He is certainly an œconomist, and lavishes very little
money on useless pomp, mistresses, or favourites; and it is, I suppose,
on no better foundation than this, that his enemies accuse him of avarice.
I cannot help regarding œconomy as one of the most useful qualities in
a Prince. Liberality, even when pushed to an imprudent length, may, in
a private person, proceed from a kind of greatness of mind, because
his fortune is in every sense his own, and he can injure nobody but
himself by lavishing it away.—He knows that when it is gone, nobody will
reimburse him for his extravagance.—He seems therefore to have taken the
resolution to submit to the inconveniency of future poverty, rather than
renounce the present happiness of acting with a magnificent liberality,
and bestowing on others more than he can afford.
This is not the case with a Prince.—What he squanders is not his own,
but the public money.—He knows that his pomp and splendour will be kept
up, and that his subjects, not he, are to feel the inconveniencies of
his prodigality. When I hear, therefore, that a King has given great
sums of money to any particular person; from the sums given, the person
who receives it, the motive for the gift, and other circumstances, I can
judge whether it is well or ill disposed of; but in either case, it
cannot be called generosity.
The virtue of generosity consists in a man’s depriving himself of
something for the sake of another. There can be no generosity in
giving to John what James must replace the next moment. What is called
generosity in Kings, very often consists in bestowing that money on
the idle part of their subjects which they have squeezed from the
industrious. I have heard a parcel of fiddlers and opera dancers praise a
Prince for his noble and generous behaviour to them, while men near his
person of useful talents and real worth were distressed for bread.—The
Emperor certainly has none of that kind of generosity.
His usual dress (the only one indeed in which I ever saw him, except at
the feast of the Knights of St. Stephen) is a plain uniform of white
faced with red.—When he goes to Laxenberg, Schonbrun, and other places
near Vienna, he generally drives two horses in an open chaise, with a
servant behind, and no other attendant of any kind.—He very seldom allows
the guard to turn out as he passes through the gate.—Nobody ever had
a stronger disposition to judicious inquiry.—He is fond of conversing
with ingenious people.—When he hears of any person, of whatever rank
or country, being distinguished for any particular talent, he is eager
to converse with him, and turns the conversation to the subject on
which that person is thought to excel, drawing from him all the useful
information he can. Of all the means of knowledge, this is perhaps the
most powerful, and the most proper that can be used by one whose more
necessary occupations do not leave him much time for study.
He seems to be of opinion, that the vanity and ignorance of many Princes
are frequently owing to the forms in which they are intrenched, and to
their being deprived of the advantages which the rest of mankind enjoy
from a free comparison and exchange of sentiment. He is convinced, that
unless a King can contrive to live in some societies on a footing of
equality, and can weigh his own merit, without throwing his guards and
pomp into the scale, it will be difficult for him to know either the
world or himself.
One evening at the Countess Walstein’s, the conversation leading that
way, the Emperor enumerated some remarkable and ludicrous instances of
the inconveniencies of etiquette, which had occurred at a certain court.
One person present hinted at the effectual means his Majesty had used
to banish every inconveniency of that kind from the Court of Vienna. To
which he replied, It would be hard indeed, if, because I have the ill
fortune to be an Emperor, I should be deprived of the pleasures of social
life, which are so much to my taste. All the grimace and parade to which
people in my situation are accustomed from their cradle, have not made
me so vain, as to imagine that I am in any essential quality superior
to other men; and if I had any tendency to such an opinion, the surest
way to get rid of it, is the method I take, of mixing in society, where
I have daily occasions of finding myself inferior in talents to those I
meet with. Conscious of this, it would afford me no enjoyment to assume
airs of a superiority which I feel does not exist. I endeavour therefore
to please, and to be pleased; and as much as the inconveniency of my
situation will permit, to enjoy the blessings of society like other men,
convinced that the man who is secluded from those, and raises himself
above friendship, is also raised above happiness, and deprived of the
means of acquiring knowledge.
This kind of language is not uncommon with poor philosophers; but I
imagine it is rarely held by Princes, and the inferences to be drawn from
it more rarely put in practice.
A few days after this, there was an exhibition of fire-works on the
Prater. This is a large park, planted with wood, and surrounded by the
Danube, over which there is a wooden bridge. No carriages being allowed
to pass, the company leave their coaches at one end, and walk. There is
a narrow path railed off on one side of the bridge. Many people very
injudiciously took this path, to which there is an easy entrance at
one end, but the exit is difficult at the other; for only one person
can go out at a time. The path therefore was very soon choaked up; the
unfortunate passengers crept on at a snail’s pace, and in the most
straitened and disagreeable manner imaginable; whilst those who had
kept the wide path in the middle of the bridge, like the fortunate and
wealthy in their journey through life, moved along at their ease, totally
regardless of the wretched circumstances of their fellow-passengers.
Some few of the prisoners in the narrow passage, who were of a small
size, and uncommon address, crawled under the rail, and got into the
broad walk in the middle; but all who were tall, and of a larger make,
were obliged to remain and submit to their fate. An Englishman, who
had been at the Countess Walstein’s when the Emperor expressed himself
as above mentioned, was of the last class. The Emperor, as he passed,
seeing that those of a small size extricated themselves, while the
Englishman remained fixed in a very aukward situation, called out, Ah,
Monsieur! Je vous ai bien annoncé combien il est incommode d’être trop
_grand_.—A present vous devez être bien de mon avis;—Mais comme je ne
puis rien faire pour vous soulager, je vous recommende à Saint George.
There are people who, having heard of the Emperor’s uncommon affability,
and of his total contempt of pomp and parade, of which the bulk of
mankind are so much enamoured, have asserted, that the whole is
affectation. But if the whole tenor of any person’s words and actions is
to be considered as affectation, I do not know by what means we are to
get at the bottom of his real character. Yet, people who have a violent
taste for any particular thing, are extremely ready to believe, that
those who have not the same taste are affected.
I do not remember that I ever told you, that our friend R——, who loves
his bottle above all things, and who, I believe, esteems you above all
men, let me into a part of your character of which I never had the
smallest suspicion.
One day after dinner, when a couple of bottles had awakened his
friendship, and laid open his heart, he took it into his head to
enumerate your good qualities, and concluded the list, by saying, that
you were no milk-sop.—I know what that expression imports in the mouth
of R——. I therefore stared, and said, I had seldom seen you drink above
three glasses at a time in my life.—Nor I, said he; but take my word for
it, he is too honest a fellow not to love good wine, and I am certain his
sobriety is all affectation.