No. 4
Schoenbrunn, situated a mile from Vienna, across the little river of that name. Constant thus describes it: “Built in 1754 by the Empress Marie Thérèse, Schoenbrunn had an admirable position; its architecture, if defective and irregular, was yet of a majestic, imposing type. To reach it one has to cross the bridge across the little river Vienna. Four stone sphinxes ornament this bridge, which is very large and well built. Facing the bridge there is a handsome gate opening on to a large courtyard, spacious enough for seven or eight thousand men to manœuvre in. The courtyard is in the form of a quadrangle surrounded by covered galleries and ornamented with two large basins, in which are marble statues. On both sides of the gateway are two huge obelisks of pink stone surmounted by gilt eagles.
“In German, Schoenbrunn means ‘fair spring,’ and the name is derived from a fresh and sparkling spring which is situated in the park. It wells forth from a little mound on which a tiny grotto has been built, carved within so as to resemble stalactites. Inside the grotto is a recumbent naiad holding a horn, from which the water falls down into a marble basin. In summer this little nook is deliciously cool.
“The interior of the palace merits nothing but praise. The furniture is sumptuous, and in taste both original and distinguished. The Emperor’s bedroom (the only place in the whole edifice where there was a chimney) was upholstered in Chinese lacquer-wood of great antiquity, yet the painting and gilding were still quite fresh. The study adjoining was decorated in a like way. All these apartments, except the bedroom, were heated in winter by immense stoves, which sadly spoilt the effect of the other furniture. Between the study and the bedroom there was a strange apparatus called a ‘flying chair,’ a sort of mechanical seat, which had been constructed for the Empress Marie Thérèse, and which served to transport her from one floor to another, so that she was not obliged to go up and down the staircase like every one else. The machine was worked in the same way as at theatres, by cords, pulleys, and a counter-weight.” The Emperor drank a glassful from the beautiful spring, Schoen Brunn, every morning. Napoleon found the people of Vienna less favourable to the French than in 1805; and Count Rapp told him “the people were everywhere tired of us and of our victories.” “He did not like these sort of reflections.”
May 12th.—On May 13th is dated the seventh bulletin of the army of Germany, but none of the Bulletins 2 to 6 are in the Correspondence. It states that on the 10th he is before Vienna; the Archduke Maximilian refuses to surrender; on the 11th, at 9 P.M., the bombardment commences, and by daybreak the city capitulated, and the Archduke fled. In his proclamation Napoleon blamed him and the house of Austria for the bombardment. “While fleeing from the city, their adieux to the inhabitants have been murder and arson; like Medea, they have with their own hands slain their children.” The Viennese had sworn to emulate their ancestors in 1683, and the heroes of Saragossa. But Alison (than whom none can do the “big bow-wow” style better) has a thoughtful comment on what really occurred. “All history demonstrates that there is one stage of civilisation when the inhabitants of a metropolis are capable of such a sacrifice in defence of their country, and only one; and that when passed, it is never recovered. The event has proved that the Russians, in 1812, were in the state of progress when such a heroic act was possible, but that the inhabitants of Vienna and Paris had passed it. Most certainly the citizens of London would never have buried themselves under the ruins of the Bank, the Treasury, or Leadenhall Street before capitulating to Napoleon.” 1870 and the siege of Paris modify this judgment; but the Prussian bombardment came only at the last, and barely reached the centre of the city.