I picked my way into one or two of them without hindrance.
Here and there were a heap of bodies, some burnt to cinders,some with their clothes still smouldering. The smell of theroasted flesh was a disgusting association for a long time tocome. But the whole was sickening to look at, and still moreso, if possible, to reflect upon; for this was the pricewhich so often has been, so often will be, paid for thealluring dream of liberty, and for the pursuit of thatmischievous will-o'-the-wisp - jealous Equality.
Chapter 13
VIENNA in the early was looked uponas the gayest capital in Europe. Even the frightfulconvulsion it had passed through only checked for a while itschronic pursuit of pleasure. The cynical philosopher mightbe tempted to contrast this not infrequent accessory ofpaternal rule with the purity and contentment so fondlyexpected from a democracy - or shall we say a demagoguey?
The cherished hopes of the so-called patriots had beencrushed; and many were the worse for the struggle. But themajority 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 deStael in 1810: 'Dans ce pays, l'on traite les plaisirs commeles devoirs. . . . Vous verrez des hommes et des femmesexecuter gravement, l'un vis-a-vis de l'autre, les pas d'unmenuet 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, beingextremely fond of music, I worked industriously at theviolin, also at German. My German master, Herr Mauthner byname, was a little hump-backed Jew, who seemed to know everyman and woman (especially woman) worth knowing in Vienna.
Through him I made the acquaintance of several families ofthe middle class, - amongst them that of a veteran musicianwho had been Beethoven's favourite flute-player. As myveneration for Beethoven was unbounded, I listened with aweto every trifling incident relating to the great master. Ifear the conviction left on my mind was that my idol, thoughtranscendent amongst musicians, was a bear amongst men.
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