Back Aa

Our Little Austrian Cousin

<h2>CHAPTER I A VISIT TO OLD VIENNA</h2> "Hurrah!" shouted Ferdinand, as he burst into the living-room, just as his mother was having afternoon coffee. "And what makes my son so joyful?" asked Frau Müller, as she looked up at the rosy cheeks of her young son. "Hurrah, mother! Don't you know? This is the end of school." "So it is," replied the mother. "But I had other things in my head." "And, do you know," the child continued, as he drew up to the table where the hot coffee[2] emitted refreshing odors, "you haven't told me yet where we are to go." "No, Ferdinand, we've wanted to surprise you. But help yourself to the cakes," and the mother placed a heaping dish of fancy kuchen before the lad. Ferdinand did not require a second invitation; like all normal boys, he was always hungry; but I doubt very much if he knew what real American-boy-hunger was, because the Austrian eats more frequently than we, having at least five meals a day, three of which are composed of coffee and delicious cakes, so that one seldom has time to become ravenous. "But, mother," persisted the child, his mouth half filled with kuchen, "I wish I knew. Tell me when we start; will you tell me that?" "Yes," answered his mother, smiling. "To-day is Wednesday; Saturday morning we shall leave." "Oh, I just can't wait! I wish I knew." [3] "Perhaps father will tell you when he comes," suggested the mother. "Do you think you could possibly wait that long?" "I don't believe I can," answered the lad, frankly; "but I suppose I shall have to." That evening, when Herr Müller returned from his shop, Ferdinand plied him with questions in an effort to win from him, if possible, the long-withheld secret. "Well, son, there's no use trying to keep you in the dark any longer. Where do you guess we are going?" "To see Cousin Leopold in Tyrol." "Well, that's a very good guess, and not all wrong, either; but guess again." "Oh, I can't. It must be splendid, if it's better than visiting Cousin Leopold." "Well, it is better," continued Herr Müller; "for not only are we going to pass a few days with your Tyrolese relations, but we are going to a farm." [4] The boy's face fell visibly. "To a farm!" he exclaimed. "Why, Uncle Hofer has a splendid farm in Tyrol; that won't be very new to me, then." "It won't!" ejaculated his father, a trifle amused. "You wait and see, my boy. This is not to be a tiny farm of a few acres, creeping up the mountain on one side and jumping off into a ravine on the other. We sha'n't have to tie this farm to boulders to keep it from slipping away from us." And Herr Müller chuckled. "Then it isn't in the mountains?" "No, it isn't in the mountains; that is, not in any mountains that are like the Tyrolese mountains. But there will be acres and acres of this farm, and you will be miles away from any one. You will see corn growing, too; you've never seen that in Tyrol, my son." "No," answered the child. After a few moments'[5] silence, he added: "Will there be any young folks, father?" "Don't let that trouble you, Ferdinand; where there's an Austrian farm there are many children." "Hurrah for the farm, then!" shouted Ferdinand, much to the astonishment and amusement of his parents, who were unused to such impulsive outbursts. But Ferdinand Müller was a typical boy, even though he had been reared in the heart of the city of Vienna, where the apartment houses stand shoulder to shoulder, and back to back, with no room for play-yards or gardens, even; the outside windows serving the latter duty, while the school building on week-days, and the public parks on holidays, serve the former. Austrian children are never allowed to play on the street; but, as if to make up to their children for the loss of play-space, the Austrian parents take them, upon every available occasion, to the splendid[6] parks where are provided all sorts of amusements and refreshments at a modest sum. "Father," asked the lad, after a few moments' silence, during which he had sat thinking quietly, "when shall we start?" "Saturday morning, my son. I believe your mother has everything in readiness, nicht war, meine liebe Frau?" he asked, as he glanced over his paper at his wife. "Oh, mother, do say you are ready," pleaded the child, who, for all his twelve years, and his finely developed body, was yet a boy, and impulsive. "Yes, I'm all ready," she replied. And, for the rest of the evening, silence descended upon the boy, his small brain being filled with visions of the coming pleasure. When Herr Müller returned to his home the following evening, he found a letter, postmarked "Linz," awaiting him. "Hello," he said, half aloud, "here's word[7] from our friend Herr Runkel. Wonder if there's anything happened to upset our plans?" "Oh, father, please don't say it," pleaded the boy; "I shall be so disappointed." "Well, cheer up," replied his father, "there's better news than you thought for. We shall leave on Saturday morning as planned; but to-morrow Herr Runkel's sister from the convent will come to us. He asks us to take charge of her, as the Sisters find it very inconvenient this year to send an escort with her; and, as we are coming up in a day or two, perhaps we would not mind the extra trouble." "Oh, father, won't it be fine! How old is she?" "I believe about your age." Friday morning Frau Müller and Ferdinand jumped into a fiaker and drove to the railroad station to meet Teresa Runkel. She was a fine-looking child, with round, rosy cheeks; quite tall, with the fair complexion, sunny hair, and[8] soft, Austrian blue eyes that makes the women of that land famed for their beauty. She was overjoyed at this unexpected pleasure of spending a day or two in the city of Vienna, which she had never seen, although she had passed through several times on her way to and from the convent. She enjoyed the brisk drive to the tall apartment house in the Schwanengasse, and she fairly bubbled with chatter. "After luncheon, my dear," observed Frau Müller, "we shall have Herr Müller take you about our city; for Vienna is vastly different from Linz." Herr Müller joined the party at luncheon at eleven o'clock, which was really the breakfast hour, because Austrian families take only coffee and cakes or rolls in the early morning, eating their hearty breakfast toward the middle of the day, after which they rest for an hour or two, before beginning their afternoon duties. At two o'clock the three were ready for the[9] walk, for Frau Müller was not to accompany them. Joseph, the portier, an important personage in Viennese life, nodded "A-b-e-n-d" to them, as they passed out the front door of the building, over which he presided as a sort of turnkey. No one may pass in or out without encountering the wary eye of Joseph, who must answer to the police for the inmates of the building, as also for the visitors. And this is a curious custom, not only in Vienna, but other European cities, that immediately upon one's arrival at an hotel, or even a private home, the police are notified, unawares to the visitor, of his movements and his object in being in the city, which reduces chances of crime to a minimum; burglary being almost unknown, picking pockets on the open streets taking its place in most part. "Of course you know, children," said Herr Müller, as they passed along the broad Kärtnerstrasse, where are the finest shops of Vienna,[10] "you've been taught in school the history of our city, so I need not tell you that." "Oh, but please do, father," said Ferdinand. "Teresa may not know it as well as I do,"—he hesitated, for he noticed the hurt look in the girl's eyes, and added—"although she may know a lot more about other things." "Well," began the father, "away back in the times before Christ, a body of rough men came from the northern part of France and the surrounding countries. They were called Celts. They were constantly roving; and so it chanced they came to this very spot where we now are, and founded a village which they called Vindobona. But about fourteen years after Christ, the Romans worked their way northward; they saw the village of the Celts and captured it. They built a great wall about it, placed a moat outside of these fortifications and settled down to retain their conquest. They built a forum, which was a public square where all the business[11] of the city was transacted; and, on one side, they placed their camp or praetorium. To-day, we call the Roman forum the Hohermarkt, just here where we stand now," continued Herr Müller, "and here, where the Greek banker Sina has built this fine palace, stood the Roman praetorium; while here, you see the street is named for Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor who was born in Spain and died in this city so many hundreds of years ago." "I've heard that ever so many times, father," said Ferdinand, "but I never realized it before; somehow it seems as if I could almost see the Celts driven out and the great wall and moat of the Romans." Meanwhile they had walked on, down the Bauermarkt and reached the St. Stephanienplatz, with St. Stephan's Church in the middle. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i025.jpg" width-obs="340" height-obs="500" alt="" /> <div class="caption">ST. STEPHAN'S CHURCH.</div> </div> "There," said Herr Müller, pointing to the beautiful edifice, "is the oldest monument we[12] have in Vienna, begun in 1144. Duke Heinrich Jasomirgott founded it." "Oh, he was our first duke," spoke up Teresa, who also wished to prove that she knew her Austrian history as well as her friend. "Yes, Teresa," answered Herr Müller. "But it's a long jump from the Romans to Duke Heinrich. Several hundred years after the expulsion of the Celts from Vindobona, Charlemagne, the undaunted conqueror of the age, absorbed it into the German Empire; he distinguished it from the rest of the German Empire by giving it the name of the Eastmark or border of the empire (Oesterreich), hence Austria. He placed a lord or margrave over it; and when Conrad III of Germany became emperor, he appointed Heinrich Jasomirgott ruler over the Eastmark, giving him, at the same time, the adjoining territory of Bavaria. But he had no right to dispose of these Bavarian[13] lands as he chose, just because he was angry with the Bavarians; and when his son, Frederick Redbeard (Barbarossa) came to the throne, he gave it back to the Bavarians. But Frederick Redbeard was a politic ruler; he did not wish to offend any of his subjects; in order to make up to Henry Jasomirgott for the loss of Bavaria, he raised him to the rank of duke, and thus Oesterreich or the Eastmark became a duchy. This was about 1100; then, being such an important personage, Duke Heinrich determined to make his home in Vienna. He built himself a strong castle, surrounded it with a high stone wall and a moat, as was the custom at that time, and included within it the confines of the city, so that he and his people might not be molested by neighboring princes. "Here," continued Herr Müller, as they passed to the end of the Platz, "is the Graben. To-day it is our most fashionable shopping district; but in the time of Duke Heinrich it was[14] a moat filled with water; and here, where these rows of modern houses stand, were the ancient walls which protected the city." "Isn't it great!" cried Teresa, who, girl though she was, could appreciate the ancient struggles of her ancestors for liberty and defence. "Oh, father, there is Der Stock im Eisen!" said Ferdinand. "Tell Teresa about that, please; she doesn't know." "Der Stock im Eisen?" repeated Teresa. "What is it?" "That old tree with the iron hoop around it, at the corner of the Graben," replied her companion. "We will reserve that tale for the evening," answered Herr Müller; "it is getting toward coffee hour, and we want to visit many places yet." As he spoke, they walked slowly along the Graben, which means Moat in German, and,[15] at the end of several minutes, they reached a large open square called Platz am Hof. "Here is what remains of the palace of the House of Babenberg, which Duke Heinrich built," said Herr Müller; "and here before it you see the Tiefe-graben, or deep moat, which amply protected the stronghold from attack. And there," he continued, moving as he spoke toward the building, "stands the Schottenhof." "The Schottenhof?" exclaimed Teresa, astonished. "Why is it called a Scottish palace in Austria?" "Because it was originally built and occupied by some monks from Scotland in the year 1158, whom Duke Heinrich had asked to come and instruct the citizens, not only in religion, but in the educational arts, there being no schools in those days; all the teaching was done by the Holy Fathers. But later on, the Scottish monks were dispossessed by a German order of monks; yet the Hof still bears the name of its founders.[16] And even to-day the Church owns all this most valuable property, right in the very heart of our city, which was given to them so many years ago." "That's the first time I thought about the Hof being Scottish," admitted Ferdinand, between whom and Teresa there was much rivalry and jealousy as to the amount of knowledge possessed by each; but the lad was generous enough to admit his ignorance, because he did not wish to assume too superior airs before his guest. "Here runs the tiny lane, the Schotten-gasse, which separates the Schottenhof from the smaller Molkerhof just across the land; and here are the ancient bastions which protected them; to-day, you notice, these same names are retained; the bastions are no longer required, but history preserves their memory in preserving their names, the Schotten-bastei and the Molker-bastei, now streets of the city of Vienna[17] instead of bastions. But we have had quite enough of history," continued Herr Müller, "I am quite certain our little convent friend is tired." "Oh, no indeed," spoke up Teresa. "At the convent we take long walks every day; and in the country at Linz, we do much walking, too; it does not tire me at all." "But walking about city streets is quite different from country lanes, my girl," observed Herr Müller. "Yes, but we do not have the interesting places to visit, nor the tales to hear, in the lanes," wisely answered the child. "Well, then, if you are quite certain you are not too tired, we will walk home. We will go by the way of the Ring, here behind the Schottenhof; and we will walk over the old walls, which were erected in later years as the original city of Duke Heinrich grew. Of course, we have no use for these fortifications in these days,[18] so we have changed them into a magnificent boulevard." No one, not knowing the original use of the Ring, would ever have suspected the mission it had fulfilled; so broad and handsome was the avenue encircling what is called the Inner-Stadt (Inner City), planted with magnificent trees, and bubbling over with life, color and gayety. Teresa would like to have stopped at every fine building and park, but Herr Müller promised to ask her brother to allow her a few days with them in Vienna before returning to the convent in the fall, that she might see all there was not time now to show her. For the present must suffice a cursory glance at the Burghof or imperial residence, the royal theatre, the Hofgarten and the Volksgarten, gay with the scarlet skirts and gold cloth caps of hundreds of nurse-maids watching over their youthful cares. "Wouldn't it be splendid to be an emperor,"[19] remarked Teresa to her companion, "and live in such a fine palace?" "Oh, that isn't much of a palace," remarked Ferdinand, somewhat contemptuously, "that's just like a prison to me; you ought to see Schönbrunn, the summer home of the Emperor." "Oh, I've been to Schönbrunn," returned the girl with disdain in her voice. "The Sisters took us all there once; they showed us the room where the Duke of Reichstadt died, and where his father, Napoleon, lived when he took Vienna." "Well, I'll bet you haven't seen the celebration on Maundy Thursday, when the Emperor sends his twenty-four gorgeous gala coaches with their magnificent horses and mounted escorts in uniform to bring the four and twenty poor men and women to his palace, that he might humble himself to wash their feet?" "No, I haven't seen that," admitted Teresa. "Tell me about it. Have you seen it?" [20] "I've heard father tell about it a number of times," continued the lad. "The Emperor sends his wonderful holiday coaches with the escorts in gorgeous uniforms; they bring the poor men and women to the palace and set a splendid banquet before them; then they go to the royal chapel and hear Mass, at which the Emperor and the royal family, and the entire Court are present; after that, the poor folks are led to the banquet hall and here they are served from silver platters which the Emperor and his royal family present to them. After that, the Emperor kneels before them and wipes their feet with a wet cloth." "He does that himself?" asked Teresa, who had listened spellbound, that her beloved emperor should conduct such a ceremony. "Indeed he does! And, furthermore," added the boy, with ineffable pride, "he is the only monarch, so father tells me, who preserves[21] the ancient custom. But that isn't all; the Emperor sends these astonished poor people home again in the gorgeous coaches; he gives them each a purse in which is about fifteen dollars; he sends a great basket filled with the remains of the banquet which they have left untouched, together with a bottle of wine and a fine bouquet of flowers;—and, what do you think, Teresa?" "I'm sure I couldn't guess," admitted the child. "He gives them the silver platters from which he served them." "What a splendid emperor!" cried Teresa. Then she added, "I've seen the Emperor." "Oh, that's nothing," most ungallantly replied the boy. "Franz-Joseph walks about our streets like Haroun-al-Raschid used to in the Arabian Nights. Any one can see the Emperor; he allows even the poorest to come and see him in his palace every week; and he talks to them[22] just as if he was a plain, ordinary man and not an emperor at all." <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i037.jpg" width-obs="370" height-obs="500" alt="photograph" /> <div class="caption">EMPEROR FRANZ-JOSEPH.</div> </div> "Well, I've had him speak to me," answered Teresa. "At the convent he praised my work." There was a dead silence. Herr Müller walked along, not a muscle in his face betraying the fact that he had overheard this juvenile conversation, for fear of interrupting a most entertaining dialogue. "Has he ever spoken directly to you?" demanded the girl, seeing that Ferdinand did not reply. "No." Again a dead silence. "The Emperor needs our love and sympathy," said Herr Müller, after waiting in vain for the children to renew their talk; "his beloved empress Elizabeth has been taken from him by an assassin's hand; his favorite brother Maximilian went to his doom in the City of Mexico, the victim of the ambition of a Napoleon;[23] even his heir, the crown-prince is dead; and when our beloved king shall be no more, the very name of Habsburg will have passed away." "He is a very kind man," replied Teresa. "He comes often to the convent; and he makes us feel that he is not an emperor but one of us." Herr Müller touched his hat in respect. "Long live our beloved emperor, our most sympathetic friend," he said. By this time they had gained the entrance of their home; Joseph opened the public door to admit them to the corridor, and they ascended to the third floor to the apartment of Herr Müller. <hr class="chap" /> [24] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.