Vienna,
March 16, 1862.
Darling Little
Woggins: Lily has told you something, I dare say, about this society.
The young ladies are a power here. They are called “Comtessen,” for of course
no one is supposed to have a lower rank. They have been very civil to Lily, and
this is thought a great wonder, for it is not the rule, but the exception. But
there is not much advance beyond the circumference of society. There is no
court this winter.
When the empress's health permits her to be in Vienna, there
is one court ball in the year, to which diplomats are asked, and
two a week, to which they are not asked. The society, by which, of course, I
mean the crème
de la crème, is very small in number and much intermarried. The parties are
almost like family parties; but you must confine yourself to this society, for
they never mix with what is called second society. So far as manner goes,
nothing can be more natural or high-bred than that of the Viennese aristocracy.
And there is no such thing as literary or artistic circles. In short, you must
be intimate with the Pharaohs or stay at home. Now I have painted the picture,
I think, truthfully. Lily came out in England, and has never been out in
America. She longs to be there, and will go, if we can manage it, before next
winter. If you should decide to come, however, she would stay, for you would
get on much better with her assistance, as she already knows familiarly all the
Comtessen. As for ourselves, we do not care much for society. The pleasantest
things we have here are our occasional dinners. Most of our colleagues have
invited us. I have not been able to pay my debts this year, as my apartments
are not fit to give diplomatic dinners in. Next winter I hope to clear off the
score.
I think we have dined three times at Viennese houses — once
at Prince Esterhazy's, once at Prince Liechtenstein's, and once at Baron
Rothschild's. I must except our bankers, who ask us very often, and give very
pleasant dinners. Everybody goes to the Burg Theater every evening. The opera
is not very good, but the house is better. Moreover, the Viennese are under the
impression that they are going to have a new opera-house. The foundation is
dug. Yesterday we invited our American monde to dine, to celebrate our
victories, of which you may suppose our heads and hearts are full. The
Americans are very few in number here. Besides Mr. Lippitt, secretary of
legation, and Mr. Delaplaine, there were three young medical students, Ropes of
Boston, Walcot of Salem, and Caswell of Providence, and the consul, Mr.
Canisius, and Mr. Thayer, who has lived here a good while, a studious hermit
kind of life, engaged in writing the life of Beethoven. We like him very much.
We are intensely anxious for American news, and the steamers in this stormy
season make long passages.
Your affectionate
Papa.
SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The
Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition,
Volume 2, p. 248-50
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