Archduke Albrecht: an elite soul

Archduke Albrecht of Austria, Duke of Teschen (1817-1895)

There was one person at the Austrian court who thoroughly understood and appreciated the anxiety displayed by the Empress with regard to the Crown Prince’s marriage and who also thoroughly mistrusted the possibility of his future happiness with Stéphanie. That was old Archduke Albrecht, the uncle of the Emperor, and one of the few persons who always did justice to Elizabeth’s merits, intelligence, and loftiness of purpose. There was not a more popular man in the Austro-Hungarian army, nor in the length and breadth of the dual empire, than the Archduke. Kind-hearted to a fault, and of a shrewdness which was coupled with an extraordinary amount of finesse and wit, he was beloved wherever he went. At the end of the [1870s] I had the pleasure of counting the Archduke as one of my guests during the great Galician military maneuvers, and I became then more than ever imbued with the feeling that he was what can be truly called une âme d’élite [an elite soul]. Indeed, I loved and reverenced him so much that I cannot resist the temptation of saying a few words especially concerning him, as a kind homage to his memory.

Archduke Albrecht, Duke of Teschen and his family: Archduchess Mathilde, Princess Hildegard of Bavaria and Archduchess Maria Theresa.

Up every morning at half-past four o’clock, the Generalissimo was on the maneuvering field at five, his quick eye taking in at a glance the strong or the weak points of regiment after regiment. I delighted in accompanying my august guest on these expeditions, and could not but wonder at the remarkably diplomatic way in which he managed, when his interference was needed, not alone his staff of officers, but also every man present.

This photo of the Archduke was taken around 1880.

I remember that one day he had reason to be dissatisfied with the corps of drummers belonging to one of the infantry regiments of General Count Mensdorf’s brigade. Galloping up to where they stood, drumming away for dear life, the Archduke brought his charger to a dead stop right in front of them, and, beckoning to the tambour-major, said, with a smile: “These men of yours can’t drum, my lad!” The man, with an awe-stricken face, stood at attention, unable in the extremity of his confusion to utter a single word of apology or explanation. The smile deepened on the usually rather stern face of the Archduke, and jumping from his horse he seized hold of the drum held by one of the men nearest to him, and without further ado executed so masterly a charge of rat-tat-tats that the very trees echoed again! After fully five minutes of this superb performance the old field-marshal stopped as abruptly as he had begun, and handing the still quivering instrument to its amazed owner, once more mounted his horse, exclaiming as he galloped away: “That is the way one ought to drum!” From that day the drummer corps of that regiment became certainly the best in Austria.