On Prince Eugène’s arrival in Vienna, one of his first calls was upon Isabey. In his equivocal position, he felt only too glad to see somebody reminding him of his younger days. The painter by his bright recollections often dispelled the sadness of the prince. It was Eugène who shortly afterwards took Isabey to Emperor Alexander. Isabey’s conversation was always interesting, but it became positively sparkling and historically valuable when recounting the marvellous details of the coronation, which, as has been said, were arranged by him. Isabey was not less delightful when recalling the familiar and every-day life at Malmaison.
Already in 1812, during a tour through Germany, Isabey, being in Prague, had made a sketch of the Prince de Ligne, which sketch he carefully preserved and which hangs to this day (1830) in his studio. Notwithstanding the seventy-and-eight years of the model, the sketch shows the noble and delicately cut features which to the end were the object of everybody’s admiration. At that period the Prince de Ligne only knew Isabey by reputation. One morning he called upon the artist, who happened to be out. But his album lay open near his easel. Instead of leaving his card, the prince took up a pen and wrote a dozen tripping and sparkling lines, describing Isabey’s talent, finishing up with:
‘He constitutes as great an honour to art as to his country; And in virtue of this impromptu, I also am a painter.’
This tribute to Isabey’s talent on the part of the Prince de Ligne is only one of the valuable testimonies contained in Isabey’s album. Every important personage in Europe, ministers, generals, artists, ladies of high degree, have equally considered it a pleasure to testify to their admiration and their esteem.
Isabey had been quartered magnificently, like Benvenuto Cellini in days of yore, at the Louvre. His studio, hung from floor to ceiling with sketches, drawings, and portraits in a more or less advanced stage of completion, impressed one with the idea of a magic lantern, representing in turns all the notable personages who at that moment had forgathered in Vienna.
The hour taken up with the prince’s sitting seemed short to me. Every now and again the work was interrupted by this or that subtle remark or lively reminiscence. The conversation ran principally on a little adventure in connection with the game of ‘leap-frog,’ which caused such a stir in Paris at the period of the Consulate, and which was obstinately believed in, in spite of Isabey’s denials. Here it is in its original version.