ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
CONGRESS OF VIENNA
[Illustration: FRANCIS I, EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA.]
ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
CONGRESS OF VIENNA
BY THE
COMTE A. DE LA GARDE-CHAMBONAS
WITH
_INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY THE_
COMTE FLEURY
Translated
BY THE AUTHOR OF
‘AN ENGLISHMAN IN PARIS’
WITH PORTRAITS
LONDON
CHAPMAN & HALL, LIMITED
1902
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty
CONTENTS
PAGE
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE COMTE AUGUSTE DE LA GARDE-CHAMBONAS xiii
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
Introduction--A Glance at the Congress--Arrival of the
Sovereigns--The First Night in Vienna, 1
CHAPTER I
The Prince de Ligne--His Wit and his Urbanity--Robinson
Crusoe--The Masked Ball and Rout--Sovereigns in Dominos
--The Emperor of Russia and Prince Eugène--Kings and
Princes--Zibin--General Tettenborn--A Glance at his
Military Career--Grand Military Fête in Honour of Peace--
The Footing of Intimacy of the Sovereigns at the Congress
--The Imperial Palace--Death of Queen Maria Carolina of
Naples--Emperor Alexander--Anecdotes--Sovereign Gifts
--Politics and Diplomacy--The Grand Rout--The Waltz, 11
CHAPTER II
The Drawing-Rooms of the Comtesse de Fuchs--The Prince Philip
of Hesse-Homburg--George Sinclair--The Announcement of
a Military Tournament--The Comtesse Edmond de Périgord
General Comte de Witt--Letters of Recommendation--The
Princesse Pauline--The Poet-Functionary and Fouché, 41
CHAPTER III
Reception at M. de Talleyrand’s--His Attitude at the Congress
--The Duc de Dalberg--The Duc de Richelieu--Mme. Edmond
de Périgord--M. Pozzo di Borgo--Parallel between the
Prince de Ligne and M. de Talleyrand--A Monster Concert, 55
CHAPTER IV
The Prince de Ligne’s Study--A Swimming Exploit--Travelling
by Post--A Reminiscence of Madame de Staël--Schönbrunn--
The Son of Napoleon--His Portrait--Mme. de Montesquiou--
Anecdotes--Isabey--The Manœuvring-Ground--The People’s
Fête at Augarten, 70
CHAPTER V
The Prater--The Carriages--The Crowd and the Sovereigns
--The Sovereigns’ Incognito--Alexander Ypsilanti--
The Vienna Drawing-Rooms--Princesse Bagration--The
Narischkine Family--A Lottery, 87
CHAPTER VI
The Castle of Laxemburg--Heron-Hawking--The Empress of
Austria--A Royal Hunt--Fête at the Ritterburg--A
Recollection of Christina of Sweden--Constance and
Theodore, or the Blind Husband--Poland--Scheme for her
Independence--The Comte Arthur Potocki--The Prince de
Ligne and Isabey--The Prince de Ligne’s House on the
Kalemberg--Confidential Chats and Recollections--The
Empress Catherine II.--Queen Marie-Antoinette--Mme. de
Staël--Casanova, 105
CHAPTER VII
A Court Function--The Empress of Austria--The Troubadours
--Amateur Theatricals--The Empress of Russia--The
Prince Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg--Tableaux-Vivants--Queen
Hortense’s Songs--The Moustaches of the Comte de Wurbna--
Songs in Action--The Orphan of the Prisons--Diplomacy and
Dancing--A Ball and a Supper at Court, 137
CHAPTER VIII
Prince Eugène de Beauharnais--Recollections of the Prince de
Ligne--The Theatre of the ‘Ermitage’ and of Trianon--The
Baron Ompteda--Some Portraits--The Imperial _Carrousel_
--The Four-and-Twenty Paladins--Reminiscences of Mediæval
Tournaments--The Prowess of the Champion--Fête and Supper
at the Imperial Palace--The Table of the Sovereigns, 152
CHAPTER IX
Recollections of the Military Tournament of Stockholm in 1800--
The Comte de Fersen--King Gustavus IV.--The Challenge of
the Unknown Knight--The Games on the Bridge at Pisa, 174
CHAPTER X
The Prince de Ligne’s Song of the Congress--Life on the Graben
--The Chronicle of the Congress--Echoes of the Congress--
A Companion Story to the Death of Vatel--Brie, the King of
Cheese--Fête at Arnstein the Banker’s--The Prince Royal
of Würtemberg--Russian Dances--The Poet Carpani and the
Prince de Ligne, 193
CHAPTER XI
The Last Love-Tryst of the Prince de Ligne--A Glance at the
Past--Z---- or the Consequences of Gaming--Gambling in
Poland and in Russia--The Biter Bit--Masked Ball--The
Prince de Ligne and a Domino--More Living Pictures--The
Pasha of Surêne--Two Masked Ladies--A Recollection of the
Prince de Talleyrand, 218
CHAPTER XII
Illness of the Prince de Ligne--The Comte de Witt--Ambassador
Golowkin--Doctor Malfati--The Prince gets worse--Last
Sallies of the Moribund--General Grief--Portrait of the
Prince de Ligne--His Funeral, 244
CHAPTER XIII
The Fire at the Razumowski Palace--The Prince’s Great Wealth
--The Vicissitudes of Court Favour in Russia--Prince
Koslowski--A Reminiscence of the Duc d’Orléans--A
Re-mark of Talleyrand--Fête at the Comtesse Zichy’s--
Emperor Alexander and his Ardent Wishes for Peace--New
Year’s Day, 1815--Grand Ball and Rout--Sir Sidney Smith’s
Dinner-Party at the Augarten--His Chequered Life, his
Missions and his Projects at the Congress--The King of
Bavaria without Money--Departure and Anger of the King of
Würtemberg--The Queen of Westphalia--The Announcement of
a Sleighing-Party--A Ball at Lord Castlereagh’s, 256
CHAPTER XIV
Some Original Types at the Congress--M. Aïdé--A Witticism of
the Prince de Ligne--Mme. Pratazoff--Mr. Foneron--The
Old Jew--His Noblesse and his Moral Code--Mr. Raily--
His Dinners and his Companions--The Two Dukes--The End of
a Gambler--The Sovereigns’ Incognito--Mr. O’Bearn--Ball
at the Apollo--Zibin and the King of Prussia--Charles de
Rechberg and the King of Bavaria--The Minuet--The King
of Denmark--Story of the Bombardment of Copenhagen--The
German Lesson, 282
CHAPTER XV
Religious Ceremony for the Anniversary of the Death of Louis
XVI.--Reception at Talleyrand’s--Discussion on the
Subject of Saxony and Poland--The Order of the Day of the
Grand-Duke Constantine--A Factum of Pozzo di Borgo--A
Sleighing-Party--Entertainment and Fête at Schönbrunn--
Prince Eugène--Recollections of Queen Hortense--The
Empress Marie-Louise at the Valley of St. Helena--Second
Sleighing-Party--A Funeral, 309
CHAPTER XVI
Reception at Madame de Fuchs’s--Prince Philippe
d’Hesse-Hombourg--The Journalists and Newsmongers of
Vienna--The French Village in Germany--Prince Eugène--
Recollection of the Consulate--Tribulations of M. Denville
--Mme. Récamier--The Return of the _Émigré_--Childhood’s
Friend, or the Magic of a Name--Ball at Lord Stewart’s--
Alexander proclaimed King of Poland--The Prince Czartoryski
--Confidence of the Poles--Count Arthur Potocki--The
Revolutions of Poland--Slavery--Vandar--Ivan, or the
Polish Serf, 328
CHAPTER XVII
The Emperor Alexander, the King of Prussia, and the Naval Officer
--Surprise to the Empress of Russia--More Fêtes--A Ball
at M. de Stackelberg’s--Paul Kisseleff--Brozin--Fête
offered by M. de Metternich--The Ball-Room catches Fire--
Fêtes and Banquet at the Court--Ompteda--Chronicle of the
Congress--The Tell-tale Perfume--Recollection of Empress
Josephine and Madame Tallien--A Romantic Court Story, 346
CHAPTER XVIII
The Comte de Rechberg’s Work on the Governments of the Russian
Empire--The King of Bavaria--Polish Poem of Sophiowka--
Madame Potocka, or the Handsome Fanariote--Her Infancy--
Particulars of Her Life--A Glance at the Park of Sophiowka
--Subscription of the Sovereigns--Actual State of
Sophiowka, 364
CHAPTER XIX
A Luncheon at M. de Talleyrand’s on his Birthday--M. de
Talleyrand and the MS.--The Princesse-Maréchale Lubomirska
--New Arrivals--Chaos of Claims--The Indemnities of the
King of Denmark--Rumours of the Congress--Arrival of
Wellington at Vienna--The Carnival--Fête of the Emperor
of Austria--A Masked Rout--The Diadem, or Vanity Punished
--A Million--Gambling and Slavery: a Russian Anecdote, 375
CHAPTER XX
Isabey’s Study--His Drawing of the Plenipotentiaries at the
Congress of Vienna--The Imperial Sepulchre at the Capuchins
--Recollections of the Tombs of Cracow--Preacher Werner
--St. Stephen’s Cathedral--Children’s Ball at Princesse
Marie Esterhazy’s--The Empress Elizabeth of Russia--
The Picture-Gallery of the Duc de Saxe-Teschen--Emperor
Alexander and Prince Eugène--The Pictures of the Belvedere
--The King of Bavaria--Anecdotes, 394
CHAPTER XXI
Ypsilanti--Promenade on the Prater--First Rumour of the
Escape of Napoleon--Projects for the Deliverance of Greece
--Comte Capo d’Istria--The Hétairites--Meeting with
Ypsilanti in 1820--His Projects and Reverses, 406
CONCLUSION
Napoleon has left Elba--Aspect of Vienna--Theatricals at
the Court--Mme. Edmond de Périgord and the Rehearsal--
Napoleon’s Landing at Cannes--The Interrupted Dance--Able
Conduct of M. de Talleyrand--Declaration of the 13th March
--Fauche Borel--The Congress is Dissolved, 410
INDEX, 421
PORTRAITS
FRANCIS I., EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA, _Frontispiece_.
_at page_
COUNT NESSELRODE, 36
MARIE-LOUISE, ARCHDUCHESS OF AUSTRIA, 76
ALEXANDER I., 142
MARIE, DOWAGER-EMPRESS OF RUSSIA, 211
ROBERT, VISCOUNT CASTLEREAGH, MARQUESS OF LONDONDERRY, 281
PRINCE DE METTERNICH, 353
M. MAURICE DE TALLEYRAND, 376
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE COMTE AUGUSTE DE LA GARDE-CHAMBONAS
Auguste-Louis-Charles de La Garde,[1] a man of letters and a poet of
some repute in his time, was born in Paris in 1783. The following is a
copy of his certificate of baptism:--
THE OLD PARISH OF On Wednesday, the fifth day of March of
the year seventeen hundred and eighty-three,
SAINT-EUSTACHE, there was baptized Auguste-Louis-Charles,
born on the previous day but one, the son of
ANNO 1783. Messire le Comte Scipion-Auguste de La
Garde, chevalier, captain of Dragoons, and
(REGISTRY OF PARIS.) of Dame Catherine-Françoise Voudu, his wife,
domiciled in the Rue de Richelieu. Godfather
--Messire Jean de la Croix, captain of
Dragoons; Godmother-- Dame Elisabeth
Vingtrinien, wife of M. Etienne-Antoine
Barryals, Bourgeois of Paris.[2]
The child’s mother died in giving it birth. The father only survived
the beloved young wife for a little while, and feeling his end to be
near, confided the orphan to the head of his family, the Marquis de
Chambonas (Scipion-Charles-Victor Auguste de La Garde), camp-marshal
(equivalent to the present grade of general of brigade), and
subsequently a minister of Louis XVI.[3]
M. de Chambonas took charge of the infant, looking upon it as a second
son, and treating it with the most constant affection. Consequently
in all his works, and in his _Unpublished Notes_, Auguste de La Garde
always refers by the name of ‘father’ to the relative who had replaced
his dead parents.[4]
During his early childhood, he was often entrusted to his godmother,
Mme. de Villers.[5] She was the friend of Mme. Bernard, the wife of
the Lyons banker, whose daughter was to attain such great celebrity
under the name of Mme. Récamier. Brought up together, as it were,
these two children conceived for each other a sincere affection, which
neither time nor distance ever cooled. When, on his return from foreign
parts, Auguste de La Garde came to Paris in 1801, he at once took up
his abode at Mme. Récamier’s, who, moreover, gave him the support so
necessary to the youthful wanderer who possessed no resources of his
own. Hence, it will cause no surprise to meet in the _Recollections
of the Congress of Vienna_ with pages breathing a profound sense of
gratitude to Mme. Récamier.
Young La Garde began his studies under the guidance of the Abbé B----,
after which he was sent to the College of Sens. (His ‘father’ had been
governor of the town in 1789, and its mayor in 1791.) M. de Chambonas,
after having commanded the 17th division of the army of Paris for a
very short time, was called to the ministry of Foreign Affairs, the
17th June 1792, to replace Dumouriez, who had resigned. His stay there
was also very short. Having been denounced publicly in the Legislative
Assembly for having withheld information with regard to the movements
of the Prussian troops, and becoming more and more suspect every day,
he quickly abandoned the post.
On the 10th August he was among those who endeavoured to defend the
Tuileries, and was even left for dead on the spot. It was only towards
the end of 1792 that M. de Chambonas made up his mind to quit Paris. He
did not cross the frontier, but managed to reach Sens; where, in safe
hiding, he succeeded in spending unmolested the years of the Reign of
Terror. He had taken with him his son, who subsequently married Mlle.
de la Vernade, at Sens (and who was the grandfather of the present
Marquis de Chambonas), and also his adopted son.
How did the erewhile minister of Louis XVI. succeed in passing
unmolested through the Terror? It seems almost incredible. This was one
of the exceptions the particulars of which have been traced by memoirs
that have recently come to light.[6]
During the Directory, in fact, M. de Chambonas floated absolutely to
the top, and at one time there was talk of sending him to Spain as
ambassador. The plan fell through, and after the _coup d’état_ on the
18th Fructidor (4th September 1797), M. de Chambonas, considering
himself no longer safe, hurriedly left Paris to avoid arrest.
Behold our wanderers at Hamburg, and afterwards in Sweden and Denmark.
Auguste de La Garde in his somewhat florid style will tell us many
amusing anecdotes; on the other hand, the bombardment of Copenhagen by
the English fleet in 1801 affected him sadly.
A few months later, the lad of eighteen is sent to France by M. de
Chambonas in order to obtain the removal of the sender’s name from
the list of _émigrés_--he had been considered as such while he was in
hiding at Sens--and to claim the estates the nation had confiscated.
Auguste de La Garde is hospitably received by Mme. Récamier, who, while
bestirring herself in behalf of the ‘father,’ takes the son in hand
with regard to his education. Through her influence, La Harpe assists
him with his counsels, and the best professors direct his further
studies. As for the property the restitution of which is claimed by his
‘father,’ by that time established in England, all idea of it had to be
abandoned; and young La Garde himself, his mind precociously ripened by
his exile, was compelled to look to his own independent future.[7]
His personal charm, his natural gifts, and, in short, the useful
connections he rapidly made for himself, soon procured him employment
and a start in life. At the outset, he obtained through the goodwill of
Prince Eugène missions to Italy, to Marmont in Dalmatia, to the Court
of King Joseph at Naples, and finally to Rome, where he was cordially
received by Lucien Bonaparte and his family. The pages, whether in
his _Recollections of the Congress of Vienna_ or in his _Unpublished
Notes_, referring to his primary benefactors, go far to exonerate him
from the charge of ingratitude, for he lavishes upon those benefactors
all the ornaments of his rhetoric; at any rate, nearly all, for the
greater part of the acknowledgment of his indebtedness goes mainly to
Field-Marshal Prince de Ligne, who was his protector, his beneficent
and ... very useful relative, a member of the Chambonas family, having,
as we already stated, married a Princesse de Ligne.
La Garde first met with the Prince de Ligne in the Eternal City. He
soon became a familiar visitor to the octogenarian prince, who, like
the generous Mæcenas that he was, gave him a pressing invitation to
come and settle near him in Vienna. The young fellow was too sensible
to make light of an offer insuring material welfare and a regular
existence after years of uncertainty. He, therefore, settled in Vienna
near to his benefactor, yielding for the matter of that to the spell
exercised over every one by that very superior specimen of manhood,
and requiting his kindness with an affectionate veneration increasing
as time went on. The whole of the first part of the _Recollections_
attests a boundless gratitude; and if on the one hand that work
constitutes the brightest ornament of our author’s literary crown, it
constitutes on the other the most complete panegyric of the prince who
had become ‘his idol.’
From Vienna, the Comte de La Garde passed into Russia, where he met
with a cordial welcome from the elegant society of St. Petersburg. In
1810 he published there a volume of poems, which obtained a most signal
success. Subsequently invited to Poland by the Comte Félix Potocki, and
treated with the most generous hospitality, he was enabled to devote
himself to numerous literary works; and as a mark of gratitude to his
hosts, he translated into French Trembecki’s poem dedicated to the
cherished wife of Comte Félix, the celebrated Sophie Potocka.
The _Recollections of the Congress of Vienna_ contains frequent
references to the ‘superb Sophie,’ who was born in the Fanariote
quarter in Constantinople, and whose singular career was solely owing
to her beauty. She married in the first place the Comte de Witt (of
the family of the Dutch Great State-Councillor, whose descendants had
entered the service of Russia). The Comte de Witt enticed her away
from a secretary of the French Embassy in Constantinople; Comte Félix
Potocki, in his turn, eloped with her while she was Comtesse de Witt,
and married her, thanks to an amicable arrangement nullifying the
first marriage. Comtesse Sophie, celebrated throughout Europe--her
loveliness had even compelled admiration from the Court circle at
Versailles--lived on a regal footing on her estate of Tulczim,
and dispensed her hospitality to the French _émigrés_ in a manner
calculated to dazzle many of them. The _Mémoires_ of General Comte de
Rochechouart and the present _Recollections_ are specially interesting
on the subject. The success of the poem, ‘Sophiowka,’ was such as
to gain for its adapter the honorary membership respectively of the
Academies of Warsaw, Cracow, Munich, London, and Naples.
The Comte de La Garde was to receive another flattering testimonial in
Poland, many years later, on the occasion of the appearance of his poem
on the ‘Funérailles de Kosciusko’ (Treuttel & Wurtz: Paris, 1830). Its
several editions by no means exhausted its success; the senate of the
republic of Cracow conferred upon him the Polish citizenship, while the
kings of Bavaria, Prussia, and Saxony complimented him by autograph
letters.
La Garde was the author of a great number of songs; and the most
renowned composers of the period competed for the honour of setting
them to music. Many of these romances were dedicated to Queen Hortense,
whose acquaintance he made at Augsburg in 1819. This led to his
collaboration in ‘Loi d’Exil,’ and ‘Partant pour la Syrie’--the latter
of which became the national hymn during the Second Empire. In 1853,
there appeared _L’Album artistique de la Reine Hortense_, a much prized
collection of the then unpublished songs of the Comte de La Garde,
with their music by the queen, and charming reproductions of tiny
paintings, which were also her work.[8]
This was the last time the name of the Comte de La Garde appeared
in print. A short time afterwards his wandering life came to an end
in Paris, which during the latter years of his life he inhabited
alternately with Angers. He had adopted as his motto: ‘My life is a
battle’; he could have added, ‘and a never-ending journey’; for his
constitutional restlessness prevented him from settling permanently,
no matter where. He never married. The few documents he left behind,
including some momentoes, represented the whole of his property, and
went to his cousin, M. de La Garde, Marquis de Chambonas.
In addition to the afore-mentioned works and the present one,
_Recollections of the Congress of Vienna_, which originally appeared
in Paris in 1820 (?), M. de la Garde was the author of the following:
_Une traduction de Dmitry Donskoy_ (Moscow, 1811); _Coup d’œil sur le
Royaume de Pologne_ (Varsovie, 1818); _Coup d’œil sur Alexander-Bad_
(Bavière, 1819); _Laure Bourg: roman dédié au Roi de Bavière_ (Munich,
1820); _Les Monuments grecs de la Sicile_ (Munich, 1820); _Traduction
des Mélodies de Thomas Moore_ (Londres, 1826); _Voyage dans quelques
parties de l’Europe_ (Londres, 1828); _Brighton, Voyage en Angleterre_,
(1830); _Tableau de Bruxelles (prose et vers), dédié à la Reine_;
_Projet pour la formation d’une Colonie belge à la Nouvelle Zélande_,
etc.
In all those works, and notably in the most important, namely:
_Brighton_, and _Souvenirs du Congrès_ _de Vienne_, M. de La Garde
shows himself to be endowed with the faculty of observation and with
tact. Unfortunately his matchless kindliness prevents his criticisms
from departing from the laudatory gamut.
We must not look in these _Recollections_ for important revelations
concerning the diplomatic conferences which engaged the attention
of the whole of Europe in 1815; we shall only meet with delightful
anecdotes and portraits of _grandes dames_ and illustrious personages.
There will be many silhouettes of figures that have been forgotten
since, but which, while they belonged to this world, were worthy of
notice. To appreciate them we should bring to the perusal of this
volume the quality which presided at its composition: namely, the
kindliness of an observant man of the world.
Since their appearance in 1820, these _Recollections_ had been
absolutely forgotten. It seemed to us and to M. le Marquis de Chambonas
La Garde, to whom we owe the principal facts of this notice, that the
chapters were worthy of being resuscitated. Though we have omitted from
these _Recollections_ some dissertations more or less obsolete, which
would be of no interest to-day, we have throughout respected the style
and the ideas of the author; only adding to his narrative the necessary
notes on the principal personages of the action.
FLEURY.
ANECDOTAL RECOLLECTIONS
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
Introduction--A Glance at the Congress--Arrival of the Sovereigns--
The First Night in Vienna.
The Congress of Vienna, considered as a political gathering, has not
lacked historians, but they were so intent upon recording its phases
of high diplomacy as to have bestowed no thought upon its piquant and
lighter social features.
No doubt they feared that triviality of detail might impair the
general effect of so imposing a picture, and they were satisfied with
reproducing and judging results, without caring to retrace the diverse
and animated scenes where these results were obtained. Nevertheless,
it would have been curious to go more or less deeply into the personal
lives of the actors called upon to settle the future interests of
Europe. At the Vienna Congress, hearts hitherto closed, nay, wholly
inaccessible, to the observation of the outer world, were often laid
open. Amidst the confusion of all ranks, their most transient movements
revealed themselves, and lent themselves to being watched, as if taken
off their guard in the irresistible whirl of uninterrupted pleasures.
Doubtless, at no time of the world’s history had more grave and complex
interests been discussed amidst so many fêtes. A kingdom was cut into
bits or enlarged at a ball: an indemnity was granted in the course of
a dinner; a constitution was planned during a hunt; now and again
a cleverly-placed word or a happy and pertinent remark cemented a
treaty the conclusion of which, under different circumstances, would
probably have been achieved only with difficulty, and by dint of many
conferences and much correspondence. Acrimonious discussions and
‘dry-as-dust’ statements were replaced for the time being, as if by
magic, by the most polite forms in any and every transaction; and also
by the promptitude which is a still more important form of politeness,
unfortunately too neglected.
The Congress had assumed the character of a grand fête in honour of
the general pacification. Ostensibly it was a feast of rest after the
storm, but, curiously enough, it offered a programme providing for life
in its most varied movements. Doubtless, the forgathering of those
sovereigns, ministers, and generals who for nearly a quarter of a
century had been the actors in a grand drama supposed to have run its
course, besides the pomp and circumstance of the unique scene itself,
showed plainly enough that they were there to decide the destinies
of nations. The mind, dominated by the gravity of the questions at
issue, could not altogether escape from the serious thoughts now and
again obtruding themselves: but immediately afterwards the sounds of
universal rejoicing brought a welcome diversion. Everyone was engrossed
with pleasure. The love-passion also hovered over this assembly of
kings, and had the effect of prolonging a state of abandonment and a
neglect of affairs, both really inconceivable when taken in conjunction
with upheavals the shock of which was still felt, and immediately
before a thunderbolt which was soon to produce a singular awakening.
The people themselves, apparently forgetting that when their rulers are
at play, the subjects are doomed to pay in a short time the bills of
such royal follies, seemed to be grateful for foibles that drew their
masters down to their level.
Meanwhile, the man of Titanic catastrophes is not far distant. Napoleon
steps forth to spread fire and flame once more; to make an end of
all those dreams, and to invest with a wholly different aspect those
voluptuous scenes, the diversity of which could not even save their
participants from the weariness of satiety.[9]
I arrived in Vienna towards the end of September 1814, when the
Congress, though it had been announced for several months, was not yet
officially opened. The fêtes had, however, already commenced. In the
abstract of the proceedings, it had been said that the conferences
would be of very short duration. Business according to some, pleasure
according to others, and probably both these causes combined, decided
things otherwise. Several weeks, several months, went by without the
question of dissolution being broached. Negotiating as from brother to
brother, in a manner that would have rejoiced the heart of Catherine
the Great, the sovereigns amicably and without the least hurry arranged
‘their little affairs’; they gave one the impression of wishing to
realise the philosophic dream of the Abbé de Saint-Pierre.[10]
The number of strangers attracted to Vienna by the Congress was
estimated at close upon a hundred thousand. It ought to be said that
for this memorable gathering no other city would have answered so
well. Vienna is in reality the centre of Europe; at that time it was
its capital. A Viennese who had happened to leave the city a few
months before would have had some difficulty in identifying himself
and his familiar surroundings amidst that new, gilded, and titled
population which crowded the place at the time of the Congress. All the
sovereigns of the North had come thither; the West and the East had
sent their most notable representatives. The Emperor Alexander, still
young and brilliant; the Empress Elizabeth, with her winning though
somewhat melancholy grace, and the Grand-Duke Constantine represented
Russia. Behind these were grouped a mass of ministers, princes, and
generals, especially conspicuous among them the Comtes de Nesselrode,
Capo d’Istria, Pozzo di Borgo, and Stackelberg, all of whom were marked
out from that hour to play important parts in the political debates of
Europe. These statesmen must be passed over in silence. I must not be
equally silent with regard to the friends whom I met once more, and who
during my wanderings in Germany, Poland, and Russia, had entertained
me with such cordial affection. There was Tettenborn, as devoted and
warm-hearted after many years of separation as if we had never parted;
the Comte de Witt, the Prince Koslowski, both of whom were to die
prematurely; and Alexander Ypsilanti, fervent and generous as of old,
and fated to meet with such a cruel end in the prisons of Montgatz and
of Theresienstadt.
The King of Prussia was accompanied by the Princes Guillaume and
Auguste. Baron de Humboldt[11] and the Prince d’Hardemberg presided
at his councils. The beautiful queen who in the negotiations of 1807
employed in vain all her seductive grace and resources of mind against
the will of Napoleon, was no more.
The King of Denmark, Frédéric VI., the son of the ill-fated Caroline
Mathilde,[12] also repaired to the Congress, which, luckily for him,
he was enabled to leave without his modest possessions having aroused
the cupidity of this or that ambitious neighbour.
The Kings of Bavaria and Würtemberg, the Dukes of Saxe-Coburg,
Hesse-Darmstadt, and Hesse-Cassel--in short, all the heads and princes
of the reigning houses of Germany--were there. They also wished to
take part in the political festival, and were anxious to know how the
supreme tribunal would trim and shape the borders of their small States.
The King of Saxony, so ardently worshipped by his subjects, had at
that time retired into Prussia, while the Allied Armies occupied his
kingdom. That excellent prince, whom Napoleon called ‘le plus honnête
homme qui ait occupé le trône,’[13] was only represented at the
Congress by his plenipotentiaries.
The representatives of France were the Duc de Dalberg, the Comte Alexis
de Noailles, M. de la Tour-du-Pin, and the Prince de Talleyrand. The
last-named maintained his high reputation with great dignity under
difficult circumstances, and perhaps conspicuous justice has never been
done to him. The English plenipotentiaries were Lords Clancarty and
Stewart, and Viscount Castlereagh.
Among these notable men it would be ingratitude on my part not to name
the Prince de Ligne, of whom frequent mention will be made in these
_Recollections_; and the reigning Landgrave of Hesse-Homburg [1814]. A
brave soldier, the latter prince earned his grade of field-marshal on
the battlefield itself, and moreover proved his talent as a remarkable
administrator by promoting in many ways the happiness of his subjects.
The whole of this royal company met in the capital of Austria with a
hospitality worthy of it, and worthy also of that memorable gathering.
The Kings of Würtemberg and Denmark arrived before any of the others.
The Emperor Franz proceeded as far as Schönbrunn to welcome each of
them. The interview between those princes was exceedingly cordial, and
free from diplomatic reserve; but the ceremony which by its pomp and
splendour was evidently intended to crown the series of wonders of the
Congress was the solemn entry of Emperor Alexander and the King of
Prussia.
Numerous detachments of guards of honour had been posted on the routes
these two monarchs were to traverse. The whole of the garrison was
under arms at the approaches to and within the capital. The emperor,
attended by his grand officers of state, both military and civil, the
archdukes, and other princes of the blood, proceeded for some distance
to meet his hosts. The meeting took place on the left bank of the
Danube, at the further extremity of the Tabor bridge. There was an
exchange of most affectionate and apparently most sincere greetings,
and the three rulers held each other’s hands for a long while.
An immense crowd lined the banks of the stream, and rent the air with
cheers. Undoubtedly it was a sight as remarkable as it was unheard-of,
that gathering of sovereigns tried by severe misfortune for twenty
years, and who, having vanquished him who had been for such a long
time victorious, seemed astonished at a triumph so dearly bought, so
unexpectedly obtained.
The three monarchs, in full-dress uniforms, meanwhile mounted their
horses and rode slowly on amidst the booming of the artillery. The
infinite number of generals, belonging to all the nations of Europe,
riding behind them, their brilliant costumes glittering in the sun,
the joyous cries of the crowds, the clanging of the bells of all the
steeples, the air resounding with the firing of the cannon, the sight
of that population frantically hailing the return of peace--in fact,
the whole scene, even the cordial demeanour of those sovereigns,
constituted the most imposing and eloquent spectacle.
The welcome to the Empress of Russia on the following day was marked by
a ceremonial of a less grandiose but more graceful nature. The Empress
of Austria, surrounded by the whole of her Court, went to meet her a
long distance out of the capital. A short time after she started, the
two emperors proceeded in the same direction, and the two processions
joined hands, as it were, close to the church of Maria-Brunn. An open
calèche was in waiting to convey the empresses; their august husbands
took their seats with them. A detachment of the Hungarian Guards,
another of Uhlans, and a great number of pages made up the escort. The
carriage, on reaching the outer gates of the court, was met by young
girls dressed in white, offering baskets of flowers. A dense crowd
lined the avenues leading to the palace, and everybody admired the
spontaneous cordiality, the good-will altogether without etiquette,
lighting up the faces of all those grand personages, so little adapted
to manifestations of equality.
From that moment Vienna assumed an aspect which was as bright as it was
animated. Numberless magnificent carriages traversed the city in all
directions, and, in consequence of the restricted size of the capital,
constantly reappeared. Most of them were preceded by those agile
forerunners, in their brilliant liveries, who are no longer to be seen
anywhere except in Vienna, and who, swinging their large silver-knobbed
canes, seemed to fly in front of the horses. The promenades and squares
teemed with soldiers of all grades, dressed in the varied uniforms
of all the European armies. Added to these were the swarms of the
servants of the aristocracy in their gorgeous liveries, and the people
crowding at all points of vantage to catch a momentary glimpse of the
military, sovereign, and diplomatic celebrities constantly shifting
within the permanent frame of the varying picture. Then, when night
came, the theatres, the cafés, the public resorts were filled with
animated crowds, apparently bent on pleasure only, while sumptuous
carriages rolled hither and thither, lighted up by torches borne by
footmen perched behind, or still preceded by runners, who had, however,
exchanged their canes for flambeaux. In almost every big thoroughfare
there was the sound of musical instruments discoursing joyous tunes.
Noise and bustle everywhere.
Such, for over five months, was the picture represented by the city, a
picture of which only a poor idea can be conveyed by my feeble attempts
to reproduce some of its features.
The immense number of strangers had soon invaded every available hotel
and private lodging. Many notabilities were obliged to take up their
quarters in the outskirts. Prices ruled exorbitantly high; in order to
judge of this I need only state that the rent of Lord Castlereagh’s
apartments was £500 per month--an unheard-of price in Vienna. It
was calculated that if the Congress lasted only four months, the
value of many houses would be paid to their proprietors in rent. I
should, perhaps, have been deprived of witnessing a scene which only
a chain of extraordinary circumstances could have brought about, and
which probably will not be renewed for many centuries to come; but
my intimate friend, Mr. Julius Griffiths, who had lived in Vienna
for several years, had anticipated my coming, and in his magnificent
residence on the Jaeger-Zeill, I found all the _comfort_ which he
had transported thither from his own country; both the word and the
condition of things it represented being little known throughout the
rest of Europe.
Mr. Julius Griffiths, who ranks among the best educated of Englishmen,
has made himself widely known in the world of letters by works of
acknowledged merit. He has travelled all over the globe, and deserves
to be proclaimed the greatest traveller of his time. His social
qualities and his lofty sentiments have conferred the greatest honour
on the English character outside his native country. His friendship has
been for many years the source of my sweetest happiness. I am enabled
to confess with gratitude that he was instrumental in convincing me of
the mendacity of the precept, ‘not to try one’s friends if one wishes
to keep them.’
The thing I stood most in need of, after the first greetings of such
a sincere friend, was rest and quietude; hence, at the moment I did
not in the least resemble the ‘inquisitorial traveller’ mentioned by
Sterne, and I retired to enjoy that rest, most intensely conscious of
the delight of having reached port. In spite of this, sleep failed to
come. Too many thoughts came crowding in upon me; my mind was divided
between the pleasure of meeting once more with so dear a friend and
others scarcely less precious to me, and the hope of being a witness
of a scene which hitherto was without a precedent. Were I possessed of
the talent with which Dupaty has described his ‘Première nuit à Rome,’
I should endeavour to paint the stirring emotions of this ‘first night’
in Vienna.
A volume of Shakespeare lay close at hand; I opened it at random and
read: ‘You who have not seen those feasts, you have lost the sight of
what is most brilliant of earthly glory. Those perfectly magnificent
scenes surpassed all that the imagination can invent. Each day outvied
the previous one, each morrow shamed the pomp of its eve. One day those
demi-gods on earth resplendent with precious stones and silken stuffs;
the next the same pomp more oriental than the orient itself. You should
have seen each world-ruler dazzling like a statue wrought of gold;
and the courtiers resplendent like their masters; and those dames so
delicate and so slight bend beneath the twofold burden of their pride
and their ornaments; those sovereigns, stars of like magnitude, mingle
their rays by their presence. No calumnious tongue dared wag, no eye
that was not dazzled by those sights. You should have witnessed also
the tournament and the heralds of arms, and the prowess of chivalry
displayed. The old history of our story-tellers has ceased to be
fabulous. Yes, henceforth I shall believe all that those story-tellers
have told us.’[14]
Those lines from an immortal poet, I read again and again; and swayed
by those powerful impressions, I owed to them the conception of noting
down my recollections, convinced that in times to come, _i.e._ at a
period to which I looked forward courageously, I should be delighted to
refer to them as the sole food for my thoughts.
CHAPTER I
The Prince de Ligne--His Wit and his Urbanity--Robinson Crusoe
--The Masked Ball and Rout--Sovereigns in Dominos--The
Emperor of Russia and the Prince Eugène--Kings and Princes
--Zibin--General Tettenborn--A Glance at his Military
Career--Grand Military Fête in Honour of Peace--The Footing
of Intimacy of the Sovereigns at the Congress--The Imperial
Palace--Death of Queen Maria Carolina of Naples--Emperor
Alexander--Anecdotes--Sovereign Gifts--Politics and
Diplomacy--The Grand Rout--The Waltz.
Speaking of the Great Wall of China, the famous Dr. Johnson said
somewhere that the grandson of a man who had caught a mere glimpse of
it might still be proud of the opportunity vouchsafed to his grandsire.
The exaggeration, Oriental like its subject, might strike me as
excusable if the drift of it were applied, not to a monument capable
of standing the test of ages, but to one of those men who appear at
long intervals, or in connection with events that change the face of
the world. Personally, I may confess to remaining more or less proud of
my presence at the Congress of Vienna, and of having been privileged
to see the many celebrities that forgathered there. But the most
gratifying recollection, and also the one dearest to my heart, is that
of the goodwill incessantly shown to me by the Prince de Ligne. For
over two months I had the happiness of being admitted to his greatest
intimacy, seeing him every day and at all hours, gathering from his
lips the clever sentences and spontaneous sallies which he so lavishly
dispensed. To-day, after many years, the indelible impression of his
personality tends to reanimate my recollections, and lends life to the
scenes I am endeavouring to reproduce.
The Prince de Ligne[15] was then in his eightieth year; in spite of
this there is no exaggeration in saying that he had remained young. He
had preserved the amiable character and the fascinating urbanity which
had lent so much charm to his society. Hence the title of ‘the last of
French knights’ was unanimously accorded to him.
At that period all the strangers, whether most celebrated in virtue
of their rank or of their mental qualities, nay, the sovereigns
themselves, made it a point, as it were, to show their reverence
for him. He was still possessed of that freshness of imagination
and inexhaustible, exquisite gaiety which had always distinguished
him. His humour, kindly withal, though somewhat satirical, was
principally directed at the really strange aspect the Congress began
to assume, pleasure being seemingly the most important business.
Amidst this general intoxication, amidst this uninterrupted series of
entertainments, banquets, and balls, it was certainly not the least
curious and interesting contrast to behold the imposing figure of the
old marshal, occupying no official position, yet eagerly welcomed
everywhere, and often painting the situation by an epigram, by a clever
and pertinent remark, which went the round in no time.
The French were above all most eager for his society, and, in their
turn, could reckon on the most cordial welcome. His journey to the
French Court a few years previous to the Revolution had left the most
heartfelt recollections; and his letters to the Marquise de Coigny[16]
at that period show in every line his regret at being compelled to live
away from a country and a people that had inspired him with such an
ardent sympathy. In a word, the Prince de Ligne belonged to France both
by the nature of his worth and by the quality of his mind.
My family having the honour of being allied to that of the Prince,
he presented me on my first visit to Vienna in 1807 at the Court
and everywhere as his cousin. From that moment until his death, his
courtesy and goodwill never failed me at any succeeding visit. I was
never tired of listening to him, and especially when his thoughts
reverted to bygone times, which he had so long and so closely observed.
He took delight in improving my mind with the treasures of his own,
and in enlightening my youthful inexperience with the counsels and
fruits of his own observation. Hence, to speak of the Prince de Ligne
is simply, on my part, the acquittal of a debt. As a matter of course,
my first call was due to him, and on the morrow of my arrival I made my
way to his home.
‘You are just in time to see great doings,’ he said. ‘The whole of
Europe is in Vienna. The tissue of politics is embroidered with fêtes,
and inasmuch as at your age one is fond of joyous gatherings, balls,
and pleasure, I can assure you beforehand of a series of them, because
the Congress does not march to its goal; it dances. It is a royal
mob. From all sides there are cries of peace, justice, equilibrium,
indemnity; the last word being the new contribution of the Prince de
Bénévent to the diplomatic vocabulary. Heaven alone knows who shall
reduce this chaos to some semblance of order, and provide dams for the
torrent of various pretensions. As for me, I am only a well-meaning
and friendly spectator of the show. I shall claim nothing, unless
it be a hat to replace the one I am wearing out in saluting the
sovereigns I meet at every street-corner. Nevertheless, in spite of
Robinson Crusoe,[17] a general and lasting peace will no doubt be
concluded, for a feeling of concord has at length united the nations
which were so long inimical towards each other. Their most illustrious
representatives are already setting the example of it. We shall witness
a thing hitherto unheard of: pleasure will bring in its wake peace,
instead of strife.’
After this, he started asking me, with all the impetuosity of youth,
a series of questions with reference to Paris, my travels, and my own
plans, until he was interrupted by his servant informing him that his
carriage was at the door.
‘You’ll come and dine with me to-morrow,’ he said; ‘and then we’ll go
to the grand rout and ball. You’ll see the most practical common-sense
of Europe wearing the motley of folly. When there I’ll explain to you
in a few moments the curiosities of that grand piece of living tapestry
composed of the most notable personages.’
The prince had kept to his habit of dining early: it was four o’clock
when I reached his pretty house on the Bastion. It contained but one
room on each story, hence he called it jocularly his ‘perch.’ His
friends knew it by the name of ‘L’hôtel de Ligne.’ Shortly after my
arrival he sat down to dinner, surrounded by his charming family.[18]
Candidly speaking, the repast, like the well-known suppers of Madame
de Maintenon, when she was still Widow Scarron, stood in need of the
magic of his conversation to make up for its more than scanty fare. And
although he himself ate nearly all the little dishes that were served,
his guests were so thoroughly engrossed and delighted as to be rendered
oblivious of the unsubstantial nature of the entertainment--until the
end of it.
In the drawing-room we found some visitors; they were strangers of
distinction, who, called to Vienna from every coign and nook of Europe,
had craved an introduction to this living marvel of the previous
century. Their number also contained several ‘lion-hunters,’ obtruding
their presence from sheer curiosity, and for the sake of being enabled
to say: ‘I have seen the Prince de Ligne,’ or else for the purpose of
‘rubbing minds with him,’ by carefully picking up his anecdotes and his
sallies, which they afterwards hawked about, considerably disfigured,
among their own sets.
Having quickly paid his voluntary toll in the shape of some witty or
polite remark to each of those groups, he left them, as if his task had
been fulfilled, and came up to his grandson, the Comte de Clary, with
whom I happened to be chatting. ‘I remember,’ he said, ‘having begun
one of my letters to Jean-Jacques Rousseau with a--“As you do not care,
Monsieur, either for demonstrative people or for demonstrations....”
A few notes couched in similar terms would not be out of place among
some of the notable people here this evening; but they are so inflated
with their own merit as to be unable to decipher their own addresses.
And as, moreover, they are most obstinate and difficult to shake off,
let us go and have a look at others where there will be a little more
elbow-room. The ball is waiting for us. Come along, my lads, I’ll give
you a lesson in taking your leave in French fashion.’ And this man,
extraordinary in every relation of life, flitting away with the light
step of a mere youth, suited the action to the word and positively
ran to his carriage, laughing all the while at the boyish trick and
at the disappointment of all those insipid talkers who merely courted
his society to make him listen to their vapid utterances. It was nine
o’clock when we reached the imperial palace, better known as the
Hofburg.
That ancient residence had been specially chosen for those ingenious
_momons_, character-masques in which the incognito of the domino often
lent itself to political combinations in themselves masterpieces
of intrigue and conception. The principal hall was magnificently
lighted up, and running around it, there was a circular gallery giving
access to huge rooms arranged for supper. On seats, disposed like an
amphitheatre, there were crowds of ladies, some of whom merely wore
dominos, while the majority represented this or that character. It
would be difficult to imagine a scene more dazzling than this gathering
of women, all young and beautiful, and each attired in a style most
becoming to her beauty. All the centuries of the past, all the regions
of the inhabited globe seemed to have appointed to meet in that
graceful circle.
Several orchestras executed at regular intervals valses and polonaises:
in adjoining galleries or rooms minuets were danced with particularly
Teutonic gravity, which feature did not constitute the least comic
part of the picture.
The prince had spoken the truth. Vienna at that time presented an
abridged panorama of Europe, and the rout was an abridged panorama of
Vienna. There could be no more curious spectacle than those masked
or non-masked people, among whom, absolutely lost in the crowd, and
practically defying identification, circulated all the sovereigns at
that moment participating in the Congress.
The prince had a story or anecdote about each. ‘There goes Emperor
Alexander. The man on whose arm he is leaning is Prince Eugène
Beauharnais, for whom he has a sincere affection. When Eugène arrived
here with his father-in-law, the King of Bavaria, the Court hesitated
about the rank to be accorded to him. The emperor spoke so positively
on the subject as to secure for Eugène all the honours due to his
generous character. Alexander, as you are aware, is worthy of inspiring
and of extending the deepest friendship.
‘Do you know the tall and noble-looking personage whom that beautiful
Neapolitan girl is holding round the waist? It is the King of Prussia,
whose gravity appears in no wise disturbed by the fact. For all that
the clever mask may be an empress, on the other hand it is quite on the
cards that she is merely a grisette who has been smuggled in.
‘That colossus in the black domino, which neither disguises nor
decreases his stature, is the King of Würtemberg.[19] The man close
to him is his son, the Crown Prince. His love for the Duchesse
d’Oldenbourg, Emperor Alexander’s sister, is the cause of his stay at
the Congress, rather than a concern for the grave interests which one
day will be his. It is a romantic story, the _dénouement_ of which we
may witness before long.
‘The two young fellows who just brushed past us are the Crown Prince
of Bavaria and his brother, Prince Charles.[20] The latter’s face
would dispute the palm with that of Antinous. The crowd of people of
different kind and garb who are disporting themselves, in every sense
of the word, are, some, reigning princes, others archdukes, others
again grand dignitaries of this or that empire. For, except a few
Englishmen, easily picked out by their careful dress, I do not think
there is a single personage here without a “handle” to his name.
‘This room in particular only represents a picture of pleasure, my dear
boy....’
The moment the prince left me to myself I began to wander about, and
if I had made a series of appointments, I could not have met with more
acquaintances hailing from Naples to St. Petersburg, and from Stockholm
to Constantinople. The variety of costume and languages was truly
astonishing. It was like a bazaar of all the nations of the world.
Honestly, I felt that for the first time in my life I was experiencing
the intoxication of a masked ball. My brain seemed to reel under the
spell of the incessant music, the secrecy of disguise, the atmosphere
of mystery by which it was surrounded, the general state of incognito,
the uncurbed and boundless gaiety, the force of circumstances, and the
irresistible seductiveness of the picture before me. I feel certain
that older and stronger heads than mine would have proved equally weak.
In a short time I had quite a group of friends around me.
Taking advantage of a moment when the Prince de Ligne was less hemmed
in, I begged of him not to worry about me for that evening, and flung
myself headlong into the whirl of gaiety, freedom from care, and
happiness, which seemed the normal condition of this extraordinary
gathering.
By and by I met with more friends, and between us we ‘improved the
shining hours’ preceding the supper, when we sat down, about a score
in all, to wind up the joyous evening. As a matter of course, during
the first part of the repast I was plied with questions about my
doings since we had met, and I was scarcely less eager to question the
questioners. This or that one from whom I parted as a sub-lieutenant
had become a general; another who was an attaché when last I saw
him was now himself ambassador, and the majority were covered with
orders, conferred for their courage or their talent. And amidst the
general animation produced by the champagne, they took to recounting,
‘harum-scarum’ fashion, the happy circumstances to which they owed
their rapid promotion.
Among those rapid and brilliant careers there was, however, none
that caused me greater surprise than that of Zibin. In 1812, when,
yielding to a desire for travel, I quitted Moscow to visit the Crimea,
Ukraine, and Turkey,[21] Zibin had been my companion. In that long
course across the steppes of Russia, his constant gaiety and his clever
sallies did much to beguile the tedium of the journey, and to revive
my courage. Eighteen months had scarcely gone by since our return from
Tauris and our parting at Tulczim, he to follow Countess Potocka to
St. Petersburg, I to make my way to the Duc de Richelieu at Odessa,
and thence to Constantinople. At that period, Zibin had not joined the
army; in spite of this, he was now a lieutenant-colonel, aide-de-camp
to General Ojarowski, and on his breast glittered several orders.
Zibin had not been in St. Petersburg many days without becoming
aware that an idle life in society would not be conducive either to
consideration or glory; hence, he changed his civilian clothes for the
uniform of a non-commissioned officer of hussars. At the beginning of
the campaign he was made an ensign; a short time afterwards he got his
company. One day, his general commanded him to make a reconnaissance
with fifty Cossacks in order to bring back some malingerers. At a
couple of miles distance from the encampment, Zibin notices a black
mass hidden among the reeds. They turn out to be guns left by the enemy
before retreating. There were sixteen of them. The troops dismount,
the horses are put to the gun-carriages, and a few hours later Captain
Zibin returns in possession of a small but complete artillery park,
practically fished out of the marshes.
The Emperor was not far away, and Zibin himself was instructed to
convey the particulars of his capture. Alexander read the report, and,
giving the young hussar the credit of a success solely due to chance,
conferred upon him there and then the rank of major, at the same time
taking from his own breast the Cross of St. George and fastening it
into the buttonhole of the freshly promoted officer. The rest was
mainly the natural consequence of this first piece of luck: new orders
were added to that one, and as it never rains but it pours, Zibin,
during the many leisure hours in camp, had gambled, and won not less
than four hundred thousand roubles. The Prince de Ligne was not far
wrong in saying that glory was a courtesan who gets hold of you when
you least expect it.
Towards the end of the evening another lucky chance made me run up
against my excellent friend, General Tettenborn. ‘We have got a good
deal to tell each other,’ he said. ‘It’s of no use starting here. Let
us go and dine to-morrow by ourselves at the Augarten; it is the only
means of not being interrupted.’
Naturally, I accepted, and Tettenborn was punctual to the minute.
‘Though as a rule, the Viennese restaurateurs do not give you a good
dinner,’ he began, ‘I happen to have been in their good books here for
many years, and Yan has promised to do his best.’ And in fact, quantity
made up for quality. When we got to the dessert, and some Tokay was put
before us, my friend at once began his interesting story.
‘Since I saw you last, the events of my life have followed each other
in as quick a succession as the circumstances that gave them birth. You
are aware of my having accompanied Prince Schwartzenberg on his mission
to Paris. I was still there when the King of Rome was born, and I was
selected to carry the news to our emperor.’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and I read in all the newspapers that you made that
journey of three hundred and twenty leagues [about nine hundred and
sixty miles] in four days and a half.’
‘That’s easily explained. As far as Strasburg, I had the race-horses
of the prince, and from the Austrian frontier I had the horses of his
brother, Prince Joseph, from stage to stage, as far as Vienna.
‘I’ll spare you the particulars of my stay in Paris. It was a
perfect whirl of excitement from beginning to end. Society was the
brilliant reflex of the astounding prosperity of France, of her
numerous victories, and her enthusiasm for everything pertaining to
art. Our Austrian legation met with a specially cordial welcome. It
was a succession of entertainments similar to those you are seeing
here, but with different capitals for their _locale_. After having
accompanied Prince Schwartzenberg a second time, but on that occasion
to St. Petersburg, I exchanged the delightful life of society and
drawing-rooms for that of the barracks of my regiment, then quartered
at Buda. The transition could not have been more startling if I had
retired into a Trappist monastery, when suddenly the whole of Europe
breathed fire and flame.
‘I was thirty-four years old, and although the first days of my youth
were not idly spent, chance has done more for me during the latter
period than I had reason to expect. My mind was soon made up. I decided
to go to the spot where the fire raged most fiercely, to embark upon
a life so entirely at variance with my former habits. I was living
with Baron de ----, a friend of my childhood, who was a major in my
regiment, and who like myself was calculating the few chances of rapid
promotion in the Austrian service.
‘“This,” I said to him one morning, “is a unique opportunity to provide
for the future. Let us go to the Russians and offer them our swords as
partisans. This bids fair to be an easy and lucrative campaign, likely
to lead to many things by its quickly succeeding phases. Besides, it
is sometimes sweet to embark in adventures, and to trust everything to
fate. As for me, I have made up my mind to go. Will you, too, come?”[22]
‘The decision of a moment in one’s life often shapes the rest of it. My
friend hesitated and left me to go alone. Alas, his regrets proved too
much for him.’[23]
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘I know he regretted it. The regret was intensified
by the news of your success, which the papers published in all its
detail. He practically lost his head over it, for on no other theory
can one account for his suicide, which, curiously enough, happened
while I was at Pesth, on my return from Constantinople. He blew out his
brains in a room next to my own at the inn where I was staying, and I
was told that despair and tardy regret had led him to commit the deed.’
‘No one has regretted this more than I,’ said Tettenborn, ‘for he was a
devoted friend as well as a distinguished officer. I have not the least
doubt that circumstances would have served him as well as they did me,
but one must go with the tide in order that the tide may carry you.
When I reached the Russian headquarters, I received orders to raise
a regiment. That was soon done, and they gave me the command of it.
Three months after I left Buda, I was a general, and empowered to grant
commissions equal in grade to that which I held when I turned my back
upon my garrison. The papers, perhaps, informed you how I got hold of
the private chest of Napoleon. A part of that immense loot came to my
share. An attempt to take Berlin by surprise, though it failed, brought
my name to the front. At the head of four regiments of cavalry, of two
squadrons of hussars, and of an equal number of dragoons, with only two
pieces of artillery, I marched on Hamburg. After several engagements,
the city surrendered on the 18th March 1813. The inhabitants received
me with the greatest enthusiasm, and I was, as others had been before
me, the hero of the hour. When appointed military governor of the
place, I rescinded the severe orders Marshal Davoust had deemed fit to
impose. The grateful Hamburgers conferred upon me the freedom of their
city, and sent me the document to that effect in a magnificent golden
casket.
‘Events have marched very rapidly, and by their side strode glory and
rewards. I have had most of the military orders bestowed upon me, and
now the allied sovereigns have still further shown their good-will by
presenting me with an estate consisting of two convents in Westphalia,
the rent-roll of which will certainly amount to no less than forty
thousand florins. Those various bits of success have had the happy
result of reducing my affairs to something like order; and, inasmuch
as there comes in every man’s life a period for settling down, I, my
friend, am going to get married. I simply worship my future wife. There
are no regrets about the past, there is no fear about the future, and
as far as I can foresee, I’ll let fate take care henceforth of my
existence. And albeit the _dénouement_ may appear somewhat abrupt to
you, you will admit, I feel certain, that the story promises to be none
the less happy.’
‘At which happiness, my dear general, all your friends will rejoice.’
The narrative, which I have abridged here, was, however, recounted at
much greater length, and in yielding to the fascination of this cordial
and confidential talk we had let the time slip by, and the clock struck
nine when we reached the Carlenthor theatre. The performance consisted
of Haydn’s celebrated oratorio ‘The Creation.’ The house, lighted up
by countless wax candles, and the private boxes sumptuously draped,
presented a magnificent sight. Several of these boxes had been set
apart for the sovereigns, others were filled with the members of the
Corps Diplomatique. As for the floor of the house (_le parterre_), it
was crowded to such an extent with people blazing with orders that
it might safely have been described as a parterre of knights, just
as the floor of the theatre at Erfurt had been called a parterre of
kings and princes. ‘In the presence of such a number of ribands,’ said
Tettenborn, ‘it would be hazardous to conclude that they are all due to
merit.’
‘Signal distinctions, my dear general,’ I replied, ‘are like the
Pyramids; only two species can attain them, reptiles and eagles.’
‘I’ll be with you to-morrow at ten,’ said General Tettenborn when we
parted, ‘and we’ll go together to the grand military fête in honour of
the peace. Before laying down their arms, the sovereigns wish to offer
their thanks to Providence for the great favours vouchsafed to them.’
Sharp to the minute, like an Austrian _Rittmeister_ (cavalry-captain),
Tettenborn was at my door. It was a bright and mild October morning,
and shortly afterwards we were galloping towards the gentle slope
between the New and the Burg Gates. On our way we fell in with some
acquaintances, attracted thither, like myself, by curiosity. Tettenborn
wore his general’s brilliant uniform; a profusion of military orders
on his breast certainly attested the kindness of Dame Fortune, but
also her discrimination in having favoured him. Immediately on our
reaching the ground, he was obliged to leave us in order to join the
suite of Emperor Alexander, but I remained surrounded by friends, and
advantageously placed to observe all the particulars of that beautiful
function. Although in an essentially military epoch similar solemnities
had often been seen, I doubt if that one was ever equalled with regard
to its _ensemble_ and its majestic pomp. The war, the terrible struggle
the relentlessness and duration of which had astounded the world, was
just at an end. The glory-compelling giant was, if not vanquished, at
any rate overcome by numbers; and the intoxication and the enthusiasm
consequent upon the success were sufficient to prove the strength of
the adversary and the unexpected joy of the triumph.
Several battalions of infantry, many regiments of cavalry, among others
the Schwartzenberg Uhlans, and the cuirassiers of the Grand-Duke
Constantine, the brother of Alexander and the sometime Viceroy of
Poland, were massed on an immense field. All these troops wore most
brilliant uniforms.
The sovereigns came on the ground on horseback, and the soldiery formed
a huge double square, in the centre of which stood a vast tent, or
rather a temple erected in honour of the general pacification. The
columns supporting the structure were decorated with panoplies of arms,
and with standards fluttering in the breeze. The lawn immediately
around was strewn with flowers and foliage. In the middle of the tent
there was an altar covered with rich cloths, and set out with all the
ornaments of the Roman Catholic ritual, magnificently chased, either in
gold or silver. Countless wax tapers shed their light, somewhat subdued
by the rays of the sun standing brilliantly in the sky. Red Damascus
carpets covered the steps of the altar.
Shortly afterwards there was a long string of open court carriages,
each drawn by four horses, and containing the empresses, queens, and
archduchesses, who on alighting seated themselves in velvet-covered
chairs. When everybody had taken up the position assigned to them--the
crowd of military, courtiers, equerries and pages constituting
a matchless spectacle--the venerable Archbishop of Vienna, who,
notwithstanding his great age, had insisted upon officiating, performed
High Mass. Practically the whole of the Vienna population had repaired
to the spot to enjoy the spectacle.
At the moment of blessing the Bread and the Wine, the guns thundered
forth a salute to the God of Hosts. Simultaneously, all those warriors,
princes, kings, soldiers, and generals fell on their knees, prostrating
themselves before Him in whose hands rests victory or defeat. The
feeling of reverence had evidently communicated itself to the huge mass
of spectators, who spontaneously bared their heads and also knelt in
the dust. The cannons became once more silent, and their thunder was
succeeded by a solemn hush, amidst which the high priest of the Lord
raised the sign of the Redemption, and turned towards the army to
confer the supreme benediction. The religious ceremony was at an end.
Amidst the clanking of swords and the rattling of muskets, the huge
gathering rose to its feet; and then a choir intoned in German the hymn
of peace, which was accompanied by an orchestra of wind instruments.
Without any pre-meditation the strains were taken up by the voices
of the numberless spectators. No human ear ever heard anything more
imposing than this spontaneous and harmonic praise of peace and the
glory of the Highest. That hymn of gratitude and adoration rising upon
the air amidst the smoking incense, the thunder of the artillery,
the ringing of the bells of all the churches; the princes surrounded
by their resplendent staffs, the multi-coloured uniforms, the arms,
glittering breastplates, and sombre bronze of the cannons lighted up
by the brilliant sun; the white-haired priest blessing from before
his altar the prostrate crowd; the mingling of the symbols of war and
peace--constituted a unique picture not likely to be seen again, and
which no painter’s brush, however powerful, could adequately reproduce.
It constituted a poetical and sublime sight, baffling description.
After the religious ceremony, the sovereigns and all the princesses
took up a position on a knoll near the Burg Gate, the troops marched
past, the Grand-Duke Constantine and the other princes at the head of
their own regiments. The air rang; with unanimous cheers and wishes
for the consolidation of peace, that first and foremost necessity
of peoples. Such, sketched in brief, was the fête invested with
a particular character and fitting in so well with the series of
magnificent pageants and dazzling entertainments. The Austrian Court,
in fact, dispensed the hospitality of its capital to its guests with
truly fabulous pomp. Memory almost fails to recall, for the purpose of
recording, all the brilliant details. The imagination is virtually
powerless to reconstruct the dazzling splendour of the picture as a
whole.
To beguile the leisure of those kings who, it would be thought, ought
to have been surfeited with the counterfeits of battles, twenty
thousand picked grenadiers had been quartered at Vienna. There was,
moreover, the announcement of a camp to be formed of sixty thousand
troops with a view of having grand manœuvres. The superb ‘nobiliary
guards’ had been considerably increased by the joining of young men
belonging to the most distinguished families of the monarchy. The whole
of the troops had been provided with new uniforms: there was an evident
desire to remove all traces of warfare, so as not to sadden those
participating in the feasts and entertainments exclusively designed to
celebrate peace and to promote pleasure.
All the stud farms of Germany had been requested to send their most
magnificent horses. The grand dignitaries of the crown held ‘open
house’ each day for the eminent personages of the suites of the various
sovereigns. The Court had invited the Paris Opera dancers of both
sexes to come to Vienna; and the Austrian Imperial Company had also
been reinforced. The most celebrated actors of Germany had likewise
been ‘commanded,’ and they appeared in new pieces, appropriate to the
universal rejoicing, and calculated to prevent that joy from getting
fagged.
Emperor Franz had thrown open his palace to his illustrious guests. At
a rough calculation, the imperial residence held, at that particular
moment, two emperors, a similar number of empresses, four kings, one
queen, two heirs to thrones (one royal, the other imperial), two
grand-duchesses, and three princes. The young family of the emperor had
to be relegated to Schönbrunn. Attracted by the novelty of all this,
an immense crowd surrounded the palace at all hours, eager to catch a
glimpse of the members of a gathering unique in the annals of history.
The Viennese seemed justly proud of having had their city selected
for the holding of these grandiose states-general. In fact, the
forgathering in the self-same capital of the first powers of Europe
constituted one of the most extraordinary events of all the ages.
The Congresses of Münster, of Ryswick, and Utrecht had only been
plenipotentiary conferences. One had to go back for three centuries, as
far as 1515, to find a similar assembly of crowned heads, when in that
same city of Vienna Maximilian had entertained the Kings of Hungary,
Bohemia, and Poland. And it was remembered that the presence of these
monarchs had been attended with the most salutary results to the
grandeur of Germany.
In order to convey an idea of the expenses of the Austrian Court, it
will suffice to say that the imperial table cost fifty thousand florins
per day. This was keeping ‘open table’ with a vengeance. Hence, it is
not surprising that the extraordinary expenses of the fêtes of the
Congress, during the five months of its duration, amounted to forty
millions of francs. It remains to be asked whether the purport of that
great gathering, and the gravity of the circumstances, justified such
joyous lavishness immediately after the termination of a war which had
lasted for a quarter of a century and which seemed to have dried up the
sources of wealth and of pleasure?
If we add to the expenses of the Court those of more than seven hundred
envoys, we may get something like an accurate idea of the extraordinary
consumption of all things in Vienna, and of the immense quantity of
money put into circulation. In fact, the influx of strangers was such
as to increase the prices of all commodities, and especially of wood
for fuel, to an incredible degree. As a consequence, the Austrian
Government was obliged to grant supplementary salaries to all its
employés.
In the long run, the imagination was at fault in projecting new
entertainments for each day: banquets, concerts, shooting parties,
masked balls and musical rides. Following the example of the head of
their noble family, the princes of the House of Austria had distributed
among themselves the various parts of hosts, in order to entertain
their company of illustrious guests with becoming pomp and dignity.
There was such a dread of an interruption of those pleasures as to
prevent the Court from going into mourning for Queen Maria-Caroline
of Naples.[24] It should be said, though, that this last daughter of
Maria-Theresa ended her life before the arrival of the sovereigns.
To save appearances, they avoided notifying her demise officially,
lest the sombre hues of mourning should cast a sad note on gatherings
devoted exclusively to joy and freedom from care.
The intercourse of the sovereigns was marked by a condition of
unparalleled intimacy. They vied in showing reciprocal friendliness,
attentions, and in anticipating each other’s wishes. Not a day went
by without interviews conducted with a cordial frankness worthy of
the age of chivalry. Were they bent upon disproving all that had been
said about the want of mutual understanding, the ambitious views, the
motives of personal interest which generally distinguish a congress of
crowned heads? Or did they yield to the novelty and charm of a mode of
living and a feeling of brotherhood contrasting so forcibly with the
frigid etiquette of their Courts?
In order to avoid the restraint of a rigorous ceremonial and of
questions of precedence, it had been arranged between them that age
alone should decide points of priority in everything, at their entering
and leaving apartments, at the promenades on horseback, and in their
carriage drives. The decision, it was said, was due to the initiative
of Emperor Alexander. The following are the ranks as they were settled
according to age:--
1. The King of Würtemberg, born in 1754.
2. The King of Bavaria, born in 1756.
3. The King of Denmark, born in 1768.
4. The Emperor of Austria, born in 1768.
5. The King of Prussia, born in 1770.
6. The Emperor of Russia, born in 1777.
This precedence was, however, only observed in the pleasure parties. As
for the official deliberations of the Congress, the sovereigns did not
attend any.
One of their first acts of courtesy was the reciprocal bestowal of the
badges and stars of their Orders. Those various decorations of all
shapes and denominations became a positive puzzle, for besides a long
list of the saints of the calendar, there were some of the strangest
names, like _the Elephant_, _the Phœnix_, _the Black, Red, and White
Eagles_, _the Sword_, _the Star_, _the Lion_, _the Fleece_, _the Bath_,
etc. This exchange was the prelude to others somewhat more important,
such as the presents of kingdoms, provinces, or a certain number
of inhabitants. One of the ceremonies of that kind most frequently
referred to was the investment by Lord Castlereagh, on behalf of his
sovereign, of the Emperor of Austria with the Order of the Garter. The
Prince de Ligne, who was one of the eyewitnesses, told me that this
solemnity was conducted with much pomp and circumstance. Sir Isaac
Heard, Garter Principal King of Arms, came expressly from London.
It was he who invested the Emperor with the dress of the Order, and
attached that much coveted insignia; after which Lord Castlereagh
presented the latest recipient with the statutes of the Order. As a fit
acknowledgment of the courtesy, the Emperor conferred on the Prince
Regent and the Duke of York, his brother, the rank of field-marshal.
After having exhausted the series of their decorations, the sovereigns
began bestowing upon each other the colonelcies of the various
regiments of their armies. When the honour had been bestowed, the
recipient made it a point of appearing almost immediately in the
uniform of his regiment. Models were produced in hot haste, for it was
essential that not a button should be wanting. Tailors, escorted by
favourite aides-de-camp, immediately reconnoitred the ground, called
upon the possessors of those precious regimentals, and took note of
the minutest details in connection with them; after which the work
commenced--a pacific labour, notwithstanding its bellicose appearance,
to be terminated by the production of a complete dress from the spur of
the boot to the obligatory plume of feathers.
In accordance with these prescriptions, the Emperor of Austria
conferred upon his ‘good brother’ the Emperor of Russia, the Hiller
Regiment, and upon the Crown Prince of Würtemberg that of the
Blankenstein Hussars. Alexander returned the compliment by the bestowal
of one of his regiments of the Russian Imperial Guards; and to show
the importance he attached to the gift he had received, he desired
personally to present his new soldiers with their standard. This
standard had been magnificently embroidered by the Empress of Austria.
It displayed the words: ‘Indissoluble Union between the Emperors
Alexander and Franz.’ The regiment was drawn up in battle order on one
of the lawns of the Prater; a great crowd had gathered to witness the
ceremony, and Alexander, after receiving the colour from the hands of
the Empress of Austria, advanced towards the troops and presented it.
‘Soldiers,’ he said, ‘remember that it is your duty to die in defence
of this and in defence of your Emperor and of your colonel, Alexander
of Russia.’ It will be easily understood that words like these from
the lips of the Czar, who at that period was as handsome as he was
chivalrous, were calculated to arouse the enthusiasm of the soldiers to
whom they were addressed and of the numerous spectators privileged to
listen to them.
On the morning after this ceremony Alexander went on foot to
Field-Marshal Prince de Schwartzenberg’s, dressed in his new
regimentals, the only decoration on his breast being the metal cross of
the Military Order of the Austrian Army. To please General Hiller, his
new titular chief, he made him a present of ten thousand florins, and
in addition sent a thousand florins to each of his officers.
The habits of the sovereigns were those of private individuals. It was
evident that they were only too pleased to shake off the burden of
etiquette. Very often the Emperor of Austria and the King of Prussia
were to be seen strolling about the streets arm-in-arm and dressed in
mufti. Emperor Alexander similarly often took walks with Prince Eugène.
They paid each other visits and prepared surprises for one another
like cordial friends of old standing; in a word, royal good-fellowship
reigned throughout. On Emperor Franz’s fête-day[25] Emperor Alexander
and the King of Prussia bethought themselves of surprising him as he
left his bed, and made him a present, the one of a dressing-gown lined
with Russian sable, the other of a handsome silver basin and ewer
of exquisite workmanship and made in Berlin. The accounts of those
cordially intimate scenes found their way to the public and formed the
subject of general conversation.
Foremost among those sovereigns shone the King of Bavaria, the King
of Denmark, and the Emperor of Russia: the first in virtue of his
kindness, the second in virtue of his brilliant and subtle repartees,
the third in virtue of his courtesy and affable manners. Of all the
foreign princes, Frederick[26] was the most assiduous visitor to the
monuments and public institutions of the capital; and wherever he went,
he left traces of his liberality. As for Alexander, he never missed an
opportunity of showing the delightful grace of manner which at that
time won all hearts.
During a promenade on horseback in the Prater, the Emperor of Austria,
wishing to dismount for a moment, looked round in vain for some one of
his suite, from which he had got separated by the crowd. Alexander,
guessing his intention, nimbly jumped off his horse and held out his
hand to his fellow-sovereign, just as on a memorable occasion the
Great Frederick held the stirrup of Joseph II. As a matter of course,
the little scene drew unanimous cheers from all sides, showing the
appreciation of the crowd for the gracious impromptu.
On another occasion, at a review, a number of people pressed around
Alexander, eager to catch a glimpse of his face. A countryman seemed
even more anxious than the rest, trying to elbow his way through the
serried mass. Alexander caught sight of him. ‘Friend,’ he said, ‘you
wished to see the Emperor of Russia; now you can say that you have
spoken to him.’
To the foreign visitors, an easy life like this, constantly enhanced
by entertainments, really constituted a delightful existence. In
order fitly to celebrate that memorable gathering, Vienna appeared
determined to increase the programme of recreations it generally
afforded. Situated in the centre of Southern Germany, the city
provided, as it were, an oasis of delightful calm and ‘happy-go-lucky’
leisure amidst the grave, scientific, and philosophical occupations
of the neighbouring countries. Wholly given up to the pleasure of the
senses, its existence was composed of fêtes, banquets, dances, and
above all, music. It had pressed into its service as an auxiliary
that excellent wine of Hungary, calculated to give an extra zest to
rejoicings of all kinds. Thus provided, it glided smoothly on, allowing
itself to be governed with the gentle impassiveness bred of material
satisfaction.
Strangers are generally well treated in Vienna. The inhabitants are
cordially hospitable; the authorities conciliatory and frank. In return
for this, strangers are only asked to abstain from speaking or acting
against the Government. On those conditions the welcome never fails;
but woe to the stranger who transgresses those laws of prudence. He
immediately gets a little note inviting him to present himself next
morning before the magistrate entrusted with the police supervision of
the capital. In the sweetest tones imaginable he receives a hint of his
passport ‘not being quite in order’ and that by this time the business
which brought him to the city must be terminated. In vain does he
remonstrate, and protest his loyalty to all constituted authorities. In
vain does he insist upon his simple wish to enjoy the sweet life of the
capital. It is all ineffectual, he is bound to depart.
This, at normal periods, is the method of the Vienna police. It is,
however, easy to understand that at the time of the Congress, and amid
so many questions of intense interest, it would have been difficult
to prevent political speculation and conversation. Fortunately, the
Austrian Government found a powerful auxiliary in the general pursuit
of pleasure. In reality, little or no attention was paid to diplomatic
discussions. With the exception of some idlers or journalists who
had selected the Graben for their meeting-place and rostrum, society
was engrossed with the pleasures of the fête of the hour, or with
preparations for that of the next day.
[Illustration: COUNT NESSELRODE.]
The utmost secrecy was observed with regard to the deliberations taking
place at the official residence of the Chancellor of State. M. de
Metternich presided at these. His colleagues had wished to bestow that
honour upon him in recognition of the gracious hospitality accorded
to them. It had been agreed, however, that the chairmanship implied
no supremacy in favour of the Austrian crown. The plenipotentiaries
were: for Russia, the Comte de Nesselrode[27] and the Baron de Stein;
for France, the Prince de Talleyrand and the Duc de Dalberg; for
Prussia, the Prince d’Hardemberg; for Austria, M. de Metternich; for
Würtemberg, the Comte de Wintzingerode; for Bavaria, the Prince de
Wrède; for Spain, the Chevalier de Labrador; for Portugal, the Duc
de Palmella; for Sicily, the Commandeur Alvaro Ruffo; and for Naples,
the Duc de Campochiaro. What happened at those most secret sittings of
these famous diplomatists? It is not my province to speculate upon the
subject; it belongs to posterity to appreciate the grave results.
Meanwhile the sovereigns generally spent their mornings in reviewing
the troops at parades, and at shooting-parties, either at the Prater
or at this or that royal demesne. On the other hand, they forgathered
every day for an hour before dinner, and were supposed to discuss the
subjects that had occupied the attention of their plenipotentiaries.
The carping outside world maintained, however, that politics were
the thing least talked of in that august Olympian assembly, and that
the announcement of a forthcoming pleasure party more often than not
monopolised the conversation. Business was ousted and the gods became
simple mortals.
Of all the entertainments at the Austrian Court, the most brilliant
were unquestionably the grand routs at the Imperial Palace. Thanks to
the Prince de Ligne, I was privileged to see the smaller masked rout on
the occasion of the arrival of the Emperor of Russia and the King of
Prussia. At the latter kind of reception, the sovereigns either wore
masks or remained nominally incognito by other means. At the grand
routs, on the contrary, they appeared in all their brilliancy and
displaying all their orders, while the princesses blazed with diamonds.
I was unable to witness the first of those grand routs, hence I became
most anxious not to miss the second. The excellent Prince de Ligne
once more undertook to introduce me and to be my guide; and together
we made our way to the Burg. The sovereigns had as yet not made their
appearance. I had therefore ample time to feast my eyes upon the
unique sight before me, which after many years I still consider the
most dazzling _ensemble_ I ever saw, in the matchless splendour of
its decorations, the richness and variety of the dresses, and the
illustrious conditions of the personages. To the grand hall had been
added two adjacent smaller ones, connected by a gallery. The hall
originally set apart for the smaller routs had also been thrown open.
Finally, the Imperial Riding-school, a masterpiece of architecture, had
been transformed into a ball-room. To enumerate all the particulars
of the interior decorations would be practically an impossible task.
The staircases and the galleries were positively covered with a
profusion of flowers and plants, the latter of the rarest description.
The principal drawing-room was reached by an avenue of orange-trees;
immense candelabra, holding wax tapers and placed between the boxes,
lustres, with thousands of crystal drops, shed a fantastic light
amidst the foliage of those splendid trees, throwing into relief their
branches and blossoms. The small hall was decorated with huge baskets
of flowers, the blending of whose colours invested the whole with the
appearance of a fairy garden. The hangings were of some silk material
of the purest white, set off by silver ornaments. The seats were
upholstered in velvet and gold. From seven to eight thousand wax tapers
shed a light more brilliant than that of day. Finally, the strains of
several bands heightened the effect of that marvellous spectacle.
In the riding-school a platform had been prepared for the sovereigns.
It was decorated with panoplies and standards, and, as in the grand
hall, its hangings were of white silk fringed with silver.
The diversity of uniforms, the profusion of orders and decorations
were, however, as nothing to the gathering of charming women. If it was
true that at the particular moment Europe was represented at Vienna
by her celebrities in every walk of life, it was equally certain that
female beauty had not been excluded in deference to fame. Never did a
city hold within its walls as many remarkable women as did the capital
of Austria during the six months of the Congress.
Suddenly there was a blast of trumpets; the sovereigns made their
entrance conducting the empresses, queens, and archduchesses. After
having made the round of the hall amidst general acclamations, they
proceeded to the riding-school and took their seats on the platform.
In the first row there were the Empresses of Austria and Russia, the
Queen of Bavaria and the Grande-Duchesse d’Oldenbourg, the well-beloved
sister of Alexander, whose likeness to Alexander was so striking. Then
came the Archduchess Beatrice, Grand-Duchess of Saxe-Weimar.
The seats on the right and left were occupied by the galaxy of women
who at that moment disputed the palm of beauty and elegance with each
other: the Princesse de la Tour et Taxis, the Comtesse de Bernsdorff,
the Princesse de Hesse-Philippstal, in all the splendour of her
imposing and statuesque loveliness; her two daughters, bidding fair
to rival their mother; the Comtesse d’Apponyi, tall and lithe, with
most expressive eyes; the Princesses Sapieha and Lichtenstein, whose
beauty was of a more regular and gentler cast; the Comtesse Cohari,
the Princesses Paul Esterhazy and Bagration; the daughters of Admiral
Sidney Smith;[28] the Comtesse Zamoyska, _née_ Czartoryska, tall, fair,
with a skin of dazzling whiteness, who in herself virtually represented
every kind of Polish female beauty. There were many more whose names
and portraits will often recur in these _Recollections_.
Meanwhile, to the sound of inspiriting dance strains, there entered
a group of masked children in fancy dress, who performed a Venetian
pantomime, followed by an extensive ballet. The expressive attitudes,
the varied evolutions and steps of those youthful performers seemed to
afford great enjoyment to the illustrious spectators.
After the departure of the sovereigns the bands struck up a series of
waltz tunes, and immediately an electric current seemed to run through
the immense gathering. Germany is the country that gave birth to the
waltz; it is there, and above all in Vienna, that, thanks to the
musical ear of the inhabitants, that dance has acquired all the charm
inherent in it. It is there that one ought to watch the apparently
whirl-like course, though in reality regulated by the beat of the
music, in which the man sustains and carries away his companion, while
she yields to the spell with a vague expression of happiness tending
to enhance her beauty. It is difficult to conceive elsewhere the
fascination of the waltz. As soon as its strains rise upon the air, the
features relax, the eyes become animated, and a thrill of delight runs
through the company. The graceful gyrations of the dancers, at first
somewhat confused, gradually assume accurately timed movements, while
the spectators whom age condemns to immobility beat time and rhythm,
mentally joining in the pleasure which is bodily denied to them.
The pen fails to reproduce that enchanting scene of beauteous women
covered with flowers and diamonds, yielding to the irresistible strains
of the harmony, and being carried away in the strong arms of their
partners until sheer fatigue compelled them to pause. The pen fails to
reproduce the magnificent sight, to which daylight streaming through
the windows put an end.