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 Ligne15 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 Coigny16 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 manoeuvres. 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 Phoenix, 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-day25 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, Frederick26 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.

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 Nesselrode27 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.