‘Have you read a statement drawn up by M. Pozzo di Borgo in connection with Poland?’ said M. L—— to a group surrounding him. ‘The political world is very much concerned about it. The author aims to show that, for many reasons, this country must not be granted its independence, but must be entirely incorporated with Russia.’
‘It is but natural,’ was the answer, ‘that M. Pozzo di Borgo should have posed as the enemy of both the principles and the person of Napoleon. This is easily conceivable and easily explicable by allowing for the poison of the Corsican vendetta, which becomes an heirloom from generation to generation. In his country hatred is a family inheritance: God alone knows how far it goes back and where it will end. But what has that ill-fated nation done to M. Pozzo that he should oppose the good-will shown towards her here?’
‘M. Pozzo defends the cause of the country which adopted him. Employed by Russia, he has become a Russian.’
‘But is not this carrying devotion to ingratitude? Is it possible, then, that the recollection of past benefits is denied to the political writer to such a degree as to make M. Pozzo forget that Prince Adam Czartoryski virtually “picked him up” on his arrival in Russia; that he took him and, as it were, guided him to that temple the first steps of which he aspired to ascend? When M. Pozzo came back from Constantinople, where his efforts to ingratiate himself with Admiral Siniavin had been paralysed either by the intrigues or by the real merit of M. le Comte Capo d’Istria, he was bound to make up at St. Petersburg for the check he had received at the Bosphorus by a fresh attempt. Prince Adam was, for the travelling diplomatic apprentice, a veritable godsend. To write a diatribe against the country of the prince is tantamount to attacking his own star. From a political point of view it is, perhaps, very clever. I scarcely care to ask what it is from an ethical point.’
‘You know that M. Pozzo claims the priority of the idea of having directed the march of the allied armies on Paris?’
‘Yes; but it is also said that after the event the claim was preferred by the other prophets. If it had failed, there would doubtless be fewer oracles to-day.’
‘Well, it is probable that M. Pozzo will go very far before we have finished with him. To succeed in politics, one must forget family and country, tread underfoot gratitude, stifle the dearest affections, deny the principles of one’s life, and at that price only glory and success come within one’s grasp.’
An untoward fate seemed to dog the sleighing-party projected by the Austrian Court. It had been postponed several times in consequence of a change of temperature. One day the cold seemed to promise for the next the hard and polished surface necessary to those northern chariots, then a thaw would set in and soften the layer of ice spread on the earth. Finally, a downright frost began, preceded by an abundant snowfall, and the imperial promenade was once more fixed. From early morning an immense crowd gathered on the Josef Platz, where the sleighs were to meet. Nearly all had been refurbished; those intended for the emperors and sovereigns were in the form of a calèche, and were decorated with a taste and lavishness productive of the happiest results. They sparkled with the brightest colours, enhanced with gold. The cushions, of emerald-coloured velvet, were trimmed with fringe of the same metal. The harness, displaying the scutcheon of the imperial house, was hung with silver bells. The sleighs of the high personages of the Congress and of the Austrian nobility vied both in richness and elegance with those of the sovereigns: silk, velvet, and gilding everywhere, while every sleigh was drawn by horses of price, caparisoned with tiger skins and rich furs, their flowing manes plaited with knots and ribbons. They were with difficulty kept in hand, the tinkling of the bells rendering them more spirited than usual, and anxious to get away with the light loads behind them.
While awaiting the signal to start, the privileged promenaders had forgathered within the Imperial Palace. At two o’clock the order was given, and the illustrious company came down, taking their seats, the sovereigns in accordance with the rule of precedence prevailing in their case, the others according to the rank determined by mere chance. To each cavalier a lady is assigned by lot as his companion on the road. A blast of trumpets is heard, and the procession begins its march.
A detachment of cavalry comes forward, preceding the sergeants and sergeants’ caterers of the Court, mounted on richly caparisoned cattle. They are followed by an immense sleigh drawn by six horses and containing an orchestra of kettledrums and trumpets. The grand equerry, Trauttmansdorff, on horseback, and followed by his men-at-arms, comes afterwards, then immediately after that, the sleighs of the sovereigns. The first sleigh is that of the Emperor of Austria, piloting the charming Elizabeth of Russia. In the second was Emperor Alexander with the Princesse d’Auersberg; then came the King of Prussia with the Comtesse Julie Zichy, the King of Denmark with the Grande-Duchesse de Saxe-Weimar, and the Grand-Duke of Baden with the grand-mistress of the Court, the Comtesse Lazanski. Twenty-four young pages, richly dressed in mediæval costumes, and a squadron of the Hungarian Nobiliary Guards provided the escort for the sovereigns’ sledges.