‘Sire,’ ‘your majesty,’ might be heard at each corner of every table; royal highnesses, imperial highnesses, grand dukes, dukes, etc., were practically speaking, so many small-fry. If one added to all this the rank of the officers in attendance, equerries, cup-bearers, pantlers, most of these holding high rank; if one still further adds thousands of wax candles, causing the crystals to glint and to sparkle, and reflecting their light in the massive gold plate; if we still add the perfume of flowers mingling with the harmony of the instruments, the sweet familiarity, the intimacy of those masters of the world tempering the majesty of their gathering—if we consider all this, it will be admitted that the spectacle was likely to remain a unique one.
It was during these gala-fêtes that they served those famous Tokay wines, the exorbitant price of which is estimated at between a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty florins a bottle. The emperor had some in his cellars which was more than a century old; the precious nectar was only brought forth on solemn occasions, when it was necessary to drink the health of this or that sovereign, or to celebrate this or that grand anniversary. Chance had placed me not far away from the Baron Ompteda. We left together to go to the theatre of the Carinthian Gate. The main attraction was Flore et Zéphire, a ballet performed by the dancers of the Paris Opéra. The house was full, as usual. Indifferent to the entrechats and the pirouettes, I strolled about with Ompteda, pretty well certain that, if he were in the mood, I should soon be posted in all the particulars of the Congress, no one being more capable than he of attractively dishing up both the news of the Graben and of the drawing-rooms.
‘What is the news?’ I asked of my sprightly companion.
‘Everything is over or nearly over. All the clouds are dispersed. Europe owes the happy issue of the negotiations to the departure of Lord Castlereagh.’
‘Was Milord, then, the only obstacle to peace?’
‘No, you are wrong. It is not that. For the last four months they have been debating without coming to an agreement. All at once Lord Castlereagh is called to England for the opening of Parliament. You may easily conceive that he couldn’t return empty-handed; consequently he put some life into the deliberations, and hurried the conclusion of affairs, in order to show some results. What a pity it is the other nations haven’t some parliaments to be opened!
‘The Austrian Court is right enough,’ the Baron went on. ‘The European Areopagus has decided upon the fate of Naples and its imprisoned King Joachim. Its throne is going to be restored to the Bourbon branch. You are aware that the Imperial Chancellery decided not to notify officially the death of Queen Caroline, not knowing what title to give her. That bit of awkwardness has disappeared too.’
‘Yes, I remember that they took hold of a very honest pretext. The Court, it was said, would not cast a damper on the fêtes of the Congress by shedding official tears for the daughter of Maria-Theresa. In reality, the Court did not dare, or did not want, to decide the question of etiquette reserved for diplomacy, and now they are going to assume mourning for the poor queen at the moment when it would be more sensible to sing a Te Deum for the return of her husband to the throne of his fathers.’
‘One of your influential diplomatists here has a sweet trick of his own to get news from Paris to Vienna for the purpose of dishing it up in a peculiar fashion. He sends to his wife, Madame la Duchesse, the draught of a despatch. The docile secretary transcribes it, and a week after the carrier brings it back. Then they show, under the seal of the greatest confidence, notes from the Court of the Tuileries which have neither been dictated nor put in cypher there. In reality, they might save them the jolting of the journey.
‘Oh, by the by, have you heard of the duel which has just been fought between the Prince de ——, and the Comte ——?’