A sweet and gentle animation pervaded those gatherings, which were never interrupted by irritating political discussions. With her charming grace, the countess imposed on all her friends a law of mutual intimacy; consequently, they unanimously bestowed on her the title of their queen, a title she had accepted, and which she bore with a kind of serious dignity.
Her family as well as the number of her friends had increased during my absence from Vienna. The former were growing into beautiful beings, the latter, of whom she gave me some short biographical sketches, were as devoted as ever. Fortune, thanks to the rapidly succeeding events of the last few years, had forgotten none of them. All had become generals, ambassadors, or ministers.
The one to whom I felt most attracted was the Prince of Hesse-Homburg, then occupying a rank far distant from his exalted position of to-day. Parity of age, of tastes and of ideas drew me towards him. Like many of the princes of German sovereign houses, his fame was solely due to himself.
Having joined the army at fifteen, he became a prisoner of the French in one of the first wars of the Revolution, and was taken to Paris, where he was confined in the Luxembourg. He had the luck to have his life spared. Some time afterwards there was an exchange of prisoners, and he resumed his military career. All his grades were conferred upon him for distinguished services in the field, and at the period of which I am treating he was numbered among the most meritorious generals of the Austrian army.
When, subsequently, he became a field-marshal, he was sent to the Emperor of Russia, during the latter’s campaign against the Turks in 1828. To-day (1820) as Landgrave of Hesse-Homburg, Prince Philip is respected and worshipped by his subjects, whose happiness is his foremost thought.
Mme. de Fuchs asked me if I had seen anything more of George Sinclair, the young Englishman whose adventure with the Emperor Napoleon had at first drawn attention to him in Vienna, a few days before the battle of Jena. Mr. George Sinclair, who was on his way to Austria, was arrested by French scouts, and taken to headquarters on the suspicion of being a spy.
‘Whence came you, and whither are you going?’ asked the Emperor in a tone which foreshadowed a death-sentence. Sinclair, who spoke French with great facility, answered as briefly. ‘I have come from the University of Jena, and am going to Vienna, where letters and orders from my father, Sir John Sinclair, are awaiting me.’
‘Sir John Sinclair who has written frequently on agricultural questions?‘[33]
‘Yes, sire.’
The Emperor said a few words to Duroc, and continued his interrogatory in a kindlier tone. Mr. Sinclair, who was barely eighteen, was exceedingly well versed in geography and history. His conversation fairly astonished Napoleon, who, after talking with him for a couple of hours, ordered Duroc to give him an escort as far as the outposts, and to let him resume his journey. It was altogether an unexpected favour, and wholly due to his own worth.