I had practically lost sight of him altogether, but I knew that after a journey through Italy he had entered Parliament, where he had become one of the followers of his friend Sir Francis Burdett, and had gained a brilliant reputation as a speaker in the Opposition.
Two events of a wholly different order occupied people’s minds at that moment: the future destiny of the kingdom of Saxony, and the announcement of a musical ride, a fête of knightly prowess which was contemplated from the very first days of the Congress, and was to take place in the Imperial Riding-school. Saxony came in for a scant part of the conversation, but the preparations for the tournament were discussed at great length. It was to be one of the most magnificent entertainments hitherto projected, and there were frequent consultations of the printed and engraved descriptions of the famous carrousels of Louis XIV., which were to be eclipsed in splendour.
The Comtesse Edmond de Périgord, one of the twenty-four ladies who were to preside at the fête, told us that the dresses which were being prepared for it would surpass in richness everything that had been handed down concerning the elegance and the splendour of the Court ladies of the Grand Monarque.
‘I really believe that we shall be able to display all the pearls and diamonds of Hungary, Bohemia, and Austria combined,’ she said. ‘There is not a relative or friend of these ladies whose jewel-case has not been laid under contribution; and this or that heirloom in the way of precious stones, which has not seen the light of day for a century, will glitter on the dress of one of us.’
‘As for the knights,’ said the young Comte de Woyna, ‘in default of gorgeous dresses, they’ll certainly have magnificent horses. You’ll behold them go through evolutions and dance minuets with as much grace as the most nimble gentlemen of the Court.’
After this there was some animated conversation about the colours of the different quadrilles, and the supposed skill of the champions. Mottoes were quoted, and the ladies tried to get at their hidden meaning. The excellent King of Saxony and his states were absolutely forgotten; their cause had to make way for the more important discussion.
On leaving Mme. de Fuchs’s, I caught sight on the Graben of General Comte de Witt—a piece of luck, for the meeting reminded me of those happy and delightful days I had spent in Ukraine, at the hospitable and magnificent domain of Tulczim, the home of the Comtesse Potocka, the comte’s mother.
The only son of the first marriage of his handsome mother with General Comte de Witt, the descendant of the Grand Referendary of Holland, Comte de Witt’s military career was as rapid as it was brilliant. A soldier from his childhood, he was a colonel at sixteen, and at eighteen commanded one of the most splendid regiments in Europe, namely, the cuirassiers of the Empress. The campaigns of the last three years had given him excellent opportunities of distinguishing himself. In six weeks he had raised and equipped at his own cost, and on his mother’s property, four regiments of Cossacks, which he had taken to the Emperor, who made him a lieutenant-general, and entrusted him with the organisation of the military colonies. In 1828, in the war against the Turks, he re-entered the service and commanded the army of reserve. After the Peace of Varna, there was every prospect of his happiness, when death removed him unexpectedly and at an early age.
Comte de Witt had married the Princesse Josephine Lubomirska, one of the most distinguished women of Europe. Charming and graceful, her quick and well-read intellect only equalled by her inexhaustible kindness—such was the portrait of the Comtesse de Witt traced by all those who had the privilege of coming in contact with her.
Mme. de Fuchs had kept up the habit of supping, a habit so dear to our fathers, and the disappearance of which is so much regretted by those who are fond of joyous, frank, and unrestrained conversation, inspired by the gaiety of the moment.