We took our seats at a table, already occupied by at least a score of diners belonging to various nations. In spite of the difference of interest and of position in a country distant from their own, strangers were most eager to associate with each other: generals, diplomatists, and simple travellers were mingled together at this impromptu banquet. Some were ordnance officers of the sovereigns that had come to shear; others, advocates of those who were being shorn. The first part of the repast was, as usual, rather serious; people were taking stock of each other, and the music of an excellent band made up for the lack of conversation. They all seemed bent upon a diplomatic reserve.
I was seated near young Luchesini, who had arrived a few days previously, and who was sent to Vienna by the Grand-Duchess of Tuscany to concert measures with M. Aldini on the subject of Mme. Bacciochi’s claims on the grand-duchy and of the principality of Lucca.[51] I had seen M. Luchesini when he was very young at his mother’s in Paris; but for the moment I did not recognise him. The notable changes, both in his fortunes and in his person, were sufficient to justify my lapse of memory. His father, the Marquis de Luchesini, for many years the Prussian ambassador at the Court of Napoleon, had enjoyed great consideration in Paris,[52] a consideration well deserved in virtue of his conspicuous diplomatic talent and his intellectual attainments as a private individual. He had paid great attention to the education of his son, who, endowed with all the advantages calculated to ensure success, started in life under the most auspicious circumstances. Presented by his family at the new Court of Tuscany, and attracting the notice of the sovereign of the hour, he was appointed grand equerry. It was said that love, which abridges social distances, had made the young favourite the happiest of mortals. I soon discovered that his delicate position somewhat tied his tongue in his conversation with me. He informed me that his family was living on their beautiful estate near Lucca, and after a few general observations, we exchanged addresses, promising to meet again.
To the hundred thousand strangers in Vienna, the Congress was rather an immense pleasure-gathering than a political assembly. Truly, each sovereign had his ambassadors and ministers, but each country had also sent representatives of its best society. Upon the first-named devolved the discussions of international interest and the settlement of international problems; upon the second the more pleasant duty of giving fêtes, entertainments, and holding receptions. Among the plenipotentiaries of this drawing-room diplomacy stood foremost the Comtesse Edmond de Périgord for France; for Prussia, the Princesse de la Tour et Taxis (Thurn und Taxis); for England, Lady Castlereagh; for Denmark, Comtesse de Bernstorff.
The upper stratum of German society was divided into several factions or circles, and each had its particular shade and physiognomy. At the Princesses Marie Esterhazy’s, de Colloredo’s, de Lichtenstein’s, and at the Comtesse de Zichy’s, great courtesy and grace were added to the minutest and numberless details of an ever-watchful hospitality. At Mme. de Fuchs’s, the whole was on a less ceremonious footing; while, on the contrary, the acme of ceremoniousness was attained at the Princesse de Fürstenberg’s. Distinguished both for her learning and for her energy, the princess’s habitual guests were princes many of whom had become subjects. The handsome Duchesse de Sagan’s receptions were eagerly attended. She was a most intellectual woman, and could have exercised great influence on all serious affairs, inasmuch as her judgment was considered in the light of an authority, but she rarely made use of her advantages. The diplomatic celebrities forgathered at M. de Humboldt’s or at M. de Metternich’s, the latter of whom, undoubtedly, ought to have been named first. In fact, though his residence was the central point of affairs, he still found it possible to welcome strangers with the most indefatigable politeness.
The Russian drawing-room par excellence was that of the Princesse Bagration, the wife of the field-marshal of that name. She, as it were, enacted, though informally, the part of principal hostess to her countrymen who happened to be in Vienna. She was one of the most brilliant stars in that number of constellations the Congress had attracted. She seemed to have been singled out by the charm and the distinction of her manners to transfer thither the polished form and the aristocratic ease which at that time made the drawing-rooms of St. Petersburg the foremost of Europe. In that respect no minister-plenipotentiary would have used his opportunities to better purpose.
The Princesse Bagration, who since then has been much admired in Paris, was at that period in the zenith of her beauty. A young face, white like alabaster and slightly tinted with pink, small features, a sweet, though very feeling expression, to which her short-sightedness gave an air of timidity and uncertainty; of average height though exquisitely proportioned, and the whole of her personality pervaded by a kind of Oriental languor joined to an Andalusian grace—such was, without exaggeration, the charming hostess entrusted that evening with the amusement of those illustrious personages often as much bored as the ‘unamusable’ lover of Mme. de Maintenon.
When Prince Koslowski and I entered the drawing-rooms, the Emperor Alexander, the Kings of Prussia and of Bavaria, several other princes and sovereigns, and a considerable number of strangers of distinction had already arrived. The whole of the Russian aristocracy and the Russian celebrities at that moment forgathered in Vienna seemed to have appointed to meet there. MM. de Nesselrode, Pozzo di Borgo, the Comte Razumowski, Russian ambassador to the Austrian Court, and the Prince Volkonski were simply a trifle more conspicuous than the rest; but among this crowd of familiar faces I might well have fancied myself transferred to one of the hospitable palaces of St. Petersburg four years previously.
Among this crowd of notabilities, special mention should be made, in virtue of their high position and their intellectual charm, of the various members of the Narischkine family.
The Narischkines are closely related to the Imperial House of Russia. The mother of Peter the Great was a Narischkine; hence they consider themselves of an origin too noble to have any need of titles. In fact, that of ‘prince’ is so common in Russia as scarcely to constitute a distinction. The elder of the two brothers enjoyed the reputation of being the wittiest man at the Court of Emperor Alexander. His conversation was as varied as it was amusing, and a collection of his witticisms and epigrams would make a bulky volume, though they were neither as subtle nor as brilliant as those of the Prince de Ligne, not to mention those of Talleyrand; but when by chance, during the Congress, these three men were together, then, unquestionably, there was a real display of intellectual fireworks.
His daughter, the Princesse Hélène, had, in addition to great physical beauty, a naturally brilliant intellect and a noble, sympathetic heart. She married the son of the famous General Souvaroff, but her husband was drowned during a journey in Wallachia. In spite of the warning of his post-boy, he insisted upon crossing the little river Rimnik when it was swollen by the rains and had become a downright torrent. He was carried away by the current, without the slightest possibility of any one coming to his aid. At the time of Paul I.‘s death, the princess’s father occupied an apartment exactly under that of the emperor; she herself was a mere babe. Awakened by the noise and tumult that followed the assassination of Catherine the Great’s son, her nurse took her into her arms, and in her fear hid her in an isolated and disused sentry-box, where she was only found next morning.