In fact, a little while afterwards, the Comte Tolstoy, unable to survive the loss of his sovereign’s favour, died at Dresden, whither he had retired.
All at once a great silence fell upon the room. A young French actress, Mme. L——, a pupil of Talma, and a protégée of the Princesse Bagration, was going to recite. She had only recently arrived from Paris. Though French tragic poetry stands essentially in need of the illusion of the stage and the advantage of costume, that kind of entertainment was not indulged in so lavishly as it is to-day; hence, the handsome actress commanded great attention. She recited with much feeling some strophes from Zaïre, and did great credit to her tutor in the beautiful scene of the ‘Songe d’Athalie.’ She was cordially applauded and complimented, and never had a débutante such an audience to judge her.
After this, the guests crowded round a table set out with rich and elegant objects. There was to be a lottery, a kind of elegant diversion revived from the Court of Louis XIV., whose love for Mlle. de la Vallière had first suggested it to him. Then, as now, it was a favourite recreation with women. Each sovereign contributed to these lotteries one or more presents, which, falling to the lot of the lucky ones, afforded these an opportunity of presenting them to the ladies of their thought. That kind of amusement was frequently repeated during the Congress. The most remarkable lotteries were those drawn at the Princesse Marie Esterhazy’s and at Mme. Bruce’s, née Moushkin-Poushkine. The mania for them spread from the drawing-rooms to less distinguished places, and subsequently became the cause of an adventure which aroused much excitement.
Some of the prizes were magnificent, the Grand-duke Constantine won two magnificent vases contributed by the King of Prussia from the royal porcelain works at Berlin. He offered them to our charming hostess. The King of Bavaria won a handsome box in mosaic, which he begged Princesse Marie Esterhazy to accept; and the Comte Capo d’Istria drew a casket beautifully worked in steel, which he presented to the Princesse Volkonski. Two small bronze candlesticks fell to the share of Emperor Alexander. He gave them to Mlle. L——, to whom, it was said, he had become very attentive. ‘His majesty’s love affairs are not likely to entail any considerable draft on the imperial treasury,’ some one whispered close to me. ‘He had just made Mlle. L—— a present, by means of the candlesticks, of a few louis. This must be accounted as a piece of tremendous generosity, for as a rule he receives more than he gives. All the linen he wears is from the deft needle of Mme. Narischkine; he not only accepts the workmanship, but he always forgets to refund to her the cost of the material. The charming favourite makes no secret of it. Louis XIV. frequently crops up in conversation in connection with his fêtes at Versailles. Our sovereigns would do well to imitate them. However artistically chased those candlesticks may be, Mlle. L—— will not be prepared to think them as valuable as the diamond bracelets the Grand Monarque won at Madame’s lottery and which he offered in such an exquisite manner to La Vallière.’[54]
‘All this,’ said Prince Koslowski to me, ‘is certainly in excellent taste, but these fêtes are absolutely nothing in comparison with those given by Potemkin to Catherine in the Taurida and after the taking of Oczakoff. Our mothers are never tired of talking of them. There was also a kind of lottery, but skill instead of chance presided at it. In the ball-room there was a long row of marble columns, positively hung with garlands composed of jewels and trinkets. The dances were arranged so that every gentleman passing near these columns could detach from them some precious ornament which he offered to his partner. As you may imagine, that courtly fashion of offering presents was intensely relished by the fair sex, and Catherine herself discharged their debt of gratitude by heaping still greater riches on her favourite. That’s what I should call amusements fit for sovereigns. After all, we are becoming very mean.’
A great many prizes of minor importance were subsequently drawn for, and there was a kind of mild ‘give and take’ in connection with them. The room was so crowded that I only caught sight of Ypsilanti when he came forward to receive a sable cape which he offered to the Princesse Souvaroff. Taking advantage of a momentary thinning of the crowd, I drew up to them to say a few words to Princesse Hélène, whom I was sincerely pleased to meet again. ‘I dare say we have a lot to tell each other,’ she said. ‘Come with Ypsilanti to luncheon to-morrow. We’ll be more at our ease than here, and by ourselves. We’ll have a talk about bygone days.’ I accepted gladly, confident that her conversation would remind me of my stay in Russia, which constituted one of the best periods of my life.
When the sovereigns had retired, there were some music and dancing, followed by an elegant supper, without restraint and during which one could gossip to one’s heart’s content. It was, in short, one of those series of fleeting hours which at Vienna seemed to be woven of gold and silk by fairies in the loom of pleasure.