The constant variety of its patrons invested this improvised club with the greatest interest. Among the habitués were the Chevalier de Los Rios, Ypsilanti, Tettenborn, MM. Achille Rouen, Koreff, Danilewski, the Prince Koslowski, Gentz, the secretary of the Congress, the Comte de Witt, Carpani, the poet, ever so many generals, ambassadors, and very often some royal highnesses. Narischkine, the great-chamberlain, came now and again, treating the company to his biting and dreaded sallies. In short, there was a never-failing muster of all that Vienna held within its walls in the way of political, artistic, and social celebrities.
The stories told there could have rightly been called the ‘Chronicle of the Congress,’ and even the ‘Chronicles of Europe’; everybody of note, or of erewhile renown, being apparently responsible for his doings and sayings to the jurisdiction of the caustic Areopagus of that tavern.
Although the fare was in keeping with the company and the conversation, prices were comparatively modest. In spite of the number of strangers in Vienna at that moment, in spite of their rank and their wealth, the cost of most things, except of lodgings, was moderate. The Dutch ducat was worth twelve florins in paper, which fact, doubling its value in money, increased the resources of a stranger in that ratio. The whole may be judged from the fact that meals, profusely served and supplemented with several kinds of wine, were supplied at the rate of five florins per head.
Griffiths and I took our seats at one of the tables. They were talking about the preparations for the fête next day at Razumowski’s, and of the honour the emperor had bestowed upon him by creating him a prince.
‘He deserved the distinction,’ said Koslowski. ‘The new prince, since he has been our ambassador at Vienna, has made many valuable friends. In the recent discussions on Poland, he was instrumental in restoring harmony, and in putting an end to the little pecking which threatened to become serious.’
‘Added to this,’ remarked the representative of a German princelet, ‘there is a prerogative attached to his new title. Henceforth, when going out at night he can have torch-bearers running in front of him.’
The new prince having become the momentary target for the remarks of everybody, there were, of course, many references to his enormous fortune, which, when all was said and done, was only a fraction of the wealth of his father, the marshal, who, greatly favoured by Empress Elizabeth, became the wealthiest private individual of Europe.[80] He and Frederick had a curious little scene one day. When the marshal was in Berlin the king held in his honour a review of the troops who had gone through a score of campaigns. In Russia all the dignities and functions are assimilated to corresponding military grades, from the lowest to the topmost rung of the ladder; nevertheless, the marshal had never seen a battlefield.
‘I trust you are pleased, marshal,’ said the King of Prussia at the termination of the manœuvres.
‘Much pleased indeed, sire, although the whole of it is altogether beyond my competence; I am only a civil marshal.’
‘You are indeed very civil, marshal; unfortunately we have no such grades in our army,’ replied Frederick.