Speaking of the Great Wall of China, the famous Dr. Johnson said somewhere that the grandson of a man who had caught a mere glimpse of it might still be proud of the opportunity vouchsafed to his grandsire. The exaggeration, Oriental like its subject, might strike me as excusable if the drift of it were applied, not to a monument capable of standing the test of ages, but to one of those men who appear at long intervals, or in connection with events that change the face of the world. Personally, I may confess to remaining more or less proud of my presence at the Congress of Vienna, and of having been privileged to see the many celebrities that forgathered there. But the most gratifying recollection, and also the one dearest to my heart, is that of the goodwill incessantly shown to me by the Prince de Ligne. For over two months I had the happiness of being admitted to his greatest intimacy, seeing him every day and at all hours, gathering from his lips the clever sentences and spontaneous sallies which he so lavishly dispensed. To-day, after many years, the indelible impression of his personality tends to reanimate my recollections, and lends life to the scenes I am endeavouring to reproduce.
The Prince de Ligne[15] was then in his eightieth year; in spite of this there is no exaggeration in saying that he had remained young. He had preserved the amiable character and the fascinating urbanity which had lent so much charm to his society. Hence the title of ‘the last of French knights’ was unanimously accorded to him.
At that period all the strangers, whether most celebrated in virtue of their rank or of their mental qualities, nay, the sovereigns themselves, made it a point, as it were, to show their reverence for him. He was still possessed of that freshness of imagination and inexhaustible, exquisite gaiety which had always distinguished him. His humour, kindly withal, though somewhat satirical, was principally directed at the really strange aspect the Congress began to assume, pleasure being seemingly the most important business. Amidst this general intoxication, amidst this uninterrupted series of entertainments, banquets, and balls, it was certainly not the least curious and interesting contrast to behold the imposing figure of the old marshal, occupying no official position, yet eagerly welcomed everywhere, and often painting the situation by an epigram, by a clever and pertinent remark, which went the round in no time.
The French were above all most eager for his society, and, in their turn, could reckon on the most cordial welcome. His journey to the French Court a few years previous to the Revolution had left the most heartfelt recollections; and his letters to the Marquise de Coigny[16] at that period show in every line his regret at being compelled to live away from a country and a people that had inspired him with such an ardent sympathy. In a word, the Prince de Ligne belonged to France both by the nature of his worth and by the quality of his mind.
My family having the honour of being allied to that of the Prince, he presented me on my first visit to Vienna in 1807 at the Court and everywhere as his cousin. From that moment until his death, his courtesy and goodwill never failed me at any succeeding visit. I was never tired of listening to him, and especially when his thoughts reverted to bygone times, which he had so long and so closely observed. He took delight in improving my mind with the treasures of his own, and in enlightening my youthful inexperience with the counsels and fruits of his own observation. Hence, to speak of the Prince de Ligne is simply, on my part, the acquittal of a debt. As a matter of course, my first call was due to him, and on the morrow of my arrival I made my way to his home.
‘You are just in time to see great doings,’ he said. ‘The whole of Europe is in Vienna. The tissue of politics is embroidered with fêtes, and inasmuch as at your age one is fond of joyous gatherings, balls, and pleasure, I can assure you beforehand of a series of them, because the Congress does not march to its goal; it dances. It is a royal mob. From all sides there are cries of peace, justice, equilibrium, indemnity; the last word being the new contribution of the Prince de Bénévent to the diplomatic vocabulary. Heaven alone knows who shall reduce this chaos to some semblance of order, and provide dams for the torrent of various pretensions. As for me, I am only a well-meaning and friendly spectator of the show. I shall claim nothing, unless it be a hat to replace the one I am wearing out in saluting the sovereigns I meet at every street-corner. Nevertheless, in spite of Robinson Crusoe,[17] a general and lasting peace will no doubt be concluded, for a feeling of concord has at length united the nations which were so long inimical towards each other. Their most illustrious representatives are already setting the example of it. We shall witness a thing hitherto unheard of: pleasure will bring in its wake peace, instead of strife.’
After this, he started asking me, with all the impetuosity of youth, a series of questions with reference to Paris, my travels, and my own plans, until he was interrupted by his servant informing him that his carriage was at the door.
‘You’ll come and dine with me to-morrow,’ he said; ‘and then we’ll go to the grand rout and ball. You’ll see the most practical common-sense of Europe wearing the motley of folly. When there I’ll explain to you in a few moments the curiosities of that grand piece of living tapestry composed of the most notable personages.’
The prince had kept to his habit of dining early: it was four o’clock when I reached his pretty house on the Bastion. It contained but one room on each story, hence he called it jocularly his ‘perch.’ His friends knew it by the name of ‘L’hôtel de Ligne.’ Shortly after my arrival he sat down to dinner, surrounded by his charming family.[18] Candidly speaking, the repast, like the well-known suppers of Madame de Maintenon, when she was still Widow Scarron, stood in need of the magic of his conversation to make up for its more than scanty fare. And although he himself ate nearly all the little dishes that were served, his guests were so thoroughly engrossed and delighted as to be rendered oblivious of the unsubstantial nature of the entertainment—until the end of it.
In the drawing-room we found some visitors; they were strangers of distinction, who, called to Vienna from every coign and nook of Europe, had craved an introduction to this living marvel of the previous century. Their number also contained several ‘lion-hunters,’ obtruding their presence from sheer curiosity, and for the sake of being enabled to say: ‘I have seen the Prince de Ligne,’ or else for the purpose of ‘rubbing minds with him,’ by carefully picking up his anecdotes and his sallies, which they afterwards hawked about, considerably disfigured, among their own sets.