Prince Metternich, who was busy when we entered with a group,
examining some views of Venice, received me with that quaker-like
simplicity which forms the last polish of the perfect gentleman and
man of the world; "_les extremes se touchent_," in manners as in
literature: but for the riband of the Golden Fleece, which crossed his
breast, there was nothing to remind me that I was conversing with the
statesman, who, after the armistice of Plesswitz, held the destinies
of all Europe in his hands. After some conversation, the prince asked
me to call upon him on a certain forenoon.
Most of the diplomatic corps were present, one of whom was the amiable
and well-known Marshal Saldanha, who, a few years ago, played so
prominent a part in the affairs of Portugal. The usual resources of
whist and the tea-buffet changed the conversational circle, and at
midnight there was a general movement to the Kleine Redouten Saal,
where the Armen Ball had attracted so crowded an assemblage, that more
than one archduchess had her share of elbowing. Strauss was in all his
glory; the long-drawn impassioned breathings of Lanner having ceased
for ever, the dulcet hilarity of his rival now reigns supreme; and his
music, when directed by himself, still abounds in those exquisite
little touches, that inspire _hope_ like the breath of a May morning.
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