Vienna, 1814: How the Conquerors of Napoleon Made Love, War, and Peace at the Congress of Vienna by David King Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David King
turn, cherished every gift that he received. On one shelf in his study was a special black box that had a lock of her hair.
Metternich liked her mind, her judgment, her generosity. He liked how beautiful she looked in her formal gown that sparkled in the ballroom, and he liked the baggy flannels that she wore when she was only lounging around her suite, including her personal favorite, an old “wadded gown with holes in the elbows.” Metternich liked the little things, such as the way she drank her cognac, balancing a sugar cube onto the small silver spoon, gently dipping it into the amber drink, and then, at the end, slurping down the rest. “What,” he once wrote to her, “don’t I like about you.”
By the end of that summer, the duchess had finally come around, and confessed her love for Metternich as well: “I do not know how I love you, but I love you very much, and with my whole heart.” Metternich had been thrilled with the news—making love was one thing, confessing it was another. He wrote back immediately, feeling like he had been suddenly “transported into the loveliest, most blessed spot on earth.”
You have made me drunk with happiness. I love you, I love you a hundred times more than my life. I do not live, I shall not live except for you.
Their relationship was impossible to keep completely secret, and the Palm Palace was certainly going to be a fascinating place that autumn. With the Duchess of Sagan hosting her fashionable salon on its second floor, there was another woman, in a parallel wing, just as intelligent, witty, rich, beautiful, and it must be said, controversial. This was Princess Catherine Bagration, the thirty-one-year-old widow of Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration, a Russian general and war hero who had fallen at Borodino. She was blonde with light blue eyes and pinkish white skin that one admirer compared to alabaster. Her scandalous evening gowns, very low cut, earned her the nickname “the beautiful naked angel.”
For many years now, Princess Catherine Bagration and the Duchess of Sagan had been sworn enemies. The reasons for the hostility were many, buried under many layers of gossip, intrigue, and counterintrigue, though no small part of this animosity stemmed from a long rivalry for honor and influence in high society. They certainly had a lot in common.
Nearly the same age, both had come from the Baltic, and both were the oldest daughters of rich, high aristocratic families, who had traveled and lived all over the continent. Both, after marrying young, were now single and surrounded by many admirers. Both had now ended up in Vienna at the time of the congress, and by “a curious and fatal chance,” as one salon regular put it, the two young divas had ended up in the same palace, immediately opposite each other. The windows, in fact, overlooked a shared courtyard.
All throughout the autumn, eyes would peer out from behind silk curtains, keeping careful tabs on the carriages coming and going, and who went to which salon. The two women would compete for everything, from the most prized guests to the greatest social esteem for their evening soirees. They were two queen bees, trying to share the same hive, and their rivalry would both enliven and embitter relations at the congress. Many intrigues would be spun in the corridors, staircases, and drawing rooms of this palace.
Vienna society would effectively have to make a choice, either taking the left staircase up to Princess Bagration, the “Russian siren,” or the right staircase to the Duchess of Sagan, “the Cleopatra of Courland.” As for the outcome of the competition between the two women of the north, one society watcher reported, “the bets were open.”
But there was something else the two ladies shared: Both had been Metternich’s lover. And now, both women, it seemed, were attracting the attentions of Russia’s flamboyant tsar.
Chapter 4
D OROTHÉE’S C HOICE
It is essential to make
Metternich liked her mind, her judgment, her generosity. He liked how beautiful she looked in her formal gown that sparkled in the ballroom, and he liked the baggy flannels that she wore when she was only lounging around her suite, including her personal favorite, an old “wadded gown with holes in the elbows.” Metternich liked the little things, such as the way she drank her cognac, balancing a sugar cube onto the small silver spoon, gently dipping it into the amber drink, and then, at the end, slurping down the rest. “What,” he once wrote to her, “don’t I like about you.”
By the end of that summer, the duchess had finally come around, and confessed her love for Metternich as well: “I do not know how I love you, but I love you very much, and with my whole heart.” Metternich had been thrilled with the news—making love was one thing, confessing it was another. He wrote back immediately, feeling like he had been suddenly “transported into the loveliest, most blessed spot on earth.”
You have made me drunk with happiness. I love you, I love you a hundred times more than my life. I do not live, I shall not live except for you.
Their relationship was impossible to keep completely secret, and the Palm Palace was certainly going to be a fascinating place that autumn. With the Duchess of Sagan hosting her fashionable salon on its second floor, there was another woman, in a parallel wing, just as intelligent, witty, rich, beautiful, and it must be said, controversial. This was Princess Catherine Bagration, the thirty-one-year-old widow of Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration, a Russian general and war hero who had fallen at Borodino. She was blonde with light blue eyes and pinkish white skin that one admirer compared to alabaster. Her scandalous evening gowns, very low cut, earned her the nickname “the beautiful naked angel.”
For many years now, Princess Catherine Bagration and the Duchess of Sagan had been sworn enemies. The reasons for the hostility were many, buried under many layers of gossip, intrigue, and counterintrigue, though no small part of this animosity stemmed from a long rivalry for honor and influence in high society. They certainly had a lot in common.
Nearly the same age, both had come from the Baltic, and both were the oldest daughters of rich, high aristocratic families, who had traveled and lived all over the continent. Both, after marrying young, were now single and surrounded by many admirers. Both had now ended up in Vienna at the time of the congress, and by “a curious and fatal chance,” as one salon regular put it, the two young divas had ended up in the same palace, immediately opposite each other. The windows, in fact, overlooked a shared courtyard.
All throughout the autumn, eyes would peer out from behind silk curtains, keeping careful tabs on the carriages coming and going, and who went to which salon. The two women would compete for everything, from the most prized guests to the greatest social esteem for their evening soirees. They were two queen bees, trying to share the same hive, and their rivalry would both enliven and embitter relations at the congress. Many intrigues would be spun in the corridors, staircases, and drawing rooms of this palace.
Vienna society would effectively have to make a choice, either taking the left staircase up to Princess Bagration, the “Russian siren,” or the right staircase to the Duchess of Sagan, “the Cleopatra of Courland.” As for the outcome of the competition between the two women of the north, one society watcher reported, “the bets were open.”
But there was something else the two ladies shared: Both had been Metternich’s lover. And now, both women, it seemed, were attracting the attentions of Russia’s flamboyant tsar.
Chapter 4
D OROTHÉE’S C HOICE
It is essential to make
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