‘Your great diplomatist, this time in thorough agreement with the majority of the plenipotentiaries, made another king yesterday,’ said an opposite neighbour, addressing me directly.
‘Is it Prince Eugène?’ I exclaimed spontaneously.
‘Not exactly; it’s the cheese called “Brie.”’
‘You are trying to mystify me.’
‘I should not presume to do so on so slight an acquaintance, but I can assure you that it is a fact. M. de Talleyrand gave a dinner party, and at the dessert, all the political questions were pretty well exhausted. When the cheese was on the table, the conversation drifted in the direction of that dainty. Lord Castlereagh was loud in praise of Stilton; Aldini was equally loud in praise of the Strachino of Milan; Zeltner naturally gave battle for his native Gruyère, and Baron de Falck, the Dutch minister, could not say enough for the product of Limburg, of which Peter the Great was so fond as to dole himself a certain quantity measured with his compasses, lest he should take too much. Talleyrand’s guests were as undecided as they are on the question of the throne of Naples, which, according to some, will be taken from Murat, while, according to others, he’ll be allowed to keep it. At that moment a servant entered the room to inform the ambassador of the arrival of a courier from France. “What has he brought?” asked Talleyrand. “Despatches from the Court, your excellency, and Brie cheeses.” “Send the despatches to the chancellerie, and bring in the cheeses at once.”
‘The cheese was brought in. “Gentlemen,” said M. de Talleyrand, “I abstained just now from breaking a lance in favour of a product of the French soil, but I leave you to judge for yourselves.” The cheese is handed round, tasted, and the question of its superiority is put to the vote, with the result I have told you: Brie is proclaimed to be the king of cheeses.’
The clever little story was the last, and the company dispersed. Griffiths and I were due at the Baron Arnstein’s, who gave a fête in his magnificent mansion on the Melgrub.
At that period, the principal Austrian bankers would not be behindhand with the Court in their hospitality to the illustrious strangers at the Congress. Of course, the enormous influx of these brought into the bankers’ hands large sums of money, a considerable percentage of which remained with them. Among those princely houses of finance there were, besides Baron Arnstein, the Gey-Mullers, the Eskeleses, and the Comte de Fries. They practically kept open house to strangers. The splendour of their hospitality was only equalled by its cordiality. The mansion of the Comte de Fries, on the Joseph-Platz, was one of the most beautiful in Vienna, and in no way inferior to the most magnificent palaces. Its owner himself was as famed for his personal elegance and his charming manners as for his immense wealth. The fêtes that were given in those mansions were remarkable even among those of the Congress; and on the evening in question, the scene at Baron Arnstein’s was positively fairy-like. The rarest flowers from every clime hung in profusion about the staircases and the rooms, including the ball-room, and spread their exquisite perfumes, while their tints mingled harmoniously with the thousands of wax candles in crystal sconces, and the silk and gold of the hangings. The music of a band such as at that time only Vienna could produce fell gratefully upon the ear. In short, the whole presented one of those incomparable results only to be obtained by great wealth seconded by taste.
The best society of Vienna had forgathered there: all the influential personages of the Congress, all the strangers of distinction, all the heads of the princely houses made a point of being present; only the sovereigns themselves were absent. As a matter of course, all the charming women of which Vienna boasted at that period had responded to the invitation, and among these aristocratic beauties the hostess herself, the Baronne Fanny d’Arnstein, and Mme. Gey-Muller, whom people had named ‘la fille de l’air,’ on account of her ethereal face and tall, slight figure, carried off the palm for attractiveness.
The entertainment began with a concert by the foremost artists of Vienna; the concert was followed by a ball, and the ball by a supper, in the providing for which the host seemed to have made it a point to defy both distance and season. He had positively brought together the products of every country and of every climate. The supper rooms were decorated with trees bearing ripe fruit, and it was really a curious experience, in the middle of the winter, to watch people pluck cherries, peaches, and apricots as in an orchard in Provence. It was the first attempt of the kind that had ever been made, and we went home, less astonished perhaps at the ingenuity displayed than at the constant craving for the entirely unprecedented in the way of enjoyment.