The Congress was now a week overdue, and the irritated ministers saw all their preparations for it thwarted. The Prussian party had been strengthened by their minister from London, one of the “eagles of their diplomacy,” but they could make no headway. On October 8th there was another conference. Talleyrand delivered to Castlereagh another note on the Congress, and wanted it stated that it would be held “in conformity with the principles of public right.” Hardenberg jumped up, and, with his fists clenched on the table, snapped out that “that went without saying.” “It will be all the easier to insert it,” replied Talleyrand. Baron Humboldt then took up the quarrel, and wanted to know “what they had to do with public right.” “It is in virtue of public right that you are here,” retorted Talleyrand quietly. The phrase did eventually appear in the Declaration. In the middle of the Conference Castlereagh drew Talleyrand aside, and asked him if he would be “easier” if they gave him his point. “What will you do about Naples if I promise?” immediately asked the moralist. Castlereagh promised his assistance. Thus the opening stages of the diplomatic campaign went entirely in Talleyrand’s favour. He had advised the King to publish his instructions in the Parisian press, and all Vienna now read the edifying principles on which the French legation proceeded. Russia and Prussia were being gradually forced into a minority, and their covetous designs on Poland and Saxony were being cleverly represented as the real obstacles to progress. Their mortification was profound. Neither social coldness nor the refusal of information disturbed Talleyrand’s equanimity. The one design was defeated by the attractiveness of his establishment, the other was a stratagem he had too often encountered. Gagern and Castlereagh alone used to visit the Hotel Kaunitz in the first week or two, but the amiable countess soon saw her dinners well attended. Early in December the Austrian papers described her as the first lady in the quadrille at a ball of the utmost brilliance and importance. And Talleyrand’s tongue counted for something in the cosmopolitan society at Vienna. “His biting sarcasm ranged all the thinkers and all the laughers on his side,” said Metternich. His quips on the quaint manners of the Tsar, the heavy sullenness of the Prussians, the political innocence of the English, and the “niaiseries” of Metternich, circulated at every ball and dinner.