discounted, and a fall took place.  Joseph’s loss was considerable, and he could not satisfy the engagements in which his greedy and silly speculations had involved him.  He applied to his brother, who neither wished nor was able to advance him the necessary sum.  Bonaparte was, however, exceedingly sorry to see his elder brother in this embarrassment.  He asked me what was to be done.  I told him I did not know; but I advised him to consult M. de Talleyrand, from whom he had often received good advice.  He did so, and M. de Talleyrand replied, with that air of coolness which is so peculiar to him, “What! is that all?  Oh! that is nothing.  It is easily settled.  You have only to raise the price of the funds.”—­“But the money?”—­ “Oh, the money may be easily obtained.  Make some deposits in the Mont-de-Piste, or the sinking fund.  That will give you the necessary money to raise the funds; and then Joseph may sell out, and recover his losses.”  M. de Talleyrand’s advice was adopted, and all succeeded as he had foretold.  None but those who have heard M. de Talleyrand converse can form an accurate idea of his easy manner of expressing himself, his imperturbable coolness, the fixed unvarying expression of his countenance, and his vast fund of wit.

—­[Talleyrand had a large experience in all sorts of speculation.  When old he gave this counsel to one of his proteges:  “Do not speculate.  I have always speculated on assured information, and that has cost me so many millions;” and he named his losses.  We may believe that in this reckoning he rather forgot the amount of his gains (Sainte-Beuve, Talleyrand, 93).]—­

During the sitting of the Congress the First Consul learnt that the Government couriers conveyed to favoured individuals in Paris various things, but especially the delicacies of the table, and he ordered that this practice should be discontinued.  On the very evening on which this order was issued Cambaceres entered the salon, where I was alone with the First Consul, who had already been laughing at the mortification which he knew this regulation would occasion to his colleague:  “Well, Cambaceres, what brings you here at this time of night?”—­“I come to solicit an exception to the order which you have just given to the Director of the Posts.  How do you think a man can make friends unless he keeps a good table?  You know very well how much good dinners assist the business of Government.”  The First Consul laughed, called him a gourmand, and, patting him on the shoulder, said, “Do not distress yourself, my dear Cambaceres; the couriers shall continue to bring you your ’dindes aux truffes’, your Strasburg ‘pates’, your Mayence hams, and your other titbits.”

Those who recollect the magnificent dinners given by Cambaceres and others, which were a general topic of conversation at the time, and who knew the ingenious calculation which was observed in the invitation of the guests, must be convinced of the vast influence of a good dinner in political affairs.  As to Cambaceres, he did not believe that a good government could exist without good dinners; and his glory (for every man has his own particular glory) was to know that the luxuries of his table were the subject of eulogy throughout Paris, and even Europe.  A banquet which commanded general suffrage was to him a Marengo or a Friedland.