“There is scarcely a visitor at the Hotel Talleyrand,” resumed C., “who does not, as in the case of the _curé_ of St. Thomas, elicit some quaint history, some _piquant_ anecdote of days gone by, on the part of the prince. His memory is so wonderful, that he can scarcely relate the simplest trait of his own life without being led into many other stories illustrative of the times in which the incidents happened, and to which he knows better than any living being how to give a charm, an interest, which will sometimes render the smallest circumstance of value, and which is a gift so highly esteemed by our nation, that _l’art de raconter_ has ever been placed far above any other accomplishment in the qualifications requisite to form an agreeable member of society. You will in general find the prince _indulgent_ when relating anecdotes even of persons from whom it may be a well-known fact that he has differed all his life. I have often heard him say that ‘experience teaches us indulgence,’ and that ‘the wisest man is he who doubts his own judgment with regard to the motives which actuate his fellow-men.’ I have sometimes heard him entertain his intimate circle, during a long evening, with a vast number of amusing traits and anecdotes relating to his ‘fellow-labourers in the vineyard,’ without once having recourse to scandal or ridicule; which I consider the very perfection of the story-teller’s science. The only person with whose name he likes, even now, sometimes, to disport himself in his _moments de malice_ is Madame Necker, whom he never could tolerate, and with whom, even in her most palmy days, he scrupled not to declare himself openly at war. He really _felt_ with regard to her what he so happily expressed, ‘She has every virtue and but one fault, and that is, she is insupportable!’ The good lady never forgave his comparing her to a ‘frigate riding at anchor, and receiving a salute from a friendly power,’ when she stood upon her own hearth-rug at the Hôtel Necker, upon the occasion of her weekly receptions; her ample proportions obscuring the light of the fire, as, with pinched-up features and prudish smile, she listened to the compliments of the Academicians, whom she assembled but for this purpose. The ‘strait-laced Genevese,’ as he calls her, has furnished him, I verily believe, with more witty _bon mots_, with more stinging epigrams, than even his most bitter enemy.