3&4 Appendix I 



tory and the dynasty is lost. They complain already that Ollivier is noth- 

 ing else than Rouere over again, and that personal government is precisely 

 what it was last year. I care nothing for all this, not being one of the 

 Singe's subjects. 



" 8th June. — We dined last night at the British Embassy, thirty covers. 

 Amongst the guests were some of the new French Ministry — Grammont, 

 Mege, Richard, also Monsaud, Under Secretary at the Affaires Etrangeres. 

 Lord Lyons keeps great state at the Embassy, with Sheffield managing 

 the household, and Edward Malet for Private Secretary. They all three 

 go out driving in a barouche every afternoon in the Bois de Boulogne, 

 with a dog named Toby on the fourth seat. The Parisians mock at it 

 calling Malet ' le petit brun,' and Sheffield ' le petit blond.' The Duke 

 and Duchess of Montmorency were at the dinner. He is the hero of a 

 rather mean adventure. Being by birth a Perigord, he solicited through 

 his wife, who was an Aguado and partly Spanish, one of Empress Eu- 

 genie's set, a grant of the Duchy of Montmorency, the direct line of the 

 Dues de Montmorency having failed, though there were still collaterals. 

 One of these, the Comte de Montmorency, who now represents the family, 

 scratched out the new Duke's arms from the panel of his carriage the 

 first time he drove up in it to the Jockey Club. It led to a duel in which 

 the Comte was slightly wounded, and the Club, indignant at the affair, 

 expelled the Duke from their house. On this the Duke appealed to the 

 Court, the Empress happening to be Regent at the time, and the police 

 received orders to close the doors of the Jockey Club if they persisted 

 in the expulsion. The Club succumbed, and so the matter ended. [I was 

 constantly in and out of the Chancery at our Embassy during all this time, 

 having through my former official connection with the Embassy still many 

 friends there, Lascelles, Malet, Saumarez, Claremont, and Atlee, thus I 

 heard the news pretty regularly as the Embassy heard it.] 



" The ' Figaro ' has published a charge. Villemessent, the editor, begins 

 by announcing that he has sold his paper to the Irreconcilables, and articles 

 and letters follow, signed by the chiefs of the revolution. The best is a 

 piece in verse, purporting to be by Victor Hugo in which his style is well 

 imitated. Half the town has been taken in by the hoax. 



"nth June. — There is news from Lisbon of disturbances, Saldanha 

 being the hero of these. I used to see this curious old Field Marshal 

 very frequently during the summer I spent at Cintra in 1865. He was a 

 poseur of the first water, and nature had given him a head and figure 

 exactly suited to the part of ancien militairc, which he had been playing 

 ever since the day of the Peninsular War. He is now eighty-five. Twenty 

 years ago he made a revolution in Portugal very like the present one. He 

 got a few regiments together, and when the King marched out against 

 him with the rest of the Portuguese army these at once joined the Marshal, 

 and the King had to gallop back alone with his A.D.C.'s to Lisbon. 

 Saldanha had no political principles, but being a restless, vain old man, 

 could not bear to be forgotten. I saw him again at Rome in 1867, on 

 his way in uniform to the Jesuit church in Easter week, his whole coat, 

 front and back, a mass of stars and orders. He is the most completely 



