es. I will tell you a few more, perhaps, but the one connected
with the picture is 'la bonne bouche.'"

The company at M. Guizot's, on that and other occasions, mainly
consisted of those who had been vanquished in the recent struggle with
Louis-Napoleon, or thought they had been; for a great many were mere
word-spinners, who had been quite as vehement in their denunciations of
the man they were now surrounding when he was in power, as they were in
their diatribes against the man who, after all, saved France for
eighteen years from anarchy, and did not indulge more freely in
nepotism, peculation, and kindred amenities than those who came after
him. But, at the outset of these notes, I took the resolution to eschew
politics, and I will endeavour to keep it as far as possible.

As a matter of course, I soon availed myself of M. Guizot's permission
to call upon him in the morning, and it was then that he told me the
following story connected with the picture.

"After the Spanish marriages, Queen Isabella wished to convey to me a
signal mark of her gratitude--for what, Heaven alone knows, because it
is the only political transaction I would willingly efface from my
career. So she conferred upon me the dukedom of San Antonio, and sent me
the patent with a most affectionate letter. Honestly speaking, I was
more than upset by this proof of royal kindness, seeing that I had not
the least wish to accept the title. I felt equally reluctant to offend
her by declining the high distinction offered, I felt sure, from a most
generous feeling. I went to see the King, and explained my awkward
position, adding that the name of Guizot was all sufficient for me. 'You
are right,' said the King. 'Leave the matter to me; I'll arrange it.'
And he did, much to the disgust of M. de Salvandy, who had received a
title at the same time, but who could not accept his while the Prime
Minister declined.

"Then she sent me this picture. Some witty journalist said, at the time,
that it was symbolical of her own married state; for let me tell you
that the unfitness of Don Francis d'Assis was 'le secret de
polichinelle,' however much your countrymen may have insisted that it
only leaked out after the union. Personally I was entirely opposed to
it, and, in fact, it was not a ministerial question at all, but one of
court intrigue. Lord Palmerston chose to make it the former, and he, and
your countrymen through him, are not only morally but virtually
respo