Lord Lyons had now reached the highest reward which his profession had to offer. The Embassy at Paris must always be, in importance as in dignity, superior to any other diplomatic post. In the days of which we are writing it was, and probably still is, more or less an annexe of the Foreign Office in Downing Street. There are few international questions in which the interests of England and France are not almost equally concerned, whether they be acting in opposition to one another or in concert. Every despatch which reached the Foreign Office, no matter whence it came, was copied for Paris. The labour which it entailed upon the Ambassador was Herculean; indeed, since the day after all consists of only twenty-four hours, it may be doubted whether even such indefatigable workers as Lord Cowley and Lord Lyons could have found time to read and digest all the matter which was sent to them. There were certain excellent and worthy ministers whose verbosity experience must have taught them to put on one side. Still, even the absolutely necessary work of reading was exhausting. It really seemed as if, in some sense, Lord Lyons was destined to be the stormy petrel of diplomacy. He was sent to Florence, and the Grand Ducal reign collapsed. He went to America, and the War of Secession broke out. He was promoted to Paris, and there came the great catastrophe. So shrewd an observer as Lord Lyons could not fail to see that the throne of Louis Napoléon was tottering. The poor Emperor was surrounded by difficulties with which he seemed quite unable to cope. Abroad there were many troubles, not the least of which was the question of the occupation of Rome, which meant the bolstering up of the Papal Government. Then there was the growing power of Russia and such matters as the annexation of the Grand Duchy of Baden to the North German Confederation. Greek affairs, the perennial question of ceding Crete and other portions of the Ottoman dominions to Greece, was another source of disquietude. In France there was a great feeling of discontent, owing, as Lord Lyons said, “mainly, I imagine, to the inconstancy of men, and Frenchmen in particular. In fact he has reigned eighteen years, and they are getting tired of so much of the same thing and want novelty.” The glitter of the Empire had ceased to dazzle, and even the brilliant Cent Gardes no longer captivated the women and aroused the enthusiasm, tempered by jealousy, of the men. In his own family the Emperor had, as everybody knew, to deal with a wife who was taking more and more part in public business, in spite of her declaration that she meant to abandon politics for works of charity. Lord Lyons’ account of an interview with Her Majesty is very instructive on that point.