He was a dandy and _viveur_, a man of many accomplishments, and a capable if rather erratic statesman, but he was one of those members of the Imperial group who were fiercely accused of gambling on the Bourse. However that might be, he was immensely popular. Paris loved him, fascinated by his reputation of irresistibility, and even by the contemptuous, haughty look with which he strode through the world; when he died, the grief was general and unfeigned; and poor Sir Joseph Olliffe was very cruelly attacked by the Faculty who were sure of the applause of the mob. The story of Morny’s life and death furnished the “motif” of Alphonse Daudet’s book “Le Nabab,” which was certainly not written in the Napoleonic interest, for indeed Daudet was a partisan of the old régime. When Morny offered him a post in his private office he felt bound in common honesty to say that he was a legitimist. “Ma foi! L’Impératrice l’est aussi,” answered Morny, with his quiet, impertinent smile.[52] The frivolous side of Morny, the “Richelieu-Brummell,” as Daudet called him, was always very much in evidence, and it was said, not without truth, that he showed far more interest in the rehearsals of _M. Choufleuri restera chez lui_—a rather poor operatic farce of his for which Offenbach wrote the music—than ever he did in the discussions of the Corps Législatif. Indeed, while _M. Choufleuri_ was in preparation he was neither to have nor to hold, he would attend to nothing else. Louis Napoléon went to take leave of his brother on his death-bed. When the moment for leaving came, the dying man, holding the Emperor’s hand in his, summoned up strength enough to say: “Sire, méfiez-vous de l’Allemagne!” Those were his last pregnant words to the Sovereign and brother whom he loved so well. This was told me by one who was present at what he described as a most touching death-bed scene, for the love between the two men was very real. That dying speech was prophetic. Had Morny lived things might have been very different; but his death left a blank which could not be filled; Louis Napoléon was fast growing old, martyrized by the disease which ultimately killed him; he needed a strong man at his elbow—a man with political prescience; failing that he fell into the hands of a gang, Ollivier, Gramont, Lebœuf and others, with female influences at work behind them, who led him to his ruin. Morny in spite of his gay, devil-may-care dandyism, could see clearly ahead; he and he alone among the Emperor’s surroundings might have saved the dynasty. But that was not to be; it was doomed. The passing bell for Morny rang the knell of the Empire.