etters; and when
mention was made in the text of this or that event, the letter which
related to it, or replied to some communication about it, was appended
in the original. I made this curious volume my study for weeks, till,
in fact, I came to know far more about old Giacomo and his times than
I ever knew about my father and his epoch. There was not a country in
Europe in which he had not lived, nor, I believe, one in which he had
not involved himself in some trouble. He loved his art, but he loved
political plotting and conspiracy even more, and was ever ready to
resign his most profitable engagement for a scheme that promised to
overturn a government or unthrone a sovereign. My first thought on
reading his curious reminiscences was to make them the basis of a memoir
for publication. Of course they were fearfully indiscreet, and involved
reputations that no one had ever thought of assailing; but they were
chiefly of persons dead and gone, and it was only their memory that
could suffer. I spoke to Bolton about this. He approved of the notion,
principally as a means of helping me to a little money, which I
stood much in need of, and gave me a letter to a friend in Paris, the
well-known publisher, Lecoq, of the Rue St. Honore.

"As I was dealing with a man of honor and high character, I had no
scruple in leaving the volume of old Giacomo's memoirs in Lecoq's hands;
and after about a week I returned to learn what he thought of it. He was
frank enough to say that no such diary had ever come before him--that
it cleared up a vast number of points hitherto doubtful and obscure,
and showed an amount of knowledge of the private life of the period
absolutely marvellous; 'but,' said he, 'it would never do to make it
public. Most of these men are now forgotten, it is true, but their
descendants remain, and live in honor amongst us. What a terrible
scandal it would be to proclaim to the world that of these people many
were illegitimate, many in the enjoyment of large fortunes to which they
had not a shadow of a title; in fact,' said he, 'it would be to hurl
a live shell in the very midst of society, leaving the havoc and
destruction it might cause to blind chance. But,' added he, 'it strikes
me there is a more profitable use the volume might be put to. Have you
read the narrative of your grandmother's marriage in Ireland with
that rich Englishman?' I owned I had read it carelessly, and without
bestowing much interest on the theme.