Among the newspapers which found their way into the Tuileries, or wherever the Court happened to be—St. Cloud, Compiègne, or Fontainebleau—was a very curious, very audacious, and very amusing little sheet, published in London only during the season and the Parliamentary Session. It was called The Owl. Much of its most diverting matter (1864-1869) had reference to Napoleon III. and his Ministers. The most amazing diplomatic “despatches” were concocted, so closely resembling the real article that it was sometimes difficult even for experts to discriminate between the two. To prevent mistakes I must quote the words of the editor of The Owl, Mr. Algernon Borthwick:[60]
The Owls were Evelyn Ashley, Lord Wharncliffe, Stuart Wortley, and myself. Others wrote for us later ... but we really started the paper. One night I had a brilliant idea. There had been pourparlers between the Government and the Emperor Napoleon III. on the subject of the reduction of armaments. He was, however, unwilling to take the initiative, and had said, in a private conversation with the English Ambassador, “Je ne veux pas encore être snubbé” [“I don’t want to be snubbed again”]. I knew the Emperor’s style in writing, and concocted a letter supposed to be written by His Majesty, and ending with the words, “Je ne veux pas encore être snubbé.”... The Moniteur [the official journal] telegraphed that the letter was not written by the Emperor, but was an impertinent fabrication, and our fame was established.... During the Congress of Paris the delegates lost their tempers, and hot words were exchanged. We wrote a fictitious account of it, and said that they shied the ink at each other, and that during a lull in the proceedings Lord Clarendon[61] got up with a bored air and looked out of the window at an Italian organ-grinder. This last incident really took place, so the astonishment of those who had been present was great.
Once all the Owls went to Paris, and spent the day in woods near the city. We sang songs, and crowned ourselves with ivy garlands, and finally climbed up in a huge old tree, into whose branches we were hauled up by ropes, ladies and all, singing ballads the while. The next night we were all invited to a great dinner and ball at the Tuileries, and the contrast with our woodland revels was charming.
Early in June, 1865, M. Drouyn de Lhuys presented to the Empress Regent, in the name of the Paris Cricket Club—an English institution—a box containing a complete cricketing outfit for the Prince Imperial, then a little over nine. The Empress sent the following reply:
Monsieur,
La fondation d’un club du jeu de cricket ne peut qu’être utile au développement d’une bonne hygiène publique, si l’exercice de ce jeu répand autant que je le désire et que le font espérer les efforts de votre société. J’applaudi de grand cœur à cette fondation, et j’accepte avec plaisir l’appareil de jeu que vous voulez bien offrir au Prince Impérial....
(Signé) Eugénie.
Écrit au Palais des Tuileries,
le 7 Juin, 1865.