This was not my first visit to Lisbon.  I was rejoiced to see the Queen Dona Maria again.  She was one of my childhood’s friends, and I was eventually to become her brother-in-law I know not how many times over.  I also renewed my acquaintance with King Ferdinand, of whom I had not seen so much.  The King, who was an artist to his finger tips, a distinguished musician, water-colour artist, etcher, and ceramist, hated politics.  This and some other little failings common to us both, drew us together, and our friendship endured up to his premature death.  I have often been in Portugal since those days, and have always received a welcome for which I feel the liveliest gratitude.  I have met distinguished men there, and charming, well-informed, and kind-hearted ladies.  I have vowed the sincerest affection alike to both Portugal and the Portuguese, and my best wishes follow both country and people all over the world, but I will not commit myself to any opinion as to their political life.

At the time I speak of, the country possessed two illustrious soldiers, Marshal Saldanha and Marshal Terceira.  On these two, in turn, hinged the alternate changes made in its constitution, whether by military insurrection, or other and less unparliamentary means.  Such was the national habit, and the country did not seem the worse for it.  As in our own case, there were two dynastic parties, but what was strange was that the Miguelists, who opposed Queen Dona Maria, and who, by the way, were few in numbers, set up for being Legitimists, although they claimed the right of government for Don Miguel, the representative of the younger branch of the reigning family.  Let wise politicians explain that as best they may.

I do not recollect whether it was on the occasion of this particular visit to Lisbon, that at a reception of mine for the diplomatic body at Belem, the Duke de Palmela, who presented its members (as Minister for Foreign Affairs), asked me to excuse his hurrying through the ceremony, as his Duchess was in the act of bringing her fifteenth child into the world.  A palpable proof this, given by the head of its Foreign Office, of the vitality of the Portuguese nation!  Some days later the Duke, a diplomatist of the old school, who added to his own considerable wit and cleverness the advantage of having rubbed shoulders with the greatest diplomatists of the century, such as Talleyrand and Metternich, asked me to dine with him.  It was a splendid banquet.  On our arrival we found the royal archers (so called because they carried halberts!) lining the staircase.  Thence we passed into a splendid suite of rooms, at the end of which, after we left table, a great door was thrown open, revealing a magnificent state bed on an estrade with several steps up to it.  And in this bed the newly confined Duchess, to whom all the guests hastened to pay their duty!

I noticed some fine rifle battalions at a review of the Portuguese troops, and I had a very amusing talk with the celebrated admiral, Sir Charles Napier, who was present on horseback, in a British post-captain’s uniform, but with a little hat, a la Napoleon, with a Portuguese cockade, his trousers all worked up, huge spurs on his feet, and an enormous cudgel in his grasp.