A process was then going on of substituting asphaltum pavements for the broad, flat paving-stones which had proved so available in former barricades. The President, perhaps, had coming exigencies in view. The people looked on in rather sullen astonishment. Not long after this, I found myself at Versailles on a day set apart for a visit from the President and his suite. The great fountains were advertised to play in honor of the occasion. From hall to hall of the immense palace we followed, at a self-respecting distance, the sober _cortége_ of the President. A middle-sized, middle-aged man, he appeared to us.
The tail of this comet was not then visible, and the star itself exhibited but moderate dimensions. The corrupting influence of absolutism had not yet penetrated the tissues of popular life. The theatres were still loyal to decency and good taste. Manners and dress were modest; intemperance was rarely seen.
A different Paris I saw in 1867. The dragon's teeth had been sown and were ripening. The things which were Cæsar's had made little account of the things which were God's. A blight had fallen upon men and women. The generation seemed to have at once less self-respect and less politeness than those which I had formerly known. The city had been greatly modernized, perhaps embellished, but much of its historic interest had disappeared. The theatres were licentious. Friends said: "Go, but do not take your daughters." The drivers of public carriages were often intoxicated.
The great Exposition of that year had drawn together an immense crowd from all parts of the world. Among its marvels, my recollection dwells most upon the gallery of French paintings, in which I stood more than once before a full-length portrait of the then Emperor. I looked into the face which seemed to say: "I have succeeded. What has any one to say about it?" And I pondered the slow movements of that heavenly Justice whose infallible decrees are not to be evaded. In this same gallery was that sitting statue of the dying Napoleon which has since become so familiar to the world of art. Crowns of immortelles always lay at the feet of this statue. And I, in my mind, compared the statue and the picture,--the great failure and the great success. But in Bismarck's mind, even then, the despoiling of France was predetermined.