A Few months after my Calais experience, business again took me to Paris when the prince president made his imposing entry into the capital on returning from his Strasburg tour—an event which furnished a pretext, that the prince's accomplices carefully profited by, to prepare the Parisians for the advent of the future empire. On the grand triumphal arches and other out-door decorations, of which there were a liberal supply, the ominous words “Vive l'Empereur! Vive l'Empire!” were prominently displayed. Lionel Lawson, of “Daily Telegraph” notoriety, who was then living in Paris, had engaged an entresol at some swell café on the boulevards, commanding a capital view of the brilliant presidential cortège as it passed by; and here throughout the day he entertained in his habitual liberal style a party of guests of whom I was one.

As far as the eye could reach, soldiers in close double line were to be seen posted along both sides of the boulevards, whilst among the crowd, relegated well to the rear, De Maupas had distributed some hundreds of Corsican and other mouchards, all attired in irreproachable black, and carrying stout walking sticks with which they might almost have felled an ox. Plots against the president's life had recently been discovered, and the spy system prevailed in all sections of Paris society. Indeed, I have little doubt that even among Lawson's guests, comprising Plon the publisher, and the superintendent of the national printing office, there was at least one spy, whose calling was of course unknown to our host.