THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
distance of the gallery. Fellow-refugees brought me into contact with some Frenchmen who belonged to the extreme revolutionary class. From them I heard little more than the ordinary tirades against Louis Napoleon, who at that time was still president of the republic, but who gave significant indications of ulterior ambitions. In the circles in which I moved it was regarded as certain that this “Napoleonic business” could not possibly last long and that the new revolution doing away with the president would inevitably spread over the larger part of Europe. Although I took all possible pains to form a sober and impartial judgment of the condition of things in France, reading attentively to this end the journals of all parties, my conclusions did not escape from the influence of my wishes and illusions. If I should now in the light of historical events see again the letters which then I wrote in good faith as correspondent of Becker's newspaper, the reading would not be welcome. The errors of judgment which I then committed and which in less than two years I learned correctly to estimate, have been to me a lasting and salutary lesson. A large part of my time I spent in studying the treasures of art collected in Paris, which opened to me a world of charming vistas.
I remember an occurrence which, although unimportant in itself, has frequently in later times risen up in my mind and set me to thinking. I was in the habit of meeting Zychlinski and some other Germans in a certain Quartier Latin café. One evening I failed to find my friend there. This was especially disagreeable to me, for I had wished to ask Zychlinski to lend me some money. A remittance due me from Becker had not come, and all the change in my pocket consisted of a few sous, which were sufficient only for a cup of coffee and the tip to the waiter. I sat down and ordered my cup as usual,
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