species of pyramid over his forehead, which lent plausibility to this
defamation; this pyramid was known as the _toupet_, and was naturally
largely imitated; those whose locks were not sufficient in quantity for
the purpose, purchased false ones. Whiskers were also in fashion, but
not moustaches, and no official functionary was permitted to wear hair
under his nose. The _Saint-Simoniens_ and those who entitled themselves
_Jeune France_ alone wore the hair long and pendant, and the toupet
gradually lowered its altitude and finally disappeared, to give place to
hair smoothed down and parted strongly on one side, generally the left.

After the Revolution of 1830, the Tuileries gardens were thrown open to
all decently-dressed people, but not to those in blouses; it required
another revolution, that of 1848, to bring about sufficient toleration
to recognize the privilege of smoking under these ci-devant royal
horse-chestnuts. A Legitimist journal, regretting the good old days,
before the populace were accorded the privilege of entry, "which gives
to this locality much the appearance of Noah's ark, in which both the
clean and the unclean beasts were admitted," related the following
anecdote of the days of the monarchy. A young man of the _supreme bon
ton_, carefully arrayed in the very latest modes, a _petit-maitre_
[dandy, fop, exquisite], presented himself at one of the entrances of
the garden and was much surprised to see the sentry on duty lower his
bayonet and forbid his passing. "How! no admittance?" exclaimed the
beau. "I have precise orders," replied the soldier. "Precise orders ...
to refuse me?" "Precise orders to refuse any one whom I consider to be
badly dressed [_mal mis_]; ... now, I consider you to be _bien mal
mis_." And the young man was compelled to retire before this new censor
of manners armed with authority.

In 1845, the _prestidigitateur_, Robert-Houdin, appeared at the
Palais-Royal with his new species of entertainment, and for a number of
years continued to delight numerous audiences with his mystifying skill
in sleight of hand, his example being followed by minor practitioners
who gave performances in private salons. The theatre bearing his name on
the Boulevard des Italiens still maintains this class of popular
amusement.

On the 13th of July, 1842, the Duc d'Orleans, the heir to the throne,
and a prince deservedly popular, was thrown from his carriage on the Rue
de la Revolte, while on his way to