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Updated: July 8, 2025
Marshals of the Empire, Ministers of the Crown, Dukes and Marquesses, whose ancestors lounged in the Oeil de Boeuf; diplomatists of all countries, eminent foreigners of all nations, deputies who led sections, members of learned and scientific academies, occasionally a stray poet; a sea of sparkling tiaras, brilliant bouquets, glittering stars, and glowing ribbons, many beautiful faces, many famous ones: unquestionably the general air of a firstrate Parisian saloon, on a great occasion, is not easily equalled.
The slow progress of the party around the room was not entirely to Mr. Calvert's liking, for at each step Madame de St. André was forced to stop and speak to some eager courtier who presented himself, and, by the time they were half-way through the tour and opposite the Oeil de Beef, such a retinue was following the beauty that he found himself quite in the rear and completely separated from her.
Gold, which was always a resource, Which brought, Jove to the enjoyment Of Danae whom he caressed; Gold, by which Caesar governed The world happy under his sway; Gold, more a divinity than Mars or Love; Wonder-working Gold introduced us That evening, within the walls of Strasburg." Ces scelerats nous epiaient, D'un oeil le passe-port lisaient, De l'autre lorgnaient notre bourse.
It was like Versailles, in the reign of Louis XIV., in the Gallery of Mirrors, or in the drawing-room of the Oeil de Boeuf. It would have taken a Dangeau to record, hour by hour, the minute points of etiquette. The Emperor walked, spoke, thought, acted, like a monarch of an old line. To nothing does a man so readily adapt himself as to power.
Versailles? Ah, yes! Versailles! Thither they went. It was not new to either of them. Ostrander knew it as an artist and as an American reader of that French historic romance a reader who hurried over the sham intrigues of the Oeil de Boeuf, the sham pastorals of the Petit Trianon, and the sham heroics of a shifty court, to get to Lafayette.
The Oeil de Boeuf, the famous hall of the courtiers, had a magical enchantment for Lecour. When he first rested his red-heeled shoes upon its polished floor, having entered in the train of the Prince de Poix, the courtiers were awaiting the passing of the King. There were many faces he had not seen at Fontainebleau, and even those familiar showed no sign that he was remembered here.
This apartment of the OEil de Boeuf was the ancient Cabi du Conseil.
Shortly afterwards a noise like thunder was heard, and the throng of courtiers poured in from the Oeil de Boeuf, and filled the great Gallery of Mirrors. They had scarcely arranged themselves when Germain heard a cry of "The Queen!" and beheld the radiant Marie Antoinette advancing.
Louis XV and Empire drawing and dining-rooms are everywhere advertised as the attractions of the great palace hotels, and some of them are very good copies of their predecessors, though one cannot help but feel that the clientele as a whole is more insistent on telephones in the bedrooms and auto-taxis always on tap than with regard to the sentiment of good taste and good cheer which is to be evoked by eating even a hurried meal in a room which reproduces some historically famous Salle des Gardes or the Chambre of the OEil de Boeuf of the Louvre, if, indeed, most of the hungry folk know what their surroundings are supposed to represent.
Such are the ebullitions of his heart in his jovial moments; and the following lines, which would spoil in the translation, give a lively picture of them: "Pour trop bien boire un curé de Bourgogne De son pauvre oeil se trouvait déferré, Un docteur vint: Voici de la besogne Dit-il, pour plus d'un jour; Je patienterai! Ça vous boirez: Eh bien! soit, je boirai!
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