And side by side with his
inclination for gay and malicious gossip, Chasles had a way of sketching
out great synopses of intellectual history, which made one realise, as
one reflected,' the progress of development of the literatures with
which one was familiar. Those were pleasant evenings, those moonlight
Spring evenings in the open veranda out there at Meudon, when the old
man with the sharp-pointed beard and the little skull-cap on one side of
his head, was spokesman. He had the aptest and most amusing way of
putting things. For instance, to my question as to whether Guizot had
really been as austere by nature as he was in manner, he replied: "It is
hard to say; when one wishes to impress, one cannot behave like a
harlequin."
Although I had a keen enough eye for Philarete Chasles' weaknesses, I
felt exceedingly happy in his house. There I could obtain without
difficulty the information I wished for, and have the feeling of being
thoroughly "in Paris." Paris was and still is the only city in the world
that is and wishes to be the capital not only of its own country but of
Europe; the only one that takes upon itself as a duty, not merely to
meet the visitor half-way by opening museums, collections, buildings, to
him, but the only one where people habitually, in conversation, initiate
the foreigner in search of knowledge into the ancient, deep culture of
the nation, so that its position with regard to that of other races and
countries is made clear to one.
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