as to the sufficiency of his diet and the decency of his
appearance. One day she writes to him to mind not to go out in his
shabby old coat, and in the same letter she entreats him to purchase a
bottle of wine, so that when he took no milk or broth he would find it,
and when it was all drunk she tells him to buy another bottle.
Afterwards she asks him whether he makes a good fire, and if he has any
chairs in his room. In another letter she inquires if his bed is
comfortable, and in another she tells him to mind about his acids, for
he has burnt holes in his blue stockings. Again, she begs him to try to
have a passably decent appearance, because that will give pleasure to
his poor wife. He answers, to tranquillize her, that he does not burn
his things now, and that he makes chemical experiments only in his old
breeches with his gray coat and his waistcoat of greenish velvet. But
one day he is forced to confess that she must send him new trousers if
he is to appear before MM. Delambre and Villars. He "does not know what
to do," his best breeches still smell of turpentine, and, having wished
to put on trousers to go to the Society of Emulation, he saw the hole
which Barrat fancied he had mended become bigger than ever, so that it
showed the piece of different cloth which he had sown under it. He adds
that his wife will be afraid that he will spoil his "_beau pantalon_,"
but he promises to send it back to her as clean as when he received it.
How different is all this from that watchful care about externals which
marks the man of fashion! Ampere was quite a young man then, still
almost a bridegroom, yet he is already so absorbed in the intellectual
life as to forget appearances utterly, except when Julie, with feminine
watchfulness, writes to recall them to his mind. I am not defending or
advocating this carelessness. It is better to be neat and tidy than to
go in holes and patches; but I desire to insist upon the radical
difference between the fashionable spirit and the intellectual spirit.
And this difference, which shows itself in these external things, is
not less evident in the clothing or preparation of the mind. Ampere's
intellect, great and noble as it was, could scarcely be considered more
suitable for _le grand monde_ than the breeches that smelt of
turpentine, or the trousers made ragged by aquafortis.

A splendid contrast, as to tailoring, was our own dear Oliver Goldsmith,
who displayed himself in those wonderfu