aid, and clear, but the style of a leader-writer
in the ---- (naming an old, soberly, but far from stupidly written Paris
daily--one of the most readable papers in Paris, and the favorite of the
petite bourgeoisie). I mentioned the reputation Von Sybel enjoyed in
Germany as having an excellent style, and the response was, "Very
likely: where all the rest are blind a one-eyed man sees very well"--a
remark true enough as regards the mass of German writers, but very
unjust to the person under discussion. Taine's models are Macaulay and
Froude, but one would hardly think so from reading his _France
contemporaine_. Be their demerits what they may--and they are no doubt
great--the two English historians certainly have the faculty of
presenting a sharply-outlined and vivid picture, while Taine heaps up
hundreds of little facts, so that the reader, as the French say, can
hardly see the wood for the trees. I may add that the French scholar's
opinion of Prescott and Motley and Bancroft is still lower than that
which he cherishes for their German contemporaries.

Taine has more the air of a scholar, and less that of a man of the
world, than any other litterateur whom I met at Paris. During the winter
his wife receives once a fortnight, and he regularly attends the famous
weekly dinners of the Princess Mathilde, and occasionally dines
informally with some intimate friend; but beyond this he goes but little
into society, and takes his opinions of it at second hand; with regard
to which fact Sainte-Beuve once kindly remonstrated with him in an
admirable letter printed in the second volume of the _Correspondance_.
He is fifty years old, and made, some sixteen years ago, what, in
respect to the rank and wealth and amiable and intellectual qualities of
his wife, was a very brilliant marriage. The story of the wooing is a
"romance in real life." They have two children, the usual size of French
families, though About has seven--"toute une famille anglaise," as
Madame About remarked to me--whether with pride or in a half-ashamed
happiness I did not discover. The Taines live handsomely in the midst of
the Faubourg St. Germain, in a house whose windows have a clear view of
the Hotel des Invalides across the gardens of the Sacre-Coeur. I would
say that I found Taine particularly courteous and cordial, were it not
that I met no French gentleman who in any other society would not be
distinguished for perfection of manner and winning kindness.