The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1874-08-20
TERMS $500 PER ANNUM IN ADVANCE.
Michelet.

d iew words on Michelet's personal appear
ance ana characteristics will be interesting 10
his many admirers. The extraordinary de-
Velopment OF his brain aud nervous system,
exceeding that of every other part of his phys
lcal organization. at once struck all who saw
him. 1t was difficult not to forget that he
had body at so thin was it and frail look
ing. His fine head, disproporiionately large
for the small frame which it surmounted,
looked as If it had been moulded by his mind.
so closely did they resemble each other in
character.
The upper part of his face-the eapacious
forehead encirc.ed with white hair, the speak
ing eyes full Of warmth and kindliness, and
flashing with poetry and enthusiasm-was all
nobleness and majesty, and great intensity Of
lite was expressed in his thin, dilated nostrils.
His mouth was large, and his thin. clearly cut
lips gave distinct vIbratory sound to his
speech, every word of which was audible.
The lower part of his face with its heavy
square chin, betrayed his plebean origin, and
revealed the material side OF his nature,
traceable here and there in his later works.
But when he spoke, and the thoughts that
inspired him flashed through his eyes, their
depth aud brlliancy cast all that was less at
tractive into the shade; they never lost their
light, for it came from heart that remained
always young His hair was white when he
reached his twenty-fifth year, but after that
he did not change-he never grew old. In
early life he was precociously mature, but he
kept the ardor and vigor OF youth to the end.
Never was life better regulated than his.
He was at work at six in the morning, and
remained shut ..p in his study till twelve or
one, without allowing anyone to disturb him;
even when Il avellng, or at the seaside, or in
Switzerland, he adhered resolutely to his ac-
customed hours of work. The afternoon was
devoted to social Intercourse and exercise;
from four to six he was always visible to his
friends, and with very rare exceptions retired
to rest at 10 or 10 80, never working at night.
He was extremely moderate in his habits, ard
never took any stimulant but coffee, of which
he was passionately fond; he never would ac-
cept any dinner or evening engagements; all
distractions which might destroy the unity Of
life and the harmony OF thought he systemat-
ically avoided. That his mind might be COM
pletely flee, he preferred that everything
about him should remain stationary; he new
er allowed the cloth that covered his writing
table to be changed, nor the old torn paste
board boxes which held his papers to be re-
neyed; and his calm, peaceable character
perfectly accorded with the regularity OF his
life. He was simple and afiable in his ad-
dress, and his conversation, a delightful mix
ture of poetry and wit, never degenerated in-
to monol0gue, and, without ever appearing
forced or unduly solemn, succeeded in keep
| ing the minds of those with whom he con-
versed in elevated regions. The traditionary
| old Eench poiteness distinguished his man
ners; he treated all who came to him, what
| ever their age or rank, with the same regard,
| which with him was not mere empty formal
| ity, but felt by all TO spring from genuine
| goodness of heart. His dress was always ir-
| reproachable; l see him now seated IN his
| arm chair at his evening reception, iD close
| fitting frock-coat, on which no speck Of dust
| was ever visible, his trowsers strapped over
| his patent-leather shoes, and holding white
| handkerchief in his hand, which was delicate
! and nervous and we'll tended, like woman's.
| As we sat listening to him the hours slipped
| quickly away-there was so much depth and
| fancy in what he said, such joyous serenity
| and sympathetic kindness, wit without NAL
| ice, poetry without defamation. He was q
| first-rate talker, and the divine something
| that stamps a man of genius, made itself con-
| tinually felt in his words. Modesty gave him
an additional grace. He knew how to listen,
| would ask for advice and information, and al
| low himself to be contradicted. Even before
Younger and inferior men he often expressed
| bis IDEAS most reservedly, questioning them
| and seeking to learn what their opinions were.
| 1t was not that he pretended to be ignorant OF
his own worth, for he spoke of his his
| tory as SIMON monument;" and when in
| Weighing against the use OF tobacco and
| enumerating the great creative spirits OF the
century who did not smoke, he addel him
self 20 the list, but he did not exaggerate his
merit nor intrude himself on public notice,
| and, above all, was ssgaeious enough not TO
| consider himself called upon to play all kinds
| of parts and display every conceivable talent.
| No entreaties could prevail upon him to take
/ sn active share in politics; he repelled all
l advances made with that view, and when,
| after the I'd of December, he lost his appoint
ments, and was almost reduced to want by
his refusal to take the oath, he made no boast
of dsinterestedness, nor did be seek to make
pedestal for himself out Of the public mis-
fortunes. As long as they were in process of
composition he had passionate attachment
for his works; but once finished, he became
Indifferent to their fate. He not only de-
| spised fattery, but cared little for either
| praise or blame, aud, never soliciting reviews
| of his books, would smile at the sharpest
| criticisms if cerverly and wittily written.
| This serenity of nature and his recluse life
were far from quenching the ardor and energy
of his spirit; on the contrary, they so nour-
shed and preserved them that he was able
to produce forty-fve volumes and yet lose
none of his warm-heartedness and none oi
his brilliancy of Imagination.