BARON CUVIER. 157 



he was most willing to impart it to those who wished to 

 learn. The facihty with which he placed knowledge in the 

 reach of others was one of the most precious gifts with 

 wiiich Heaven had endowed him ; for half the value of a 

 brilliant or a useful idea is lost, unless we have the power of 

 communicating it as it appears to ourselves. Sometinies he 

 would enliven the evening by proposing a party to eat ices 

 at one of the famous cafes ; and, on one occasion, he in- 

 sisted on showing me, as an Englishwoman, how happy 

 the lower classes of French are on their fete days ; and. 

 passing the barrier close to the Jardin des Plantes, he led 

 us among the guinguettes* outside, where the people were 

 dancing and singing, and making merry. He delighted 

 in their mirth, stopped to witness it, and, several times 

 turning round to me, asked me if the English knew any 

 thingof such light-hearted enjoyment. It is said of some cele- 

 brated person, that no one could take shelter from the rain 

 with him, under a shed, for a quarter of an hour, without 

 deriving some information from his discourse. This obser- 

 vation may be equally applied to M. Cuvier ; for after these 

 htde excursions, intended solely for diversion, it was fre- 

 quently a matter of surprise to find that something had been 

 learned, either by way of history, character, language, or 

 moral conduct ; so elevated, yet so fascinating, was the 

 tone of his unrestrained conversation. 



M. Cuvier's hours of audience generally took place be- 

 fore and after breakfast, and he was accessible to every 

 body ; for he said, " when people hved at such a distance 

 as the Jardin des Plantes, they had no right to send any 

 one away who came so far to request their advice or as- 

 sistance." I have seen the young and the old, the widow 

 and the orphan, the poor and the rich, throng his door, all 

 in the security of being well received. I met an unhappy 

 woman one morning, crying as she came down stairs ; and 

 on asking her what was the matter, she replied, " It is not 

 M. Cuvier who has made me cry ; but it is because even he 



* Many of these guinguettes consist of nothing but a mere shed, with 

 a little space in front, where the guests sit and drink w-eak wine, (vin ordi- 

 naire,) sugar and water, lemonade, &c., dance, sing, and play at dominoes. 

 They are generally placed outside the barriers to avoid the duty paid on 

 provisions of every kind as they enter Paris. 







