PART II.


The education which these worthy priests gave me was not a very
literary one. We turned out a good deal of Latin verse, but they would
not recognize any French poetry later than the _Religion_ of Racine
the younger. The name of Lamartine was pronounced only with a sneer,
and the existence of M. Hugo was not so much as known. To compose
French verse was regarded as a very dangerous habit, and would have
been sufficient to get a pupil expelled. I attribute partly to this my
inability to express thoughts in rhyme, and this inability has
often caused me great regret, for I have frequently felt a sort
of inspiration to do so, but have invariably been checked by the
association of ideas which has led me to regard versification as a
defect. Our studies of history and of the natural sciences were not
carried far, but, on the other hand, we went deep into mathematics,
to which I applied myself with the utmost zest, these abstract
combinations exercising a wonderful fascination over me. Our
professor, the good Abbé Duchesne, was particularly attentive in his
lessons to me and to my close friend and fellow-student Guyomar,
who displayed a great aptitude for this branch of study. We always
returned together from the college. Our shortest cut was by the
square, and we were too conscientious to deviate from the most direct
route; but when we had had to work out some problem more intricate
than usual our discussion of it lasted far beyond class-time, and on
those occasions we made our way home by the hospital. This road took
us past several large doors which were always shut, and upon which we
worked out our calculations and drew our figures in chalk. Traces
of them are perhaps visible there still, for these were the doors of
large monasteries, where nothing ever changes.