Louis Lambert | Page 5

college at Vendome. When the first crisis had blown
over, the authorities recovered possession of their buildings; certain
Oratorians, scattered about the country, came back to the college and
re-opened it under the old rules, with the habits, practices, and customs
which gave this school a character with which I have seen nothing at all
comparable in any that I have visited since I left that establishment.
Standing in the heart of the town, on the little river Loire which flows
under its walls, the college possesses extensive precincts, carefully
enclosed by walls, and including all the buildings necessary for an
institution on that scale: a chapel, a theatre, an infirmary, a bakehouse,
gardens, and water supply. This college is the most celebrated home of
learning in all the central provinces, and receives pupils from them and
from the colonies. Distance prohibits any frequent visits from parents
to their children.
The rule of the House forbids holidays away from it. Once entered
there, a pupil never leaves till his studies are finished. With the
exception of walks taken under the guidance of the Fathers, everything
is calculated to give the School the benefit of conventual discipline; in
my day the tawse was still a living memory, and the classical leather
strap played its terrible part with all the honors. The punishment
originally invented by the Society of Jesus, as alarming to the moral as
to the physical man, was still in force in all the integrity of the original
code.
Letters to parents were obligatory on certain days, so was confession.
Thus our sins and our sentiments were all according to pattern.

Everything bore the stamp of monastic rule. I well remember, among
other relics of the ancient order, the inspection we went through every
Sunday. We were all in our best, placed in file like soldiers to await the
arrival of the two inspectors who, attended by the tutors and the
tradesmen, examined us from the three points of view of dress, health,
and morals.
The two or three hundred pupils lodged in the establishment were
divided, according to ancient custom, into the minimes (the smallest),
the little boys, the middle boys, and the big boys. The division of the
minimes included the eighth and seventh classes; the little boys formed
the sixth, fifth, and fourth; the middle boys were classed as third and
second; and the first class comprised the senior students--of philosophy,
rhetoric, the higher mathematics, and chemistry. Each of these
divisions had its own building, classrooms, and play-ground, in the
large common precincts on to which the classrooms opened, and
beyond which was the refectory.
This dining-hall, worthy of an ancient religious Order, accommodated
all the school. Contrary to the usual practice in educational institutions,
we were allowed to talk at our meals, a tolerant Oratorian rule which
enabled us to exchange plates according to our taste. This
gastronomical barter was always one of the chief pleasures of our
college life. If one of the "middle" boys at the head of his table wished
for a helping of lentils instead of dessert--for we had dessert--the offer
was passed down from one to another: "Dessert for lentils!" till some
other epicure had accepted; then the plate of lentils was passed up to
the bidder from hand to hand, and the plate of dessert returned by the
same road. Mistakes were never made. If several identical offers were
made, they were taken in order, and the formula would be, "Lentils
number one for dessert number one." The tables were very long; our
incessant barter kept everything moving; we transacted it with amazing
eagerness; and the chatter of three hundred lads, the bustling to and fro
of the servants employed in changing the plates, setting down the
dishes, handing the bread, with the tours of inspection of the masters,
made this refectory at Vendome a scene unique in its way, and the
amazement of visitors.
To make our life more tolerable, deprived as we were of all
communication with the outer world and of family affection, we were

allowed to keep pigeons and to have gardens. Our two or three hundred
pigeon-houses, with a thousand birds nesting all round the outer wall,
and above thirty garden plots, were a sight even stranger than our meals.
But a full account of the peculiarities which made the college at
Vendome a place unique in itself and fertile in reminiscences to those
who spent their boyhood there, would be weariness to the reader.
Which of us all but remembers with delight, notwithstanding the
bitterness of learning, the eccentric pleasures of that cloistered life? The
sweetmeats purchased by stealth in the course of our walks, permission
obtained to play cards and devise theatrical performances during the
holidays, such tricks and freedom as were necessitated by