Recollections of My Youth | Page 9

worn off. The comparison between women and firearms made me very
cautious, and not until age began to creep over me did I see that this
also was vanity, and that the Preacher was right when he said: "Go thy
way, eat thy bread joyfully ... with the woman whom thou lovest." My
ideas upon this head outlived my ideas upon religion, and this is why I
have enjoyed immunity from the opprobrium which I should not
unreasonably have been subjected to if it could have been said that I
left the seminary for other reasons than those derived from philology.
The commonplace interrogation, "Where is the woman?" in which
laymen invariably look for an explanation of all such cases cannot but
seem a paltry attempt at humour to those who see things as they really
are. My early days were passed in this high school of faith and of
respect. The liberty in which so many giddy youths find themselves
suddenly landed was in my case acquired very gradually; and I did not
attain the degree of emancipation which so many Parisians reach
without any effort of their own, until I had gone through the German
exegesis. It took me six years of meditation and hard study to discover
that my teachers were not infallible. What caused me more grief than
anything else when I entered upon this new path was the thought of
distressing my revered masters; but I am absolutely certain that I was
right, and that the sorrow which they felt was the consequence of their
narrow views as to the economy of the universe.

[Footnote 1: This passage was written at Ischia in 1875.]

THE FLAX-CRUSHER.

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.
The hospital-general, so called because it was the trysting-place alike of

disease, old age, and poverty, was a very large structure, standing, like
all old buildings, upon a good deal of ground, and having very little
accommodation. Just in front of the entrance there was a small screen,
where the inmates who were either well or recovering from illness used
to meet when the weather was fine, for the hospital contained not only
the sick, but the paupers, and even persons who paid a small sum for
board and lodging. At the first glimpse of sunshine they all came to sit
out beneath the shade of the screen upon old cane chairs, and it was the
most animated place in the town. Guyomar and myself always
exchanged the time of day with these good people as we passed, and
we were greeted with no little respect, for though young we were
regarded as already clerks of the Church. This seemed quite natural, but
there was one thing which excited our astonishment, though we were
too inexperienced to know much of the world.
Among the paupers in the hospital was a person whom we never passed
without surprise. This was an old maid of