he shared the demi-rationalism of Hug and Jahn—­minimising the proportion of the supernatural as far as possible, especially in the cases of what he called “miracles difficult to carry out,” such as the miracle of Joshua, but still retaining the principle, at all events in respect to the miracles of the New Testament.  This superficial eclecticism did not much take my fancy.  M. Le Hir was much nearer the truth in not attempting to attenuate the matter recounted, and in closely studying, after the manner of Ewald, the recital itself.  As a comparative grammarian, M. Quatremere was also very inferior to M. Le Hir.  But his erudition in regard to orientalism was enormous.  A new world opened before me, and I saw that what apparently could only be of interest to priests might be of interest to laymen as well.  The idea often occurred to me from that time that I should one day teach from the same table, in the small classroom to which I have as a matter of fact succeeded in forcing my way.

This obligation to classify and systematize my ideas in view of lessons to be given to fellow-pupils of the same age as myself decided my vocation.  My scheme of teaching was from that moment determined upon; and whatever I have since accomplished in the way of philology has its origin in the humble lecture which through the kindness of my masters was intrusted to me.  The necessity for extending as far as possible my studies in exegesis and Semitic philology compelled me to learn German.  I had no elementary knowledge of it, for at St. Nicholas my education had been wholly Latin and French.  I do not complain of this.  A man need only have a literary knowledge of two languages, Latin and his own; but he should understand all those which may be useful to him for business or instruction.  An obliging fellow pupil from Alsace, M. Kl——­, whose name I often see mentioned as rendering services to his compatriots in Paris, kindly helped me at the outset.  Literature was to my mind such a secondary matter, amidst the ardent investigation which absorbed me, that I did not at first pay much attention to it.  Nevertheless, I felt a new genius, very different from that of the seventeenth century.  I admired it all the more because I did not see any limit to it.  The spirit peculiar to Germany at the close of the last century, and in the first half of the present one, had a very striking effect upon me; I felt as if entering a place of worship.  This was just what I was in search of, the conciliation of a truly religious spirit with the spirit of criticism.  There were times when I was sorry that I was not a Protestant, so that I might be a philosopher without ceasing to be a Christian.  Then, again, I recognised the fact that the Catholics alone are consistent.  A single error proves that a Church is not infallible; one weak part proves that a book is not a revealed one.  Outside rigid orthodoxy, there was nothing, so far as I could see, except free thought after the