As I have been led to speak of the school as it was in 1804, I will say that its faults were less those of organization than those of personal management; for many of the professors were much below their office, a fact which gave rise to somewhat ridiculous scenes.  The pupils, for instance, having observed the insufficiency of M. Hassenfratz, made a demonstration of the dimensions of the rainbow, full of errors of calculation, but in which the one compensated the other so that the final result was true.  The professor, who had only this result whereby to judge of the goodness of the answer, when he saw it appear on the board, did not hesitate to call out, “Good, good, perfectly good!” which excited shouts of laughter on all the benches of the amphitheatre.

When a professor has lost consideration, without which it is impossible for him to do well, they allow themselves to insult him to an incredible extent.  Of this I will cite a single specimen.

A pupil, M. Leboullenger, met one evening in company this same M. Hassenfratz, and had a discussion with him.  When he reentered the school in the morning, he mentioned this circumstance to us.  “Be on your guard,” said one of our comrades to him; “you will be interrogated this evening.  Play with caution, for the professor has certainly prepared some great difficulties so as to cause laughter at your expense.”

Our anticipations were not mistaken.  Scarcely had the pupils arrived in the amphitheatre, when M. Hassenfratz called to M. Leboullenger, who came to the board.

“M.  Leboullenger,” said the professor to him, “you have seen the moon?” “No, sir.”  “How, sir! you say that you have never seen the moon?” “I can only, repeat my answer—­no, sir.”  Beside himself, and seeing his prey escape him, by means of this unexpected answer, M. Hassenfratz addressed himself to the inspector charged with the observance of order that day, and said to him, “Sir, there is M. Leboullenger, who pretends never to have seen the moon.”  “What would you wish me to do?” stoically replied M. Le Brun.  Repulsed on this side, the professor turned once more towards M. Leboullenger, who remained calm and earnest in the midst of the unspeakable amusement of the whole amphitheatre, and cried out with undisguised anger, “You persist in maintaining that you have never seen the moon?” “Sir,” returned the pupil, “I should deceive you if I told you that I had not heard it spoken of, but I have never seen it.”  “Sir, return to your place.”

After this scene, M. Hassenfratz was but a professor in name; his teaching could no longer be of any use.

At the commencement of the second year, I was appointed “chef de brigade.”  Hatchette had been professor of hydrography at Collioure; his friends from Roussillon recommended me to him.  He received me with great kindness, and even gave me a room in his lodgings.  It was there that I had the pleasure of making Poisson’s acquaintance, who lived next to us.  Every evening the great geometer entered my room, and we passed entire hours in conversing on politics and mathematics, which is certainly not quite the same thing.