f the present generation; to bring back into the straight road of life
some of those enervated souls that complain of wanting faith, that know
not what to do, and seek everywhere, without finding it, an object of
worship and admiration. Why say, with so much bitterness, that in
this world, constituted as it is, there is no air for all lungs, no
employment for all minds? Is there not opportunity for calm and serious
study? and is not that a refuge, a hope, a field within the reach of
all of us? With it, evil days are passed over without their weight being
felt; every one can make his own destiny; every one can employ his
life nobly. This is what I have done, and would do again if I had to
recommence my career: I would choose that which has brought me to
where I am. Blind, and suffering without hope, and almost without
intermission, I may give this testimony, which from me will not appear
suspicious; there is something in this world better than sensual
enjoyments, better than fortune, better than health itself: it is
devotion to science."

Endnotes for Chapter XI.

{1} Autobiographical Preface to the 'Narratives of the Merovingian
Times.'

CHAPTER XII. JASMIN'S RECITATIONS IN PARIS.

It was a solemn and anxious moment for Jasmin when he appeared before
this select party of the most distinguished literary men in Paris: he
was no doubt placed at a considerable disadvantage, for his judges did
not even know his language. He had frequently recited to audiences who
did not know Gascon; and on such occasions he used, before commencing
his recitation, to give in French a short sketch of his poem, with, an
explanation of some of the more difficult Gascon words. This was all;
his mimic talent did the rest. His gestures were noble and well-marked.
His eyes were flashing, but they became languishing when he represented
tender sentiments. Then his utterance changed entirely, often suddenly,
following the expressions of grief and joy. There were now smiles, now
tears in his voice.

It was remarkable that Jasmin should first recite before the blind
historian The Blind Girl of Castel-Cuille. It may be that he thought it
his finest poem, within the compass of time allotted to him, and that it
might best please his audience. When he began to speak in Gascon he was
heard with interest. A laugh was, indeed, raised by a portion of his
youthful hearers, but Jasmin flashed his penetrating eye upon them; and
there was no more laught