hymns of the Rig-veda and opened an entirely new world to
my mind. We had the first book of the Rig-veda as published by Rosen,
and Burnouf's explanations were certainly delightful. He spoke freely
and conversationally in his lectures, and one could almost assist at
the elaboration of his thoughts. His audience was certainly small;
there was nothing like Renan's eloquence and wit. But Burnouf had ever
so many new facts to communicate to us. He explained to us his own
researches, he showed us new MSS. which he had received from India, in
fact he did all he could to make us fellow workers. Often did he tell
us to look up some passage in the Veda, to compare and copy the
commentaries, and to let him have the result of our researches at the
next lecture. All this was very inspiriting, particularly as Burnouf,
upon examining our work, was very generous in his approval, and quite
ready, if we had failed, to point out to us new sources that should
be examined. He never asserted his own authority, and if ever we had
found out something which he had not known before, he was delighted to
let us have the full credit for it. After all, it was a new and
unknown country, that had to be explored and mapped out, and even a
novice might sometimes find a grain of gold.

His select class contained some good men. There were Barthelemy St.
Hilaire, the famous translator of Aristotle, and for a time Minister
of Foreign Affairs in France, the Abbe Bardelli, R. Roth, Th.
Goldstuecker, and a few more.

Barthelemy St. Hilaire was a personal friend of Burnouf, and came to
the College de France not so much to learn Sanskrit as to hear
Burnouf's lucid exposition of ancient Indian religion and philosophy.
Bardelli was a regular Italian Abbe, studying Sanskrit at Paris, but
chiefly interested in Coptic. He was, like St. Hilaire, much my
senior, but we became great friends, and he once confided to me what
had certainly puzzled me--his reasons for becoming an ecclesiastic. He
had been deeply in love with a young lady; his love was returned, but
he was too poor to marry, and she was persuaded and almost forced to
marry a rich man. Dear old Abbe, always taking snuff while he told me
his agonies, and then finishing up by saying that he became a priest
so as to put an end for ever to his passion. Who would have suspected
such a background to his jovial face? I don't know how it was that
people, much my seniors, so often confided to me their secret
suffe