and by the college of bursars nicknamed
the Robertins. The original building disappeared at the time of the
Revolution. The chapel, the ceiling of which was regarded as Lebrun's
masterpiece, has been destroyed, and all that remains of the old house
is a picture by Lebrun representing the Pentecost in a style which
would excite the wonder of the author of the Acts of the Apostles. The
Virgin is the centre figure, and is receiving the whole of the pouring
out of the Holy Ghost, which from her spreads to the apostles. Saved
at the Revolution, and afterwards in the gallery of Cardinal Fesch,
this picture was bought back by the corporation of St. Sulpice, and is
now in the seminary chapel.

With the exception of the walls and the furniture, all is old at
St. Sulpice, and it is easy to believe that one is living in
the seventeenth century. Time and its ravages have effaced many
differences. St. Sulpice now embodies in itself many things which were
once far removed from one another, and those who wish to get the best
idea attainable in the present day, of what Port-Royal, the original
Sorbonne, and the institutions of the ancient French clergy generally
were like, must enter its portals. When I joined the St. Sulpice
seminary in 1843, there were still a few directors who had seen M.
Emery, but there were only two, if I remember right, whose memories
carried them back to a date earlier than the Revolution. M. Hugon had
acted as acolyte at the consecration of M. de Talleyrand in the chapel
of Issy in 1788. It seems that the attitude of the Abbe de Perigord
during the ceremony was very indecorous. M. Hugon related that he
accused himself, when at confession the following Saturday, "of
having formed hasty judgments as to the piety of a holy bishop." The
superior-general, M. Garnier, was more than eighty, and he was in
every respect an ecclesiastic of the old school. He had gone through
his studies at the Robertins College and afterwards at the Sorbonne,
from which he gave one the idea of just emerging, and when one heard
him talk of "Monsieur Bossuet" and "Monsieur Fenelon",[1] it seemed as
if one was face to face with an actual pupil of those great men.
There is nothing in common except the name and the dress between these
ecclesiastics that of the old _regime_ and those of the present day.
Compared to the young and exuberant members of the Issy school, M.
Garnier had the appearance almost of a layman, with a complete absence
o