I had never been one of those fanatics to whom the Republic meant religion, country, justice--everything; and the Jacobites, by their intolerance, their mania for levelling, their hardness, brutality and materialism, had disgusted and wounded me more than once, and now the action of the Government in uprooting the very law to which they had sworn fidelity, filled me with indignation, and dissipated once and for all any illusions about those future federations which I had once hoped would be the outcome of a Republic of France. Some of my colleagues from the Law School placed themselves at the head of the insurgent bands who were raised in Le Var in the name of the Constitution; but the greater number, in Provence as elsewhere, some disgusted by the turbulence of the opposing party, others dazzled by the brilliance of the first Empire, applauded the change of Government. Who could have foretold that the new Empire would tumble to pieces as it did, in a terrible war and national wreck? So it came to pass that I abandoned, once and for all, inflammatory politics, even as one casts off a burden on the road in order to walk more lightly, and from henceforth I gave myself up entirely to my country and my art--my Provence, from whom I had never received aught but pure joy. One evening, about this time, withdrawn in contemplation, roaming in quest of my rhymes,--for I have always found my verses by the highways and byways--I met an old man tending his sheep. It was the worthy Jean, a character well known to me. The sky was covered with stars, the screech-owl hooted, and the following dialogue took place: “You have wandered far, Mister Frédéric,” began the shepherd. “I am taking a little air, Master Jean,” I answered. “You are going for a turn among the stars?” “Master Jean, you have said it. I am so heartily sick, disillusioned and disheartened with the things of earth, that I wish to-night to ascend and lose myself in the kingdom of the stars.” “Well, I myself,” said he, “make an excursion there nearly every night, and I assure you the journey is one of the most beautiful.” “But how does one manage to find one’s way in that unfathomable depth of light?” “If you would like to follow me, sir, while the sheep eat, I will guide you gently and show you all.” “Worthy Jean, I take you at your word,” I readily agreed. “Now, let us mount by that road which shows all white from north to south: it is the road of Saint-Jacques. It goes from France straight over to Spain. When the Emperor Charlemagne made war with the Saracens, the great Saint-Jacques of Galice marked it out before him to show him the way.” “It is what the pagans called the Milky Way,” I observed.