RECOLLECTIONS OF MY YOUTH BY ERNEST RENAN 1897 [Illustration: Ernest Renan] CONTENTS. THE FLAX-CRUSHER. PART I. PART II. PART III. PART IV. PRAYER ON THE ACROPOLIS ST. RENAN MY UNCLE PIERRE. GOOD MASTER SYSTÈME. PART I. PART II. LITTLE NOÉMI. PART I. PART II. THE PETTY SEMINARY OF ST. NICHOLAS DU CHARDONNET. PART I. PART II. PART III. THE ISSY SEMINARY. PART I. PART II. THE ST. SULPICE SEMINARY. PART I. PART II. PART III. PART IV. PART V. FIRST STEPS OUTSIDE ST. SULPICE. PART I. PART II. PART III. PART IV. PART V. APPENDIX PREFACE. One of the most popular legends in Brittany is that relating to an imaginary town called Is, which is supposed to have been swallowed up by the sea at some unknown time. There are several places along the coast which are pointed out as the site of this imaginary city, and the fishermen have many strange tales to tell of it. According to them, the tips of the spires of the churches may be seen in the hollow of the waves when the sea is rough, while during a calm the music of their bells, ringing out the hymn appropriate to the day, rises above the waters. I often fancy that I have at the bottom of my heart a city of Is with its bells calling to prayer a recalcitrant congregation. At times I halt to listen to these gentle vibrations which seem as if they came from immeasurable depths, like voices from another world. Since old age began to steal over me, I have loved more especially during the repose which summer brings with it, to gather up these distant echoes of a vanished Atlantis. This it is which has given birth to the six chapters which make up the present volume. The recollections of my childhood do not pretend to form a complete and continuous narrative. They are merely the images which arose before me and the reflections which suggested themselves to me while I was calling up a past fifty years old, written down in the order in which they came. Goethe selected as the title for his memoirs "Truth and Poetry," thereby signifying that a man cannot write his own biography in the same way that he would that of any one else. What one says of oneself is always poetical. To fancy that the small details of one's own life are worth recording is to be guilty of very petty vanity. A man writes such things in order to transmit to others the theory of the universe which he carries within himself. The form of the present work seemed to me a convenient one for expressing certain shades of thought which my previous writings did not convey. I had no desire to furnish information about myself for the future use of those who might wish to write essays or articles about me.