Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton

persons, priests opinion. Without kings, men must be safe; and without priests, minds must be free.” “Ah,” murmured the marquis, “and as ce cher Diderot has so well sung, —

‘Et des boyaux du dernier prétre Serrez le cou du dernier roi.’ ” 1

“ And then,” resumed Condorcet, — “ then commences the Age of Reason! — equality in instruction, equality in institutions, equality in wealth! The great impediments to knowledge are, first, the want of a common language; and next, the short duration of existence. But as to the first, when all men are brothers, why not a universal language? As to the second, the organic perfectibility of the vegetable world’ is undisputed, is Nature less powerful in the nobler existence of thinking man? The very destruction of the two most active causes of physical deterioration — here, luxurious wealth; there, abject penury, — must necessarily prolong the general term of life.? The art of medicine will then be honored in the place of war, which is the art of murder: the noblest study of the acutest minds will be devoted to the discovery and arrest of the causes of disease. Life, I grant, cannot be made eternal; but it may be prolonged almost indefinitely. And as the meaner animal bequeaths its vigor to its offspring, so man shall transmit his improved organization, mental and physical, to his sons. Oh, yes, to such a consummation does our age approach! ” The venerable Malesherbes sighed. Perhaps he feared the consummation might not come in time for 1 And throttle the neck of the last king with the string from the bowels of the last priest.

2 See Condorcet’s posthumous work on the Progress of the Human Mind. — Ep.

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him. The handsome Marquis de and the ladies, yet handsomer than he, looked conviction and delight.

But two men there were, seated next to each other, who joined not in the general talk: the one a stranger newly arrived in Paris, where his wealth, his person, and his accomplishments, had already made him remarked and courted; the other, an old man, somewhere about seventy,— the witty and virtuous, brave, and still light-hearted Cazotte, the author of “ Le Diable Amoureux.

These two conversed familiarly, and apart from the rest, and only by an occasional smile testified their attention to the general conversation. “Ves,” said the stranger, — “yes, we have met before. “T thought I could not forget your countenance; yet I task in vain my recollections of the past. “T will assist you.

Recall the time when, led by curiosity, or perhaps the nobler desire of knowledge, you sought initiation into the mysterious order of Martines de Pasqualis.” +

I It is so recorded of Cazotte. Of Martines de Pasqualis little is known ; even the country to which he belonged is matter of conjecture. Equally so the rites, ceremonies, and nature of the cabalistic order he established. St. Martin was a disciple of the school, and that, at least, is in its favor; for in spite of his mysticism, no man more beneficent, generous, pure, and virtuous than St. Martin adorned the last century. Above all, no man more distinguished himself from the herd of sceptical philosophers by the gallantry and fervor with which he combated materialism, and vindicated the necessity of faith amidst a chaos of unbelief. It may also be observed, that Cazotte, whatever else he learned of the brotherhood of Martines, learned nothing that diminished the excellence of his life and the sincerity of his religion. At once gentle and brave, he never ceased to oppose the excesses of the Revolution. To the last, unlike the Liberals of his time, he was a deyout and

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