Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton
“You will open your own veins to escape the fraternity of Cain. Be comforted; the last drops will not follow the razor. For you, venerable Malesherbes; for you, Aimar Nicolai; for you, learned Bailly, —I see them dress the scaffold! And all the while, O great philosophers, your murderers will have no word but philosophy on their lips! ” The hush was complete and universal when the pupil of Voltaire — the prince of the academic sceptics, hot La Harpe — cried with a sarcastic laugh, “ Do not flatter me, O prophet, by exemption from the fate of my companions. Shall J have no part to play in this drama of your fantasies.” At this question, Cazotte’s countenance lost its unnatural expression of awe and sternness; the sardonic humor most common to it came back and played in his brightening eyes. “Yes, La Harpe, the most wonderful part of all! You will become — a Christian! ” This was too much for the audience that a moment before seemed grave and thoughtful, and they burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, while Cazotte, as if exhausted by his predictions, sank back in his chair, and breathed hard and heavily. “Nay,” said Madame de G , “you who have predicted such grave things concerning us, must prophesy something also about yourself.” A convulsive tremor shook the involuntary prophet, — it passed, and left his countenance elevated by an expression of resignation and calm. ‘“ Madame,” said he, after a long pause, “during the siege of Jerusalem, we are told by its historian that a man, for seven successive days, went round the ramparts, exclaiming, ‘ Woe to thee, Jerusalem, — woe to myself!’ ”
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* Well, Cazotte, weil? ” “And on the seventh day, while he thus spoke, a stone from the machines of the Romans dashed him into atoms! ” With these words, Cazotte rose; and the guests, awed in spite of themselves, shortly afterwards broke up and retired.
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CHAPTER VII.
Qui donc t’a donné la mission s’annoncer au peuple que Ja divinité n’existe pas? Quel avantage trouves-tu & persuader & homme qu’une force aveugle préside a ses destinées et frappe au hasard le crime et la vertu ? !— RopesPieRRE, Discours, Mai 7, 1794.
Ir was some time before midnight when the stranger returned home, His apartments were situated in one of those vast abodes which may be called an epitome of Paris itself, — the cellars rented by mechanics, scarcely removed a step from paupers, often by outcasts and fugitives from the law, often by some daring writer, who, after scattering amongst the people doctrines the most subversive of order, or the most libellous on the characters of priest, minister, and king, retired amongst the rats, to escape the persecution that attends the virtuous; the ground-floor occupied by shops; the entresol by artists; the principal stories by nobles; and the garrets by journeymen or grisettes. As the stranger passed up the stairs, a young man of a form and countenance singularly unprepossessing emerged from a door in the entresol, and brushed beside him. His glance was furtive, sinister, savage, and yet timorous; the man’s face was of an ashen paleness, and the features worked convulsively. The stranger paused, and observed him with thoughtful looks, as he hurried
1 Who then invested you with the mission to announce to the people that there is no God? What advantage find you in persuading man that nothing but blind force presides over his destinies, and strikes haphazard both crime and virtue ?
——
p. 45
“You will open your own veins to escape the fraternity of Cain. Be comforted; the last drops will not follow the razor. For you, venerable Malesherbes; for you, Aimar Nicolai; for you, learned Bailly, —I see them dress the scaffold! And all the while, O great philosophers, your murderers will have no word but philosophy on their lips! ” The hush was complete and universal when the pupil of Voltaire — the prince of the academic sceptics, hot La Harpe — cried with a sarcastic laugh, “ Do not flatter me, O prophet, by exemption from the fate of my companions. Shall J have no part to play in this drama of your fantasies.” At this question, Cazotte’s countenance lost its unnatural expression of awe and sternness; the sardonic humor most common to it came back and played in his brightening eyes. “Yes, La Harpe, the most wonderful part of all! You will become — a Christian! ” This was too much for the audience that a moment before seemed grave and thoughtful, and they burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, while Cazotte, as if exhausted by his predictions, sank back in his chair, and breathed hard and heavily. “Nay,” said Madame de G , “you who have predicted such grave things concerning us, must prophesy something also about yourself.” A convulsive tremor shook the involuntary prophet, — it passed, and left his countenance elevated by an expression of resignation and calm. ‘“ Madame,” said he, after a long pause, “during the siege of Jerusalem, we are told by its historian that a man, for seven successive days, went round the ramparts, exclaiming, ‘ Woe to you, Jerusalem, — woe to myself!’ ”
p. 43
* Well, Cazotte, weil? ” “And on the seventh day, while he thus spoke, a stone from the machines of the Romans dashed him into atoms! ” With these words, Cazotte rose; and the guests, awed in spite of themselves, shortly afterwards broke up and retired.
p. 44
CHAPTER VII.
Qui donc t’a donné la mission s’annoncer au peuple que Ja divinité n’existe pas? Quel avantage trouves-tu & persuader & homme qu’une force aveugle préside a ses destinées et frappe au hasard le crime et la vertu ? !— RopesPieRRE, Discours, Mai 7, 1794.
Ir was some time before midnight when the stranger returned home, His apartments were situated in one of those vast abodes which may be called an epitome of Paris itself, — the cellars rented by mechanics, scarcely removed a step from paupers, often by outcasts and fugitives from the law, often by some daring writer, who, after scattering amongst the people doctrines the most subversive of order, or the most libellous on the characters of priest, minister, and king, retired amongst the rats, to escape the persecution that attends the virtuous; the ground-floor occupied by shops; the entresol by artists; the principal stories by nobles; and the garrets by journeymen or grisettes. As the stranger passed up the stairs, a young man of a form and countenance singularly unprepossessing emerged from a door in the entresol, and brushed beside him. His glance was furtive, sinister, savage, and yet timorous; the man’s face was of an ashen paleness, and the features worked convulsively. The stranger paused, and observed him with thoughtful looks, as he hurried
1 Who then invested you with the mission to announce to the people that there is no God? What advantage find you in persuading man that nothing but blind force presides over his destinies, and strikes haphazard both crime and virtue ?
——
p. 45
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