Zanoni — Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Antipathies also form a part of magic (falsely) so called. Man naturally has the same instinct as the animals, which warns them involuntarily against the creatures that are hostile or fatal to their existence. But he so often neglects it, that it becomes dormant. Not so the true cultivator of the Great Science, ete. — TRISMEGISTUS THE FourtH (a Rosicrucian ).
Wuen he again saw the old man the next day, the stranger found him calm, and surprisingly recovered from the scene and sufferings of the night. He expressed his gratitude to his preserver with tearful fervor, and stated that he had already sent for a relation who would make arrangements for his future safety and mode of life. “For I have money yet left,” said the old man; “and henceforth have no motive to be a miser.” He proceeded then briefly to relate the origin and circumstances of his connection with his intended murderer. It seems that in earlier life he had quarrelled with his relations,— from a difference in opinions of belief. Rejecting all religion as a fable, he yet cultivated feelings that inclined him—for though his intellect was weak, his dispositions were good—to that false and exaggerated sensibility which its dupes so often mistake for benevolence. He had no children; he resolved to adopt an enfant du peuple. He resolved to educate this boy according to “reason.” He selected an orphan of the lowest extraction, whose defects of person and constitw
p. 61
tion only yet the more moved his pity, and finally engrossed his affection. In this outcast he not only loved a son, he loved a theory! He brought him up most philosophically. Helvetius had proved to him that education can do all; and before he was eight years old, the little Jean’s favorite expressions were, “ La lumiere et la vertu.”1 The boy showed talents, especially in art. The protector sought for a master who was as free from “ superstition ” as himself, and selected the painter David. That person, as hideous as his pupil, and whose dispositions were as vicious as his professional abilities were undeniable, was certainly as free from “ superstition” as the protector could desire. It was reserved for Robespierre hereafter to make the sanguinary painter believe in the Htre Supréme. The boy was early sensible of his ugliness, which was almost preternatural. His benefactor found it in vain to reconcile him to the malice of Nature by his philosophical aphorisms; but when he pointed out to him that in this world money, like charity, covers a multitude of defects, the boy listened eagerly and was consoled. To save money for his protégé, — for the only thing in the world he loved, —this became the patron’s passion. Verily, he had met with his reward. “But I am thankful he has escaped,” said the old man, wiping his eyes. “Had he left me a beggar, I could never have accused him.” “No, for you are the author of his crimes.” “How! I, who never ceased to inculcate the beauty of virtue? Explain yourself.” “Alas! if thy pupil did not make this clear to thee last night from his own lips, an angel might come from heaven to preach to thee in vain.”
1 Light and virtue,
p. 52
The old man moved uneasily, and was about to reply, when the relative he had sent for—and who, a native of Nancy, happened to be at Paris at the time — entered the room. He was a man somewhat past thirty, and of a dry, saturnine, meagre countenance, restless eyes, and compressed lips. He listened, with many ejaculations of horror, to his relation’s recital, and sought earnestly, but in vain, to induce him to give information against his protégé. “Tush, tush, Réné Dumas!” said the old man, “you are a lawyer. You are bred to regard human life with contempt. Let any man break a law, and you shout, ‘Execute him !’” “T!” cried Dumas, lifting up his hands and eyes: “venerable sage, how you misjudge me! I lament more than any one the severity of our code. I think the state never should take away life, —no, not even the life of a murderer. I agree with that young statesman, — Maximilien Robespierre, —that the executioner ~ is the invention of the tyrant. My very attachment to our advancing revolution is, that it must sweep away this legal butchery.” The lawyer paused, out of breath. The stranger regarded him fixedly and turned pale. “You change countenance, sir,” said Dumas; do not agree with me.” “Pardon me, I was at that moment repressing a vague fear which seemed prophetic.” “And that —”’ “Was that we should meet again, when your opinions on Death and the philosophy of Revolutions might be different.” “Never !”” “You enchant me, Cousin Réné,” said the old man,
“you reer ee aa
p. 53
Antipathies also form a part of magic (falsely) so called. Man naturally has the same instinct as the animals, which warns them involuntarily against the creatures that are hostile or fatal to their existence. But he so often neglects it, that it becomes dormant. Not so the true cultivator of the Great Science, ete. — TRISMEGISTUS THE FourtH (a Rosicrucian ).
Wuen he again saw the old man the next day, the stranger found him calm, and surprisingly recovered from the scene and sufferings of the night. He expressed his gratitude to his preserver with tearful fervor, and stated that he had already sent for a relation who would make arrangements for his future safety and mode of life. “For I have money yet left,” said the old man; “and henceforth have no motive to be a miser.” He proceeded then briefly to relate the origin and circumstances of his connection with his intended murderer. It seems that in earlier life he had quarrelled with his relations,— from a difference in opinions of belief. Rejecting all religion as a fable, he yet cultivated feelings that inclined him—for though his intellect was weak, his dispositions were good—to that false and exaggerated sensibility which its dupes so often mistake for benevolence. He had no children; he resolved to adopt an enfant du peuple. He resolved to educate this boy according to “reason.” He selected an orphan of the lowest extraction, whose defects of person and constitw
p. 61
tion only yet the more moved his pity, and finally engrossed his affection. In this outcast he not only loved a son, he loved a theory! He brought him up most philosophically. Helvetius had proved to him that education can do all; and before he was eight years old, the little Jean’s favorite expressions were, “ La lumiere et la vertu.”1 The boy showed talents, especially in art. The protector sought for a master who was as free from “ superstition ” as himself, and selected the painter David. That person, as hideous as his pupil, and whose dispositions were as vicious as his professional abilities were undeniable, was certainly as free from “ superstition” as the protector could desire. It was reserved for Robespierre hereafter to make the sanguinary painter believe in the Htre Supréme. The boy was early sensible of his ugliness, which was almost preternatural. His benefactor found it in vain to reconcile him to the malice of Nature by his philosophical aphorisms; but when he pointed out to him that in this world money, like charity, covers a multitude of defects, the boy listened eagerly and was consoled. To save money for his protégé, — for the only thing in the world he loved, —this became the patron’s passion. Verily, he had met with his reward. “But I am thankful he has escaped,” said the old man, wiping his eyes. “Had he left me a beggar, I could never have accused him.” “No, for you are the author of his crimes.” “How! I, who never ceased to inculcate the beauty of virtue? Explain yourself.” “Alas! if your pupil did not make this clear to you last night from his own lips, an angel might come from heaven to preach to you in vain.”
1 Light and virtue,
52 ZANONI.
The old man moved uneasily, and was about to reply, when the relative he had sent for—and who, a native of Nancy, happened to be at Paris at the time — entered the room. He was a man somewhat past thirty, and of a dry, saturnine, meagre countenance, restless eyes, and compressed lips. He listened, with many ejaculations of horror, to his relation’s recital, and sought earnestly, but in vain, to induce him to give information against his protégé. “Tush, tush, Réné Dumas!” said the old man, “you are a lawyer. You are bred to regard human life with contempt. Let any man break a law, and you shout, ‘Execute him !’” “T!” cried Dumas, lifting up his hands and eyes: “venerable sage, how you misjudge me! I lament more than any one the severity of our code. I think the state never should take away life, —no, not even the life of a murderer. I agree with that young statesman, — Maximilien Robespierre, —that the executioner ~ is the invention of the tyrant. My very attachment to our advancing revolution is, that it must sweep away this legal butchery.” The lawyer paused, out of breath. The stranger regarded him fixedly and turned pale. “You change countenance, sir,” said Dumas; do not agree with me.” “Pardon me, I was at that moment repressing a vague fear which seemed prophetic.” “And that —”’ “Was that we should meet again, when your opinions on Death and the philosophy of Revolutions might be different.” “Never !”” “You enchant me, Cousin Réné,” said the old man,
“you reer ee aa
p. 53
No commentary for this page under the selected tracks.
There is commentary on page 1.