Hence a deluge of witticisms against religion, one quoting a tirade from 'La Pucelle,' another bringing forward certain philosophical stanzas by Diderot. . . . and with unbounded applause. . . . The conversation becomes more serious; admiration is expressed at the revolution accomplished by Voltaire, and all agree in its being the first title to his fame. 'He gave the tone to his century, finding readers in the antechambers as well as in the drawing-room.' One of the guests narrates, bursting with laughter, what a hairdresser said to him while powdering his hair: 'You see, sir, although I am a miserable scrub, I have no more religion than any one else.' They conclude that the Revolution will soon be consummated, that superstition and fanaticism must wholly give way to philosophy, and they thus calculate the probabilities of the epoch and those of the future society which will see the reign of reason. The most aged lament not being able to flatter themselves that they will see it; the young rejoice in a reasonable prospect of seeing it, and especially do they congratulate the Academy on having paved the way for the great work, and on having been the headquarters, the center, the inspirer of ******* of thought.
One of the guests had taken no part in this gay conversation a person named Cazotte, an amiable and original man, but, unfortunately, infatuated with the delusions of the visionary. In the most serious tone he begins: 'Gentlemen,' says he, 'be content; you will witness this great revolution that you so much desire. You know that I am something of a prophet, and I repeat it, you will witness it. . . . Do you know the result of this revolution, for all of you, so long as you remain here?' - 'Ah!' exclaims Condorcet with his shrewd, ****** air and smile, 'let us see, a philosopher is not sorry to encounter a prophet.' - 'You, Monsieur de Condorcet, will expire stretched on the floor of a dungeon; you will die of the poison you take to escape the executioner, of the poison which the felicity of that era will compel you always to carry about your person!' - At first, great astonishment, and then came an outburst of laughter. 'What has all this in common with philosophy and the reign of reason?' -'Precisely what I have just remarked to you; in the name of philosophy, of humanity, of *******, under the reign of reason, you will thus reach your end; and, evidently, the reign of reason will arrive, for there will be temples of reason, and, in those days, in all France, the temples will be those alone of reason. . . . You, Monsieur de Champfort, you will sever your veins with twenty-two strokes of a razor and yet you will not die for months afterwards.
You, Monsieur Vicq-d'Azir, you will not open your own veins but you will have them opened six times in one day, in the agonies of gout, so as to be more certain of success, and you will die that night. You, Monsieur de Nicolai, on the scaffold; you, Monsieur Bailly, on the scaffold; you, Monsieur de Malesherbes, on the scaffold; . . . you, Monsieur Roucher, also on the scaffold.' - 'But then we shall have been overcome by Turks or Tartars?' - 'By no means; you will be governed, as I have already told you, solely by philosophy and reason.
Those who are to treat you in this manner will all be philosophers, will all, at every moment, have on their lips the phrases you have uttered within the hour, will repeat your maxims, will quote, like yourselves, the stanzas of Diderot and of "La Pucelle."' - 'And when will all this happen?' - 'Six years will not pass before what I tell you will be accomplished.' - 'Well, these are miracles,' exclaims La Harpe, 'and you leave me out?' - 'You will be no less a miracle, for you will then be a Christian.' - 'Ah,' interposes Champfort, Ibreathe again; if we are to die only when La Harpe becomes a Christian we are immortals.' - 'As to that, we women,' says the Duchesse de Gramont, 'are extremely fortunate in being of no consequence in revolutions. It is understood that we are not to blame, and our *** .
. ' - 'Your ***, ladies, will not protect you this time. . . . You will be treated precisely as men, with no difference whatever. . . .
You, Madame la Duchesse, will be led to the scaffold, you and many ladies besides yourself in a cart with your hands tied behind your back.' - 'Ah, in that event, I hope to have at least a carriage covered with black.' - 'No, Madame, greater ladies than yourself will go, like yourself in a cart and with their hands tied like yours.' - 'Greater ladies! What! Princesses of the blood!' -'Still greater ladies than those . . .'They began to think the jest carried too far. Madame de Gramont, to dispel the gloom, did not insist on a reply to her last exclamation, contenting herself by saying in the lightest tone, 'And they will not even leave one a confessor!' - 'No, Madame, neither you nor any other person will be allowed a confessor; the last of the condemned that will have one, as an act of grace, will be . . .' He stopped a moment. 'Tell me, now, who is the fortunate mortal enjoying this prerogative?' - 'It is the last that will remain to him, and it will be the King of France.'"_____________________________________________________________________Note:
[1] Laharpe, or La Harpe, Jean Fran?ois. (Paris 1739-1803). Author and critic, made a member of the Academy in 1776. (SR).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------END OF VOLUME NOTES:
NOTE 1.
ON THE NUMBER OF ECCLESIASTICS AND NOBLES.
These approximate estimates are arrived at in the following manner: