The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, vol 16 | Page 8

the cheques had been forwarded to the owner: the S. J., however, refused to honour them. Hence the scandal of a law-suit in which Cazotte showed much delicacy and regard for the feelings of his former tutors.
Meanwhile Cazotte had married Elizabeth Roignon, daughter to the Chief Justice of Martinique; he returned to the Parisian world with some éclat and he became an universal favourite on account of his happy wit and humour, his bonhomie, his perfect frankness, and his hearty amiability. The vogue of "Olivier" induced him to follow it up with Le Diable Amoureux, a continuation or rather parody of Voltaire's Guerre civile de Genève: this work was so skilfully carried out that it completely deceived the world; and it was followed by sundry minor pieces which were greedily read. Unlike the esprits forts of his age, he became after a gay youth- tide an ardent Christian; he made the Gospel his rule of life; and he sturdily defended his religious opinions; he had also the moral courage to enter the lists with M. de Voltaire, then the idol-in-chief of the classes and the masses.
In later life Cazotte met Dom Chavis, who was translating into a curious jargon (Arabo-Franco-Italian) certain Oriental tales; and, although he was nearing the Psalmist's age-term of man, he agreed to "collaborate." The Frenchman used to take the pen at midnight when returning from "social pleasures," and work till 4-5 a.m. As he had prodigious facility and spontaneity he finished his part of the task in two winters. Some of the tales in the suite, especially that of "Maugraby," are attributed wholly to his invention; and, as a rule, his aim and object were to diffuse his spiritual ideas and to write treatises on moral perfection under the form of novelle.
Cazotte, after a well-spent and honourable life, had reason to expect with calmness "the evening and ending of a fine day." But this was not to be; the Great Revolution had burst like a hurricane over the land, and he was doomed to die a hero's death. His character was too candid, and his disposition too honest, for times which suggested concealment. He had become one of the Illuminati, and La Harpe ascribed to him the celebrated prophecy which described the minutest events of the Great Revolution. A Royalist pur sang, he freely expressed his sentiments to his old friend Ponteau, then Secretary of the Civil List. His letters came to light shortly after the terrible day, August IO, 1792: he was summarily arrested at Pierry and brought to Paris, where he was thrown into prison. On Sept. 3, when violence again waxed rampant, he was attacked by the patriot-assassins, and was saved only by the devotion of his daughter Elizabeth, who threw herself upon the old man crying, "You shall not reach my father's heart before piercing mine." The courage of the noble pair commanded the admiration of the ruffians, and they were carried home in triumph.
For a few weeks the family remained unmolested, but in those days "Providence" slept and Fortune did not favour the brave. The Municipality presently decreed a second arrest, and the venerable littérateur, aged seventy two, was sent before the revolutionary tribunal appointed to deal with the pretended offences of August 10. He was subjected to an interrogatory of thirty-six hours, during which his serenity and presence of mind never abandoned him and impressed even his accusers. But he was condemned to die for the all-sufficient reason:--"It is not enough to be a good son, a good husband, a good father, one must also prove oneself a good citizen." He spent his last hours wit'. his confessor, wrote to his wife and children, praying his family not to beweep him, not to forget him, and never to offend against their God; and this missive, with a lock of his hair for his beloved daughter, he finally entrusted to the ghostly father. Upon the scaffold he turned to the crowd and cried, "I die as I have lived, truthful and faithful to my God and my King." His venerable head, crowned with the white honours of age, fell on Sept. 25, 1792.
Cazotte printed many works, some of great length, as the ?uvres Morales, which filled 7 vols. 8vo in the complete edition of 1817; and the biographers give a long list of publications, besides those above-mentioned, romantic, ethical, and spiritual, in verse and in prose. But he wrote mainly for his own pleasure, he never sought fame, and consequently his reputation never equalled his merit. His name, however, still smells sweet, passing sweet, amid the corruption and the frantic fury of his day, and the memory of the witty, genial, and virtuous littérateur still blossoms in the dust.
During my visit to Paris in early 1887, M. Hermann Zotenberg was kind