The Philosopher's Kiss by Peter Prange

Author:Peter Prange
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

56

It was already growing dark on the last day of the year 1751, but the publishing house on Rue de la Harpe was still brightly lit. Even on this evening the printing presses on the ground floor were screeching and groaning as if trying to drown out the noise of fireworks and guns being fired; cloaked figures outside on the snowy streets were driving off the demons of the old year. In the meantime, in the editorial office on the top floor, they were celebrating a success that seemed to make superfluous every exorcism and prediction of the future, which was the custom on this day.

“Messieurs, to the Encyclopedia!”

“À votre santé!” replied d’Alembert to the toast from the publisher. “To bringing the work to a good conclusion.”

“We can’t complain about the past year,” said Diderot.

“Certainly not,” agreed Le Bréton, and a radiance transfigured his walrus face. “Today alone we received another thirteen subscriptions. And tomorrow the second volume will be released. I have word from a reliable source that Malesherbes has already signed—”

He broke off his speech, hearing loud footsteps in the stairwell. The next moment the door flew open, and in rushed Grimm, the German journalist, beet-red in the face and completely out of breath.

“Jerusalem has fallen!” he gasped, throwing himself onto a chair.

“Have you lost your mind?” Le Bréton asked. “We’re in Paris, not in the Levant.”

“The Sorbonne has stripped de Prades of his doctorate and thrown him out of the theological faculty. Horruit sacra facultas.”

“What?” cried d’Alembert. “That’s impossible! His degree was conferred summa cum laude.”

“It’s possible, all right. They’ve caught on to him. They accused him of defending natural religion and sensualistic heresies.”

“Is that all?” Le Bréton heaved a sigh of relief.

“That’s a serious charge,” said Grimm. “They’re claiming that de Prades has denied the miracles of Jesus.”

Diderot gave a start. “Who says this?”

“The dean of the faculty. The professors are beside themselves; they feel disgraced to the bone. The reputation of the Sorbonne is at stake.”

“Where’s de Prades now?” d’Alembert asked, visibly nervous.

“He’s in hiding somewhere outside Paris.”

“For God’s sake! Are things so bad that they’re looking for him?”

“Much worse. The Jesuits are spreading the rumor that de Prades is part of a plot.”

“A plot?” Le Bréton set down his glass, his face suddenly grave.

“Yes, they’re talking about a conspiracy.”

“And who else is supposed to be part of it?”

“The editors and authors of the Encyclopedia. As evidence they’re drawing parallels between the dissertation and an article in the next volume of the lexicon.”

“How the devil would they know what’s in it? The second volume hasn’t even come out yet!”

“How do I know? In any case it gave them the idea to take a closer look at ‘Heavenly Jerusalem.’ And when they did, apparently their expressions froze in astonishment.”

“They’re shooting at de Prades in an attempt to hit us.” D’Alembert turned pale and his brown eyes grew wide as he gave Diderot a reproachful look. “I knew right away it was irresponsible to entrust such an important article to a man as inexperienced as de Prades.

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