EXT morning Monsieur Sariette entered Monsieur René d'Esparvieu's study without knocking. He raised his arms to the heavens, his few hairs were standing¹ straight up on his head. His eyes were big with terror. In husky tones he stammered² out the dreadful news. A very old manuscript of Flavius Josephus; sixty volumes of all sizes; a priceless jewel, namely, a Lucretius adorned³ with the arms of Philippe de Vend⁴?me, Grand Prior of France, with notes in Voltaire's own hand; a manuscript of Richard Simon, and a set of Gassendi's correspondence with Gabriel Naudé, comprising two hundred and thirty-eight unpublished letters, had disappeared. This time the owner of the library was alarmed.

 

He mounted in haste to the abode⁵ of the philosophers and the globes, and there with his own eyes confirmed the magnitude of the disaster.

 

There were yawning gaps on many a shelf. He searched here and there, opened cupboards, dragged out brooms, dusters, and fire-extinguishers, rattled[50] the shovel⁶ in the coke fire, shook out Monsieur Sariette's best frock-coat that was hanging in the cloak-room, and then stood and gazed disconsolately⁷ at the empty places left by the Gassendi portfolios⁸.

 

For the past half-century the whole learned world had been loudly clamouring for the publication of this correspondence. Monsieur René d'Esparvieu had not responded to the universal desire, unwilling⁹ either to assume so heavy a task, or to resign it to others. Having found much boldness of thought in these letters, and many passages of more

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