Such is the signification of that word, the Age of Voltaire; such is the meaning of that august event, the French Revolution.
The two memorable centuries that preceded the eighteenth, prepared for it; Rabelais warned royalty in Gargantua, and Molière warned the Church in Tartuffe. Hatred of force and respect for right are visible in those two illustrious spirits.
Whoever says to-day, might makes right, performs an act of the Middle Ages, and speaks to men three hundred years behind their time.
Gentlemen, the nineteenth century glorifies the eighteenth century. The eighteenth proposed, the nineteenth concludes. And my last word will be the declaration, tranquil but inflexible, of progress.
The time has come. The right has found its formula: human federation.
To-day, force is called violence, and begins to be judged; war is arraigned. Civilization, upon the complaint of the human race, orders the trial, and draws up the great criminal indictment of conquerors and captains. This witness, History, is summoned. The reality appears. The factitious brilliancy is dissipated. In many cases the hero is a species of assassin. The peoples begin to comprehend that increasing the magnitude of a crime cannot be its diminution; that, if to kill is a crime, to kill many cannot be an extenuating circumstance; that, if to steal is a shame, to invade cannot be a glory; that Te Deums do not count for much in this
