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Using and Administering
Linux: Volume 3
Zero to SysAdmin: Network Services
Second Edition
David Both
Using and Administering Linux: Volume 3: Zero to SysAdmin: Network Services
David Both
Raleigh, NC, USA
Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������xxiii
v
Table of Contents
vi
Table of Contents
vii
Table of Contents
viii
Table of Contents
SELinux������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 182
Additional SELinux Considerations�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 188
Social Engineering�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 188
Chapter Summary��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 189
Exercises����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 190
ix
Table of Contents
x
Table of Contents
xi
Table of Contents
xii
Table of Contents
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Table of Contents
%clean��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 434
%changelog������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 434
Building the RPM���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 434
Testing the RPM������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 437
Rebuilding a Corrupted RPM Database������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 438
Chapter Summary��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 439
Exercises����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 439
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Bibliography��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 491
Index��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 501
xv
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Friends of
Voltaire
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and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
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Language: English
THE
FRIENDS OF VOLTAIRE
BY S. G. TALLENTYRE
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1906
—— Chancelier de Parnasse,
Qui se croit un grand homme et fit une préface.
Yet if he had written nothing but that Preface he would still have had noble
titles to fame. It contained, as he himself said, the quintessence of twenty
years’ study. If his style was usually cold and formal, it was not so now.
With warmest eloquence and boldest brush he painted the picture of the
progress of the human mind since the invention of printing. From the lofty
heights man’s intellect had scaled there stood out yet mightier heights for
him to dare! Advance! advance! If ever preface said anything, the Preface to
the great Encyclopædia says this. Clothed with light and fire, that dearest
son of d’Alembert’s genius went forth to illuminate and to astound the
world.
At first the Encyclopædia was not only heard gladly by the common
people, but was splendidly set forth with the approbation and Privilège du
Roi. Even the wise and thoughtful melancholy of d’Alembert’s
temperament may have been cheered by such good fortune, while the
sanguine Diderot naturally felt convinced it would last for ever.
Both worked unremittingly. His authorship of the Preface immediately
flung open to d’Alembert all the salons in Paris, and for the first time in his
life he began to go into society. Then Frederick the Great made him a rich
and splendid offer, the Presidency of the Berlin Academy. Consider that
though the man was famous he was still very poor. The little pension which
was his all ‘is hardly enough to keep me if I have the happiness or the
misfortune to live to be old.’ From the Government of his country he feared
everything and hoped nothing. He was only thirty-five years of age. A new
world was opened to him. The glazier’s attic he could exchange for a
palace, and the homely kindness of an illiterate foster-mother for the
magnificent endearments of a philosophic king. Was it only the painful
example of friend Voltaire’s angry wretchedness as Frederick’s guest that
made him refuse an offer so lavish and so dazzling? It was rather that he
had the rare wisdom to recognise happiness when he had it and did not
mistake it for some phantom will-o’-the-wisp whom distance clothed with
light. ‘The peace I enjoy is so perfect,’ he wrote, ‘I dare run no risk of
disturbing it.... I do not doubt the King’s goodness ... only that the
conditions essential to happiness are not in his power.’
Any man who is offered in place of quiet content that most fleeting and
unsubstantial of all chimeras—fame and glory—should read d’Alembert’s
answer to Frederick the Great.
Frederick’s royal response to it was the offer of a pension of twelve
hundred livres.
In September 1754 the fourth volume of the Encyclopædia was hailed by
the world with a burst of enthusiasm and applause, and in the December of
that year d’Alembert received as a reward for his indefatigable labours a
chair in the French Academy. He had only accepted it on condition that he
spoke his mind freely on all points and made court to no man. The speech
with which he took his seat, though constantly interrupted with clapping
and cries of delight, was not good, said Grimm. All d’Alembert’s addresses
and éloges spoken at the Academy leave posterity, indeed, as cold as they
left the astute German journalist. The man was a mathematician, a creature
of reason. The passion that was to rule that reason and dominate his life was
not the gaudy and shallow passion of the orator.
In 1756 he went to stay with the great head of his party, Voltaire, at the
Délices, near Geneva. The Patriarch was sixty-two years old, but with the
activity and the enthusiasm of youth. At his house and at his table
d’Alembert met constantly and observed deeply the Calvinistic pastors of
Geneva. He returned to Paris with his head full of the most famous article
the Encyclopædia was to know. At the back of his mind was a certain
request of his host’s, that he should also make a few remarks on the benefits
that play-acting would confer on the Calvinistic temperament.
No article in that ‘huge folio dictionary’ brewed so fierce a storm or had
consequences so memorable and far-reaching as d’Alembert’s article
‘Geneva.’ In his reserved and formal style he punctiliously complimented
the descendants of Calvin as preferring reason to faith, sound sense to
dogma, and as having a religion which, weighed and tested, was nothing but
a perfect Socinianism. Voltaire laughed long in his sleeve, and in private
executed moral capers of delight. The few words on the advantages of play-
acting, which he had begged might be added, had not been forgotten.
The Genevan pastors took solemn and heartburning counsel together,
and on the head of the quiet worker in the attic in Paris there burst a
hurricane which might have beaten down coarser natures and frightened
stouter hearts. Calvinism fell upon him, whose sole crime had been to show
her the logical outcome of her doctrines, with the fierce fury of a desperate
cause. Retract! retract! or at least give the names of those of our pastors
who made you believe in the rationalism of our creed! As for the remarks
on plays, why, Jean Jacques Rousseau, our citizen and your brother
philosopher, shall answer those, and in the dazzling rhetoric of the immortal
‘Letter on Plays’ give, with all the magic and enchantment of his sophist’s
genius, the case against the theatre.
Then, on March 8, 1759, the paternal government of France, joining
hands with Geneva, suppressed by royal edict that Encyclopædia of which a
very few years earlier it had solemnly approved. The accursed thing was
burnt by the hangman. The printers and publishers were sent to the galleys
or to death. The permit to continue publishing the work was rescinded. The
full flowing fountain of knowledge was dammed, and the self-denial of
d’Alembert’s patient life wasted. The gentle heart, which had never harmed
living creature, fell stricken beneath the torrent of filthy fury which the
gutter press poured upon him. His Majesty—his besotted Majesty, King
Louis the Fifteenth—finds in the Encyclopædia, forsooth, ‘maxims tending
to destroy Royal authority and to establish independence ... corruption of
morals, irreligion, and unbelief.’ Sycophant and toadying Paris went with
him. Furious and blaspheming, passionate Diderot came out to meet the foe.
Dancing with rage, old Voltaire at Délices could only calm himself enough
to hold a pen in his shaking fingers and pour out incentives to his brothers
in Paris to fight till the death. To him injustice was ever the bugle-call to
battle. But not to d’Alembert. He shrank back into his shell, dumb and
wounded. ‘I do not know if the Encyclopædia will be continued,’ he wrote,
‘but I am sure it will not be continued by me.’ Even the stirring incitements
of his chief could not alter his purpose. He had offered sight to the blind,
and they had chosen darkness; he would bring them the light no more. That
Diderot considered him traitor and apostate did not move him. He would
not quarrel with that affectionate, hot-headed brother worker, but for
himself that chapter of his life was finished, and he turned the page.
In the very same year he gave to a thankless world his ‘Elements of
Philosophy;’ and he again refused Frederick the Great’s invitation to
exchange persecuting Paris for the Presidency of the Berlin Academy. But
there was no reason why he should not escape from his troubles for a time
and become Frederick’s visitor.
In 1762 he went to Berlin for two months, and found the great King a
clever, generous, and devoted friend. But though he continued to beg
d’Alembert to stay with him permanently, and was lavish of gifts and
promises, the wise and judicious visitor was wholly proof against the royal
blandishments. In the same year he refused a yet more dazzling offer—to be
tutor to Catherine the Great’s son. He had already in Paris, not only ties,
which might be broken, but a tie, which he found indissoluble.
In 1765, three years after Catherine’s offer had been made and declined,
d’Alembert, when he was forty-eight years old, was attacked by a severe
illness, which, said his accommodating doctor, required larger and airier
rooms than those in his good old nurse’s home. He was moved from the
familiar Rue Michel-Lecomte to the Boulevard du Temple. There
Mademoiselle de Lespinasse joined him and nursed him back to health.
In all the story of d’Alembert’s life, in that age of unbridled licence, no
woman’s name is connected with his save this one’s. Fifteen years earlier he
had made the acquaintance of Madame du Deffand. To the blind old
worldling, who loved Horace Walpole and wrote immortal letters, he stood
in the nature of a dear and promising son. For many years he was always
about her house. His wit and his charm, seasoned by a gentle spice of irony
and a delightful talent for telling stories and enjoying them himself,
naturally endeared him to the old woman whose one hell was boredom. On
his side, he came because he liked her, and stayed because he loved
Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. The history of that ménage of the brilliant,
impulsive, undisciplined girl, with her plain face and her matchless charm,
and of the blind old woman she tended, deceived, and outwitted, has been
told in fiction as well as in history. How when Madame du Deffand was
asleep, her poor companion held for herself reunions of the bright,
particular stars of her mistress’s firmament, and how the old woman, rising
a little too early one day, came into the room and with her sightless eyes
saw all, is one of the familiar anecdotes of literature.
Long before this dramatic dénouement, d’Alembert and Julie de
Lespinasse had been something more than friends. But now Mademoiselle
saw herself cast adrift on the world. She flung to it her reputation, and
yielded, not so much to the entreaties of d’Alembert’s love, as to the more
pitiful pleading his solitude and sickness made to the warm maternity in her
woman’s heart. She nursed him back to convalescence, and then lived
beneath the same roof with him in the Rue Belle Chasse.
Picture the man with his wide, wise intelligence and his diffident and
gentle nature, and the woman with her brilliant intuition and her quick,
glowing impulse. To his exact logic she could add feeling, passion,