Diderot was born in 1713. His parents were in what may be called the
humbler walks of life. Like Voltaire, he was educated by the Jesuits. He
had in him something of the vagabond, and was for several years almost a
beggar in Paris. He was endeavoring to live by his pen. In that day and
generation a man without a patron, endeavoring to live by literature,
was necessarily almost a beggar. He nearly starved--frequently going
for days without food. Afterward, when he had something himself, he was
generous as the air. No man ever was more willing to give, and no man
less willing to receive, than Diderot. His motto was, "Incredulity
is the first step toward philosophy." He had the vices of most
Christians--was nearly as immoral as the majority of priests. His vices
he shared in common--his virtues were his own--All who knew him united
in saying that he had the pity of a woman, the generosity of a prince,
the self-denial of an anchorite, the courage of Caesar, an insatiate
thirst foi knowledge, and the enthusiasm of a poet. He attacked with
every power of his mind the superstition of his day. He said what
he thought. The priests hated him. He was in favor of universal
education--the church despised it. He wished to put the knowledge of
the whole world within reach of the poorest. He wished to drive from
the gate of the Garden of Eden the cherubim of superstition, so that
the child of Adam might return to eat once more the fruit of the tree
of knowledge. Every Catholic was his enemy. His poor little desk was
ransacked by the police, searching for manuscripts in which something
might be found that would justify the imprisonment of such a dangerous
man. Whoever, in 1750, wished to increase the knowledge of mankind was
regarded as the enemy of social order.