aire was deposited between those of Descartes and
Mirabeau,--the spot predestined for this intermediary genius between
philosophy and policy, between the design and the execution. This
apotheosis of modern philosophy, amidst the great events that agitated
the public mind, was a convincing proof that the Revolution comprehended
its own aim, and that it sought to be the inauguration of those two
principles represented by these cold ashes--Intelligence and Liberty. It
was intelligence that triumphantly entered the city of Louis XIV. over
the ruins of the prejudices of birth. It was philosophy taking
possession of the city and the temple of Sainte Genevieve. The remains
of two schools, of two ages, and two creeds were about to strive for the
mastery even in the tomb. Philosophy who, up to this hour, had timidly
shrunk from the contest, now revealed her latest inspiration--that of
transferring the veneration of the age from one great man to another.

V.

Voltaire, the sceptical genius of France in modern ages, combined, in
himself, the double passion of this people at such a period--the passion
of destruction, and the desire of innovation, hatred of prejudices, and
love of knowledge: he was destined to be the standard-bearer of
destruction; his genius, although not the most elevated, yet the most
comprehensive in France, has hitherto been only judged by fanatics or
his enemies. Impiety deified his very vices; superstition anathematised
his very virtues; in a word, despotism, when it again seized on the
reins of government in France, felt that to reinstate tyranny it would
be necessary first to unseat Voltaire from his high position in the
national opinion. Napoleon, during fifteen years, paid writers who
degrade, vilify, and deny the genius of Voltaire; he hated his name, as
_might_ must ever hate _intellect_; and so long as men yet cherished the
memory of Voltaire, so long he felt his position was not secure, for
tyranny stands as much in need of prejudice to sustain it as falsehood
of uncertainty and darkness; the restored church could no longer suffer
his glory to shine with so great a lustre; she had the right to hate
Voltaire, not to deny his genius.

If we judge of men by what they have _done_, then Voltaire is
incontestably the greatest writer of modern Europe. No one has caused,
through the powerful influence of his genius alone, and the perseverance
of his will, so great a commotion in the minds of men; his pen