more general error shall have rendered the approach of truth less difficult.

Voltaire was still at Berlin when Diderot and d'Aiembert formed the design of writing the "Encyclopedia," and published the first volume of it. A work whose object it was to include the truths of all the sciences, and to trace the lines of communication between them, undertaken by two men who joined much wit and a free daring philosophy to extensive and profound knowledge, appeared to the penetrating eye of Voltaire the most formidable stroke that could be aimed at ignorance and prejudice. The "Encyclopedia" became the book of all men who wished to instruct themselves, but particularly of those who, without being habitually employed in cultivating their minds, yet are desirous of the power of acquiring a ready information on every object which excites in them either a transient or durable interest. It was a mass to which those, who had not time to form ideas for themselves, might have recourse for the ideas of the most enlightened and celebrated writers; in which, in short, the errors, that are respected by prejudice, would either be betrayed by the weakness of their proofs, or shaken by the near neighbourhood of truths which sap their foundations.

Voltaire, having retired to Ferney, gave a small number of literary articles to the "Encyclopedia;" he prepared some of those on philosophic subjects, but with less zeal, because he felt that the editors had less need of his assistance there, and because that, in general, though his great works in verse had been formed to constitute his glory, he had scarcely ever written in prose but with views of universal utility. Meanwhile, the same reasons which interested Voltaire for the progress of the "Encyclopedia," raised to that work innumerable enemies. Composed or applauded by the greatest men of the nation, it became a species of line which separated the most distinguished literati, and those who had the honour of being their disciples or their friends, from that crowd of obscure and jealous writers,

who, in the sorrowful incapacity of giving either new truths or new pleasures to the world, hate and calumniate men to whom nature has been more bountiful.

A work in which it was necessary to treat freely and boldly of divinity, of morality, of jurisprudence, of legislation, and of public economy, could not but terrify all religious or political parties, and all the subordinate powers which feared to see their pretensions and utility discussed. The insurrection was general. The "Journal of Trévoux," the “Ecclesiastic Gazette," the "Satiric Journals," the jesuists and the jansenists, the clergy, the parliaments, all, without ceasing to hate or oppose each other, united against the "Encyclopedia," and it fell. The editors were obliged to finish and to print in secret this work, to whose perfection liberty and publicity were so essential; and one of the noblest undertakings which the human mind has ever conceived, would have remained unfinished but for the courage of Diderot, and the zeal of a great number of men of distinguished learning, whom persecution could not deter.

Happily, the honour of having given the "Encyclopedia" to Europe, compensated France for the shame of having opposed its progress. It was, with justice, regarded as the work of the nation, and its persecution as that of a policy and jealousy equally despicable.

But the contests which the "Encyclopedia" had occasioned, did not cease with the proscription of that work. Its principal authors and their friends, marked by the name of philosophers and encyclopedists, which was designed as an opprobrium by the enemies of reason, were compelled to unite even by this very persecution, and Voltaire naturally became their leader by his age, his celebrity, his zeal, and his genius. He had long before enjoyed some friends and a great number of admirers; at that period, he had a party. The persecution rallied under his standard all the men of merit, whom, perhaps, his superiority would have kept at a distance from him, as it had banished their predecessors; and enthusiasm took the place of former injustice.

It was in the year 1760 that this literary war was most violent. Le Franc de Pompignan, an estimable man of letters but an indifferent poet, of whose works there remain a fine stanza, and a feeble tragedy in which the combined genius of Virgil and Metastasio could not yield him sufficient support, was elected one of the French academy. Clothed with the honours of magis

thought that his dignity, as well as his works, exempted him from all gratitude; in the discourse, which he delivered at his admission, he permitted himself to insult the men whose names did the greatest honour to the society that condescended to receive him; and, clearly pointing out Voltaire, accused him of infidelity and falsehood. Soon after, Palissot, the venal instrument of the rancour of a woman, exhibited the philosophers on the stage. The laws, which prohibit the ridiculing individuals at the theatre, were silent. The journals repeated the insults of the theatre. Still Voltaire combated all. The "Poor Devil," the "Russian at Paris," "Vanity," a crowd of humorous pieces in prose succeeded each other with astonishing rapidity.

Le Franc de Pompignan complained to the king, and to the academy, and beheld, with an impotent grief, that his own name was obscured by the splendour of that of Voltaire. Each step he took did but increase the satire, which every tongue repeated, and the verses in which he is consigned to eternal ridicule. And he retired to bury his humbled pride and deceived ambition in the country: a fearful, but salutary, example of the power of genius, and the dangers of literary hypocrisy.

Fréron, an ex-jesuit as well as Desfontaines, had succeeded the latter in the trade of flattering, by periodical satires, the jealousy of the enemies of virtue, of reason, and of talents. He distinguished himself in the war against the philosophers. Voltaire, who had long supported his outrages, at length did justice, and

avenged his friends. In the comedy of "l'Ecossaise" (the Scotchwoman), he introduced a depraved journalist, whose character was formed of venality and rancour. The pit, in the character, recognised Fréron, who, delivered over to public disdain in a piece which could not fail to be preserved to the theatre by interesting scenes, and the original and forcible character of the worthy blunt Freeport, was condemned to bear, during the remainder of his life, a ridiculous and disgraced name. Fréron, in applauding the insult offered to the philosophers, had forfeited his right of complaining; and his protectors chose rather to abandon him than to avow a partiality which might have involved their own discredit.

Other enemies, less virulent, had been either corrected or punished; and Voltaire, triumphing in the midst of these victims sacrificed to reason and to his glory, sent to the theatre, at the age of sixty-six, the chefd'œuvre of "Tancred." That tragedy was dedicated to the marchioness de Pompadour. It was the fruit of the address with which Voltaire could, without wounding the duke de Choiseul, support the cause of the philosophers, whose adversaries had obtained a slight protection from that minister. This dedication taught his enemies that their calumnies were not more injurious to his security than their criticisms to his fame: it completed his vengeance.

In this same year he learned that a young niece of Corneille languished in a condition unworthy of his name; "It is the duty of a soldier," he cried, to succour the niece of his general." Mademoiselle Corneille was invited to Ferney; and she there received an education suitable to the rank that her birth had marked for her in society. Voltaire even carried his delicacy so far as not to suffer the establishment of mademoiselle Cor neille to appear as his benefaction. He wished that she should owe that to the works of her uncle, and he undertook to publish an edition of them with notes. The creator of the French theatre commented on by the writer who had conducted that theatre to its perfection,

a man of genius, born at a time when taste was not yet formed, judged by a rival who joined to genius the gift, almost as rare, of a taste that was penetrating without severity, delicate without timidity, and enlightened by a long and happy experience of the art: these are the beauties presented in that work. Voltaire speaks in it of Corneille's defects with frankness, of his beauties with enthusiasm. Never has Corneille been examined with such rigour, never has he been praised with a feel ing more profound and true. Resolved to instruct both the French youth and the youth of other countries who cultivate the French literature, he did not pardon the vices of language, the extravagance, nor the offences committed against delicacy and good taste, which found in Corneille; but, at the same time, he taught them to know the progress which the art owes to that writer, the uncommon elevation of his mind, the almost inimitable beauty of his poetry in the passages dictated by his genius, and those vast, sublime words which spring suddenly from the necessity of the occasion, and paint great characters with a single stroke.

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The herd of writer reproached him, nevertheless, with a design of degrading Corneille, from motives of mean jealousy; whereas, throughout the whole of his commentary, he seizes, he even seems to seek, occasion to proclaim his admiration of Racine; a more dangerous rival, whom he has surpassed only in some parts of the tragic art, and whose prodigious excellence he might well envy in the height of his glory.

Voltaire, tranquil in his retreat, employed in continuing the happy war which he had declared against prejudice, saw the arrival of an unfortunate family, the father of which had been conducted to the wheel by fanatic judges; the instruments of the ferocious passions of a superstitious people. He learnt that Calas, an infirm old man, had been accused of having hanged his young and vigorous son, in the midst of his family, and in the presence of a catholic servant; that he had been ged to commit this crime by the fear of seeing this on embrace the catholic religion, this son who spent