The legislators of modern France, I am convinced, never read with any attention the works of Voltaire, much less penetrated the spirit and object of his compositions. They denominated him a Republican simply because Condorcet[1] commented on Voltaire’s atheistical doctrines from the tribune of the Convention, and because they were not able to distinguish a desire to sap the foundations of Christian belief from a love of anarchy and misrule. Voltaire was the champion of kings, but the implacable enemy of priests. From the private correspondence of Voltaire, it is evident he held in utter contempt the applause of the multitude. He aspired to obtain the suffrages of the great and to make proselytes of kings, countries, statesmen, women who possessed an influence over public men, and these personages he flattered unceasingly. The _kind_ of revolution he wanted to establish was as distinct from Jacobinism as true liberty from licentiousness. I do not wish it to be understood from this remark that I approve of the work of Voltaire, nor do I deny that he planted the seeds of that irreligious movement which in France has proved a powerful auxiliary to political disorder. Voltaire neither loved nor understood liberty, he treated with contempt the Parliaments and States-General of France; he apostrophised civil despotism wherever it despises religion, and criticised Montesquieu without understanding him. Such was the man whose bones were unmolested, while the great advocate of Public Freedom was committed to the muddy waters of the Seine. I have had many conversations with Mirabeau, and I am certain that although no Republican, he did not detest a Republican system of government. The portals of the Pantheon, after the removal of the body of Mirabeau, were opened to receive the corrupt carcase of that miserable little demoniac, Marat, and a multitude of other sages, who had rendered themselves, by their villainies, their buffooneries and their insanities, worthy of immortality. Later on Marat was unpantheonised and tossed into the public sewer, and I apprehend the greater number of the men whom their grateful country has canonised in this polluted Temple have been served a similar trick; for upon inquiring on our visit there we learnt that there were _no_ immortals at present in preservation. There is nothing, therefore, now (1802) to be seen in Ste. Geneviève but ruins; it has sunk considerably, and fresh supports have been placed to the foundations. The edifice, commenced thirty years ago, is not finished. We were warned it was not safe to traverse the interior; we did, however, cross two of the naves, though repeatedly warned to desist. Behind the church is the cloister, in which there is a library of 30,000 volumes open all day for the use of the public. It is kept in great order and decorated with a multitude of busts of the literati of France, and at the extremity is a glass case containing a model of the city of Rome.