garded, that the mansion itself, with every article of decoration, remains the same as when he died.

There is a large picture in the hall, wretchedly executed by some itinerant artist whom Voltaire met with by accident, and who painted the picture according to the design of the poet. One hardly knows which to condemn most, the miserable attempt of the painter, or the vanity and egotism of the designer. Voltaire is represented in the foreground presenting the Henriade to Apollo; the Temple of Memory is seen, around which Fame is flying and pointing to the Henriade; the Muses and Graces surround Voltaire, and the personages represented in the poem stand apparently astonished at his surprising talents; the authors who wrote against him are descending to the infernal regions, and Envy is expiring at his feet!

The saloon is ornamented with a beautiful design in china, intended for the tomb of a lady who was thought to have died in child-birth, but who, horrible to relate, was buried alive! In the bed-room are portraits of Voltaire's most intimate friends, amongst which are those of the celebrated actor Le Kain, and the great King of Prussia; there is also one of Voltaire himself. On one side of the room is the Marquise de Chatelet, his mistress; and on another the Empress of Russia and Clement XIV., better known as Ganganelli, of whom the following memorable reply is recorded :-The Baron de Gluchen, when travelling into Italy, took the opportunity when at Geneva of paying Voltaire a visit at Ferney. He inquired of the poet what he should say from him to the pope? "I have been favoured by his holiness," replied Voltaire," with many

presents and numerous indulgences, and he has even condescended to send me his blessing; but I would give all these, if Ganganelli would send me one of the ears of the Head Inquisitor." On the baron's return he called at the retreat of Voltaire, and informed him that he had delivered the message which he gave him to his holiness. "Tell him," replied the pope, "that while Ganganelli rules the church, the Head Inquisitor shall have neither ears nor eyes." There are many other portraits, but indifferently painted; his own, indeed, appears to have been more carefully executed. A vase of black marble is placed in this room, which once contained the heart of the philosopher. On it is the following affected inscription SON ESPRIT EST PARTOUT, ET SON CŒUR EST ICI Over the vase is written-MES MANES SONT CONSOLES PUISQUE MON CŒUR EST AU MILIEU DE VOUS. The portrait of Frederick the Great is so wretchedly painted that it is hardly fit to grace a sign-post. Le Kain is in crayons, but executed with no better skill; and if it bears any resemblance to the great actor, he has certainly no reason to accuse the artist of flattery, for there never could be a man less indebted to nature. The bed of Voltaire and its hangings are somewhat impaired by time, and have diminished considerably by the hands of visitors still less ceremonious, who always consider themselves justified in committing this kind of pious larceny.

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The town of Ferney was entirely of the poet's creation, and many instances are recorded of the kind interest he took in the welfare of its inhabitants. The church 'close to his own residence is of his own building, which gave occasion to the remark of a witty traveller—“ The nearer the church the farther from God."

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Dr. Moore, who visited Voltaire about the year 1779, has left an amusing account of his appearance, and of his mode of life at Ferney.

"The first idea which has presented itself to all who have attempted a description of his person is that of a skeleton. In as far as this implies excessive leanness it is just; but it must be remembered, that this skeleton, this mere composition of skin and bone, has a look of more spirit and vivacity than is generally produced by flesh and blood, however blooming and youthful. The most piercing eyes I ever beheld are those of Voltaire, now in his eightieth year. His whole countenance is expressive of genius, observation, and extreme sensibility. In the morning he has a look of anxiety and discontent, but this gradually wears off, and after dinner he seems cheerful; yet an air of irony never entirely forsakes his face, but may always be observed lurking in his features whether he frowns or smiles. When the weather is favourable he takes an airing in his coach with his niece, or with some of his guests, of whom there is always a sufficient number at Ferney. Sometimes he saunters in his garden; or if the weather does not permit him to go abroad, he employs his leisure hours in playing at chess with Père Adam; or in receiving the visits of strangers (a continual succession of whom attend at Ferney to catch an opportunity of seeing him), or in dictating and reading letters, for he still retains correspondents in all the countries in Europe, who inform him of every remarkable occurrence, and send him every new literary production as soon as it appears. By far the greater part of his time is spent in his study; and whether he reads himself or listens to another, he always has a pen

in his hand to take notes or to make remarks. Composition is his principal amusement. No author who

writes for daily bread, no young poet ardent for distinction, is more assiduous with his pen, or more anxious for fresh fame than the wealthy and applauded Seigneur of Ferney. He lives in a very hospitable manner, and takes care always to keep a good cook. He has generally two or three visitors from Paris, who stay with him a month or six weeks at a time. When they go, their places are soon supplied, so that there is a constant rotation of society at Ferney. These, with Voltaire's own family and his visitors from Geneva, compose a company of twelve or fourteen persons, who dine daily at his table whether he appears or not. For when engaged in preparing some new publication for the press, indisposed, or in bad spirits, he does not dine with his company, but satisfies himself with seeing them for a few minutes, either before or after dinner. All who bring recommendations from his friends may depend on being received, if he be not really indisposed. He often presents himself to the strangers who assemble almost every afternoon in his ante-chamber, though they bring no particular recommendation. But sometimes they are obliged to retire without having their curiosity gratified.

"The forenoon is not a proper time to visit Voltaire. He cannot bear to have his hours of study interrupted. This alone is sufficient to put him out of humour; besides, he is then apt to be querulous, whether he suffers by the infirmities of age, or from some accidental cause of chagrin. Whatever is the reason, he is less an optimist at that part of the day than at any other. It was in the

morning, probably, that he remarked, 'que c'étoit dommage que le quinquina se trouvoit en Amerique, et la fièvre en nos climats.' Those who are invited to supper have an opportunity of seeing him in the most advantageous point of view. He then exerts himself to entertain the company, and seems as fond of saying what are called good things as ever; and when any lively remark or bon mot comes from another, he is equally delighted, and pays the fullest tribute of applause. The spirit of mirth gains upon him by indulgence. When surrounded by his friends, and animated by the presence of women, he seems to enjoy life with all the sensibilities of youth. His genius then surmounts the restraints of age and infirmity, and flows along in a fine strain of pleasing and spirited observation, and delicate irony. He has an excellent talent for adapting his conversation to his company. The first time the Duke of Hamilton waited on him, he turned the discourse on the ancient alliance between the French and the Scotch nations, reciting the circumstance of one of his Grace's predecessors having accompanied Mary Queen of Scots, whose heir he at that time was, to the court of France: he spoke of the heroic characters of his ancestors, the ancient Earls of Douglas, of the great literary reputation of some of his countrymen then living, and mentioned the names of Hume and Robertson in terms of high admiration."

Voltaire was irascible and jealous to a great degree; an instance of which is related in an accidental interview with Piron. Piron was a rival wit, who took a strange delight in tormenting him, and whom he consequently most sincerely hated. Voltaire never missed an oppor