spark of enthusiasm, feeling her bodily strength gradually sinking under long continued pain and sickness, contemplated her decease as no distant object. After describing in most pa. thetic language the conduct of a sincere christian when oppressed with the severest sufferings, eoncludes with saying, he may wait for the "hour of death, not only without terror, but "with a joyful, a triumphant hope; yet without impatience, since we may be certain that every additional day of suffering, if well used, and improved to the greatest advantage, "will contribute to increase our happiness "hereafter. With the same filial submission " and entire confidence with which we have

resigned every day of our lives into the hands "of our Creator, we shall resign the last; and "all our transitory sufferings will be amply "compensated by joy unspeakable and full of

glory." I shall not presume to hazard any further reflections, or dwell any longer on a comparison between the death of Voltaire and the writer whom I have now quoted; but I cannot quit Ferney without offering some observations on the inscription in the bedchamber, Son Esprit est partout, son Cœur est ici. A little ambiguity may perhaps arise in the English reader, as to the word Esprit. When we have spoken of the body, we often

speak of the spirit or soul of a dead person almost as synonimous words. In such a sense it would not become me to say any thing of the Esprit de Voltaire; but in that sense the writer of the inscription never thought of using the word; nor did he intend to confine his meaning to the talents of Voltaire, for then he would have used the word genie. Like the author of l'Esprit de la Ligue, ou de la Fronde, he meant by Son Esprit, the spirit and tendency of his life, of his writings, his sentiments, and those anti-christian opinions which he took such great pains to disseminate every where. Son Esprit may then be truly said to have been partout. But though universally known, and too well received on the continent in general, and in France in particular; yet let us thank GOD that in our island very few have adopted it. In France Son Esprit was almost univer sally embraced, and in other countries on the continent very generally so; and what was the consequence? It contributed, joined with other causes, but itself one of the foremost, to annihilate all religious and moral principles, and to render France, during several years of democratic anarchy, a scene of bloodshed and of such horrid crimes, as it will require the whole weight of historic evidence to make pos. terity believe. The same spirit too generally,

though not universally, received in other coun tries, by destroying unanimity of sentiment and integrity of principle, rendered them victims to the unrestrained violence of the French nation; and Europe for a long period became a prey to those calamities, which either in a greater or less degree, were experienced in every part of the continent. I cannot dismiss the consideration of this inscription without one more observation. If Voltaire could now read, "Son Esprit est partout, son Cœur est ici," and could speak his sentiments on the subject, may I not be allowed to assert, that he would gladly resign all the applause which was bestowed on him in the theatre at Paris, all the flattery which was offered to himself during his life, and to his memory since his decease; I say, that he would gladly resign all these for the single advantage of having son Esprit (I repeat, that it means his sentiments and opinions) not repandu partout, but closely buried, or (which would have been still better) never entertained in that heart which has been so ostentatiously exhibited at Ferney. I shall close the whole subject with applying to Voltaire the words imagined by a poet to proceed from the tomb of one, as wellknown on the theatre of the drama, but happily not as well known on another theatre, as the poet of Ferney.

The shouts of loud applause which thousands gave,
On me nor pride, nor pleasure, now bestow;
Like the chill blast that murmurs over my grave,
They pass away,-nor reach the dust below.

One virtuous deed, to all the world unknown,

Outweighs the highest bliss which these can give,
Can cheer the soul when youth and strength are flown,
In sickness triumph, and in death survive.

The following letter, written by La Marquise de Gages to a friend, relates a circumstance connected with the death of Voltaire, which is of so peculiar a nature, that it is thought right to subjoin it to the foregoing account:

"Madame la Marquise de Gages a la Comtesse

"Vous me demandez, Madame la Comtesse, de vous ecrire ce que "je me rappelle avoir entendu dire à la Garde qui avoit veillé "Voltaire dans sa maladie mortelle. Le voici. Cette femme

ayant été demandée pour être pres d'un de mes amis, voulut ❝sçavoir avant de lui venir s'il etoit bon chretien. Son malade "etant mieux, nous lui marquames avoir été surpris de la question "qu'elle avoit faite pour venir donner ses soins à quelq'un qui en "avoit besoin. A quoi elle nous repondit, que c'etoit le malheur "qu'elle avoit eu de se trouver pres de Voltaire qui en etoit cause, "lui etant resté depuis, une telle terreur de l'état ou elle l'avoit vu, "de ce qu'elle lui avoit entendu dire, et du desespoir ou il etoit "mort, que pour l'empire du monde elle ne voudroit plus servir

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personne qu'elle ne seroit pas certaine avoir de la religion. Elle ❝ajouta à ces propos beaucoup de ceux qu'elle avoit entendu "tenir à Voltaire qui nous firent fremir; mais ma memoire ne pouvant se les remettre exactement, je crois devoir m'en taire. "Mes mauvais yeux ne me permettent pas d'ecrire plus longue"ment."

LETTER VIII.

HAV

Aosta, Sept. 21, 1814.

AVING paid the tribute of friendship which induced me to take this long journey to Geneva, I felt an irresistible desire before I returned to England, to trace that astonishing march of Bonaparte's army in 1800, which led to the victory of Marengo, and placed Italy a second time under the power of France. I remembered perfectly well what it was to ascend the passage of the Great St. Bernard in 1779; I remembered the difficulty with which a mule could ascend the mountain at that period, when the idea of an army of 60,000 men, with artillery and baggage being. able to effect the same, never entered into the

contemplation of any man. Some few persons have, indeed, supposed that it was by this pass that Hannibal crossed the Alps; but the arguments in support of this opinion are so weak, that it would be waste of time to confute them.