CHAP. I.

all are Brothers and citizens of the world. But alas! these wire-drawn principles seem to have had little influence on the hearts, even of those who could best display their beauties. Read the tragedies of Voltaire, and some of his grave performances in prose—What man is there who seems better to know his Master's will? No man expresses with more propriety, with more exactness, the feelings of a good mind. No man seems more sensible of the immutable obligation of justice and of truth. Yet this man, in his transactions with his booksellers, with the very men to whom he was immediately indebted for his affluence and his fame, was repeatedly, nay incessantly, guilty of the meanest, the vilest tricks. When he sold a work for an enormous price to one bookseller, (even to Cramer, whom he really respected,) he took care that a surreptitious edition should appear in Holland, almost at the same moment. Proof-sheets have been traced from Ferney to Amsterdam. When a friend of Cramer's expostulated with Voltaire on the injustice of this conduct, he said, grinning, Oh le bon Cramer—eh bien—il n'a que d' etre du parti—he may take a share—he will not give me a livre the less for the first piece I offer him. Where shall we see more tenderness, more honour, more love of every thing that is good and fair, than in Diderot's Pere de Famille?—Yet this man did not scruple to sell to the Empress of Russia an immense library, which he did not possess, for an enormous price, having got her promise that it should remain in his possession in Paris during his life. When her ambassador wanted to see it, after a year or two's payments, and the visitation could be no longer staved off, Diderot was obliged to set off in a hurry, and run through all the booksellers shops in Germany, to help him to fill his empty shelves. He had the good fortune to save appearances—but the trick took air, because he had been niggardly in his attention to the ambassador's secretary. This, however, did not hinder him from honouring his Imperial pupil with a visit. He expected adoration, as the light of the world, and was indeed received by the Russian courtiers with all the childish fondness that they feel for every Parisian mode. But they did not understand