in 1762, "in assuming that I speak of
superstition only; for as to the Christian religion, I respect it and
love it, as you do." This distinction of Voltaire's, with whatever
degree of simple sincerity on his part made, ought to be remembered in
his favor, when his memorable motto, "_Ecrasez l'Infame_," is
interpreted and applied. He did not mean Jesus Christ by _l'Infame_; he
did not mean the Christian religion by it; he did not even mean the
Christian Church by it; he meant the oppressive despotism and the crass
obscurantism of the Roman-Catholic hierarchy. At least, this is what he
would have said that he meant, what in fact he substantially did say
that he meant, when incessantly reiterating, in its various forms, his
watchword, "_Ecrasez l'Infame_," "_Ecrasons l'Infame_,"--"Crush the
wretch!" "Let us crush the wretch!" His blows were aimed, perhaps, at
"superstition;" but they really fell, in the full half of their effect,
on Christianity itself. Whether Voltaire regretted this, whether he
would in his heart have had it otherwise, may well, in spite of any
protestation from him of love for Christianity, be doubted. Still, it is
never, in judgment of Voltaire, to be forgotten that the organized
Christianity which he confronted, was in large part a system justly
hateful to the true and wise lover whether of God or of man. That system
he did well in fighting. Carnal indeed were the weapons with which he
fought it; and his victory over it was a carnal victory, bringing, on
the whole, but slender net advantage, if any such advantage at all, to
the cause of final truth and light. The French Revolution, with its
excesses and its horrors, was perhaps the proper, the legitimate, the
necessary, fruit of resistance such as was Voltaire's, in fundamental
spirit, to the evils in church and in state against which he conducted
so gallantly his life-long campaign.

But though we thus bring in doubt the work of Voltaire, both as to the
purity of its motive, and as to the value of its fruit, we should wrong
our sense of justice to ourselves if we permitted our readers to suppose
us blind to the generous things that this arch-infidel did on behalf of
the suffering and the oppressed. Voltaire more than once wielded that
pen of his, the most dreaded weapon in Europe, like a knight sworn to
take on himself the championship of the forlornest of causes. There is
the historic case of Jean Calas at Toulouse, Protestant, an old man of
near s