felicities. To be of the Forty, to get his Plays acted,--oh,
then were the Saturnian Kingdoms come; and a man might sing IO TRIUMPHE,
and take his ease in the Creation, more or less! Stealthily, as if
on shoes of felt,--as if on paws of velvet, with eyes luminous, tail
bushy,--he walks warily, all energies compressively summoned, towards
that high goal. Hush, steady! May you soon catch that bit of savory
red-herring, then; worthiest of the human feline tribe!--As to the Play
MEROPE, here is the notable passage:

"PARIS, WEDNESDAY, 20th FEBRUARY, 1743. First night of MEROPE; which
raised the Paris Public into transports, so that they knew not what to
do, to express their feelings. 'Author! M. de Voltaire! Author!' shouted
they; summoning the Author, what is now so common, but was then
an unheard-of originality. 'Author! Author!' Author, poor blushing
creature, lay squatted somewhere, and durst not come; was ferreted out;
produced in the Lady Villars's Box,--Dowager MARECHALE DE VILLARS,
and her Son's Wife DUCHESSE DE VILLARS, being there; known friends
of Voltaire's. Between these Two he stands ducking some kind of bow;
uncertain, embarrassed what to do; with a Theatre all in rapturous
delirium round him,--uncertain it too, but not embarrassed. 'Kiss him!
MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE VILLARS, EMBRASSEZ VOLTAIRE!' Yes, kiss him, fair
Duchess, in the name of France! shout all mortals;--and the younger
Lady has to do it; does it with a charming grace; urged by Madame la
Marechale her mother-in-law. [Duvernet (T. J. D. V.), _Vie de Voltaire,
_ p. 128; Voltaire himself, _OEuvres,_ ii. 142; Barbier, ii. 358.] Ah,
and Madame la Marechale was herself an old love of Voltaire's; who had
been entirely unkind to him!

"Thus are you made immortal by a Kiss;--and have not your choice of the
Kiss, Fate having chosen for you. The younger Lady was a Daughter of
Marechal de Noailles [our fine old Marechal, gone to the Wars
against his Britannic Majesty in those very weeks]: infinitely clever
(INFINIMENT D'ESPRIT); beautiful too, I understand, though towards
forty;--hangs to the human memory, slightly but indissolubly, ever since
that Wednesday Night of 1743."

Old Marechal de Noailles is to the Wars, we said;--it is in a world
all twinkling with watch-fires, and raked coals of War, that these fine
Carnival things go on. Noailles is 70,000 strong; posted in the Rhine
Countries, middle and upper Rhine; vigilantly patrolling about, to
support th