urnful silence. Voltaire and St. Lambert
remained the last about her bed. At length Voltaire quitted the room;
got out by the Grand Entrance, hardly knowing which way he went. At the
foot of the Outer Stairs, near a sentry's box, he fell full length on
the pavement. His lackey, who was a step or two behind, rushed forward
to raise him. At that moment came M. de St. Lambert; who had taken the
same road, and who now hastened to help. M. de Voltaire, once on his
feet again, and recognizing who it was, said, through his tears and with
the most pathetic accent, 'AH, MON AMI, it is you that have killed
her to me!'--and then suddenly, as if starting awake, with the tone of
reproach and despair, 'EH, MON DIEU, MONSIEUR, DE QUOI VOUS AVISIEZ-VOUS
DE LUI FAIRE UN ENFANT (Good God, Sir, what put it into your head
to--to--)!'" [Longchamp et Wagniere,--Memoires sur Voltaire,--ii. 250,
251;--Longchamp LOQUITUR.]

Poor M. de Voltaire; suddenly become widower, and flung out upon his
shifts again, at his time of life! May now wander, Ishmael-like, whither
he will, in this hard lonesome world. His grief is overwhelming, mixed
with other sharp feelings clue on the matter; but does not last very
long, in that poignant form. He will turn up on us, in his new capacity
of single-man, again brilliant enough, within year and day.

Last Autumn, September, 1748, Wilhelmina's one Daughter, one child, was
wedded; to that young Durchlaucht of Wurtemberg, whom we saw gallanting
the little girl, to Wilhelmina's amusement, some years ago. About the
wedding, nothing; nor about the wedded life, what would have been more
curious:--no Wilhelmina now to tell us anything; not even whether Mamma
the Improper Duchess was there. From Berlin, the Two youngest Princes,
Henri and Ferdinand, attended at Baireuth;--Mannstein, our old Russian
friend, now Prussian again, escorting them. [Seyfarth, ii. 76.] The
King, too busy, I suppose, with Silesian Reviews and the like, sends
his best wishes,--for indeed the Match was of his sanctioning and
advising;--though his wishes proved mere disappointment in the sequel.
Friedrich got no "furtherance in the Swabian-Franconian Circles,"
or favor anywhere, by means of this Durchlaucht; in the end, far
the reverse!--In a word, the happy couple rolled away to Wurtemberg
(September 26th, 1748); he twenty, she sixteen, poor young creatures;
and in years following became unhappy to a degree.

There was but one child, and it soon di