part one ought to be young and beautiful!” and a well-meaning _gauche

person replied “Ah! Madame, you are a living proof to the contrary!” Uncle Voltaire would have been very _vif_, no doubt, if he had known of Gibbon’s unflattering criticism on his niece. As it was, he was not too pleased on his own account when this heavy young genius must needs, after having heard them only twice, remember and repeat certain lines which Voltaire had written in the first enthusiasm of settling at Délices, and which (of course) contained an allusion which would offend somebody. M. de Voltaire may be forgiven if he wished this blundering Mr. Gibbon and his prodigious memory--in England.

In May, after the _ménage_ Voltaire had moved back to Délices, another visitor came to it. She was Madame du Boccage, famous for her learning, as modest as she was accomplished, and a woman quite after her host’s heart. He put off a visit to the Elector Palatine to receive her. He gave up his bed to her as being the most comfortable in the house; and got up plays for her benefit. As for Madame, she found him everything that was kind and agreeable, surrounded by the best company--that is, the intellectually best company--and always singing the praises of his rural life. In fact, the only thing she had to complain of was that he was so very hospitable that, like the nieces, she was always having indigestion. She left after a visit of five days, and long corresponded with her host.

Between work and play, the Délices, Monrion, and Chêne, Voltaire had spent more than three years in Switzerland. That they had been happy enough to have made him altogether forget that a Paris, a Louis, and a Pompadour existed--and neglected him--is true enough. But he never forgot. If on one side of his character he was splendidly a philosopher, on the other he was always an “old baby” crying for the moon.