Nothing was more difficult than to gain admission to this theater of dukes and duchesses, the tickets of admission for which were given by the king alone; and it must be said that Louis showed himself a much more rigorous janitor of his theater than he was of his palace:  consequently it was no slight favor for Voltaire, who had for a length of time aspired to the pleasures of Versailles, to see his Enfant Prodigue played on the boards of the court theater.  Voltaire had, like all men the weakness of wishing to govern the state; intoxicated with literary successes, he now aspired to political honors.  He hoped to become minister or ambassador through the favor of Madame de Pompadour; and with a little more tact he might have become ambassador, minister, or even cardinal, had he wished it, but at the very moment when he fancied he had attained the object of his ambition, he lost it forever by writing the famous lines, commencing,—­

  Pompadour, vous embellisez
  La cour, le Parnasse, et Cythere.

These verses, as we know, provoked a little remonstrance from the queen and her daughters:  all was lost for Voltaire, despite the goodwill of Madame de Pompadour, who, for the rest, seeing that the cause was a bad one, cared not to risk her own favor by imprudent attempts.  Voltaire never pardoned the marchioness her lukewarm intercession; and like a true poet, revenged himself by a succession of madrigals, chansons, and rhymes, without number,—­all leveled, though in a playful way, at the head of the favorite.

Duclos and Rousseau were more severe.  Duclos, fully impressed with the idea that he was a great historian, as impartial as he was passionless, judged her harshly.  He feared passing for a courtier, and he was unjust, She bad attempted to attach Rousseau to herself; but the proud Genevese Republican wrote her a letter which cut short all further negotiations.[D] She always esteemed him, however, in a high degree.  One day, when Marshal de Mirepoix, in the course of conversation, advised her not to trouble her head about that owl, she replied,—­

“It is an owl, certainly, but it is Minerva’s owl.”

[Footnote D:  Madame,—­I had fancied for a moment that it was through error that your messenger had remitted me one hundred louis for copies which are charged but twelve francs.  He has undeceived me.  Permit me to undeceive you in my turn.  My savings enable me at present to enjoy a revenue of about 540 livres, all deductions made.  My work brings me in annually a sum almost equal to this amount; I have then a considerable superfluity; I employ it to the best of my power, though I scarcely give any alms.  If, contrary to all appearances, age or infirmities should some day incapacitate me from following my usual occupations, I have a friend. 
                                       J. J. ROUSSEAU
PARIS, August 18, 1762.]