How can the nobles, who pass their lives in talking, refrain from the society of people who talk so well?  They might as well expect their wives, who frequent the theater every night, and who perform at home, not to attract famous actors and singers to their receptions, Jelyotte, Sainval, Préville, and young Molé who, quite ill and needing restoratives, “receives in one day more than 2,000 bottles of wine of different sorts from the ladies of the court,” Mlle. Clairon, who, consigned to prison in Fort l’Eveque, attracts to it “an immense crowd of carriages,” presiding over the most select company in the best apartment of the prison[7].  With life thus regarded, a philosopher with his ideas is as necessary in a drawing room as a chandelier with its lights.  He forms a part of the new system of luxury.  He is an article of export.  Sovereigns, amidst their splendor, and at the height of their success, invite them to their courts to enjoy for once in their life the pleasure of perfect and free discourse.  When Voltaire arrives in Prussia Frederic II. is willing to kiss his hand, fawning on him as on a mistress, and, at a later period, after such mutual fondling, he cannot dispense with carrying on conversations with him by letter.  Catherine II. sends for Diderot, and, for two or three hours every day, she plays with him the great game of the intellect.  Gustavus III., in France, is intimate with Marmontel, and considers a visit from Rousseau as the highest honor[8].  It is said with truth of Voltaire that “he holds the four kings in his hand,” those of Prussia, Sweden, Denmark and Russia, without mentioning lower cards, the princes, princesses, grand dukes and markgraves.  The principal rôle in this society evidently belongs to authors; their ways and doings form the subject of gossip; people never weary of paying them homage.  Here, writes Hume to Robertson,[9] “I feed on ambrosia, drink nothing but nectar, breathe incense only and walk on flowers.  Every man I meet, and especially every woman, would consider themselves as failing in the most indispensable duty if they did not favor me with a lengthy and ingenious discourse on my celebrity.”  Presented at court, the future Louis XVI, aged ten years, the future Louis XVIII, aged eight years, and the future Charles X, aged four years, each recites a compliment to him on his works.  I need not narrate the return of Voltaire, his triumphant entry, [10] the Academy in a body coming to welcome him, his carriage stopped by the crowd, the thronged streets, the windows, steps and balconies filled with admirers, an intoxicated audience in the theater incessantly applauding, outside an entire population carrying him off with huzzahs, in the drawing-rooms a continual concourse equal to that of the king, grand seigniors pressed against the door with outstretched ears to catch a word, and great ladies standing on tiptoe to observe the slightest gesture.  “To form any conception of what I experienced,”