he spent a week with Frederick at Aix-la-Chapelle, the king coming frequently to converse with his gifted visitor in his own room, and imparting freely his political views and intentions, which were duly communicated to the Cardinal; and, moreover, bribing Voltaire to come and live at Berlin by the promise of a beautiful house and estate there. A year later, many changes having happened in the interval, he again visited his august friend, this time at Berlin. Fleury was now dead. Voltaire had brought out in Paris his tragedy of "Merope," watching it from the box of his old friend the Maréchale de Villars, whose daughter-in-law, the Duchess of Villars, sat with them. The enthusiasm for the author was unbounded—nothing like it had ever been witnessed in a French theatre: not content with summoning him to the front of the box, the audience insisted that the Duchess should kiss him, which favour she, urged by her mother-in-law, bestowed with charming grace. But there were literary griefs to balance this success: his "Death of Cæsar" was not allowed to appear; he was excluded from a vacant seat which he had hoped for (the vacancy made by Cardinal Fleury) in the French Academy; and, chilled and disappointed, he again turned his thoughts to diplomacy. France was in difficulties; personal friends of Voltaire were among the ministers; and this time he went as an unrecognised envoy, with secret instructions. No welcome could be warmer than that which Frederick gave him; he was lodged close to the king's apartments, and their intimacy was as cordial as ever. Nor was there, this time, the disturbing element of a mission concealed from Frederick: the king, willing to accept him as a negotiator, received diplomatic sug-
