really prove is the extraordinary jealousy and intolerance which could find such a meaning in them.
There runs a tale, that at one of the performances of this play the Maréchale de Villars, the beautiful wife of Louis XIV.'s famous Marshal, observed a young man on the stage holding up the train of the high priest in such a way as to cast ridicule on the scene. Inquiring who this person was, who seemed to desire to ruin the play, she was told he was no other than the author; and, struck by his eccentricity and cleverness, she thereupon desired that he might be brought to her box and presented to her. This story, however, can scarcely be altogether true; for two of Voltaire's published letters which speak of visits he was about to pay at Villars, her country seat, are dated a year or two before. But however this may be, the fact remains that his friendship with this excellent pair, begun in his youth, ended only with their death. Indeed, it was something more than friendship on Voltaire's part, for the graces of the Maréchale inspired him with one of the two really ardent attachments of his youth. He appears to have imparted his passion for her (according to the laudable practice of the time) to everybody who would listen to him, including, possibly, the Marshal. As for the lady, she appears to have accorded him only so much indulgence as a veteran swordsman may bestow on a promising young fencer, letting him practise with her his airs and graces, his tender letters, verses, vows and entreaties, but never allowing him to come within her guard.
