fficient so he could now tell the truth. Voltaire took the hint, so
subtly veiled, to the effect that if he again affronted royalty by
unkind criticisms, his entire pension would be canceled.

From this time on to the end of his life, he was full of lavish praise
for royalty. He was needlessly loyal, and dedicated poems and pamphlets
to nobility, right and left, in a way that would have caused a smile
were not nobility so hopelessly bound in three-quarters pachyderm. He
also wrote religious poems, protesting his love for the Church. And here
seems a good place to say that Voltaire was a member of the Catholic
Church to his death. Many of his worst attacks on the priesthood were
put in way of defense for outrageous actions which he enumerated in
detail. He kept people guessing as to what he meant and what he would do
next.

Immediately after the death of President McKinley there was a fine
scramble among the editors of certain saffron sheets--to get in line and
shake their ulsters free from all taint of anarchy. Some writers, in
order to divert suspicion from themselves, hotly denounced other men as
anarchists.

Throughout his life Voltaire had spasms of repentance, prompted by
caution, possibly, when he warmly denounced atheists, and swore, i'
faith, that one object of his life was to purify the Church and cleanse
it of its secret faults.

In his twenty-sixth year, when he was trying hard to be good, he got
into a personal altercation with the Chevalier de Rohan, an
insignificant man bearing a proud name. The Chevalier's wit was no match
for the other's rapier-like tongue, but he had a way of his own in which
to get even. He had his servants waylay the luckless poet and chastise
him soundly with rattans.

Voltaire was furious; he tried to get the courts to take it up, but the
prevailing idea was that he had gotten what he deserved, and the fact
that the whole affair occurred after dark and the Chevalier did not do
the beating in person, made conviction impossible.

But Voltaire now quit the anapest and dactyl and devoted his best hours
to taking fencing lessons. His firm intent was to baptize the soil with
Rohan's blood. Voltaire was of enough importance so the secret police
knew of all his doings. Suddenly he found himself taking a post-graduate
course in the Bastile. I am not sure that the fiery little man was
entirely displeased with the procedure. It proved to the world that he
was a dangerous character, and