ed rustic and pastoral characters, even to their small economies
and romantic platitudes. Mythology, the chivalry of the Middle Ages,
costumes, illuminations, scenic effects, the triumphs of the artists,
the wit of the bel esprit--all that ingenuity could devise or money
could buy was brought into service. It was the life that Watteau
painted, with its quaint and grotesque fancies, its sylvan divinities,
and its sighing lovers wandering in endless masquerade, or whispering
tender nothings on banks of soft verdure, amid the rustle of leaves,
the sparkle of fountains, the glitter of lights, and the perfume
of innumerable flowers. It was a perpetual carnival, inspired by
imagination, animated by genius, and combining everything that could
charm the taste, distract the mind, and intoxicate the senses. The
presiding genius of this fairy scene was the irrepressible duchess, who
reigned as a goddess and demanded the homage due to one. Well might the
weary courtiers cry out against les galeres du bel esprit.

But this fantastic princess who carried on a sentimental correspondence
with the blind La Motte, and posed as the tender shepherdess of the
adoring but octogenarian Sainte-Aulaire, had no really democratic
notions. There was no question in her mind of the divine right of kings
or of princesses. She welcomed Voltaire because he flattered her vanity
and amused her guests, but she was far enough from the theories which
were slowly fanning the sparks of the Revolution. Her rather imperious
patronage of literary and scientific men set a fashion which all her
world tried to follow. It added doubtless to the prestige of those who
were insidiously preparing the destruction of the very foundations on
which this luxurious and pleasure-loving society rested. But, after all,
the bond between this restless, frivolous, heartless coterie and the
genuine men of letters was very slight. There was no seriousness, no
earnestness, no sincerity, no solid foundation.

The literary men, however, who figured most conspicuously in the
intimate circle of the Duchesse du Maine were not of the first order.
Malezieu was learned, a member of two Academies, faintly eulogized by
Fontenelle, warmly so by Voltaire, and not at all by Mlle. de Launay;
but twenty-five years devoted to humoring the caprices and flattering
the tastes of a vain and exacting patroness were not likely to develop
his highest possibilities. There is a point where the stimulating
at