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 atmosphere of the salon
begins to enervate. His clever assistant, the Abbe Genest, poet