Voltaire was dying!

This great and powerful spirit, who so long a time, in the natural
body, had instructed, inspired, and refreshed mankind, would leave
that body to rise--whither?

"Immortality, what art thou?" asked the king, aloud, and for the
first time raising his eyes with an inquiring glance to the busts of
his friends. "I have sought for thee, I have toiled for thee, my
whole life long! Neither the researches of the learned, nor the
subtleties of philosophy reveal thee to me. Is there any other
immortality than fame? Any other eternal life than that which the
memory of succeeding generations grants to the dead?" In this tone
of thought Frederick recited, audibly, the conclusion of a poem,
which he had addressed to D'Alembert:

"I have consecrated my days to philosophy, I admit all the innocent
pleasures of life; And knowing that soon my course will finish, I
enjoy the present with fear of the future. What is there to fear
after death? If the body and the mind suffer the same fate, I shall
return and mingle with nature; If a remnant of my intellectual fire
escapes death, I will flee to the arms of my God." [Footnote:
Posthumous works, vol. vii., p.88.]

"And may this soon be granted me!" continued the king; "then I shall
be reunited to those loved ones--gone before. I must be content to
tarry awhile in this earthly vale of sorrow, and finish the task
assigned me by the Great Teacher; therefore, let us submit."