the present day, and a pension list of perfectly amazing length in his bestowal, such appreciation must mean something. To understand the life of the little world into which, in 1748, Voltaire entered, we ought to remember what at that time Lorraine and its Court were. Stanislas had not been put upon his ephemeral throne without a definite object. To lodge the French king's penniless father-in-law, who no doubt had to be maintained somewhere, in the Palace of Lunéville, instead of that of Meudon or of Blois, and to allow him to amuse himself with playing at being king, was one thing. But very much more was required of him. In 1737 France had, after toying for several centuries, with greedy eyes and hungry tongue, with the precious morsel of Lorraine, at length firmly and finally closed her jaws upon it. It was a bitter fate for the duchy, in which France was detested; and the hardship was felt by every one of its sons from the powerful "grands chevaux" down to the humblest peasant. Of what French government meant, the Lorrains had had more than one taste. They were sipping at the bitter cup at that very time; they were having it raised daily to their lips, while that ablest of French administrators, De la Galaizière--a veritable French Bismarck, hard-headed, hard-hearted, inexorably firm, and pitilessly exacting--was loading them with _corvées_, with _vingtièmes_, with the burden of conscription for the French army, plaguing them with high-handed judgments and oppressive penalties, all of which ran directly counter to the constitution which the nominal sovereign, Stanislas, had sworn to observe. It was Galaizière who was king, not Stanislas, the ornamental figure-head; and under his stern rule all Lorraine cried out. Even courtly Saint Lambert, who, as a moneyless member of the _petite noblesse_, with his mouth wide open for French favours, represented in truth the least popular element in Lorrain Society, felt impelled by his Muse to record his protest in verse: J'ai vu le magistrat qui régit la province L'esclave de la Cour, et l'ennemi du prince, Commander _la corvée_ à de tristes cantons, Où Cérès et la faim commandoient les moissons. On avoit consumé les grains de l'autre année; Et je crois voir encore la veuve infortunée, Le débile orphelin, le vieillard épuisé, Se trainer, en pleurant, au travail imposé. Si quelques malheureux, languissants, hors d'haleine, Cherchent un gazon frais, le bord de la fontaine, Un piqueur inhumain les ramène aux travaux, Ou leur vend à prix d'or un moment de repos. But there was no help for it. Kind-hearted Stanislas was caused many a wretched hour by the incongruity of his position, which led his "subjects" to appeal to him against the oppression of "his chancellor," as he patronizingly called him who was in truth his master. He had begged Louis to appoint a more humane and merciful man, but his prayer had proved of no avail.