But on the day of battle you shall see me on horseback; and there, also, I hope my Generals will follow that example." VOLTAIRE SMOTHERED UNDER ROSES.

King's Speech was on Sunday, April 5th, Evening of last Monday (March 30th), at the Theatre Francais in Paris, poor Voltaire had that world-famous apotheosis of his; and got "smothered under roses," as he termed it.

He had left Ferney (such the urgency of Niece Denis and her unappeasable desire for a sight of Paris again) February 5th; arrived in Paris February 10th; ventured out to see his poor last Tragedy, not till the sixth night of it, March 30th; was beshouted, crowned, raised to the immortal gods by a repentant Paris world: "Greatest of men,--You were not a miscreant and malefactor, then: on the contrary, you were a spiritual Hercules, a heroic Son of Light; Slayer of the Nightmare Monsters, and foul Dragons and Devils that were preying on us: to you shall not we now say, Long life, with all our throats and all our hearts,"-- and so quench you at last! Which they managed to do, poor repentant souls.

The tottering wayworn Voltaire, over-agitated in this way, took to bed; never rose again; and on that day two months was dead.

[In DUVERNET, and still better in LONGCHAMP ET WAGNIERE, ample account of these interesting occurrences.] His light all done; to King Friedrich, or to any of us, no flash of radiancy from him any more forever.
APRIL 6th, Friedrich gets on march--perhaps about 100,000 strong--for Schonwalde, in the Neisse-Schweidnitz neighborhood; and there, in the course of the week, has cantoned himself, and sits completing his magazines and appliances for actual work of war.