At this juncture I received a letter of which I had the folly to be proud, altho' a little reflection should have made me think that my situation alone inspired it: it was from M. de Voltaire. This great genius was born a courtier. Whether he loved the protection of the great, or whether he thought it necessary to him, he was constantly aiming, from his youth upwards, at obtaining the countenance of persons belonging to a high rank, which made him servile and adulatory whilst they were in power, and full of grimace towards them when the wind favor ceased to swell their sails. It was in this way that mesdames de Chateauroux and de Pompadour had had his homage. He had sung their praises, and, of course, he could not forget me. You will recall to mind the letter which he wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon, on occasion of the piece of poetry entitled "." He had denied having composed it, but this denial had not been addressed directly to me. Having learnt, no doubt, that my credit was increasing, he thought himself obliged to write to me, that he might rank me with his party. He might have availed himself of the intermediation of the duc d'Aiguillon, but preferred putting the duc de Richelieu into his confidence, and begged him to fulfil the delicate function of literary Mercury. I was alone when the marechal came to me with an assumed air of mystery. His first care was to look around him without saying a word; and it was not until after he had shaken the curtains, and peeped into every corner of the apartment, that he approached me, who was somewhat surprised at his monkey tricks.
"I am the bearer," he said, in a low voice, "of a secret and important communication, which I have been entreated to deliver after five or six hundred cautions at least: it is a, defection from the enemy's camp, and not the least in value."Fully occupied by my quarrel with the ladies of the court, Iimagined that he had brought me a message of peace from some great lady; and, full of this idea, I asked him in haste the name of her whose friendship I had acquired.
"Good," said he, "it is about a lady, is it? It is from a personage fully as important, a giant in power, whose words resound from one extremity of Europe to another, and whom the Choiseuls believe their own entirely.""It is M. de Voltaire," I said.
"Exactly so: your perspicacity has made you guess it.""But what does he want with me?"
"To be at peace with you; to range himself under your banner, secretly at first, but afterwards openly.""Is he then afraid openly to evince himself my friend?" I replied, in a tone of some pique.
"Rather so, and yet you must not feel offended at that. The situation of this sarcastic and talented old man is very peculiar;his unquiet petulance incessantly gives birth to fresh perils. He, of necessity, must make friends in every quarter, left and right, in France and foreign countries. The necessary consequence is, that he cannot follow a straight path. The Choiseuls have served him with perfect zeal: do not be astonished if he abandon them when they can no longer serve him. If they fall, he will bid them good evening, and will sport your cockade openly.""But," I replied, "this is a villainous character.""Ah, I do not pretend to introduce to you an Aristides or an Epaminondas, or any other soul of similar stamp. He is a man of letters, full of wit, a deep thinker, a superior genius, and our reputations are in his hands. If he flatters us, posterity will know it; if he laugh at us, it will know it also. I counsel you therefore to use him well, if you would have him behave so towards you.""I will act conformably to your advice," said I to the marechal;"at the same time I own to you that I fear him like a firebrand.""I, like you, think that there is in him something of the infernal stone: he burns you on the slightest touch. But now, to this letter; you will see what he says to you. He begs me most particularly to conceal from every body the step he has taken with you. What he most dreads is, lest you should proclaim from the housetops that he is in correspondence with you. I conjure you, on his behalf, to exercise the greatest discretion, and Ithink that you are interested in doing so; for, if what he has done should be made public, he will not fail to exercise upon you the virulence of his biting wit."Our conversation was interrupted by a stir which we heard in the chateau, and which announced to us the king. The marechal hastily desired me not to show Voltaire's letter to the king until I had read it previously to myself. "He does not like this extraordinary man," he added, "and accuses him of having failed in respect, and perhaps you will find in this paper some expression which may displease him."Scarcely had I put the epistle in my pocket, when the king entered.
"What are you talking about," said he, "you seem agitated?""Of M. de Voltaire, sire," I replied, with so much presence of mind as to please the duc de Richelieu.
"What, is he at his tricks again? Have you any cause of complaint against him?""Quite the reverse; he has charged M. d'Argental to say to M. de Richelieu, that he was sorry that he could not come and prostrate himself at my feet.""Ah," said the king, remembering the letter to the duc d'Aiguillon, "he persists in his coquetries towards you: that is better than being lampooned by him. But do not place too much confidence in this gentleman of the chamber: he weighs every thing in two scales;and I doubt much whether he will spare you when he evinces but little consideration for me."Certainly Richelieu had a good opportunity of undertaking the defence of his illustrious friend. He did no such thing; and Ihave always thought that Voltaire was the person whom the duke detested more heartily than any other person in the world. He did, in fact, dread him too much to esteem him as a real friend.
"M. d'Argental," said the king, "unites then at my court the double function of minister of Parma and steward of Ferney. Are these two offices compatible?"The name of Voltaire's residence- TRANS
"Yes, sire," replied the duke, laughing, "since he has not presented officially to your majesty the letters of his creation as comte de Tournay."The king began to laugh. This was the name of an estate which Voltaire had, and which he sometimes assumed.
