_(From various Authorities.)_
The Chateau of Ferney, the celebrated residence of Voltaire, six miles
from Geneva, is a place of very little picturesque beauty: its broad
front is turned to the high road, without any regard to the prospect,
and the garden is adorned with cut trees, parapet walls with
flower-pots, jets d'eaux, &c. Voltaire's bed-room is shown in its
pristine state, just as he left it in 1777, when, after a residence of
twenty years, he went to Paris to enjoy a short triumph and die. Time
and travellers have much impaired the furniture of light-blue silk, and
the Austrians, quartered in the house during the late war, have not
improved it; the bed-curtains especially, which for the last forty years
have supplied each traveller with a precious little bit, hastily torn
off, are of course in tatters. The bedstead is of common deal, coarsely
put together; a miserable portrait of Le Kain, in crayons, hangs inside
of the bed, and two others, equally bad, on each side, Frederic and
Voltaire himself. Round the room are bad prints of Washington, Franklin,
Sir Isaac Newton, and several other celebrated personages; the
ante-chamber is decorated with naked figures, in bad taste; each of
these rooms may be 12 feet by 15.
Such is the narrative of an intelligent traveller, who recently visited
Ferney. "Very few," says he, "remain alive, of those who saw the poet: a
gardener who conducted us about the grounds had that advantage; he
showed us the place where the theatre stood, filling the space on the
left-hand side in entering, between the chateau and the chapel, but the
inscription on the last, _Voltaire à Dieu_, was removed during the reign
of terror. The _old_ gardener spoke favourably of his _old_ master, who
was, he said, _bon homme tout-a-fait, bien charitable,_ and took an
airing every morning in his coach and four."
In the sitting-room, adjoining the bedroom, which he was accustomed to
occupy, besides some good ancient paintings, is a very singular picture,
which was painted according to Voltaire's direction. The principal
personages are Voltaire, holding in his hand a roll of paper inscribed
La Henriade; next him is a female personification of this favourite
poem, whom he is presenting to Apollo crowned with rays of glory; Louis
XIV. with his queen and court, are observing these chief figures. In
another part, the Muses are crowning the burst of Voltaire with wreaths
of flowers, and proposing to place it with those of other immortal
authors in the Temple of Fame. The bottom of the picture is occupied by
his enemies, who are being torn to pieces by wild beasts, or burning in
flames of fire.
In the bed-room is a marble cenotaph, on which is an urn that formerly
contained the heart of Voltaire, which was removed several years ago,
and placed in the church of Les Invalides at Paris. In this room also is
an engraving of Voltaire's monument in the church-yard of Ferney. In
this, four figures, representing the four quarters of the world, are
preparing to honour his bust with wreaths of laurel and palms.
Ignorance, meanwhile, with the wings of a fiend, armed with rods, is
driving them away in the midst of their pacific employment, and
extinguishing a lamp which burns above the tomb. It is a singular
circumstance that Voltaire caused the church of Ferney to be built, as
well as several houses in the village, and on an iron vane on the top of
the former is inscribed, "_Deo erexit Voltaire_."
After his escape from the court of Frederic, Voltaire went first to
Lausanne, were he resided some years, and where he fitted up a private
theatre; his acquaintances there supplied him with performers, of whom
it seems he was proud, and who acted for him Zaire, Alzira, and several
other plays. Some spirited drawings of Huber represent him behind the
scene teaching, scolding, encouraging the actors; you might have thought
you heard his loud _bravo_! The part of Lusignan was frequently filled
by the poet himself, who was so much taken with it as to be seen in the
morning at the door of his house already dressed for the stage. Voltaire
had a hollow wooden voice, and his declamation had more pomp in it than
nature; yet in the part of Trissotin, in the Femmes Savantes, he
performed very well.
From Lausanne, where he quarrelled with several persons, he went, in
1755, to St. Jean, close to Geneva, and gave to the house he occupied
the name of _Les Dèlices_, which it retains to this day. Ferney, which
he bought soon after, became his permanent residence for twenty years.
Strangers of distinction made a point of calling on the philosopher of
Ferney, who for some years received their visits very willingly, giving
them _fêtes_ and plays; but he became tired of this, and at last would
only see those who could amuse him while he amused them. A quaker from
Philadelphia, called Claude Gay, travelling in Europe, stayed some time
at Geneva; he was known as the author of some Theological works, and
liked for his good sense, moderation, and simplicity. Voltaire heard of
him, his curiosity was excited, and he desired to see him. The quaker
felt great reluctance, but suffered himself at last to be carried to
Ferney, Voltaire having promised before hand to his friends that he
would say nothing that could give him offence. At first he was delighted
with the tall, straight, handsome quaker, his broad-brimmed hat, and
plain drab suit of clothes; the mild and serene expression of his
countenance; and the dinner promised to go off very well; yet he soon
took notice of the great sobriety of his guest, and made jokes, to which
he received grave and modest answers. The patriarchs, and the first
inhabitants of the earth were next alluded to; by and by he began to
sneer at the historical proofs of Revelation; but Claude was not to be
driven away from his ground, and while examining these proofs, and
arguing upon them rationally, he overlooked the light attacks of his
adversary, when not to the point, appeared insensible to his sarcasms
and wit, and remained always cool and serious. Voltaire's vivacity at
last turned to downright anger; his eyes flashed fire whenever they met
the benign and placid countenance of the quaker, and the dispute went so
far at last, that the latter, getting up, said, "Friend Voltaire!
perhaps thou mayst come to understand these matters rightly; in the
meantime, finding I can do thee no good, I leave thee, and so fare thee
well!" So saying he went away on foot, notwithstanding all entreaties,
back again to Geneva, leaving the whole company in consternation.
Voltaire immediately retired to his own room. M. Huber,[8] who was
present at this scene, made a drawing of the two actors.