ethics, ritual performances were substituted for moral obligations,
and zeal for God manifested by cruelty to man--conditions which are
invariably concomitant in religious history. The Mephistopheles evoked
by the German Reformation was abroad, and had announced himself to
others besides Dr. Faustus, saying, "I am the Spirit who denies."
Freedom of thought involves a liberty to think wrongly as well as
rightly. Technical learning, in possession of the Jesuits, might
content a religious devotee; but philosophy and the new science opened
paths which led away from traditions and authoritative decretals;
paths which neither priest nor king could close, for they followed the
stars in their courses. The waymarks had been blazed by the genius of
Galileo and Copernicus. Those who dared to venture into this new
territory found institutions and systems of theology arrayed against
them, armed with the power of present persecution, more to be feared
than threats of future damnation. Public life was venal, the Church
simoniacal, and society licentious. In such an age Voltaire was born.
The family of Arouet was ancient and respectable, representing the
middle class of society. Voltaire's grandfather settled in early life
in Paris, and retired on a comfortable fortune made by selling cloth.
His father, Francois Arouet, was a successful notary of Paris, an
honorable profession, which included all that is now done among us by
lawyers, brokers, life-insurers, and administrators of estates. Many
of the characteristics which we discover in his father, and, indeed,
in all the Arouets, survive in Voltaire. They are vivacity, thrift,
irritability, and withal a pleasing and generous disposition.
Francois Marie Arouet was the youngest child of a too prolific mother.
He was born November 21, 1694, a weakly, feeble babe whose life was
despaired of during the first year. The child was abandoned to the
care of a nurse, his mother being an invalid. She died when he reached
the age of seven. By the time the infant was two years old he began to
thrive, and grew into an active, healthy child. Not robust, he was,
nevertheless, wiry, and endowed with nervous energy.
His earliest instruction was from the Abbe de Chateauneuf, who taught
him belles lettres and deism. At a very early age the little lad
exhibited a precocious talent for versification. When ten years old he
was sent to the College Louis-le-Grand. Here he remained until he was
seventeen, receiving an education which, though always depreciated by
him, provided the basis of a wide and varied knowledge. The Jesuits,
who were the instructors at this college, retained the methods of the
schools of the Renaissance, in which plays in Latin and French were
enacted by the scholars. This may explain his life-long devotion to
the drama.
His remarkable poetic talent led to an introduction, when he was but
eleven years old, to Ninon de l'Enclos, who, in her nineteenth year,
was the leader of a brilliant coterie of society. This unaccountable
and marvellous woman was so pleased with the lad that she left him a
legacy of two thousand livres "to buy books with."
When his college days were ended his troubles began. His father had
determined to make him a notary. The youth wanted to follow
literature, which the father regarded as equal to no profession at
all. The father triumphed in so far as securing the young man's
consent to begin the study of law. He began but never proceeded, and
gave himself to everything but the pursuit of legal lore. The Abbe de
Chateauneuf, the godfather of Voltaire, died before the boy's college
days were over, but before his death he introduced his pupil to the
celebrated society of the Epicureans of the Temple. Here the youth
gathered the vast mass of historical gossip which served him so well
in later years. His father was disgusted with his son's pursuits, and,
alarmed at his association with princes and philosophers, he sent him
away to the ancient Norman city of Caen. This did not effect a cure.
The notary sent word to his son that if he would settle down and
finish his studies he would purchase for him a commission as
counsellor to the Parliament of Paris. "Tell my father," he answered,
"that I do not desire any place which can be bought. I shall know how
to make one for myself that will cost nothing."
Voltaire had a brother, named Armand, who was a Jansenist and bigot.
Their father commented on his two sons by saying, "I have a pair of
fools for sons, one in verse and the other in prose."
In the year 1713 the Marquis de Chateauneuf, a brother of the Abbe,
appointed Voltaire to the office of page in his diplomatic corps. The
marquis was Ambassador to The Hague. Here the young man fell
desperately in love with Olympe Dunoyer, a young woman about
twenty-one years of age, and the daughter of a woman who had separated
from her husband, and supported herself by writing disreputable
scandal and gossip. This love affair was violently opposed by the
mother and resulted in the young man's being sent back to Paris. For a
brief time he gladdened the heart of his father by resuming the study
of law, but soon manifested his peculiar facility for getting into
trouble.
Defeated in securing an award from the French Academy for a poem, he
turned his wit against the successful candidate, and also the poet La
Motte, who had decided the competition. A large part of his attack was
harmless fun, but a short and very savage satire aimed at La Motte was
dangerous to its author, so his father was glad of the opportunity to
send his scapegrace to the Chateau de St. Ange, in company with De
Camartin, nephew of the Marquis de Saint Ange. The old marquis was a
just and brilliant magistrate, a man familiar with the history of
France, and who knew the genealogies of the French court, and all the
rare anecdotes of the period included by the reigns of Henry IV. and
Louis XIV. That Voltaire improved these days at St. Ange is undoubted.
He returned to Paris at the time of the death of the king. This time
he was admitted to the famous "court of Sceaux," over which reigned
the brilliant Duchesse du Maine. It is charged that he assisted the
duchess in composing lampoons on the Duke of Orleans, then Prince
Regent. Accused of writing two libels, he was arrested, May 16, 1717,
and sent to the Bastile, in which prison he spent eleven months. While
here he gave himself to serious literary labor. At this time he
changed his name, and was henceforth known as Arouet de Voltaire. The
origin of the new name is one of the disputed problems of biography.
Released from the Bastile, he was, according to custom, ordered into
exile, being permitted to go to a place owned by his father in the
village of Chatenay. In October, 1718, he was permitted formally to
return to Paris. In the spring of the following year he was suspected
of having written the "Philippiques," and was banished informally from
Paris. Most of this period he spent with Marshal Villars, and gathered
more of those reminiscences, which he used with so much skill later in
his career, besides making harmless love to the duchess, the wife of
his host. In 1721 his father died, leaving him an income of about four
thousand livres a year, and this was further increased by a pension of
two thousand livres a year from the Regent in recognition of his
ability as a dramatic writer.
Several years were spent in Paris in literary labors and in acquiring
powerful friends and more powerful enemies; among the latter was the
Chevalier de Rohan, who insulted Voltaire on different occasions,
which led to sharp replies from the caustic youth. The chevalier hired
some roughs to give him a caning. Voltaire could get no one to take
his part, so he challenged the chevalier to a duel. The challenge was
accepted, but on the morning of the day appointed for the meeting the
Government interfered by kindly arresting Voltaire and putting him
again in the Bastile.
After fifteen days of imprisonment he was released on condition that
he would go to England. The chief turnkey of the Bastile was
instructed to go as far as Calais with the troublesome prisoner, in
order to be sure that he was forwarded to his destination. Nothing in
Voltaire's history did more to form his career than his visit to
England. He made a good deal of money there, and it is said, laid the
foundations of his fortune. He formed acquaintances among the foremost
literary men of that nation, such as the Walpoles, Bubb Doddington,
Bolingbroke, Congreve, Sir Everard Falkener, and the poet Pope. The
effect of these associations in the literary career of Voltaire is
marked. They deepened and broadened his mind, and reduced the
flippancy of method, which is the bane of French literature, to its
minimum.
He suffered an exile of three years, a long term for the offence he
had committed. In 1729 he was permitted to return to Paris. That year,
by a lottery speculation, in which he was a sure winner, he secured
enough money, when added to what he already possessed, to render him
independent of all patronage. From this time on he never knew the want
of money, nor permitted an opportunity to pass by which he could
increase his riches.
The next few years were mainly devoted to the production of poems,
plays, and English letters. During these years his pen continually
brought him into difficulty. Some of his productions he denied. At
last, in 1734, when a pirated edition of his English letters appeared,
containing also a criticism upon the fanaticism of the saintly Pascal,
full of heresy, good sense, and keen satire, the fury of the storm
broke upon him again. A warrant was immediately issued for his arrest;
the officer charged with the duty of capturing him found that Voltaire
had left the Chateau at Monjeau, where he had been in attendance at
the wedding of the Duke de Richelieu, so the arrest was not made.
We now find him at the Chateau of Madame du Chatelet. His relations
with this woman will not bear scrutiny. The most charitable
construction which can be put upon the fifteen years during which
Voltaire lived with her is, that she, like himself, was morally the
product of the age. If, however, it is urged against them that there
were pure women and honorable men in France at that time, it may be
asserted that such were men and women who had not been surrounded from
childhood with the influences and social customs in which Voltaire and
Madame du Chatelet lived, moved, and had their being.
When this woman died Voltaire found himself in a very unsettled
condition. During his life at the Chateau de Cirey he had received
letters from Prince Frederick of Prussia. Now the prince is king, and
he asks Voltaire to be his guest, and find with him a refuge and a
home. The "respectable Emily" being dead, Voltaire, after considerable
haggling about money matters with Frederick, who behaved generously,
at last consented.
[Illustration: The Arrest of Voltaire and his Niece by Frederick's
Order.]
In the year 1751 the French author reached Berlin. Frederick treated
him in a right kingly way. From the very first Voltaire behaved like a
marplot, rather than as the guest of a king. Quarrel succeeded
quarrel. Most of his embroilments with the king were of less credit to
Voltaire than to Frederick. The former was as full of tricks as Puck,
and impish in his mischief. Frederick was overbearing and tyrannical.
Having a rude sense of justice, being German, he would grant no
license to the stinging, envious satires of the jealous, envious
Frenchman. They managed to get on with each other for about three
years. Voltaire disgusted Frederick by getting into a lawsuit with a
Jewish banker named Hirsch about a discreditable speculation in
Saxony money. Finally he began a violent controversy with Maupertuis,
president of the Berlin Academy. He libelled this boorish but able
scholar, who held his office by appointment of Frederick. He lied to
the king concerning one of the most cutting satires in literature,
which was aimed at the president. He tricked the king in the shabbiest
manner. He had succeeded in getting into difficulty with his usual
facility.
He asked for permission to leave the court of Frederick, pleading
business at Paris, and also that his health required him to visit
Plombieres, in order to drink of its waters. Frederick gave him leave
to go. On the eve of going, in utter disregard of his promise to the
king, he fired a parting shot at Maupertuis, in the shape of a
supplement to the attack he had already made, then travelled leisurely
on his way. Frederick waited until he reached Frankfort; there he was
detained by order of the king on the charge of having some verses
written by Frederick in his possession. The resident at Frankfort was
as stupid and clumsy as a German official can be, and managed the
affair in a most rude and indelicate manner. Exasperated at the delay,
Voltaire committed the folly of undertaking to steal away. He and his
niece were arrested and imprisoned in an inn, where they were
subjected to very unpleasant treatment. The action of Frederick was
unworthy of a king. Its meanness was intensified by the bungling
stupidity of the resident. The people of Frankfort grew indignant, and
the burgomaster began to show resentment, for Frankfort was a free
city and the King of Prussia had no right to trespass upon its
privileges. It was mean in a monarch to strike this foul blow because
he had been pricked with a sharp pin.
From this time forth Voltaire entered upon a life of complete
independence, free from all incumbrances of mistresses, royal patrons,
or aristocratic friends. He tried residence in Geneva and Lausanne,
but while he found political liberty, he was not accorded by the pious
Swiss the social freedom to which he was accustomed in France. Finally
he purchased a place at Ferney. His home here became the Mecca to
which the literary celebrities of Europe made pilgrimages. At Ferney
he established watch-manufacturing, competing with the Swiss; here
also he built a church, inscribing upon it "_Deo crexit Voltaire_." In
pure mischievousness he entered upon an indecent controversy with the
bishop of the diocese, who was a good though foolish man. He also
managed to quarrel right and left with all sorts of people, while
slowly and imperceptibly old age crept upon him. Much of the noblest
work of his life was done here. It was while at Ferney that he adopted
a young girl of noble but poor family, rescuing her from a convent and
marrying her to the Marquis de Villete. She contributed to making many
of his declining years bright with her presence. His pet name for her
was "Belle et Bonne."
For some of his work done at Ferney he has won the respect and
admiration of mankind. Such were his noble defence of the Calas
family, his successful attack upon the outrages committed upon Sirven
and his family, securing the liberation of Espinasse from the galleys,
the vindication of General Lally, and the brave battle for D'Etalonde
and La Barre, together with many other cases in which his powerful
pen proved its strength in defence of the weak against the oppression
of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny.
This part of his career provides the staple material for his
eulogists, as it is not without genuine value. With the death of Louis
XV., Voltaire evidently expected that he would be invited to return to
Paris, but the government did not give him any encouragement. By the
beginning of 1778 he had finished a tragedy entitled "Irene," and on
February 10th he arrived in Paris after an absence of twenty-eight
years. Though not received very cordially by the ministry, he was
heartily welcomed by the Academy and all the foreign celebrities at
the capital, among them the American minister, Dr. Benjamin Franklin,
to whom he said, "If I were only forty years old I would immediately
go and settle in your happy country." An hour after Franklin left, the
English ambassador called, to whom he made himself equally agreeable.
The prolonged excitement of the continuous attention paid him, at last
brought on a severe illness. In order to secure the right of burial in
consecrated ground he professed conversion. Recovering temporarily, he
scoffed at himself, saying, "It is necessary for a man to die in the
religion of his fathers. If I lived on the banks of the Ganges I
should wish to die with a cow's tail in my hand." Before he died his
secretary, Wagniere, entreated him to state precisely his "way of
thinking" concerning religion. Voltaire asked for paper and ink and
then wrote and signed the following, which is now to be seen in the
National Library at Paris: "I die adoring God, loving my friends, not
hating my enemies, and detesting superstition. Feb. 28th, 1778.
Voltaire."
His play "Irene" was first given on March 16th. By the 30th of the
month he was able to attend, and that night, in the theatre, received
an ovation unequalled in history. Shortly after, his illness returned,
in which he lingered until May 30, 1778, dying at the age of
eighty-three years and six months. There was difficulty in securing a
permit for his burial, and not until 1791 did his body find a
resting-place in the Pantheon.
As a dramatist he ranks next to Racine and Corneille, but as an epic
poet he is a failure. His romances are probably the best evidences of
his versatile and wonderful powers. They embody all the hate and
really noble anger of his soul against the evils which were crushing
the life of the French people. Their wit never fails, and they flash
and sparkle with his matchless brilliancy of satire. As a writer of
history he has never been regarded as possessing very great merit, for
two reasons: First, he was totally lacking in any grasp of the
philosophy of history; second, he was not careful as to accuracy in
stating facts. His philosophical works are largely covert attacks upon
the religious and ecclesiastical systems of his day. These are
interesting reading matter if one does not regard the absurdity of any
permanent claims to physics or metaphysics which they contain.
His criticisms and miscellaneous works reveal all the characteristics
of his other writings--pungent, witty, sharp; indicating, however,
more of the skill of the journalist than of the great author. He has
not left a single line which embodies a great thought. He was a man
of supernatural brilliancy rather than of great genius. Had his work
been less witty and bright, he would be charged with superficiality;
that which saves him from the accusation is the marvellous display of
mental acuteness and a perfect mastery of the French language. The
thought in his productions is as ephemeral as that in a morning
newspaper; but his composition will serve to this day as a model of
the possibilities of the French tongue. In this respect he is
unrivalled.
Popular conceptions of Voltaire are in some respects erroneous. He is
regarded as an arch infidel and bitter foe of religion. On the
contrary, he was always a deist. He never assails "The Sermon on the
Mount," nor can one who reads him carefully believe that there would
not have been a subtle sympathy between him and the best religious
minds of later days. He never mocked men who lived good lives, nor
opposed with any bitterness those who were the friends of liberty of
conscience.
[Signature of the author.]
SAMUEL JOHNSON[5]
[Footnote 5: Extracts reprinted from Harper's Magazine by
permission of Messrs. Harper & Brothers.]
By LORD MACAULAY
(1709-1784)
[Illustration: Samuel Johnson.]
Samuel Johnson, one of the most eminent English writers of the
eighteenth century, was the son of Michael Johnson, who was, at the
beginning of that century, a magistrate of Lichfield, and a bookseller
of great note in the Midland Counties. Michael's abilities and
attainments seem to have been considerable. He was so well acquainted
with the contents of the volumes which he exposed to sale, that the
country rectors of Staffordshire and Worcestershire thought him an
oracle on points of learning. Between him and the clergy, indeed,
there was a strong religious and political sympathy. He was a zealous
churchman, and, though he qualified himself for municipal office by
taking the oaths to the sovereigns in possession, was to the last a
Jacobite in heart. At his house, a house which is still pointed out to
every traveller who visits Lichfield, Samuel was born, on September
18, 1709. In the child the physical, intellectual, and moral
peculiarities which afterward distinguished the man were plainly
discernible: great muscular strength accompanied by much awkwardness
and many infirmities; great quickness of parts, with a morbid
propensity to sloth and procrastination; a kind and generous heart,
with a gloomy and irritable temper.[6] He had inherited from his
ancestors a scrofulous taint, which it was beyond the power of
medicine to remove. His parents were weak enough to believe that the
royal touch was a specific for this malady. In his third year he was
taken up to London, inspected by the court surgeon, prayed over by the
court chaplains, and stroked and presented with a piece of gold by
Queen Anne. One of his earliest recollections was that of a stately
lady in a diamond stomacher and a long black hood. Her hand was
applied in vain. The boy's features, which were originally noble and
not irregular, were distorted by his malady. His cheeks were deeply
scarred. He lost for a time the sight of one eye, and he saw but very
imperfectly with the other. But the force of his mind overcame every
impediment. Indolent as he was, he acquired knowledge with such ease
and rapidity, that at every school to which he was sent he was soon
the best scholar. From sixteen to eighteen he resided at home, and was
left to his own devices. He learned much at this time, though his
studies were without guidance and without plan. He ransacked his
father's shelves, dipped into a multitude of books, read what was
interesting, and passed over what was dull. An ordinary lad would have
acquired little or no useful knowledge in such a way; but much that
was dull to ordinary lads was interesting to Samuel.
[Footnote 6: Johnson himself tells a story strongly
illustrative of the character both of the man and boy. He
says, "Once, indeed, I was disobedient; I refused to attend
my father to Uttoxeter-market. Pride was the source of that
refusal, and the remembrance of it was painful. A few years
ago, I desired to atone for this fault; I went to Uttoxeter
in very bad weather, and stood for a considerable time
bareheaded in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall
used to stand. In contrition I stood, and I hope the penance
was expiatory."--Boswell's "Life of Johnson."]
[Illustration: Dr. Johnson's Penance.]
While he was thus irregularly educating himself, his family was
sinking into hopeless poverty. Old Michael Johnson was much better
qualified to pore upon books, and to talk about them, than to trade in
them. His business declined; his debts increased; it was with
difficulty that the daily expenses of his household were defrayed, it
was out of his power to support his son at either university; but a
wealthy neighbor offered assistance; and, in reliance on promises
which proved to be of very little value, Samuel was entered at
Pembroke College, Oxford. When the young scholar presented himself to
the rulers of that society, they were amazed not more by his ungainly
figure and eccentric manners than by the quantity of extensive and
curious information which he had picked up during many months of
desultory, but not unprofitable study. On the first day of his
residence he surprised his teachers by quoting Macrobius; and one of
the most learned among them declared, that he had never known a
freshman of equal attainments.