# Voltaire/Chapter 22

CHAPTER XXII.
GOLDSMITH AND VOLTAIRE.
Finding that there was no hope of permission to live in Paris, he bought, in 1754, a pretty country house near Geneva, which he called "The Delights," from the beauty of the grounds and the prospects—and, shortly after, he purchased Monrion, near Lausanne, and also a house in that town. His constantly increasing fame had made him a great power in the State; the senseless dislike of the king had made him a hostile power; and it was rather as a formidable rival than as an exiled subject that he now forged and sent forth his literary bolts from the frontiers of the monarchy. A more sagacious policy might have endeavoured to conciliate so active a foe, but that was not the way of those who ruled France. To live a gay, easy, irresponsible life; to consider taxation as the one function of government, the one purpose for which the people existed; to clap into the Bastille anybody whose notions tended to cast a doubt on the excellence of this kind of administration; to contemplate, as possible, the coming of the deluge, but to think it of no great consequence so that it did not come in their time,—such was, and had long been, the policy of those who ​controlled the destinies of the country. So, for more than twenty years, the old champion of letters and of humanity dwelt near the Lake of Geneva, with more real freedom and comfort and leisure than he had ever enjoyed in his life; and his at length settled residence now became a point of attraction for pilgrims who desired to do homage to his fame. Among other noted Englishmen came Goldsmith. English readers know very well that, as a young man, the author of the "Traveller" wandered, almost penniless, but always cheerful and observant, over great part of Europe. In 1759 he undertook to write for a publisher a life of Voltaire, which appeared in an obscure magazine. In this notice—which contains, as Goldsmith's biographer, Forster, thinks, the best account existing of Voltaire's residence in England—he says that he was in company with the French poet in Paris. That, as our readers know, could not have been; and Forster considers that the passage may have been tampered with by the editor of the magazine, or may even have been inadvertently so recorded by Goldsmith himself, but does not doubt that the meeting, the account of which thus goes on, took place at "The Delights:"—
"As a companion, no man ever exceeded him when he pleased to lead the conversation; which, however, was not always the case. In company which he either disliked or despised, few could be more reserved than he; but when he was warmed in discourse, and had got over a hesitating manner which sometimes he was subject to, it was rapture to hear him. His meagre visage seemed insensibly to gather beauty; every muscle in it had meaning, and his eye beamed with unusual brightness.
"The person who writes this memoir, who had the honour and the pleasure of being his acquaintance, remembers to ​have seen him in a select company of wits of both sexes at Paris, when the subject happened to turn upon English taste and learning. Fontenelle, who was of the party, and who was unacquainted with the language or authors of the country he undertook to condemn, with a spirit truly vulgar began to revile both. Diderot, who liked the English, and knew something of their literary pretensions, attempted to vindicate their poetry and learning, but with unequal abilities. The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle was superior in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence which Voltaire had preserved all the former part of the night, particularly as the conversation happened to turn upon one of his favourite topics. Fontenelle continued his triumph till about twelve o'clock, when Voltaire appeared at last roused from his reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. He began his defence with the utmost elegance mixed with spirit, and now and then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his antagonist; and his harangue lasted till three in the morning. I must confess that, whether from national partiality or from the elegant sensibility of his manner, I never was so much charmed, nor did I ever remember so absolute a victory as he gained in this dispute."
In 1760 a false report of Voltaire's death produced, in reply to attacks on his memory, a eulogy from Goldsmith, in the character of his Chinese philosopher. It is most generous and appreciative—he mourns the loss which the world suffers in the death of a philosopher of genius such as nature scarcely produces once in a century, praises his independence, rectitude, and detestation of sycophancy, and condemns his calumniators:—
"Should you look for the character of Voltaire among the journalists and illiterate writers of the age, you will find him there characterised as a monster, with a head turned to wisdom, and a heart inclining to vice—the powers of his mind and the baseness of his principles forming a detestable con​trast. But seek for his character among writers like himself, and you will find him very differently described. You perceive him, in their accounts, possessed of good nature, humanity, greatness of soul, fortitude, and almost every virtue: in this description those who might be supposed best acquainted with his character are unanimous. The royal Prussian, D'Argens, Diderot, D'Alembert, and Fontenelle conspire in drawing the picture, in describing the friend of man, and the patron of every rising genius."
And (still through the medium of the contemplative Chinese) Goldsmith thus gently expresses his toleration of Voltaire's heresies: "I am not displeased with my brother because he happens to ask our Father for favours in a different manner from me."