VOLTAIRE, François Marie A rouet de, one of the most celebrated writers of modern times, was born at Paris on the 20th of February 1694. His father, François Arouet, was “ancien notaire au Chatelet,” and treasurer of the chamber of accounts; his mother was Marguerite d’Anmart. At the birth of this extraordinary man, who lived to a great age, there was little probability of his being reared, and for a considerable time he continued remarkably feeble. In his earliest years he displayed a ready wit and a sprightly imagination; and, as he said of himself, made verses before he was out of his cradle. He was educated under Father Poré, in the College of Louis the Great; and such was his proficiency, that many of his essays are now existing, which, though written when he was between twelve and fourteen, show no marks of juvenility. The famous Ninon de l’Enclos, to whom this ingenious boy was introduced, [7:21:701]left him a legacy of 2000 livres to purchase a library. Having been sent to the schools of law, he was so disgusted with the dryness of the study, that he devoted himself entirely to the muses. He was admitted into the company of the Abbé Chaulieu, the marquis de la Fare, the duke de Sully, the grand prior of Vendôme, Marshal Villars, and the chevalier du Bouillon; and caught from them that easy taste and delicate humour which distinguished the court of Louis XIV. Voltaire had early imbibed a turn for satire; and, for some philippics against the government, was imprisoned by the regent, the duke of Orleans, almost a year in the Bastille. He had before this period produced the tragedy of Oedipe, which was represented in 1718 with great success; and the duke of Orleans happening to see it performed, was so delighted that he obtained his release from prison. The poet waiting on the duke to return thanks, “Be wise (said the duke), and I will take care of you.” “I am infinitely obliged (replied the young man); but I entreat your royal highness not to trouble yourself any further about my lodging or board.”

In 1722 he made an excursion to Brussels, where he became acquainted with Jean Baptiste Rousseau; but Rousseau was jealous of a rival, and the poets soon became disgusted with each other. On his return to Paris in the same year, he produced his tragedy of Mariamne, which was not very favourably received. He began his Henriade before he was eighteen. Having one day read several cantos of this poem when on a visit to his intimate friend, the young president de Maisons, he was so teased with objections, that he lost patience, and threw his manuscript in to the fire. The president Henault with difficulty rescued it. “Remember (said Mr Henault to him in one of his letters) it was I that saved the Henriade, and that it cost me a handsome pair of ruffles.” Some years after, several copies of this poem having got abroad, while it was only a sketch, an edition of it was published, with many chasms, under the title of “La Ligue.” It gave great offence to the bigots; and the poet was considered as highly criminal for praising Admiral Coligny and Queen Elizabeth.

His reckless vivacity and frequent attacks on religion, subjected him to many mortifications; and he was a second time imprisoned in the Bastille, in consequence of a broil with the Chevalier de Rohan. After an imprisonment of six months he was released on condition of quitting the kingdom, on which he chose England for his retreat, and took with him the Henriade, in order to finish the work, and republish it in a land of liberty. He was favourably received by George I., and still more so by the princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, who procured for him a great many subscriptions, which laid the foundation of his fortune; for, on being permitted to return to France in 1728, he put the money he had acquired, into a lottery-established by Μ. Desfortes, comptroller-general of the finances, by which, and other fortunate speculations, he realized considerable property.

His Lettres Philosophiques, abounding in bold expressions and indecent witticisms against religion, having been burnt by a decree of the Parliament of Paris, and a warrant being issued for apprehending the author in 1733, Voltaire prudently withdrew, and was sheltered by the marchioness du Chatelet, in her castle of Cirey, on the borders of Champagne and Lorraine, who entered with him on the study of the system of Leibnitz, and the Principia of Newton. A gallery was built, in which Voltaire formed a good collection of natural history, and made an infinite number of experiments on light and electricity. He aboured in the mean time on his Elements of the Newtonian Philosophy, then totally unknown in France, and which the numerous admirers of Des Cartes were little desirous should be known. In the midst of these philo sophic pursuits he produced the tragedy of Alzire. He was now in the meridian of his age and genius, as was evident from the tragedy of Mahomet, first acted in 1741; but it was represented to the procureur-general as a performance offensive to religion; and the author, by order of Cardinal Fleury, withdrew it from the stage. Merape, played two years after, 1743, is a species of tragedy, unprecedented on the French stage, being without any intermixture of love, yet abounding in pathos. It was at the representation of this tragedy, that the pit and boxes were clamorous for a sight of the author; yet it was severely criticised when it came from the press. He now became a favourite at court, through the interest of Madame d’Etoiles, afterwards marchioness of Pompadour. He was appointed a gentleman of the bed-chamber in ordinary, and historiographer of France. He had frequently attempted to gain admittance into the Academy of Sciences, but could not obtain his wish till 1746, when he was the first who broke through the absurd custom of filling an inaugural speech with the fulsome adulation of Richelieu; an example soon followed by other academicians. From the satires occasioned by this innovation he felt so much uneasiness, that he was glad to retire with the marchioness du Chatelet to Luneville, in the neighbourhood of King Stanislas. The marchioness dying in 1749, Voltaire returned to Paris, where his stay was but short. The king of Prussia now gave Voltaire an invitation to live with him, which he accepted towards the end of August 1750 On his arrival at Berlin, he was immediately presented with the Order of Merit, the key of chamberlain, and a pension of 20,000 livres. Here great respect was paid to him. His apartments were under those of the king, whom he was allowed to visit at stated hours, to read with him the best works of either ancient or modern authors, and to assist his majesty in the literary productions by which he relieved the cares of government. But a dispute which arose between him and Maupertuis soon occasioned his disgrace. Maupertuis was at some pains to have it reported at court, that one day while General Manstein happened to be in the apartments of M. de Voltaire, who was then translating into French the Memoirs of Russia, composed by that officer, the king in his usual manner sent a copy of verses to be examined, when Voltaire said to Manstein, “Let us leave off for the present, my friend; you see the king has sent me his dirty linen to wash, I will wash yours another time.” It was about this time that Maupertuis published his very strange Philosophical Letters; and Μ. de Voltaire did not fail to heighten, with his utmost powers of raillery, every thing which he found, or could make ridiculous, in the projects of Maupertuis, who was careful to unite his own cause with that of the king, and succeeded in provoking his displeasure against Voltaire, who was considered as having failed in respect to his majesty; and therefore, in the most respectful manner, he returned to the king his chamberlain’s key, and the cross of his Order of Merit, accompanied with four lines of verse, in which he, with great delicacy, compares his situation to that of a jealous lover, who sends back the picture of his mistress. The king returned the key and the ribbon; but this act was not followed by an immediate reconciliation. Voltaire now paid a visit to her highness the duchess of Gotha, who honoured him with her friendship as long as she lived. While he remained at Gotha, Maupertuis employed all his batteries against him: Voltaire was arrested by the king’s orders, but was afterwards released.

He now wished to obtain permission to reside at Paris, which might have been granted, had not his witty and licentious poem,“La’Pucelle d’Orleans,” caused a great clameur against him. He therefore purchased a country house near Geneva; but his restless disposition having afterwards involved[7:21:702] him in the party squabbles of the place, he found it necessary to quit the republic; and he purchased the castle of Ferney in France, about a league from the lake of Geneva. It was here that he undertook the defence of the well-known family of Calas; and not long after he had a second opportunity of vindicating the innocence of another condemned family of the name of Sirven. It is somewhat remarkable, that in the year 1774, he had the third time a singular opportunity of employing that same zeal which he had displayed in the fatal catastrophe of the families of Calas and Sirven.

From this retreat he poured out an exhaustless variety of works, which were extensively circulated and eagerly read. They generally breathed a spirit of hostility to civil and ecclesiastical tyranny; but his attacks on priestly domination too often degenerated into insidious and flagitious attacks on revealed religion, and pure morality. Here Voltaire long continued to enjoy the pleasures of a rural life, and the admiration of the wits and philosophers of Europe. He could number among his correspondents and pupils some of the greatest sovereigns of the age. The king of Prussia renewed his correspondence with him, and Catherine II. of Russia sent him valuable presents. Paris was filled with his admirers, and his principles were daily making progress in that capital. Wearied at length with his isolated situation, or yielding to the importunities of friends, he came to Paris about the beginning of the year 1778. On his arrival, the French Academy deputed three of their members to congratulate him, and placed his bust beside that of Corneille. His bust was also crowned in the theatre on the sixth representation of his new tragedy of Irene. He did not long survive this farce: for having overheated himself with receiving visits, and exhausted his spirits by supplying a perpetual fund of conversation, he was first seized with a spitting of blood; and at last becoming restless in the night-time, he was obliged to use a soporific medicine. Of this he one night took so large a dose, that he slept thirty-six hours, and expired a very short time after awakening from it. He died on the 30th of May 1778, in the eighty-fifth year of his age.

When near his end, the marquis of Vilette, with whom he resided, sent for the rector of St Sulpice to visit him. Of this interview various very contradictory accounts have been published; but it is certain that he did not receive the last ceremonies of the catholic church. In consequence, it is said, of the refusal of the archbishop of Paris to allow him Christian burial, he was interred secretly at Sellices, a Benedictine abbey between Nogent and Troyes, whence his remains were in 1791 removed by order of the national assembly, and interred in St Genevieve.

The following is a sketch of his character as drawn by Marmontel: “He had sought glory by all the roads that are open to genius, and had deserved it by immense labours and brilliant successes. The arm of ridicule was the instrument of his vengeance, and he wielded it most fearfully and cruelly. But the greatest of blessings, repose, was unknown to him. It is true that envy at last appeared tired of the pursuit, and began to spare him on the brink of the grave. On his return to Paris, after a long exile, he enjoyed his renown, and the enthusiasm of a whole people, grateful for the pleasures that he had afforded them. The weak and last effort that he made to amuse them. Irene, was applauded as Zaire had been; and this representation, at which he was crowned, was for him the most delightful triumph. But at what moment did this tardy consolation reach him, the recompense of much watching? The next day I saw him in his hed. ‘ Well,’ said I, ‘are you at last satiated with glory ?’ ‘Ah! my good friend,’ he replied, ‘ you talk to me of glory, and I am dying in frightful torture.’”

The works of this extraordinary man are very numerous and various. Voltaire is beyond dispute the most popular writer in the French language; and his genius and wit are at least equalled by his levity and profaneness. As an author, he was most anxious for his reputation as a dramatist and a poet. His Henriade is probably the best epic in the French language, though little distinguished by fancy or invention. As a dramatist he ranks after Corneille and Racine. In comedy he was not very successful. In history he is rather agreeable and ingenious than accurate and profound. His style in prose is lively, pointed, and unaffected, admirably adapted for the numerous smaller works that came from his pen in the form of tales, romances, dialogues, and pasquinades. His raillery was of the most poignant character, and his power of exciting ridicule unbounded. Scarcely any writer ever launched into the world publications so voluminous and various, which followed one another with unexampled rapidity. The first collective edition of his works was published at Geneva in 1763, in 30 volumes 4to. A more complete collection appeared at Basel, 1784-9, 71 tom. 8vo. Of his more popular works, editions are continually multiplying at all prices and in all sizes.