Berlin and Sans-Souci Part 70

Voltaire hastened with youthful agility through the saloon, and beckoned to the Jew to follow him into his bedroom.

"First of all, friend, we will make a small mercantile operation."

So saying, he opened the door of a large commode. "See, here are twelve pounds of the purest wax-lights. I am a poor man, with weak eyes. I have no use for these lights; I can never hope to profit by them. Here, also, are several pounds of sugar and coffee, the savings of the last two months. You will buy all this of me; we will agree upon a fixed price, and the last day of every month you will come for the same purpose. Name your price, sir."

Hirsch named his price; but it seemed that the great poet understood how to bargain better than the Jew. He knew exactly the worth of the sugar and the coffee, he spoke so eloquently of the beauty and purity of the thick white wax-lights, that the Hebrew increased his offer,

"And now to more important business," said Voltaire. "You are going to Dresden--you will there execute a commission for me. I wish to invest eighteen thousand thalers in Saxon bonds. They can now be purchased at thirty-five, and will be redeemed at a hundred."

"But your excellency knows that the king has forbidden his subjects to buy these bonds. He demanded and obtained for his subjects a pledge that they should be paid at par for the bonds they now hold, while the subjects of the King of Saxony receive only their present value. The king promised, however, that the Prussians should make no further investments in these bonds. You see, then, that it is impossible for me to fulfil this commission."

"I see that you are a fool!" cried Voltaire, angrily. "If you were not a fool, you would know that Voltaire, the chamberlain of the king, would not undertake a business transaction which would stain his reputation or cast a shadow on his name. When Voltaire makes this investment, you can understand that he is authorized to do so."

"That being the case," said Hirsch, humbly, "I am entirely satisfied, and will gladly serve your excellency."

"If you fill this commission handsomely and promptly, you may feel a.s.sured of a reward. Are you ambitious? Would you not like a t.i.tle?"

"Certainly I am ambitious. I should be truly happy if I could obtain the t.i.tle of 'royal court agent.'"

"Well, buy these bonds for me in Dresden cheap, and you shall have this coveted t.i.tle," said the n.o.ble author of the "Henriade," and other world-renowned works.

"I will buy them at thirty-five thalers."

"And you will invest eighteen thousand thalers at this rate. Our contract is made; now we will count the gold. I have not the ready money--I will give you drafts--come into my study.--There are three drafts," said he, "one on Paris, one on your father, and one on the Jew Ephraim. Get them cashed, good Hirsch, and bring me my Saxon bonds."

"In eight days, your excellency, I will return with them, and you will have a clear profit of eleven thousand thalers."

Voltaire's eyes sparkled with joy. "Eleven thousand thalers!" said he; "for a poor poet, who lives by his wits and his pen, that is a considerable sum."

"You will realize that sum," said Hirsch, with the solemn earnestness of a Jew when he has made a good trade.

Hirsch was about to withdraw, but Voltaire hastened after him, and seizing his arm, he cried out threateningly: "You are not going without giving me your note? You do not think that I am such a fool as to give you eighteen thousand thalers, and have nothing to prove it?"

"You excellency has my word of honor," said the Jew, earnestly.

Voltaire laughed aloud. "Your word! the honorable word of a man for eighteen thousand thalers! My dear friend, we do not live in paradise, but in a so-called Christian city--your worthy forefathers obtained for us this privilege. Do you believe that I will trust one of their descendants? Who will go my security that you will not, nail my innocence and my confiding heart upon the cross, and slay them if I should be unsuspicious enough to trust my money with you in this simple way?"

"I will give you ample security," said Hirsch, taking a morocco case from his pocket. "I did not know why your excellency sent for me. I thought perhaps you wished to buy diamonds, and brought some along with me. Look, sir! here are diamonds worth twenty-two thousand thalers! I will leave them with you--I, the poor Jew, do not fear that the great poet Voltaire will deceive and betray me."

"These diamonds are beautiful," said Voltaire--"very beautiful, and perhaps if my speculation succeeds, I may buy some from you. Until then, I will take care of them."

Voltaire was about to lock them up, but he paused suddenly, and fixed his eyes upon the calm countenance of the Jew.

"How do I know that these are real diamonds?" he cried; and as Hirsch, exasperated by this base suspicion, frowned and turned pale, he exclaimed fiercely: "The diamonds are false! I know it by your terror. Oh, oh, you thought that a poet was a good, credulous creature who could be easily deceived. Ah! you thought I had heard nothing of those famous lapidaries in St. Germain, who cut diamonds from gla.s.s, and cook up in their laboratories the rarest jewels!

Yes, yes, I know all these arts, and all the brewing of St. Germain will not suffice to deceive me."

"These diamonds are pure!" cried Hirsch.

"We will have them tested by a Christian jeweller," said Voltaire.-- "Tripot! Tripot! run quickly to the jeweller Reclam--beg him to come to me for a few moments."

Tripot soon returned with Reclam. The diamonds were p.r.o.nounced pure and of the first water; and the jeweller declared they were fully worth twenty-two thousand thalers. Voltaire was now fully satisfied, and, when once more alone, he looked long and rapturously upon these glittering stones.

"What woman can boast of such dazzling fire in her eyes?" said he, laughing; "what woman can say that their color is worth twenty-two thousand thalers? It is true they glisten and shimmer in all lights and shades--that is their weakness and their folly. With you, beautiful gems! these changing hues are a virtue. Oh, to think that with this handful of flashing stones I could buy a bag of ducats!

How dull and stupid are mankind--how wise is G.o.d! Sinking those diamonds in the bowels of the earth was a good speculation. They are truffles to tempt the snouts of men; and they root after them as zealously as the swine in Perigord root after the true truffles.

Gold! gold! that is the magic word with which the world is ruled. I will have gold--I will rule the world. I will not give place to dukes or princes. I will have my seigneuries and my castles; my servants in rich livery, and my obedient subjects. I will be a grand seigneur. Kings and princes shall visit me in my castle, and wait in my antechamber, as I have been compelled to wait in theirs. I will be rich that I may be every man's master, even master of the fools.

I will enslave the wise by my intellect--I will reduce the foolish to bondage with gold. I must be rich! rich! rich! therefore am I here; therefore do I correct the poor rhymes of the king; therefore do I live now as a modest poet, and add copper to copper, and save my pension of five thousand thalers, and sell my wax-lights and my coffee to the Jew. Let the world call me a miser. When I become rich, I will be a spendthrift: and men who are now envious and angry at my fame shall burst with rage at my fortune. Ah, ah, it is not worth the cost to be a celebrated writer! There are too many humiliations connected with this doubtful social position. It gives no rank--it is a pitiful thing in the eyes of those who have actual standing, and is only envied by those who are unnoticed and unknown.

For my own part, I am so exhausted by the discomforts of my position, I would gladly cast it from me, and make for myself what the canaille call a good thing--an enormous fortune. I will sc.r.a.pe together all the gold that is possible. I will give for gold all the honor and freedom and fame which come to me. I am a rich gainer in all these things by my residence with King Frederick. He has this virtue: he is unprejudiced, and cares nothing even for his own royal rank. I will therefore remain in this haven, whither the storms, which have so long driven me from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, have now safely moored me. My happiness will last just as long as G.o.d pleases."

[Footnote: Voltaire's own words.--Oeuvres, p. 110.]

He laughed heartily, and took his cash-book, in which he entered receipts and expenditures. It was Voltaire's greatest pleasure to add up his accounts from time to time, and gloat over the growth of his fortune; to compare, day by day, his receipts and expenses, and to find that a handsome sum was almost daily placed to his credit.

The smallest necessary expenditure angered him. With a dark frown he said to himself: "It is unjust and mean to require of me to buy provender for my horse, and to have my carriage repaired; if the king furnishes me with an equipage, he should not allow it to be any expense to me. The major-domo is an old miser, who cheats me every month out of some pounds of sugar and coffee, and the wax-lights are becoming thinner and poorer. I will complain to King Frederick of all this; he must see that order prevails in his palace."

Voltaire closed his account-book, and murmured: "When I have an income of a hundred and fifty thousand francs, I will cease to economize. G.o.d be praised, I have almost reached the goal! But,"

said he, impatiently, "in order to effect this, I must remain here a few years, and add my pension to my income. Nothing must prevent this--I must overcome every obstacle. What! who can hinder me? my so-called friends, who naturally are my most bitter enemies? Ha, ha!

what a romantic idea of this genial king to a.s.semble six friends around him at Sans-Souci, the most of them being authors--that is to say, natural enemies! I believe if two authors, two women, or two pietists, were placed alone upon a desert isle, they would forget their dependence upon each other, and commence intriguing at once.

This, alas! is humanity, and being so, one must withdraw from the poor affair advantageously and cunningly. [Footnote: Voltaire, Oeuvres, p. 375.] No one can live peacefully in this world; least of all, in the neighborhood of a king. It is with kings as with coquettes, their glances kindle jealousy--and Frederick is a great coquette. I must, therefore, drive my rivals from the field, and enjoy in peace the favor of the king. Now which of my rivals are dangerous to me? All! all! I must banish them all! I will sow such discontent and rage and malice and strife amongst them, that they will fly in hot haste, and thank G.o.d if I do not bite off their noses before they escape. I will turn this, their laughing paradise, into a h.e.l.l, and I will be the devil to chase them with glowing pitchforks. Yes, even to Siberia will I drive this long-legged peac.o.c.k, Maupertius--him, first of all; then D'Argens, then Algarotti, then this over-wise and good Lord Marshal, and all others like him! When Voltaire's sun is in the ascendant, not even stars shall glitter; It shall not be! I will prove to them that Voltaire's fiery rays have burned them to ashes!" [Footnote: Voltaire, OEuvres, p. 378.]

He laughed aloud, and seated himself to write a poem. He was invited that evening to a soiree by the queen-mother, where he wished to shine as an improvisator. Above all other things, he wished to win the heart of the Princess Amelia. Since she had played the part of Aurelia, in "Rome Sauvee," he had felt a pa.s.sion for the princess, who had betrayed to the life the ardor and the pains of love, and whose great flaming eyes seemed, from their mysterious depths, to rouse the soul of the poet. Voltaire had promised the Princess Amelia to improvise upon any subject she should select, and he relied upon his cunning to incline her choice in such a direction as to make the poem he was now writing appropriate and seem impromptu.

While thus occupied, his servant entered and announced a number of distinguished gentlemen, who were in the parlor, and wished to make the great author a morning visit. "Let them all wait!" said Voltaire, angrily; declaring that this disturbance had cost him a piquant rhyme.

"But, gracious sir," stammered the servant, "some of the most distinguished men of the court and the oldest generals, are there!"

"What do I care for their epaulets or their excellencies? Let them wait, or go to the devil--if they prefer it."

Well, the eminent gentlemen waited; indeed, they waited patiently, until the great Voltaire, the favorite of the king, the universal French author, in his pride and arrogance was graciously pleased to show himself amongst the Dutch barbarians, and allow some rays of his intellect to fall upon and inspire them!

The saloon was indeed crowded with princes, generals, and n.o.bles.

Voltaire had just returned to Berlin from Potsdam, and all hastened to pay their respects and commend themselves to his grace and favor.

[Footnote: Forney writes thus in his "Memoirs": "During the winter months which Voltaire spent in the palace of Berlin, he was the favorite of the court. Princes, amba.s.sadors, ministers, generals, n.o.bles of the highest rank went to his morning receptions, and were often received by him with contemptuous scorn. A great prince was pleased to play chess with him, and allowed him every time to win the stake of two louis d'or. It was declared, however, that sometimes the gold disappeared before the end of the game, and could not be found."--"Souvenirs d'un Citoyen."]

Voltaire was very gracious this morning. As he was to play the part of improvisator that night, he thought it politic to make favor with all those who would be present. He hoped that all the world would thunder out their enraptured applause, and that Maupertius, D'Argens, Algarotti, La Mettrie, and all other friends of the king, would be filled with envy and rage. He smiled, therefore, benignantly, and had kind and flattering words for all. His bon-mots and piquant witticisms seemed inexhaustible.

Suddenly his servant drew near, and said it was necessary to speak to him on a matter of great importance. Voltaire turned with a winning smile to his guests, and, praying them to wait for his return, entered his private room.

"Well, Tripot, what have you to say that is important?"

"Gracious sir, the court is in mourning."

Voltaire looked at him enraged. "Fool! what is that to me?"

"It is of the utmost importance to you, sir, if you are going this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother."

"Will you run me mad, Tripot? What has the court mourning to do with the queen's soiree?"

"Gracious sir, the explanation is very simple. When the court is in mourning, no one can appear there in embroidered clothes; you must wear a plain black coat."

"I have no plain black coat," said Voltaire, with a frowning brow.

"It is necessary, then, for you to order one, and I have sent Monsieur Pilleneure to come and take your measure."