A first impression that the brain of the writer is haunted by some grotesque chimera, and that his political prospects are the pure creation of his own vanity and ambition, proves upon investigation to be false. There existed at Court during this period an active and formidable party, bent upon overthrowing the Cardinal; and for six years there was not a single month when Fleury's position might not have been imperilled by a moment of manliness on the part of the King. That moment—it was an amiable fondness—was constantly expected;[240] and had it followed upon any of the passages of d'Argenson's Journal, what appears as mere fatuous aspiration might be read as the words of truth and soberness. It is, moreover, reasonable to suggest that had the writer been more intimately conversant with the world and its ways, he would never have written one-tenth of what he felt; and that, had he not been the author of some of the loftiest and profoundest truths which political morality has ever uttered, his violences and excitements would have remained in the obscurity in which such accidents should be privileged to rest.
But there is another question involved, the question whether his criticism is the mere outcome of factious opposition, or is the wise and just conviction of a patriot and an honest man. A brief examination will suffice.
He pronounced against the men in power, and history has endorsed his verdict. Among the six ministers who carried the train of Cardinal Fleury, there was not one whose name has not to be sought for in his despatches, or who was qualified to be his own head clerk. The only man who, by the duration and the vicissitudes of his career, has secured a precarious place in history, is M. de Maurepas. So much for the men; we have yet to see whether d'Argenson's estimate of the general administration could equally boast the warrant of fact.
There are two sides to the questions suggested by the government of Fleury. There is no denying that his negative policy conferred great benefits on France; there is equally little question that it sowed the seed of many a disaster. If he did nothing to dissipate the resources of the country, he did equally little to increase them. He neglected commerce, and through the accident of the time it flourished. He neglected finance and the interior, and the ruin of the provinces proceeded unchecked. During these six years he did nothing for the policy of France abroad, and it drifted into the state in which we are soon to see it. In a word, he raised political nihilism to the dignity of a faith, and the deluge of circumstance had to be faced by his successors. His policy brought its peculiar consequences. The most striking was the decadence of the French marine. But it produced an effect which was far less obvious, and far more insidiously fatal. With M. Chauvelin, he had banished from his ministry its only element of constructive strength. D'Argenson had been glad that the man whose "ideas were too great and lofty," was in power no longer, and only too ready to take shelter beneath the bourgeois policy of Fleury.[241] He was not long in discovering his error. The world is not a bourgeois creation, nor can it be governed upon bourgeois principles; and if genius in power is often destructive, it is none the less often necessary. It was by the consistent ostracism of genius that Fleury, in a profoundly critical period, maintained himself in power; and when his will at last succumbed to circumstance, he left his country to drift before the winds bereft of policy or guiding hand. We have soon to examine one department of the government, and that in connection with d'Argenson himself. There may be reason to suggest that if his criticism of Fleury has been violent and harsh, the conduct of French foreign policy during the years 1745 and 1746 is one long commentary upon its substantial justice. D'Argenson was a man of strange political sympathy and insight. Barbier and the element he represented, might look on with applause, and commend the Cardinal's moderation and prudence. To a patriot who had the sagacity to foresee what his so-called moderation might mean, the spectacle must have been full of provocation; and it is sufficient to conclude that if d'Argenson's narrative is deformed by the violence of exasperation, its motives were as pure as the feeling was keen.
It is with the pleasure of relief that we turn to another interest of d'Argenson's life, as sweet and engaging as the former is sometimes repellent. It presents him, not as the violent, eager partisan, but in the light of a loyal and warm-hearted friendship. It is in the spring of 1739 that we mark the beginning of his intimacy with Voltaire.
D'Argenson and he had been at school together; but since they had parted in the Rue St. Jacques[242] their ways in life had lain far apart. Arouet had been absorbed by that brilliant coterie whose host was Vendôme and whose laureate was Chaulieu;[243] while d'Argenson pursued the path of the robe, which led far away from the dazzling dissoluteness of the Temple. Nor were they thrown together more closely in maturer life; for while d'Argenson, with some chosen spirits, was developing the purely French tradition of political thought, his friend, a guest at Twickenham and Battersea, was accustoming his eyes to that foreign light which he was afterwards to diffuse so fatefully around him. About the time at which d'Argenson joined the Entresol, Voltaire set out for England.[244] Separated as they were, they retained that easy good-feeling which only school companionship can inspire. Upon Voltaire's return they met more frequently, and in their letters their old discussions upon art and politics at the house of a popular society lady,[245] are often the theme of pleasant recollection.
It was not, however, until the opening of the correspondence whose occasion and character we have now to record, that their casual acquaintance ripened into intimacy. Many of Voltaire's letters have never been recovered; and d'Argenson's, with scarcely an exception, have perished entirely. Still, there remain enough to form an intelligible series, and to throw a very attractive light upon the character of the men concerned.
It was in the beginning of 1739 that Voltaire, incensed by a more than usually scurrilous libel, appealed to his friend for protection in an attempt to force the author[246] to a disavowal of his work. With the ready loyalty characteristic of him, d'Argenson accepted the trust;[247] and until the close of the quarrel he became the poet's "chargé d'affaires accredited to the literary police." Such of his letters as are preserved are truly charming, and they read strangely beside many a page of his Journal written at the same date. They are graced throughout by that open-hearted confidence which d'Argenson was always so ready to accord; and nothing can be sweeter than the self-congratulation with which he tells Voltaire of his success.[248] He was in constant communication with Madame du Châtelet; and d'Argenson joined Madame in a conspiracy of kindness to restrain the vivacities of their outraged friend.
Voltaire was not the man to undervalue such services. His letters are full of expressions of gratitude, as delicate as they are sincere; he cast about for a means of displaying it more amply; and with many another earnest of confidence and regard, d'Argenson received the opening chapters of the "Histoire du Siècle de Louis XIV.," and with it the assurance, "I wish to please you so much; and you will see that if I do not succeed, it is not for want of working upon subjects which are dear to you."[249] D'Argenson must have been emboldened by the confidence of his friend, for soon after, Voltaire received a letter, and with it an extract of a certain manuscript from d'Argenson's own pen.