“Ah!” said Voltaire, “perhaps we are both mistaken.”
A like interview is also described as taking place between Voltaire and Casanova in 1760. Casanova stayed with Haller before he went to visit Voltaire; and on leaving his first host observed how much he was looking forward to becoming acquainted with his second.
“Ah!” replied Haller, “many persons, contrary to physical laws, have found M. de Voltaire greater when seen at a distance.”
Voltaire had presently the satisfaction of hearing that the sale of “The Literary War” was prohibited, and of seeing Grasset severely censured; though he would have liked better to see him banished.
The Saurin-Grasset-Haller affair had one important influence upon Voltaire. It disgusted him with Lausanne.
In this autumn of 1758 Voltaire wrote to a very old friend, King Stanislas, saying that he had fifty thousand francs which he should like to invest in an estate in Lorraine—that he might not die on the borders of Lake Leman. Cautious Stanislas consulted the French Government. Would this meet its views? Choiseul, representing it, as Bernis’s successor, replied, “You know Voltaire well enough to decide for yourself.”
So on some date, not before November 20, 1758, Bettinelli—Italian, Jesuit, poet, and literary man—arrived at Délices as the envoy of Stanislas, sent to accept the proposed investment and tell Voltaire how delighted Stanislas would be to have him as a neighbour.
Voltaire was in the garden, gardening, when Bettinelli came, and presented an extraordinary appearance in a long pelisse, a black velvet cap, and a peruke which covered almost all his face except the nose and chin, which by now nearly met. He had a stick in his hand which had a weeding fork at one end and a pruning hook at the other; and observed, when he saw Bettinelli, that his crop from his garden was much more abundant “than from that I sow in my books for the good of mankind.”
The pair talked on all kinds of subjects. Bettinelli, who was not a little afraid of Voltaire’s cynic wit, nervously remarked the brilliant flash of the eyes and the sarcastic, mobile lips. He thought his host spoke slowly because he was preparing something caustic to say next; but the truth was the host had already lost most of his teeth and spoke slowly in order to be understood. The pair discussed all kinds of subjects—Italy, the Inquisition, slavery, Tasso, Ariosto, Tronchin, Bettinelli’s poetry, and the famous book “On the Mind,” which Voltaire sharply criticised; and whose author, Helvétius, he summed up “as a fool who wanted to be a philosopher with courtiers and a courtier with philosophers.”
They spoke of Madame du Châtelet. In Voltaire’s rooms were several pictures of the dead woman. “Here is my immortal Émilie,” he said. Bettinelli records that she was the only person of whom he heard Voltaire speak with an unchanging admiration and enthusiasm. Before Bettinelli left he had a little interview with Dr. Tronchin, who congratulated him on having found Voltaire in a mood unusually serene and equable. In fact, the visit had been wholly a success—but for one thing. When Bettinelli handed Voltaire Stanislas’s acceptance of his proposal to live in Lorraine, Voltaire took it, saying that he had just bought a little estate near Délices, where he intended to live out the rest of his life. On November 18th, Voltaire had dated his first letter from Ferney. Bettinelli was too late.