It is hardly possible to overestimate the nobility of Voltaire’s part in the redemption of the Calas.
A man who did not love him said justly that such a deed would cover a multitude of sins. “Oh mon amie! le bel emploi du génie!” wrote Diderot to Mademoiselle Voland.... “What are the Calas to him? Why should he stop the work he loves to defend them? If there were a Christ, surely Voltaire would be saved.”
When one reflects on the enormous expenditure of time, labour, and money the case required of him, and the fact that he thoroughly knew the value of each, Diderot’s words do not seem greatly exaggerated.
To suppose he had any thought of his own glory in the matter is not reasonable. He persistently gave the lion’s share of the credit to Élie de Beaumont. He himself had already as much fame as man could want. If he had wanted more, he knew to it a thousand avenues quicker and safer than the long Via Dolorosa of a legal reparation.
That kind of fame would only endanger his person and prestige, and make his chances of being well received by King and Court weaker than ever.
But that he did recognise Calas as one of the best works of his nobler self seems likely from a trifling incident.
Thirteen years later, on his last visit to Paris, someone, seeing the crowds that surrounded him whenever he went out into the street, asked a poor woman who this person was who was so much followed.
“It is the saviour of the Calas,” she replied.
No flattery, no honour, no acclamation of that glorious time gave Voltaire, it is said, so keen a pleasure as that simple answer.