The Empress replied imperially—as she was obliged to do—that such an expense would not ruin her. And in his next letter her artful old friend warmly recommended his pendulum clocks—“which we are now making”—and asked her to assist him in promoting a watch trade between Ferney and China. She did.
Ferney was soon sending watches not only to China, but to Spain, Italy, Russia, Holland, America, Turkey, Portugal, and North Africa, besides carrying on an enormous trade with Paris.
“Give me a chance and I am the man to build a city,” said Voltaire to Richelieu. With a chance he could have done anything. Kings and commoners, cardinals, great ladies—he appealed to them all. Is not rosy-faced Bernis at Rome? Well, why should not he promote the sale of watches for me in the Imperial City?
Bernis totally ignored the commission. He was almost the only person to whom Voltaire applied who behaved so badly. And Ferney wrote him such a stinging reproach for his neglect that poor Bernis must have regretted he had not been more obliging.
As for Frederick the Great, he did better even than buy watches by the cartload like the other great potentate, Catherine.
He gave for twelve years free lodging in Berlin, with exemption from all taxation, to eighteen families of refugee Genevan watchmakers. This started the watchmaking industry in his capital.
To Madame Dubarry, who had succeeded to the honours and dishonour of the Pompadour, the Gentleman-in-Ordinary-to-the-King sent presently the loveliest little watch set in diamonds.
He left no stone unturned. He supervised every detail. In 1773, Ferney sold “four thousand watches worth half a million of francs.” All losses Voltaire bore himself. Capable and alert as he was, they were sometimes heavy.
He had had a royal order, for instance, on the occasion of the marriage of the Dauphin with Marie Antoinette, which was encouraging but expensive. He was never paid.
Nothing daunted him however. By the June of 1770 he had begun building those much-needed houses in the rival, or rather the sister, colony of Versoix. And then, as if he found weaving and watchmaking insufficient for his energy, by 1772 he had started a lacemaking industry. That butterfly Madame Saint-Julien must make this airiest of gossamer fabrics—“the beautiful blonde lace which was made in our village”—the fashion. “The woman who made it can make more very reasonably. She can add a dozen workers to the staff, and we shall owe to you a new manufactory.” The vigorous boy who wrote the words, originated the scheme, and carried it to successful issue, was only seventy-eight. He personally negotiated with the shop which was to buy and sell his new wares when made. Cannot one see him haggling and bargaining and enjoying himself, with a twinkle in his bright old eyes and a very humorous shrewdness in the curves of his thin lips?