on, not because
written speech is less of a force, but because the speculation and
criticism of the literature that substantially influences the world,
make far less demand than the actual conduct of great affairs on
qualities which are not rare in detail, but are amazingly rare in
combination,--on temper, foresight, solidity, daring,--on strength, in
a word, strength of intelligence and strength of character. Gibbon
rightly amended his phrase, when he described Boethius not as
stooping, but rather as rising, from his life of placid meditation to
an active share in the imperial business. That he held this sound
opinion is quite as plausible an explanation of Voltaire's anxiety to
know persons of station and importance, as the current theory that he
was of sycophantic nature. "Why," he asks, "are the ancient historians
so full of light? It is because the writer had to do with public
business; it is because he could be magistrate, priest, soldier; and
because if he could not rise to the highest functions of the state, he
had at least to make himself worthy of them. I admit," he concludes,
"that we must not expect such an advantage with us, for our own
constitution happens to be against it;" but he was deeply sensible
what an advantage it was that they thus lost.

In short, on all sides, whatever men do and think was real and alive
to Voltaire. Whatever had the quality of interesting any imaginable
temperament, had the quality of interesting him. There was no subject
which any set of men have ever cared about, which, if he once had
mention of it, Voltaire did not care about likewise. And it was just
because he was so thoroughly alive himself, that he filled the whole
era with life. The more closely one studies the various movements of
that time, the more clear it becomes that, if he was not the original
center and first fountain of them all, at any rate he made many
channels ready and gave the sign. He was the initial principle of
fermentation throughout that vast commotion. We may deplore, if we
think fit, as Erasmus deplored in the case of Luther, that the great
change was not allowed to work itself out slowly, calmly, and without
violence and disruption. These graceful regrets are powerless, and on
the whole they are very enervating. Let us make our account with the
actual, rather than seek excuses for self-indulgence in pensive
preference of something that might have been. Practically in these
great circles of affairs