Chapter 7

I dined with Marie and her uncle the next day. He outlined the thoughts of many of the leading thinkers of the day. Having come to the gentry from below, I understood his views on the impropriety of hereditary class. Honors should be earned; position should be earned. I, of all people, could understand how contrived such honors were. I who had come to the Lordship undeserving and unprepared. I was a simple tradesman until that fateful evening. Now, I was especial on the death of an old man. It made no sense. I found myself in sympathy with Monsieur Voltaire's ideas.

After dinner, he retired to continue work on a Philosophical Dictionary he was preparing for publication. Marie and I went out for a walk. We talked of everything and nothing. I did not know it at that moment, but I had fallen in love for the first time. Marie was my first true love.

I had been in lust with many women and even some sweet appreciation and attraction as with Elizabeth Woodhouse whose mind and body I adored. But this feeling was different. The entire world seemed to glow in a golden light. How could any man be unhappy in such a divine world? A glance from Marie and I would laugh. We walked down to the quay on the Ile where we had met. I thought of how lucky I had been that singular afternoon when Marie had spoken with this strange Englishman.

I wished to spend every moment with Marie. But a woman is ever more practical than a man. Marie limited my visits. I would have been happy just being with her. My feelings were so different from what they had ever been with any woman before. I had no desire to control her, to use her. My desires were only in making her joyous. Luckily, she too had desires and our time spent in her boudoir, well, I can only thank Mme. Reynard for her lessons for I put them all to good use in bringing Marie every sort of delight.

This was also the moment of my life when my intellect was formed for the rest of my life, and the writer Voltaire, who was also the man, Arouet, formed me with his wit and his keen thought. I read his books and pamphlets that Marie gave me. When I did not understand, Voltaire would explain in so clear, concise, and understandable a way that anyone of clear mind could grasp it easily.

I became a different man as lettered men of Europe became a different race. To give but one example; religious toleration. Before Voltaire the very idea of religious toleration was thought an evil. Would you not consider it a sin to leave a neighbor in a burning building? Then was it not a greater sin to let him burn for all eternity by allowing him to remain apart from the Church? I was raised, as was every other European of that day, and for the preceding millennium, with that Truth.

But as Voltaire argued so well, which church? Roman? Episcopal? Anabaptist? Man cannot ever know with certainty anything of God other than his existence and his utter disregard for man's churches. All these sects are equal in God's mind. If God does not care which church a man belongs to, why should man? Voltaire changed the very mind of Europe so that only the religious bigots and theologians continued to believe that toleration was a sin.

Voltaire created the modern European mind, the enlightened mind.

I paid court to Marie on a daily basis. Her uncle noticed my devotions. One afternoon he pulled me into his study. "Lord Northam, I think you have fallen in love with my niece."

"Monsieur Arouet, I do not know, having never been in this state before. But I think that perhaps I am afflicted as you say," I said.

He laughed, "Afflicted. Yes, that is love indeed. As I have said, I do not intend to marry as I do not want to lend by my acquiescence, support to a corrupt morality. But, many others are different. Perhaps Marie is different," he said softly. Then, as if to himself, "I too have felt such longings, my Dear Emilie..." He was silent for a moment.

I could not stand the silence when my soul cried out in a single blazing question. "Would she accept me?" Then recovering, "I mean, would I be acceptable to you as her guardian?"

He laughed, full of gusto. "My dear Jeremy, the man whom Marie finds acceptable is acceptable to me. Do not worry. I am determined to make a small trip to Geneva. The current political intrigues here make it wise for me to distance myself for a short while. I am going to take Marie with me. No, don't worry. I'll be sending her back shortly with some papers I hope to have published there which cannot be printed in La Belle France. You'll not be separated long, dear boy," he said.

I looked abashed at being so plain to him.

He patted my knee. "I see it so well since I have also felt exactly as you feel. In a few weeks, Marie will be back and you can pursue her. You might find her amenable to your wishes," he said.

I looked at him hopefully. He waved me from his study with an indulgent smile.

Two days later, Marie left with her uncle in a coach. I returned disconsolately to my dwelling. Mme. Reynard noted my mood. "You look as though you have an appointment with the hangman."

Mme. Reynard knew of my acquaintance with Marie but nothing of its depth. I told her. She smiled indulgently at the end of my sad tale. "Ah, Monsieur Northam. You are suffering from love. Maybe you should get married. It cures that malady faster than any doctor can cure a disease. Once married, quickly out of love, until the next love appears."

Mme. Reynard was typically French when it came to love and marriage. Marriage was not for love and love was not for marriage. They were separate. Her advice was for me to wander down to the boulevard and find myself a young pretty woman for consolation. Wine and a willing woman would cure my malaise, or so she said. I would have nothing to do with such a suggestion. Marie was an angel compared to the tramps of the boulevards. I would prove the purity of my love and await her return.

I dedicated the time until her return to proving my love. I was as if a monk cloistered in the farthest monastery. I ate and drank sparingly. I read books to edify myself, mostly those recommended by Marie or her uncle. I learned much of the current thoughts about the state of Man. I, too, was imbued with these feelings of freedom from the old traditions. I had acquaintance with several Scots whom Monsieur Voltaire had highly recommended. It was good to see fellow countrymen leading the march towards a new and higher state of man.

It was in this virtuous circumstance that the letter from Voltaire found me. It seems that once across the Rhone River, drenching storms had followed them. Marie had taken a chill and they had stopped to allow her to regain her strength. But her chill had grown to a fever. A doctor was summoned but his skills proved inadequate to the challenge. Marie slipped deeper into the clutches of the fever. Finally, after several days, she succumbed, carried from this vale of tears.

The letter, unfinished, slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. I did nothing. Then overcome by anger, I stood and knocked over several chairs, furious with a Universe which would steal my heart's desire before it could even possess her. I raged, yelling great obscenities against a God who would allow such evil into the world.

Finally, the rage fled and I fell to my knees weeping and gnashing my teeth. It was thus that Mme. Reynard found me. She had heard the sounds of my rage. When they ceased, worried, she came to my door. Finding it unlatched she entered, wondering what she would discover. She spied the letter lying in the middle of the floor and me, on my knees in the corner weeping as a baby. She picked up the letter and read it.

"Monsieur Northam. I can only express my sincere grief at your news. Please, join me for supper this evening. Please..."

Summoning all my reserves of strength I thanked her and accepted. It was one of the wisest things I have ever done but I had no idea at the time.