It is a somewhat remarkable circumstance that, just about the time of Wesley’s ordination, Voltaire was expelled from France, and fled to England, where he published his celebrated “Henriade,” a work which was patronized by George I., and which yielded a profit that laid the foundation of the infidels future fortune. During a long life, he and Wesley were contemporaneous, and, perhaps, of all the men then living, none exercised so great an influence as the restless philosopher and the unwearied minister of Christ. No men, however, could be more dissimilar. Wesley, in person, was beautiful; Voltaire was of a physiognomy so strange, and lighted up with fire so half-hellish and half-heavenly, that it was hard to say whether it was the face of a satyr or a man. Wesley’s heart was filled with a world-wide benevolence; Voltaire, though of gigantic mind, scarcely had a heart at all,—an incarnation of avaricious meanness, and a victim to petty passions. Wesley was the friend of all and the enemy of none; Voltaire was too selfish to love, and when forced to pay the scanty and ill-tempered homage which he sometimes rendered, it was always offered at the shrine of rank and wealth. Wesley had myriads who loved him; Voltaire had numerous admirers, but probably not a friend. Both were men of ceaseless labour, and almost unequalled authors; but while the one filled the land with blessings, the other, by his sneering and mendacious attacks against revealed religion, inflicted a greater curse than has been inflicted by the writings of any other author either before or since. The evangelist is now esteemed by all whose good opinions are worth having; the philosopher is only remembered to be branded with well-merited reproach and shame. Wesley’s first sermon was preached at South Leigh, a small village three miles from Witney. Forty-six years afterwards he preached in the same place, when there was one man present who had been a member of his first congregation.[41]