ExUbrit 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 
 'IT 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 

 
 '#}. 
 
 L E T T E R S, 
 
 FROM 
 
 M. D E VOLTAIRE, 
 
 TO SEVERAL OF 
 
 HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 TRANStATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 BY THE REV. DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION. 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for T.DAVLES, in Ruflel-Street, Covent- 
 Garden. 
 
 MDCCLXXHI.
 
 /7 73 
 
 VOLTAIRE'S LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER* I. 
 To M. Le Chevalier de B R U A N T. 
 
 1 WAS not at *** when your letter 
 came ; you embarrafs me greatly ; I ftiall 
 only anfwer you for the pleafure of enter, 
 raining myfelf with a man who is much better 
 able to refolve the doubts which he propofed, 
 than the perfon to whom he fent them. 
 
 I am not of your opinion with regard to 
 defpotifm and defpotic princes. It appears 
 to me horrible and abfurd to the laft degree, 
 
 * The three firft letters are not Voltaire's, but 
 fuppofed to be written by the celebrated author 
 of L'EJprit des Loix, and feem worthy of him. 
 
 B that
 
 that a whole people {hould blindly fubje& 
 themfelves to the caprice of one, even if he 
 were an angel. For my own part, I would 
 not live under him a fingle day. This an- 
 gel may become in a moment a monfter, 
 thirfting after blood. Defpotifm is to me 
 the moil abominable and difguftful of all 
 bad governments; man is perpetual lycrufhecf, 
 debafed, and degraded by it. Look into hif- 
 tory, ancient and modern, if ever there was 
 one upon earth that was not an infult on man- 
 kind, and the difgrace of human nature. 
 Monarchy would doubtlefs be the beft of go- 
 vernments, if it was pofljble to find fuch 
 kings as Henry IV. the only one who ever 
 deferved the homage and veneration of his 
 fubjefts. Kings fhould always be brought 
 up in the fchool of affliclion, as this 
 great man was j fuch alone are truly great, 
 and the lovers of mankind. Before we can 
 feel for the misfortunes of others, we muft 
 ourfelves have been unfortunate. But on the 
 other hand, the hearts of princes, corrupted 
 by profperity, and the flaves of pride and 
 folly, are inaccdfible to pity, and inferfibie 
 of true glory. 
 
 I am
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 . I am not at all furprifed, that in mo* 
 narchies, and efpecially in our own, there 
 fhould be fo few princes worthy of efteem. 
 Incircled by corruptors, knaves, and hypo- 
 crites, they accuftom themfelves to look 
 upon their fellow-creatures with difdain, 
 and fet no value on any but the fycophants, 
 who carefs their vices, and live in perpe- 
 tual idlenefs and inactivity. Such is ge- 
 nerally the condition of a monarch j great 
 men are always fcarce, and great kings ftill 
 more fo. Add to this, that the fplendor of 
 a monarchy is fhort and tranfitory. France 
 is already funk into mifery and difgrace ; 
 an age more will annihilate her> or fhe 
 will fa 1 .! a prey to the firft intrepid con- 
 queror. 
 
 The Englifh government has nothing to 
 fupport it but a delufive outfide, extremely 
 flattering to the people, who fanfy them- 
 felves the fole governors. I do not know 
 any country where it is more eafy to create 
 fuch open diflentions as may overthrow the 
 ftate. A man of fenfe and generofity may, 
 B 2 in
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 in ten years time, ere& hirafelf into a de- 
 fpotic prince with more fafety at London 
 than at Mofkow : remember Cromwell. 
 Money alone is fufficient to corrupt the 
 whole parliament. 
 
 The great, ever fond of riches and power, 
 and proftrate at the feet of fortune, who al- 
 ways attends the throne, will promote the 
 views of their matter ; and the great once 
 gained over, this fantom of liberty, which 
 appeared at intervals in the convulfive mo- 
 tions of the commons, which awakens, 
 lhakes itfelf, and foon vanifhes, will be to- 
 tally annihilated at the firft fignal given by 
 the fupreme ruler. 
 
 I know indeed of no monarchy that is 
 fixed, conftant, and perfect ; the wifeft kings 
 opprefs their fubje&s to arrive at defpotifm. 
 Adieu, my friend ; live in freedom and ob- 
 fcurity. Solitude will procure you the beft 
 and trueft plcafure, felf-content. The 
 foolifli and the wicked feen afar off, will 
 only excite your compaffion ; to look nearly 
 
 upon
 
 ( 5 5 
 
 upon them, would raife your contempt and 
 indignation. 
 
 I write this in hafte j we will treat this 
 matter more fully in the free intercourfe of 
 guiltlefs friendihip. 
 
 B 3 LET.
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 You 
 
 afk me in what country a ma 
 may enjoy the moft perfect liberty ? In every 
 place, my clear Philintus, where there are 
 men and laws. The wife man is free even 
 in the court of a tyrant, becaufe his hap- 
 pinefs depends on himfelf. Reafon and con- 
 fcience are the throne of his liberty. It 
 is uot in. the power of fortune, injuftice, or 
 any thing elfe to unhinge his foul, or difturb 
 his repofe. He rejoices in himfelf, and his 
 joy is always calm, permanent, and dt- 
 lightful. 
 
 Would you, my friend, becaufe you fee 
 violence and iniquity every day committed 
 by wicked minifters, by the rich and great, 
 by aloioft every man in place and power j 
 would you therefore intirely bamfh yourfelt 
 from that fociety to which you are indebted 
 for every thing, and for which every hcneft 
 and good member of it fhould yield up all, 
 without repining at the injuries which hQ 
 
 uers
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 fuffers from it ? Beeaufe a prince buries him- 
 felf in floth and debauchery ; becaufe he per- 
 fecutes, opprefles, and deflroys, fhall you 
 become an exile from your country, leave 
 your friends, and defert the poor and af- 
 fiited, who apply to you for relief, and rend 
 your heart with their complaints ? No, my 
 friend, you have too much fenfibility. De- 
 fpife the unjuft and cruel prince ; but love 
 mankind, and above all the unfortunate and 
 difrrefTed. Avoid the impetuous whirlwinds 
 of a court j forget, if pofftble, that your 
 king is furrounded with perverfe, wicked, 
 and oppreffive men, who laugh at his igno- 
 rance, and 1 avail themfelves of his weaknefs.' 
 Fly to retirement, in fearch of that repofe-, 
 friendihip and felicity, which are never to 
 be found in the feats of power and gran- 
 deur, or in the dangerous and delunVe 
 tumults of a noify metropplis. Bring with 
 you a few friends, as worthy and fenfible 
 as yourfelf. Read Plato, Montagne, Char- 
 ron, and Rabelais ; cxercife yourfelf in afts 
 of kindnefs to the poor labourers, the 
 only creatures upon earth who are always 
 miferable, perpetually toiling to fupply the 
 B ne-
 
 ( 8 ) 
 
 ncccffities of nature, and victims to the 
 cruel rapacity of the farmers-general, who 
 grind and opprefs them. 
 
 Thus will you enjoy the moft delicafe 
 and lively of all pleafures, the pfeafure of 
 doing good, the only confolation that can 
 reconcile us to the miseries of human life. 
 When once you are habituated to a country 
 life, joy and peace will revive in your dif- 
 quicted and uneafy mind, which will grow 
 ftrong and great, raifing itfelf by degrees to 
 the celeftial regions of genius and philofophy. 
 There, free as the air you breathe, throw 
 out your thoughts as they arife j your foul 
 will then (hoot forth fuch divine flames as 
 fhall warm and cfllighten even the cold and 
 ignorant. When you have filled your pa- 
 per, arrange and correct the whole, and I 
 will tell you with the utmoft freedom my 
 opinion of it. Adieu, my dear friend : with 
 a heart of fuch delicate feufibility as yours 
 is, youth, health, and a tolerable fortune, 
 you muft be happy, if happineOs is the por- 
 tion of virtue.. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 1 O U are right, my dear Philinthus, in 
 believing and aflerting to all your friends 
 that education makes the man. That alone 
 is the parent of every virtue ; it is the moft 
 facre<l, the moft tifeful, and at the fame 
 time the moft neglected thing in almoft 
 every country, and in every ftation of life. 
 But too many vague and impracticable rules 
 have been laid down on this important fub- 
 jedt. Even the wife Locke, the great in- 
 ftru&or of mankind, is fometimes miftaken, 
 like other writers. AH education (hould 
 have an eye to government, or we lofe OUT 
 aim. The man of patience and underftand- 
 ing will confider well the mind he has to 
 form and inftrud j he will infufe by little 
 and little maxims adapted to his age, and 
 fuited to his genius, rank, and capacity. 
 I know that there are fome foils barren and 
 ungrateful, and which will never anfwer 
 the labour of the cultivator. But befides 
 that fuch are very uncommon, I am in- 
 B 5 clined
 
 clined to fufped~t, that frequently the tiller 
 has neither ftrength nor fkill enough to dig 
 into and improve it as he ought. 
 
 There is- one radical vice in France, 
 which may perhaps never be extirpated, 
 becaufe it comes from the women, who, 
 amongft us, interfere in every thing, and 
 in the end ruin and deftroy every thing. 
 A child is foon fpoiled. in their hands, 
 from two years old to fix,, whea he is de,- 
 livered up, without confederation, to a man 
 whom he has neither feen nor known. 
 The tutor,, perhaps a fellow of no cha- 
 racter, takes charge of him, not from in- 
 clination, but merely for his own intereft. 
 For ten fucceeding years he vegetates in 
 the narrow circle of a college, or in the 
 nn improving converfe and fociety of pra- 
 ting females of quality. Thefe tutors are 
 generally appointed by the women, who 
 feldom look any further than the outfide ;. 
 aever confidering perfonal merit, which 
 they have not fenfe enough to diftinguifl),, 
 neyer habituated themfelves to re~
 
 flfe& one moment on any thing ferious or 
 ufeful. 
 
 Another circumftance highly prejudicial 
 to education, and which difgufts and deters 
 men of merit from engaging in it, is the 
 little regard paid to the tutor or pre- 
 ceptor, who ought to be refpecled as a fa- 
 ther, whofe place he is in a great mea- 
 fure intended to fuppry : he to whom is in- 
 truded the heir of an illuftrious ,name and 
 family ; he who is to form the worthy citi- 
 zen, and the good fubject ; who is to do 
 honour to his rank and character, and be- 
 come the glory of his country. Such are 
 the men, charged as- they are with fo im- 
 portant an office, who, in the fafhionable 
 world, are fo often defpifed and ill-treated, 
 and even fometimes fuffered to perifti for 
 want. Such abufes, if they become gene- 
 ral, muft point out a fhameful and univer- 
 fal depravity of manners. Our nobility in- 
 deed are free from this reproach ; if the/ 
 pay but indifferently, they make amends by 
 the weight of their intereft, and a thou- 
 fand engaging civilities, for the fmall ap- 
 pointment.
 
 C J 
 
 pomtment which their fortune will permit 
 them to allow. Your rich financiers, on. 
 the other hand, who are naturally morofe, 
 proud, and oftematious, feldom pay a man, 
 without affronting him ; having nothing but 
 money to give, they'gorge yoa with it. 
 
 In France the women ruin every thing r 
 fceeaufe they think; themfelves fit for every 
 thing, and the men are weak and chiklifb 
 nough to humour their caprice. Nature 
 rtotwithftanding made them but to obey, 
 and the weaknefs of their conftitution every 
 day points out to us the weaknefs of their 
 fex. With, regard to education, it is worfe 
 at court than in any other place ; the go- 
 vernor having a defpotic power over his 
 pupil, fuffers him to grow up in ignorance 
 and idlenefs, fills his head with the nonlencc 
 of fashion, and puffs him up with the no- 
 tion of his own rank, and a contempt of the 
 in fignificant creatures that crawl beneath hhn. 
 Every tiling around him is to be made fub- 
 fcrvient to> hw pleafure of advancement. 
 Every thing is to fall down before him on, 
 th* tirft notice. He never talks to him con- 
 cerning;
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 cernfng the royal virtues that adorn a- throng 
 juftice, courage, beneficence, intrepidity,, and 
 the love of glory - r and therefore it is, that, 
 amongft our kings* we never fee a great 
 man i for I call not the conqueror by that 
 name, but rather confider him as the terror, 
 fcourge, and difgrace of human-kind j one 
 whom the people are bound by their own 
 intereft to deft'roy, as foon as the flame of 
 his ambition breaks forth in projects of 
 flaughter and oppreflion* 
 
 Lewis XII. was honeft and juft, but weak 
 and ignorant. Francis I- a vain boafter, 
 cruel, and a pretender to wit. Henry IV, 
 brave and magnanimous; but too much given- 
 to women ever to become a philofopher. 
 Lewis XIV. at once the greateft and meaneft 
 of mankind, would have excelled all the 
 monarchs in the univerfe, if he had not 
 been corrupted in his youth, by bafe and 
 ambitious flatterers.. A fl-ave during his whole 
 life to pride and vain-glory, he never really 
 toved his fubje&s, even, for a moment ; yer 
 expe&ed at the fame time, like a true arbi*- 
 Irary prince, that they fhould facrifice them- 
 
 felves
 
 felves to his will and pleafure. Intoxicated' 
 with power and grandeur, he imagined the 
 whole world was made but to promote his 
 happinefs. He was feared, obeyed, idolized, 
 hated, mortified, and abandoned. He lived 
 like a fultan, and died like a woman. His 
 reign was immortalized by the loweft of his 
 ftibjefts. 
 
 It is therefore, my dear Philirrthus, impof- 
 fible there fhould ever be a great man amongit 
 our kings, who are made brutes and fools of 
 all their lives, by a fet of infamous wretches, 
 who furround and befet them from the cradls 
 to the grave.. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTERS 
 
 FRO M 
 
 MR. V O L T A I R E. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 To M. L'Abbe D'OLIVET, Chancellor, 
 of the French Academy; 
 
 Ferney, Aug. 20. 1761. 
 
 X O U advifed me, my dear chancellor, 
 to write notes only on thofe pieces of Cor- 
 neille which are in poffeflion of the ftage. 
 This I fuppofe you did with a view of 
 lightening my burden, and I acquiefced in 
 it; not fo much from idlenefs, as from the 
 aefire I had of gratifying the public with
 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 more expedition : but I perceive that my re- 
 treat has afforded me greater leifure than I 
 imagined it would ;. and having already com- 
 mented all the plays that are ailed, find that 
 I have ftill time to make feme ufeful ob" 
 fcrvations on the reft. 
 
 JL 
 
 There are fome curious anecdotes worth 
 knowing, particularly with regard to my re- 
 marks on the language. I find, for inftance y 
 feveral words grown obfolete amongft us, 
 and even totally forgotten, which our neigh- 
 bours the EngJifti make ufe of with fuccefs. 
 They have a term to fignify true comic 
 pleafantry, that gaiety and urbanity, thofe 
 natural Tallies which efcape a man even 
 without his own confcioufnefs of them. 
 This idea they exprefs by the word * hu~ 
 
 The cfefinition whifh Mr. Voltaire has here 
 given us of humour, confidercd as a fpecies of wit, 
 kerns to be a very imperfect one. Mr. Addifort 
 has indeed obferved (fee Spe&ator, N 55.) that 
 it is much cafier to defcribe what is not 'humour 
 than what is, and very difficult to define it, 
 ethcrwife than as Cowley has don? wir, by ne- 
 gatives. Mr. Addifon has likewife remaiked, in 
 another place (Spectator, N^6i6.) that ridicule 
 
 it
 
 ( >7 ) 
 
 which they pronounce yumottr, and 
 which they imagine is poflefled by them- 
 felves alone, and that other nations have no 
 term which fufliciently marks out this fpe- 
 cies of wit: it is notwithstanding an old 
 M'ord in our language, and ufed in this fenfe 
 in feveral of the comedies of Corneiile. When 
 I fay that this humour is a kind of urbanity, 
 I apply myfelf only to the man of letters, 
 who muft know how flrangely we have 
 wrefted the word * urbanitas to politenefs, 
 though the Latin was certainly received at 
 Rome in another fenfe, and meant precifely 
 what the Englifli call humour : in this fenfe 
 it is taken by Horace, when he fays, 
 
 Frontis ad urbanae defcendi pramia j 
 
 and never in any other, in that fatire at- 
 tributed to Petronius, and which fo many 
 
 is never more ftrong than when it is concealed in 
 gravity : That true humour lies in the thought, 
 and arifes from the reprefentation of images in odd 
 circumftances, and uncommon lights. 
 
 * Te hominem non folum fapientem, verum 
 etiam ut nunc loquimur, urbanum, faysTully. 
 And in another place, Homo faeetus, inducis fer- 
 monera facetum & urbanum. 
 
 taftelefs
 
 fuftelefs critics have afcribed to a conful of 
 that name. 
 
 The word part'u (or part) is likewife to 
 be met with in Corneillc's comedies, and 
 made to fignify wit : fuch a man has parts, 
 as the Englifh fay : the term is an excellent 
 one. It is the property of man to have no- 
 thing but parts j he has one fpecies of wit, 
 one kind of talent, but never poflefTes them 
 all together. The word wit is too vague an 
 expreffion, and when they tell you fuch a 
 man has wit, you have a right to afk, of 
 what fort ? 
 
 How many words do we want now, 
 which had great energy and ftrength in 
 the time of Corneille, and how much have 
 we loft, either from mere negligence, or too 
 much delicacy ! A time or a rendezvous was 
 ajjigned or appointed ; he who arrived at the 
 place agreed on, and did not meet with the 
 perfons who had made the promife, was * dif- 
 
 appointed. 
 
 * It feenw rather extraordinary that when Mr. 
 Voltaire was comparing the English and French
 
 ( 19 ) 
 
 appointed. We have no word at prefent 
 to exprefs the precife fituation of a man 
 who keeps his word whilft another breaks 
 it. 
 
 We have given up fome phrafes abfo- 
 Jutely neceflary, which the Englifh have 
 happily availed themfelves of: a ftreet or 
 .path-way, without a thoroughfare, was 
 very properly exprefled by the word nsri- 
 paffe, or impaffc 9 which the Englifh have 
 imitated. We are forced now to make 
 ufe of that low and vulgar phrafe <:/- 
 de-facj which occurs fo often, and difgraces 
 the French language. 
 
 1 fhould never have done with this ar- 
 ticle, were I to enumerate all the happy 
 phrafes which we borrowed from the Ita- 
 lians, and have fmce loft: not that our 
 own language wants copioufnefs or energy, 
 
 words together, he fhould forget our word dif- 
 appoint, and not obferve, as he has done with 
 regard to- the word humour, that Mr. Corneille, 
 and other writers of that time, moil probably 
 took it from us. 
 
 but
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 but that it certainly might have more. 
 What has robbed us of our moll valuable 
 ftock is that heap of frivolous books which 
 have lately appeared, written in the ftile of 
 common converfation, and fluffed with mo- 
 difli phrafes, and improper expreffions. We 
 are impoveriihed by our abundance. 
 
 But I proceed to an article of more im- 
 portance, and which has determined me to 
 purfue my comments even to Pertharite. 
 Amidft thefe ruins we may find fome hidden 
 treafures. Who would imagine, for exam- 
 ple, that in Pertharite one Ihould difcover 
 the feeds of Pyrrhus and Andromache, or 
 that Racine had borrowed from it the 
 feutiments, or even the cxpreflion ? And 
 yet nothing is more true or fclf-cvident. 
 Grimoald, in Corneille, threatens Rodelind 
 that he will deftroy her child in the cradle,, 
 if (he will not confent to marry him . 
 
 * Son fort eft en vos mains; aimer oudedaigner, 
 Le va faire perir, ou Ic faire regner. 
 
 * I have given the original as well as a tranfla- 
 tion of thefe paflages, that thofe who underiland 
 
 the
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 The choice is thine, to love or to defpife j 
 To give your fon a crown, or fee him perifh. 
 
 Pyrrhus fays exactly the fame thing in the 
 fame fituation : 
 
 Je vous le dis, il faut, ou perir ou rcgner. 
 I fay again, a crown or death await you. 
 
 Grimoald, in Corneille, is for puniih- 
 ing : 
 
 Sur cc fils innocent 
 La durete d'un cceur fi peu reconnoiflant. 
 
 On the guiltlefs fon 
 The cruel mother's bafe ingratitude, 
 
 Pyrrhus fays, in Racine : 
 Le fils me repondra des mepris de la mere. 
 
 the French language may be better able to deter- 
 mine with regard to the propriety of Mr. Voltaire's 
 remarks on them. 
 2 
 
 The
 
 ( 22 ) 
 
 The fon fhall anfwer for the mother's feorn. 
 
 Rodclind fays to Grimoald : 
 
 Compte, penfcs y bicn, & pour m'avoir aimce 
 N'imprime point de tacfie a tant de renommee. 
 Ne.crois que ta virtu ; laifie la fcule agir, 
 De pcur qu'un tel effort ne te donne a rougir ; 
 On publiroit de toi que le coeur d'une femme 
 Plus que ta propre gloire, auroit louche ten 
 
 ame ; 
 
 On diroit qu'un heros fi grand, fi renomme 
 Ne feroit qu'un tyrant, s'il n'avoit point airne. 
 
 Think well on this, my lord, nor ftain a name 
 Unfpotted yet, with inhumanity. 
 Let virtue didate, left you blufh hereafter, 
 When 'tis too late j it will be faid, the heart 
 Of a weak woman had more pow'rful influence 
 Than fame or glory : that this hero, long 
 Renown'd in arms, had been aruthlefs tyrant, 
 Had he not lov'd 
 
 Andromache fays to Pyrrhus : 
 
 Seigneur, que faites vous, & que dira laGrece? 
 
 Faut
 
 Faut il qu'un fi grand coeur montre taut dc 
 
 . foibleffc, 
 
 Et qu'un deflein fi beau, fi grand, fi genereux 
 Pafie pour le tranfport d'un efprit amoureux ? 
 Non, non, d'un ennemi refpefter la mifere, 
 Sauver des malheureux, rendre un fils a fa 
 
 mere, 
 
 De cent peuples pour lui combattre la rigueur, 
 Sans lui faire payer fon falut de mon coeur, 
 Malgre moi, fi'l le faut, lui donner un azile ; 
 Seigneur, voilades foins dignes du fils d'Achille. 
 
 Confider, fir, how this will found in Greece I 
 How can fo great a foul betray fuch wea^nefs? 
 Let not men fay fo gen'rous a defign 
 Was but the tranfport of a heart in Jove. 
 
 PHILIPS'S Diftrefa'd Mother. 
 
 The refemblance, you fee, runs through 
 the whole, and the imitation is apparent; 
 but I can tell you more, and what will 
 aftonifh you : all the fcenes of Oreftes and 
 Hermione, at leaft the foundation of them, 
 are taken from Garibald and Enduige, two 
 obfcure characters in this obfcure and 
 wretched piece ; fuch barbarous names alone 
 
 would
 
 xvould have been fufiicient to damn the play, 
 which Boileau vifibly alludes to, where he 
 fays, 
 
 Qui de tant de heros va choifir Childebrand ? 
 
 Amidft fo many heroes, who would choofe 
 A Childebrand ? 
 
 But Garibald, all Garibald as he is, plays 
 exactly the fame part with Enduige as 
 Oreftes does with Hermione ; Enduige loves 
 Grimoald, as Hermione does Pyrrhus j (he 
 defires Garibald to revenge her of a traitor, 
 who quits her for Rodelind j as Hermione 
 requefts Oreftes to revenge her on Pyrrhus, 
 who deferts her for Andromache. 
 
 Enduige fays, 
 
 Pour gagner mon amour il faut fervir ma 
 hine. 
 
 To gain my love you muft afiift my hate. 
 
 i fc Hermione
 
 Hermione fays, 
 Vengez moi. Je crois tout. 
 
 Avenge my wrongs, and I believe them all. 
 Diftrefs'd Mother. 
 
 Geribald. 
 
 Le pourrez vous, madame ? & favez vous vos 
 
 forces, 
 Savez vous de 1'arnour quelles font ks 
 
 amorces, 
 Savez vous ce qu'il peut, & qu'un vifage 
 
 aime 
 
 Eft toujours trop aimable a ce qu'il a charme? 
 Si vous nem'abufez, votre coeur vous abufe, &c. 
 
 And can you, madam ! Know you your own 
 
 heart ? 
 
 Know you the ftrong delufive pow'r of love? 
 Know you the face fhe once admir'd is ftill 
 Moft beauteous in a doting woman's eye ? 
 If you deceive not me, you are deceiv'd 
 By your own heart- 
 
 C Oreftei %
 
 ( 26 ) 
 Oreftes. 
 
 Et vous le haifiez ? Avouez Ic, madame ; 
 L'amour n'eft pas un feu qu'on enfcrme en 
 
 une aimc ; 
 Tout nous trahit; la voix, le filence, les 
 
 yeux; 
 Et les feux mal couverts n'en eclatent que 
 
 mieux. 
 
 You hate him then : alas ! the flames of love 
 Are not fo foon extinguifli'd or conceal'd. 
 Our looks, our words, nay ev'n our filence oft 
 Betrays us j and the fire that's fmother'd o'er 
 Breaks out afrelh, and only burns the fiercer. 
 
 Thefe ideas which the genius of Corneille 
 threw out by chance, without improving on 
 them, the tafte of Racine gathered up, and 
 formed into a complete work j he picked out 
 out the gold dejlercore Ennii. 
 
 Corneille never confulted any friend, 
 whilft Racine took the advice of Boileau ; 
 and for this reafon the former, from the pub- 
 lication of Heraclius, always declined ; the 
 
 latter
 
 latter rofe every day into higher reputation. 
 It is generally believed that Racine enervated 
 and difgraced the ftage by the love fcenes 
 which he perpetually brought upon it; but 
 truth obliges me to acknowledge, that Cor- 
 neille, and before him Rotrou, were guilty 
 of .the fame fault. 
 
 There is not one of their pieces which is 
 not, partly at leaft, founded on this paffion ; 
 the only difference is, that they never treated 
 it properly, never fpoke to the heart, or 
 made any impreflion on it. Their love was 
 never affecting, except in thofe fcenes of the 
 Cid, which are taken from the Guiilain of 
 de Caftro. Corneille introduced love even 
 into the terrible fubjecl: of CEdipus, which 
 you may remember I was bold enough to 
 attempt about feven and forty years ago. I 
 have now by me a letter from Mr. Dacier in 
 1714, to whom I fhewed my third aft, imi- 
 tated from Sophocles, wherein he advifes me 
 to reftore the ancient chorus, and by no 
 means to talk of love in a fubjecT: fo ill 
 adapted to it. I followed his advice, and 
 read my piece to the comedians, who infifted 
 C 2 on
 
 -on my withdrawing part of the chorus, and 
 at leaft bringing in fome remembrance of 
 love in the part of Philo&etes; that his fenti- 
 ments might make fome amends, they faid, 
 for the infipidity of CEdipus and Jocafta. 
 
 Even the little part of the chorus which I 
 retained was never fpoken. Such was the 
 horrid tafte of thofe times. Some years after, 
 Athaliah, that matter-piece of dramatic writ- 
 ing, was exhibited ; the nation might have 
 learned from thence that the ftage could fub- 
 fift without that fpecies of dialogue which 
 fo often degenerates into eclogues and idyl- 
 liums. But as Athaliah was fupported by 
 the pathos of religion, they imagined there 
 was a neccffity for love in all prophane fub- 
 jeds. 
 
 At lencth Merope and Oreftcs have opened 
 the eyes^of the public. I am fatisfied the 
 author of Eleftra muft think as I do in this 
 refpedl:, and that he would never have intro- 
 duced two love intrigues into the moft fublime 
 and awful fubjea of antiquity, if he had not 
 
 been
 
 been obliged to it by the wretched cuftom 
 eftablifhed of disfiguring every thing by thefe 
 fafhionable puerilities: the- ridicule of it 
 was at laft found out, and the cuftom ex- 
 ploded. 
 
 Strangers laughed at us for a long time, but 
 we knew nothing of it ; we imagined it was 
 impoilible for a woman to appear on the ftage 
 without faying I love, a hundred different 
 ways, and in verfes loaded with botching 
 epithets. Nothing was heard but * flamme 
 and ame, feux and veux, coeur and vainqueur. 
 But Corneille rofe far above thefe trifles in 
 his Horace, Cinna, Pompey, &c. all his 
 pieces will fr.rnHh me with- entertaining 
 anecdotes, and interefting reflections. Do 
 not be furprifed if my commentaries fhoulJ 
 fwell into as many volumes as your Cicero. 
 Prevail on the academy to continue its kind 
 protection to me, and its inflations, and 
 
 * Flame, foul, fires, vows, heart, conqueror ; 
 thefe don't rhime in Englifh, and therefore could 
 not be tranflated : if the author had written, in 
 our tongue he would have faid, lire, defire, arms, 
 charms, Sec. 
 
 C 1, above
 
 ( 30 5 
 
 above all affift it with your own example. 
 The bookfellers of Geneva who have under- 
 taken this edition by confent of the com- 
 pany, aflure me that nothing was ever pub- 
 limed at fo low a price; it is neceflary indeed 
 that it (hould be fo, that thofe whofe for- 
 tune is not equal to their tafle and know- 
 ledge, may enjoy the benefit of it. It is in- 
 tended to be made a prefent of to thofe who 
 are not in a capacity to purchafe it : works 
 are generally given to the rich and great, 
 though the contrary ought moft certainly to 
 take place, which is with regard to this 
 edition, the intention of fome of the moft 
 confiderable perfons in the nation, Who make 
 it a point to pay all poflible honours to the 
 great Corneille, almoft a hundred years after 
 his death, and in the worft of times. 
 
 Ourliterary hiftory cannot furnifli us with an 
 example of any thing fo extraordinary as what 
 has happened in regard to this affair. Two per- 
 fons whom I never had the honour of feeing, 
 whom I never fo much as wrote to or 
 folicited, volutarily undertook the tafk with 
 
 that
 
 that zeal and alacrity, without -which it could 
 not poflibly have fucceeded. 
 
 i 
 
 One of them is the dutchefs of Gramont, 
 who warmly patronifed the fcheme, prevailed 
 on a confiderable number of foreigners to 
 fubfcribe to it, and who, in ftiort, merely 
 from generofity and greatnefs of foul, has 
 done for Mr. Corneille, though an utter 
 ftranger to her, every thing which could have 
 been expelled from a moft intimate friend 
 and acquaintance. I afTure you the finefl 
 pieces of the great Corneille himfelf never 
 affe&ed me more than this incident. 
 
 Our other benefactor, would you believe it? 
 is the court Banker, Mr. Delaborde, who, 
 without any knowledge of me, or acquaint- 
 ing me with his intention, procured above a 
 hundred fubfcriptions, which we never even 
 heard of here till after it was done. Thus 
 generoufly fupported and encouraged, I took 
 the liberty to addrefs the king, our great 
 protector, to permit his name to be placed at 
 the head of the fubfcription : I flattered 
 myfelf he would condefcend to take fifty 
 C 4 copies;
 
 ( 3* ) 
 
 copies ; he took two hundred. I applied for 
 a. dozen from his royal highnefs the infant 
 duke of Parma, he fubfcribed for thirty. 
 Almoft all the princes of the blood gave us 
 their names. The duke of Choifeul fet him- 
 fe)f down for twenty ; the marchionefs of 
 Pompadour, to whom I had not fo much as 
 written, took fifty, her brother twelve. 
 Amongft the members of our academy, the 
 count Clermont, cardinal de Bernes, marflial 
 Richelieu, and the duke of Nivernois diftin- 
 guifhed themfelves.. 
 
 Mr. Watelet not only takes five copies, 
 but is fo good as to defign and grave the 
 frontifpiece, affifting us both with his genius 
 and his purfe. But what will you fay when 
 I tell you that Mr. Bouret, whom I fcarce 
 know, has fubfcribed for four and twenty? 
 
 All this was done before any notice was 
 given of printing it, and before it was known 
 what would be the price of it. The com- 
 pany of farmers-general fubfcribed for fixty, 
 and feveral other focieties have followed 
 their example. This noble emulation be.-
 
 C 33 ) 
 
 comes general : fcarce was the firft report 
 of this edition fpread in Germany, before the 
 eleclor -palatine, and the dutchefs of Saxe- 
 gotha exerted themfelves in favour of it. 
 At London we have my lord Cheflerfield, 
 lord Middleton, Mr. Fox the fecretary of 
 fhte, the duke of Gordon, Mr. Crawford, 
 and feveral others. 
 
 You fee, my dear brother, how, whilft 
 politics divide kingdoms, and fanaticifm fe- 
 parates fellow-citizens, the belles letters re- 
 unite them : what can refledT: more honour 
 and praife on the polite arts ? As much as men 
 defpife and contemn thofe who difgrace liters 
 ture by their infamous periodical abufe, and 
 thofe alfo who perfecute and opprefs it, fo 
 much do they refpecl; and honour Corneille 
 in every part of Europe. 
 
 The bookfellers of Geneva who have 
 undertaken this edition, enter generoufly into 
 the defign of it. They are of a family who 
 many years have been in the council ; one of 
 them is a member. They are in fhort men who 
 think as they ought to think, and confult not 
 C 5 their
 
 ( 34 ) 
 
 their intercft but their reputation. They will 
 receive no money from any one till after the 
 delivery of the firft volume j and give twelve 
 or thirteen volumes in o&avo, with three 
 and thirty fine prints for two louifd'ors : a 
 great deal muft certainly be loft by this, it 
 could not be done therefore by way of pre- 
 caution to fecure the fale of the copies j it 
 was absolutely neceflary, and without the 
 benefa&ions of the king, and the generofity 
 of thofe who aflifted, the fcheme, like many 
 other projects, would have been firft approved 
 of, and then fallen to the ground. 
 
 I afk pardon for the length of my letter, 
 but commentators never know when to leave 
 off, and yet generally fay very little to the 
 purpofe. 
 
 If you have a mind I fhould fay good 
 things, write to me, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 35 ) 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Mr. VOLTAIRE's Anfwer to the Duke 
 of BOUILLON, who had written him 
 a Letter in Verfe, on the Edition of 
 CORNEILLE, publifhed by him for 
 the Benefit of the Niece of that great 
 Man. 
 
 Y< 
 
 O U are like the marquis de la Farre, 
 my lord, who began to difcover his genius 
 for poetry at about your age, when fome 
 certain more valuable talents feemed to de- 
 cline, and to acquaint him that there were 
 other pleafures referved for him. His firft 
 verfes were dedicated to love ; his fecond to 
 the abbe Chaulieu. Your firft fruits were 
 offered to me. This, my lord, was not al- 
 together juft ; but I am the more obliged to 
 you for it. You tell me, I have always 
 triumphed over my enemies ; to you I am 
 indebted for my greateft triumph. 
 
 4 'Midft
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 'Midft barren rocks the heedlefs poet plays, 
 Whilft Corneille's daughter liftens to his 
 
 lays, 
 
 Nor (hall regret thy banks, delightful Seine, 
 Whilft he is prais'd and fung by great 
 
 Turenne. 
 
 There ever is a kind retreat for me, 
 Or with Bellona, or Melpomene ; 
 Favour'd by thefe, and fuch as thefe alone, 
 I laugh at folly, malice, and Freron. 
 'Tis double joy, and makes our blifs complete,. 
 To fee pale envy proftrate at our feet, 
 To brave the rav'nous harpies, thus releas'd 
 From danger, gives new relifh to the feaft j 
 And clam'rous * Berthier's calumnies to me, 
 Ajt diftance heard, are pleafunt harmony. 
 
 How fweet it is, whilft in my Chloe's arms 
 Content I fit, enraptur'd with her charms, 
 To write, infpir'd by my fuperior ftate, 
 A fatire on my wretched rival's fate,. 
 
 * The French edition of thefe letters informs 
 us, in a note, that this Bertliier was formerly a 
 Jefuit, the profefied enemy of genius and litera- 
 ture ; a kind of fpy, employed by fome devotees 
 of the court, from whom he received penfions.
 
 ( 37 > 
 
 To make the whining fool in all fubmify 
 And envy both the lover and the wit. 
 
 But this, you'll fay, is not a Chriftian's part, 
 To rail and perfecute : with all my heart; 
 1 grant, my lord, the pow'rful plea; but then 
 You'll own with me that Chriftians are but 
 
 men : 
 
 The world's a flate of warfare, and we know y 
 In ev'ry place hath ev'ry man a foe. 
 'Midft mortals here eternal quarrels rife ; 
 Nay, we have heard of battles in the fkies. 
 The court, the army, and the church have 
 
 fought 
 For wealth, for pow'r, for fomething, and for 
 
 nought ; 
 
 Ev'n fair ParnafTus, to Parnaflus' fliame, 
 Hath fought with ardour for an empty name. 
 
 We fit above, my friend, who better know,. 
 And laugh at all the little crowd below. 
 
 Laughers as we are, my lord, we may ftill 
 be doing good. Your lordfhip I am fure will 
 to Mrs. Corneille. You have defired me to 
 tax you for as many copies as I pleafe. If I 
 
 confulted
 
 ( 38 ) 
 
 confulted your heart only, I fhould rate you 
 like the king, and put you down for two hun- 
 dred j but as I know you are perpetually (bat- 
 tering your money abroad in every place, till 
 fometimes you are left without a fhilling, I 
 fhall reduce you to fix, and increafe the num- 
 ber as foon as I find you are turned oeco- 
 nomift. 
 
 I befeech your highnefs to preferve your 
 regard for your poor Swifs, 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 To the Duke of V A L I E R E, Grand 
 Falconer. 
 
 JL OU referable, my lord, the heroes- of 
 ancient chivalry, by thus expofing your own 
 perfon in defence of your faithful followers, 
 when in danger ; but the little error which 
 you led me into has been the means of dif- 
 playing your profound erudition. Few grand 
 falconers would have delivered the Sermones 
 Feftivi^ printed in 1502. Raillery apart, to 
 put yourfclf in the breach for me, was an 
 action worthy of your noble heart. 
 
 You told me, in your firft letter, that 
 Urceus Codrus was a great preacher ; your 
 fecond informs me he was a great libertine, 
 but no cordelier. You alk pardon of St. 
 Francis and all the feraphic order, for the 
 contempt into which I am fallen. I join with 
 you, and put on my penitentials j but it ftill 
 
 re-
 
 C 40 ) 
 
 remains true, that the myfteries reprefentecl 
 at the Hotel de Bourgogne were more decent 
 than moft of our modern fermons. Place who 
 we pleafe in the room of Urceus Codrus, and 
 we fhall yet be in the right. There is not a 
 word in the myfteries offenfive to piety and 
 good manners. Forty people would never 
 agree to write and a<5t facred poems in French, 
 that fhould difguft the public by their inde- 
 cency, and of courfe oblige them to {hut up 
 their doors. But an ignorant preacher, who 
 works by himfelf, and is accountable to none 
 for what he does, who has no idea of deco- 
 rum, may very probably advance fome ridi- 
 culous things in his fermon, efpecially when 
 he delivers it in Latin. Such, for inftance, 
 are the difcourfes of the cordelier Maillard, 
 which you undoubtedly have in your large 
 and valuable collection j in his fermon on the 
 Thurfday in the fecond week of Lent, he 
 addrefles himfelf thus to the lawyers wive 
 that wore gowns embroidered with gold. 
 
 *' You fay you are cloathed according to 
 * c rank ; go to the devil, ladies, you and 
 " your rank together. You will tell me.
 
 f 4* ) 
 
 tf perhaps, our hufbands don't give us thefc 
 ct fine gowns ; we earn them by the induftry 
 " of our own fweet bodies : thirty thoufand 
 " devils take your indufiry, and your bodies 
 " too." 
 
 I will not put you to theblufh, by quoting 
 any more paflages from brother Maillard j 
 but if you will take the trouble to look into- 
 him, you will find fome ftrokes worthy of 
 Urceus Codrus. Brother Andrew and Mi- 
 not were likewife famous for their filthinefs. 
 The Pulpit was not indeed always polluted 
 byobfcenity; but for a long time fermoas 
 were little better than the myfteries of the 
 Hotel de Bourgogne. 
 
 It mufl be acknowledged, that the mem- 
 bers of what they call the reformed church 
 iu France, were the firft that brought reafon- 
 ing and argument into their difcourfes. 
 When we want to change the ideas, and al- 
 ter the principles of men, we muft make ufe 
 of reafon ; but this was ftill very far from 
 eloquence. The pulpit, the bar, the ftage, 
 philofophy, literature, theology, ever) thing 
 
 we
 
 f ( 42 ) 
 
 we could boaft of in thofe times, fome few 
 particulars excepted, were beneath the com- 
 mon pieces exhibited at a country fair. 
 
 Trne tafte was not eftabliftied amongft us 
 till the reign of Lewis XIV. It was this 
 which long fince determined me to attempt 
 a flight Iketch of that glorious aeraj and you 
 muft have obferved, in that hiftory, the age 
 is my hero more than Lewis himfelf, what 
 refpeft and gratitude foevcr may be due to his 
 memory. 
 
 It is true indeed, that, in general, our 
 neighbours made no greater figures than our- 
 felves. How happened it that men could 
 preach for ever, and yet preach fo badly ! 
 and that the Italians, who had fo long before 
 fhoolc off their barbarity in other refpe&s, 
 with regard to the pulpit were but fo many 
 harlequins with furplices on ! Whilft at the 
 fame time the Jerufalem of Taflb rival'd the 
 Iliad, and Orlando Furiofo furpafled the 
 Odyfleyj Paftor Fido had no model in all 
 antiquity, and Raphael and Paul Veronefe 
 
 alually
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 a&ually performed what was only imagined 
 of Zeuxis and Apelles. 
 
 You mufl certainly, my lord, have read 
 the council of Trent. There is not a peer 
 in the kingdom, I fuppofe, who does not 
 perufe fome part of it every morning. You 
 remember the fermon at the opening of the 
 council by the bifhop of Bitonto. 
 
 He proves, firft, that the council is necef- 
 fary, becaufe feveral councils have depofed 
 kings and emperors. Secondly, becaufe, in 
 the ^Eneid, Jupiter aflembles a council of 
 the gods. Thirdly, becaufe, at the creation 
 of man, and the building of Babel, God at- 
 tended to it in the manner of a council. He 
 infifls on it, a little after, that the council 
 frould reduce themfelves to thirty, like the 
 heroes in the Trojan horfe. And, finally, 
 afterts, that the gate of Paradife and the gate 
 of the council was the fame thing. That 
 living water flowed from it, with which the 
 holy fathers fliould fprinkle their hearts, 
 which were as drylands ; or } in lieu of this, 
 
 that
 
 ( 41- ) 
 
 that the Holy Ghoft would open their mouths 
 like the mouths of Balaam and Caiphas. 
 
 This, my lord, was preached before all 
 the general dates of Chriftendom. The fer- 
 mon of St. Antony of Padua to the fifh is 
 ftill more famous in Italy than that of the bi- 
 Ihop of Bitonto ; we may excufe, therefore,, 
 our brother Andrew, brother Garafle, and 
 all the Giles's of our pulpits in the fixteenth 
 and feventeenth centuries, as they were but 
 on a level with our mafters the Italians. 
 What could be the caufe of this grofs igno- 
 rance, fo. univerfally fpread over Italy in the 
 time of Taflb ; over France in the days of 
 Montagne, Charron, and the chancellor de 
 1'Hofpital; and over England in the age 
 of Bacon ? How happened it that thefe men 
 of genius did not reform the times they lived 
 in ? We muft attribute it to the colleges 
 where youth were educated ; to thatmonkifti 
 theologic fpirit which finifhed the barbarifm 
 that the colleges had introduced. A genius, as 
 Taflb was, read Virgil, and produced the 
 Jerufalem. A merchant read Terence, and 
 wrote Mandragora ; but what monk or cu- 
 rate,.
 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 rate, at that time of day, read Tully or De- 
 mofthenes ? A poor and wretched fcholar, 
 grown half an ideot by being obliged, for 
 four years together, to get John Defpautere 
 by heart ; and half a madman by fupporting 
 a thefis de rebus & partibus, on thoughts and 
 categories, received his cap, and his letters 
 of recommendation, and away he went to 
 preach to an audience, three parts of whom 
 were greater fools, and worfe educated than 
 himfelf. 
 
 The people liftened to thefe theological 
 farces with outftretched necks, fixed eyes, 
 and open mouths, as children do to ftories of 
 witches and apparitions, and returned home 
 perfect penitents. The fame fpirit that made 
 them give ear to the nonfenfe of a foolifli mo- 
 ther, led them to thefe fermons ; which they 
 attended the more diligently, as it coft them 
 nothing. It was not till the time of Coef- 
 feteau and Balzac that fome preachers began 
 to talk rationally ; though at the fame time 
 they were very tirefome. Bourdaloue, in 
 ihort, was the firft man of any eloquence in 
 the pulpit. Of this, Burnet, bifliop of Salif- 
 
 bury,
 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 bury, bears tcftimony, in his Memoirs ; where 
 he tells us, that, in travelling through France, 
 he was aflonifhed at his fermons ; and that 
 Bourdaloue reformed the preachers of Eng- 
 land, as well as thofe of France. 
 
 Bourdaloue might be ftiled almofl the 
 Corneille of the pulpit, as Maflillon became 
 afterwards the Racine of it. Not that I 
 mean to compare an art, half profane, to a 
 miniftry well-nigh holy ; nor, on the other 
 hand, the little difficulty of making a good 
 fermon to the great and inexpreffible one of 
 compofing a good tragedy. I only fay, that 
 Bourdaloue carried the art of reafoning as 
 far in preaching as Corneille did in the 
 drama; and that Maflillon ftudied to be as 
 elegant in profe, as Racine was in verfe. 
 True indeed it is, that Bourdaloue was re- 
 proached, as well as Corneille, for being too 
 much of a lawyer, for preferring argument 
 to paflion, and fometimes producing but in- 
 different proofs. Maflillon, on the other 
 hand, chofe rather to paint, than to affed ; 
 he imitated Racine as much as it was pof- 
 fible to do it in profe ; not forgetting, at the 
 
 fame
 
 ( 47 ) 
 
 fame time, boldly to afiert, that all dramatic 
 authors would be damned. Every quack, 
 you know, muft cry up his own noftrum, 
 and condemn thofe of others. His ftileis pure; 
 his defcriptions moving and pathetic. Read 
 over this paflage on the humanity of the 
 great. 
 
 <e Alas ! if any of us have an excufe for 
 " being morofe, whimfical, and melancholy, 
 " a burthen to ourfelves and all about us,, it 
 " muft be thofe miferable wretches, whom 
 " misfortunes, calamities, home-felt necef- 
 " fity, and gloomy cares perpetually fur- 
 *' round. They might be forgiven, if with 
 " mourning, bitternefs, and defpair already 
 <c in their hearts, the marks of it fliould 
 " fonietimes appear in their external be- 
 " haviour. But (hall the great and happy 
 <c of this world, whom joy and pleafure ac- 
 " company, whilft every thing fmiles around 
 " them ; fhall thefe pretend to derive, even 
 " from their felicity, an excufe for their 
 " churlimnefs and caprice? Shall they be 
 <c melancholy, difquieted, and unfociable, 
 <{ becaufe they are more happy ? Shall they 
 
 " look
 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 " look upon it as the privilege of profpe- 
 
 J rity to opprefs with the weight of their 
 
 < ill humour the poor and unfortunate, who 
 
 " already groan beneath the yoke of their 
 
 < power and authority ? " 
 
 Recoiled, at the fame time, thefe lines in 
 Br'itannicus : 
 
 Tout ce que vous voyez confpire a vos defirs 
 Vos jours toujours ferins coulent dans les 
 
 pi ai firs 
 
 I/empire en eft pour vous I'mepuifable fource, 
 Ou fi quelque chagrin en interrompt la courfe, 
 Tout 1'univers, foignant de les entretenir 
 S'emprefTe a 1'efFacer de votre fouvenir. 
 Britannicus eft feul, quelqu' ennui qui Ic 
 
 prefle, 
 
 II nc voit Hans Ton fort quemoi qui 1'interefle, 
 Et n'a pour tous plaifirs, feigneur, que quel- 
 
 ques pleurs 
 Qui lui font quelquefois oublier fes malheurs. 
 
 Whate'er thou feeft confpires to make thee 
 
 happy, 
 Serene thy days in endlcfs pleafures flow, 
 
 For
 
 ( 49 ) 
 
 Trom the wide efnpire's unexhaufted fpring ; 
 Or if intruding forrow, for a while, 
 Breaks in upon thy joys, the world itfelf, 
 Still anxious for thy good, with ardour flrives 
 To blot out every painful fad idea, 
 And give thee peace again. vBritanhicus, 
 Mean time, is left alone; when cares opprefs, 
 I, only I, participate his griefs, 
 And all his comfort is the tears I flied, 
 Which fometimes makes the wretch forget 
 his forrows. 
 
 In comparing thefe two pafTages together, 
 I perceive the fcholar, as it were, contending 
 with his matter. I could fhew you twenty 
 more examples of the fame nature, b'ut that 
 I am afraid of being tedious. 
 
 Maffillon and Cheminais knew Racine by 
 heart, and difguifed'the verfes of that divine 
 poet in their pious profe. In the fame man- 
 ner feveral preachers learned the art of de- 
 clamation from Baron, and corrected the 
 gefture of the comedian by that of the facred 
 orator. Nothing can be a ftronger proof than 
 this, that the arts at leaft are brothers, though 
 D the
 
 *he artifts thcmfelves are far from being 
 fo. 
 
 The worft of fermons is, that they are 
 only fo many declamations pro and con. 
 The fame man who affirmed laft Sunday 
 that there was no felicity in grandeur, that 
 crowns are thorns, that courts are full of 
 nothing but illuftrious wretches, and that 
 joy is fpred over the faces of the poor, will 
 tell you, the Sunday after, that the lower 
 part of mankind is condemned to mifery and 
 forrow ; and that the rich and great muft one 
 day pay for their dangerous profperity. 
 
 They will inform you, in Advent, that 
 God is perpetually employed in removing all 
 the wants and neccflitics of mankind j and, 
 when Lent comes, aflure you, that the earth 
 is barren and accurfed. Thefe common 
 places, with a few flourifhing phrafes, carry 
 them on from one end of the year to the 
 other. 
 
 The preachers in England follow another 
 method, which would not fuit us at all. 
 
 The
 
 ( Si ) 
 
 The deepeft book of * metaphyfics which 
 they have is Clarke's fermons : one would 
 imagine he had preached only to philofo- 
 phers, who perhaps too, at the end of every 
 period, might have required of him a long 
 explanation j and the Frenchman at London^ 
 to whom nothing could be proved, would 
 foon have left the preacher there. His dif- 
 courfes, however, make an excellent book, 
 which very few underftand. What a diffe- 
 rence there is between ages and nations ! and 
 how far off are brother Garaffe and brother 
 Andrew from Maflillon and Clarke ! 
 
 From my fludy of hiftory I have at leaft 
 learned, that the times we live in are cer- 
 tainly of all times the moft enlightened, in 
 fpite of our bad books, as they are alfo the 
 moft happy, in fpite of fome cafual misfor- 
 tunes : for what man of letters can be igno- 
 rant that good tafte was brought into France 
 
 * Clarke's fermons are by no means, as Mr. Vol- 
 taire here aflerts, all metaphyfical : thofe indeed 
 on the being of a God, &c. are certainly fo; 
 but there are withal as many excellent, plain, 
 praftical difcourfes in this collection, as in any 
 of our belt writers. 
 
 D 2 about
 
 ( 5* ) 
 
 .about the time of Cinna, and the Provincial 
 Letters ! or where is he, who has any know- 
 ledge of hiftory, that can point out a period 
 of time, from the days of Clovis, more 
 happy than what has pafled fince the ./Era 
 when Louis XIV. began to reign by him- 
 felf, down to the prefent moment ? I defy 
 the mod malevolent to tell me what age he 
 would prefer to our own. 
 
 We muft do juftice ; we muft acknowledge 
 that, at prefent, a geometrician of four-and- 
 twenty knows more than ever Defcartes did j 
 and that a country vicar preaches more fen- 
 fibly than the grand almoner of Louis XII. 
 The nation is better inftrudied, our ftile 
 in general is much improved, and confe- 
 quently the minds of men greatly fuperior 
 now to what they were formerly. 
 
 You will fay, perhaps, that our age Is at 
 prefent on the decline, and that we have not 
 fo mjch genius and abilities amongft us ns 
 we had in the glorious days of Louis XIV. 
 Genius, I grant you, decays; but know- 
 edge is increafcd. A thoufand painters, in 
 
 the
 
 c S3 r 
 
 fh'e time of Salvator Rofa, were not" worth a 
 Raphael, or a Michael Angelo; but trie 
 thoufand painters formed by Raphael and 
 Michael Angelo compofed a fchool infinitely 
 fuperior to that which thofe two great men 
 found eftablifhed. We have not, indeed, at 
 the clofe of our fine age, a Maffillon, or a 
 Bourdaloue, a Boffuet, or a Fenelon ; 
 but the pooreft of our prefent preachers is a 
 Demofthenes, in comparifon with all thofe 
 who preached from the times of St. Remi 
 to thofe of brother Garafie. 
 
 There is more difference between the' 
 worft of our modern tragedies and the pieces 
 of Jodelle, than between the Athaliah of 
 Racine and the Maccabees of La Motte, cr 
 the Mofes of the abbe Nadal. Upon the 
 whole, in the productions of the mind our 
 artifts fall fhort of thofe who flourished in 
 the dawn and meridian of our golden age; 
 Hut the nation itfelf is improved. We are 
 over-run indeed with trifles, and mine 
 are always adding to the number: thefe 
 are but fo many infe&sf which denote the 
 abundance of fruits and flowers j you fee 
 D 3 . none
 
 ( 54 ) 
 
 rone of them in a barren foil. You will 
 obferve, that in thefe little pieces that are 
 perpetually coming out, deftroyed one by 
 another, and all of them,, in a few days,. 
 condemnM to eternal oblivion, there is often 
 more tafte and delicacy than you will nd 
 in all the books written before the Provincial 
 Letters. Such is our affluence in wit, when 
 compared to the poverty of twelve hundred 
 years paft. 
 
 If you examine into the prefent ftate of 
 our manners, laws, government, and focicty, 
 you will find my accompt ftriclly juft. I 
 date from the moment Lewis XIV. took 
 the reins into his own hand, and would alk 
 the moft exafperated critic, the graveft pa- 
 negyrift of times paft, whether he durft 
 compare the prefent period with that when 
 the archbifhop of Paris went to parliament 
 with a poignard in his pocket? Or would he 
 prefer the preceding age, when the firft mi- 
 nifter was fhot, and his wife condemned to 
 be burned for a witch ? Ten or twelve years 
 of the great Henry IV. appear happy, after 
 forty of abominations and horrors, that make 
 cue's hair ftand an end j but whilft the beft 
 
 of
 
 ( sr ) 
 
 of princes was employed in healing our 
 wounds, they bled on every fide. The poi- 
 fon of the league infeSed every mind j fa- 
 milies were divided ; the manners of men 
 harfh and difagreeable. Fanaticifm reigned 
 univerfally,. except at the court. Commerce,, 
 indeed, began to increafej but was not, as 
 yet, attended with any great advantages. 
 Society had no charms, our cities no police; 
 all the comforts, in (hort, and conveniences 
 of life were ftill wanting. Figure to your- 
 felf, at the fame time, a hundred thoufand 
 aflaffinations committed in the name of God. 
 Amidft the ruins of cities laid in afhes, even 
 to the time of Francis I. you will fee 
 Italy ftained with our blood, a king prifoner 
 at Madrid, and the enemy in the midft of our. 
 provinces. 
 
 The name of Pater Patrix was given to 
 Lewis XII. but this father had fome very un- 
 fortunate children, and was fo himfclf: 
 driven out of Italy, duped by the pope, 
 conquered by Henry VIII. and obliged to 
 bribe him to marry his fifter. He was a 
 king, over a poor uncultivated people, 
 D 4 without
 
 ( 56 ) 
 
 without arts or manufa&ure ; the houfes of 
 his capital built with lath and plaifter, and 
 moft of them covered with thatch. Who 
 would not rather wifli to live under a good 
 king, over a people opulent and wife, though 
 dogmatical and mifchievous? 
 
 The further you go back into former ages, 
 the more favagc you will find them ; .which 
 renders our hiftory fo difguftful, that we have 
 been forced to make chronological abridg- 
 ments in columns, where every thing necef- 
 fary is rnferted, and only that which is ufe- 
 lefs omitted, for the fake of thofe curious 
 readers who are defirous of knowing in what 
 year the Sorbonne was founded, and are in 
 doubt whether the equeftrian ftatue in the 
 Gothic cathedral at Paris is of Philip of Va- 
 lois or Philip the Fair. 
 
 To fay the truth, we have not really and 
 properly exifted above fix fcore years. Laws, 
 police, military difcipline, trade, navigation, 
 the fine arts, magnificence, tafte, and ge- 
 nius, all began in the time of Lewis XIV. 
 Some of them are ripening to perfection in 
 
 our
 
 f 57 ) 
 
 our own age, which I meant to infmuate, 
 when I advanced, that every thing hereto- 
 fore was rude and barbarous, and the pulpit 
 amongft them. Urceus Codrus moft cer- 
 tainly was not worth talking fo long about; 
 but he has furniflied me with reflections 
 which may not perhaps be intirely ufelefs ; 
 we fhould endeavour to draw fome advan- 
 tage from every thing. 
 
 E T-
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 To my Lord LYTTLETON, at 
 London. 
 
 Jl HAVE read the ingenious Dialogues of 
 the Dead, lately publifhed by your lordfhip, 
 where I find myfelf fpoken of as a banifhed 
 man, and guilty of many excefles in my 
 writings. I am obliged, perhaps, for the 
 honour of my country, publicly to declare, 
 that I never was banifhed, becaufe I never 
 committed thofe crimes which the author of 
 the Dialogues has thought fit to lay to my 
 charge. 
 
 No man ever exerted himfelf more ftre- 
 nuoufly than myfelf in favour of the rights 
 of humanity, and yet never have I gone be- 
 yond the bounds of that virtue. I am not 
 eftablifhed in SwifTerland, as this author, 
 who has been mifinformed, ventures to af- 
 4frt. I live on my own eftate in France. 
 is fit for old men, who have 
 live,d
 
 r 59 ) 
 
 lived long enough Jn courts to deteft and 
 avoid them, and who enjoys new life in a 
 peaceable retreat, with a few fenfibk and 
 faithful friends. I have indeed a little coun- 
 try houfe near Geneva ; but my refidence 
 and feat are in Burgundy. The king's 
 goodnefs to me, all the privileges belonging 
 to my eftate, and the exemption of it from 
 all taxes, has moreover firmly attached me to 
 his perfon. Jf I had been baniflied, I could 
 not have procured paflports from our court 
 for feveral of the Englifh nobility. The 
 fervice which I did them gives me a claim 
 to that juftice which I expert from the au- 
 thor of the Dialogues. 
 
 With regard to religion, I think, and I 
 believe he thinks fo too, that God is neither 
 Prefbyterian nor Lutheran, high or low 
 church, but the father of all mankind, of 
 lord Littleton, and of 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 From tbecaftle of Ferney, 
 in Burgundy. 
 
 LET-
 
 C 60 ) 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 To the Abbe T R U B L E T, who had 
 fent him his difcourfe on his being ad- 
 mitted a Member of the French Aca- 
 demy. 
 
 Chateau de Ferney, 27 April, 1761. 
 
 Y OUR letter, Sir, together with your 
 generous manner of a&ing, prove that you 
 are not my enemy ; though, by your book, 
 I mould have fufpe&ed you of being fo. I 
 had much rather give credit to your letter 
 than to your book. You have faid in print, 
 that I made you yawn ; and I have faid in 
 print, that I laughed at it. It only follows from 
 hence, that you are not eafily diverted, and 
 that I am a bad joker. Upon the whole, 
 both in yawning and in laughing you keep 
 me company ! and we muft forget every 
 thing like good Chriftians, and good Aca- 
 demicians, 
 
 Hike
 
 ( 6i ) 
 
 I like your difcourfe extremely well, and 
 am obliged to you for fending it me; .as to 
 your letter, 
 
 Nardl parvus Onyx 
 Eliciet cadum. 
 
 I beg pardon for quoting Horace, which 
 your heroes Fontenelle and la Motte never 
 did j and muft tell you, that I was not born 
 with more malice in my heart than yourfelf, 
 and am at the bottom an honeft fellow. It 
 is true indeed, that having, fome years 
 ago, taken it into my head that one got no- 
 thing by being fo, I grew a little gay, be- 
 caufe they faid it would be good for my 
 health. Befides that I did not think my- 
 felf fo confiderable and important as always 
 to difdain certain illuftrious enemies, who 
 attacked me perfonally for the fpace of forty 
 years, and who one after another feemed re- 
 folved on my deftru&ion, and perfecuted me 
 with as much zeal as if I had contended 
 with them for a bifhopric, or the place of a 
 farmer-general. I fell upon them, at laft, 
 out of pure modefty, and actually believed 
 
 myfelf
 
 C 62 ) 
 
 imyfelf upon a level with them ; as Tully. 
 fays, , 
 
 In arenam cum aqualibus defcendi. 
 
 Believe me, Sir, I make a great difference 
 between you and them ; but I well remem- 
 ber, when I was at Paris, both my rivals 
 and myfelf were people of very little confe- 
 quence ; poor fcholars of the age of Lewis 
 XIV. fome in verfe, fome in profe, fome 
 half one and half the other (of which num- 
 ber I had the honour to be one) indefati- 
 gable writers of very middling performances, 
 great compofers of trifles, weighing moft 
 gravely the eggs of flies in fcales of fpiders 
 webs. I faw fcarce any thing but a little 
 quackery, and am perfectly convinced of the 
 nothingnefs of my own writings ; but as I 
 equally perceive the nothingnefs of all the 
 jreft, I imitate the Vejanius of Horace, 
 
 JImulis ad poftem fixis, laid abditus agro. 
 
 It
 
 ( 63 ) 
 
 It is from this retreat, I now allure you -. 
 with the greateft fincerity, that I find a 
 great many ufeful and agreeable things in 
 what you have wrote : that I moft cor- 
 dially forgive the pinches I have received 
 from you, and am forryforthe little fcratches 
 which I have given you : that your manner 
 of proceeding has for ever difarmed my re- 
 fentment : that good-nature is better than 
 raillery : and that I am, my dear brother, 
 with the trueft efteem, and without a com- 
 pliment, as if nothing had happened between 
 us, with all my heart, yours, fcfr. 
 
 I, E T*
 
 LETTER VL 
 EPISTLE to SOPHI A*. 
 
 J.N Rome of old, as ancient poets flng, 
 And I believe, dame Flora was the thing ; 
 Di&ators, heroes, confuls, all the crowd 
 Of Glory's fav'rites at her altars bow'd ; 
 The rich, the poor, the giddy, and the grave, 
 Or prince, or peafant, proud to be herilave : 
 With Cupids then the Roman eagles play'd> 
 And fported with her in the claffic fhade ; 
 Crown'd by the gen'ral voice the queen of 
 
 flow'rs, 
 
 In feftive mirth fhe led the jocund hours ; 
 For many an age fhe kept th' imperial feat, 
 And faw the world's proud conqu'rors at her 
 
 feet. 
 
 At length her reign is o'er, the time is come, 
 When Paris in her queen fhall rival Rome. 
 At length to thee, Sophia, nymph divine, 
 Her crown the vanquifh'd Flora fhall refign ; 
 The joyful news to ev'ry zephyr known, 
 They welcome their new Flora to the throne. 
 
 In
 
 In crowds the willing flaves obfequious ftancf, 
 And waft their fpicy odours thro' the land. 
 The lover's month, fweet rofy-finger'd May, 
 Shall hail with dimpled fmiles th' aufpicious 
 
 day; 
 
 Whilft fair Vertumnus, leader of the year, 
 The God of fpring, {hall in her train ap- 
 pear. 
 Fear firft made gods, a truth to heathens, 
 
 known ; 
 But goddelTes are made by love alone- 
 
 But goddefs is a title flill too mean 
 For fweet Sophia, pleafure's honour'd queen, 
 My lovely fair one, youthful, gay, and free,~l 
 Shall ne'er aflume this falfe divinity, -L 
 
 But leave to city dames fuch proud idolatry. J 
 To her thy temple, harmony, is giv'n, 
 A nobler palace, and a fairer heav'n, 
 Whether in Pfyche's form, whilft light'nings 
 
 play, 
 And thunders roar, fhe joins the plaintive- 
 
 lay; 
 
 Or whilft the real flame her hearers prove,. 
 Points the keen pangs of difappointed love.
 
 ( 66 ) 
 
 Say, fweet enchantrefs, by what pow'r un- 
 known 
 
 Can'ft thou with matchlcfs (kill unite in one 
 The wit of (mart Thalia's flippant tongue, 
 And Polyhymnia's elegance of fong ? 
 O how I love thee when thy fportive vein, 
 Ev'n whilft it mocks, diverts the lover's 
 
 pain ! 
 
 Whilft, pleafure's little prieftefs as thou art. 
 Thy lively fallies captivate the heart. 
 Never in thy delightful train is feen 
 The furly pedant, with affected mien 
 And folemn face, impenetrably dull, 
 Nor the proud mincing fafliionable fool j 
 Nor in the weaker fcx wilt thou permit 
 Impofing airs to pafs for fterling wit ; 
 Nor lov'ft thou thofe proud dames, who think. 
 
 it brave 
 
 To treat alike the lover and the flave. 
 Nature we find with thee, or that alone 
 Which rivals her, the art of fair Ninon ; 
 That art which he who fees through ftill. 
 
 believes, 
 Which without fraud agreeably deceives ; 
 
 With
 
 ( 6; ) 
 With thee we trifle, fport, and laugh, and 
 
 play; 
 
 With thee we chat the chearful hours away,. 
 Gonftraint, the bane of blifs, is never feen. 
 To enter there, nor hyp, nor fickly fpleen. 
 There, free from noife and tumult, is the 
 
 feat 
 
 Of private happinefs, the dear retreat 
 Of gentle peace and foft fecurity, 
 Where by the public's perfecuting eye 
 No longer feen, beneath the tented ihade, 
 Around us ail the loves and graces play'd, 
 Whilft to the more than gods, of lib'ral foul, 
 Our beauteous Hebe pour'd the ne&ar'd 
 
 bowl. 
 
 There lounging liberty, her elbows plac'd 
 On the free table, in her arms embrac'd 
 Two nymphs divine, which ev'ry blifs im- 
 prove, 
 Sweet-fmiiing pleafure, and all-healing love. 
 
 What are thy titles, glory ! what, O fame ! 
 Are all thy honours but an empty name ! 
 This fvveet delirium, this enchanting hour 
 In life's Ihortdayjis more thanweahh crpow'r. 
 
 lave.
 
 C 68 ) 
 
 Live then, Sophia, eafy, free, and gay, 
 Nor caft thy dear-lov'd liberty away. 
 Henceforth, my charmer, take the wifer parf y 
 Let all partake, but none en/lave thy heart. 
 Thy love wou'd fix one happier than the reft ^ 
 But thy indiff'rence makes a ihoufand bleft.- 
 
 L E TV
 
 C 69 ) 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 To Mr. P A L I S S O T, Author of a Comedy 
 called the PHILOSOPHERS. 
 
 I RETURN you thanks, Sir, both for 
 your letter and for your performance. Be 
 fo kind as to prepare yourfelf for a long an- 
 fwer : old men love to prate a little. In the 
 firft place I muft tell you, I think your piece 
 is extremely well written. The philofopher 
 Crifpinus, walking on all fours, muft have 
 raifed a good laugh, and I make no doubt 
 but my friend * John James will be the firft to 
 join in it. It is an innocent jeft, and has no 
 malice in it. Befides that the citizen of Ge- 
 neva, being certainly guilty of Icsfa comedla^ it 
 was natural' for comedy to return the com- 
 pliment. 
 
 It is a very different thing with the citi- 
 zens of Paris, whom you have brought on 
 the ftage j that is to be fure not a laughing 
 
 * The celebrated Jean Jaques Roufieau, of 
 Geneva. 
 
 matter.
 
 C 7Q ) 
 
 matter. I can eafily conceive that one fhould 
 endeavour to ridicule thofe who would ridi- 
 cule us. Self-defence is always justifiable; 
 and I know, with regard to myfelf, if I was 
 not fo old, I would have a fcuffle with 
 MefT. Freron and de Pompignan, the former 
 for vilifying and abufmg me five or fix years 
 together, as I am told by thofe who read 
 fuch trafli ; the latter for having pointed me 
 out before the whole academy as an old 
 dotard, who has fluffed his hiilory with falfe 
 anecdotes. I was ftrongly tempted to mor- 
 tify him by a full juftification, and convince 
 him, that the ftory of the iron mafk, the 
 teftament of Charles II. of Spain, and feve- 
 ral others of the fame kind, are abfolutely 
 true ; and that when I mean to be ferious, 
 I have doae with poetical fidions. 
 
 I have the vanity to think myfelf worthy 
 of a place amidft the crowd of Philofophers, 
 who are always confpiring againft the irate, 
 and who moft certainly are the caufe of all 
 the misfortunes that happen to us by fea and 
 land. For, to confeis the truth, 1 was the firft 
 
 who
 
 ( 7* J 
 
 wrote in France in favour of attraction, 
 againft the great vortices of Defcartes, and 
 the little ones of Malebranche. I defy the 
 moft ignorant wretch, even Fremn himfelf, 
 to prove that I have ever falfified the New- 
 tonian fyftem. The fociety at London ap- 
 prove my little catechifm of attraction j moft 
 undoubtedly, therefore, I muft be deemed 
 guilty of philofophy. 
 
 If I had vanity, I fhould think myfelf ftill 
 more criminal, according r to the report of a 
 certain large book, intitled, 77* Oracle of 
 Philofopbers, which has reached even as 
 far as my retreat. This oracle, may it 
 pleafe you, is no other than myfelf. I fhould 
 Jiave burft with vain-glory, but unhappily 
 my vanity was taken down, when I found 
 that the author of this fame oracle had pre- 
 tended frequently to have feen and dined 
 with me, at a feat near Laufanne, which I 
 never fet eyes on. He tells you, that I re- 
 ceived him very well, and, in return for 
 this kind reception, he acquaints the public 
 
 with
 
 ( 72 ) 
 
 all the fecrcts I had -intrufted him 
 with. 
 
 I told him, it feems, that I had been with 
 the king of Pruffia, on purpofe to eftablifh 
 the Chinefe religion there. Thus you fee I am 
 become at once one of the feet of Confucius, 
 and have therefore a right to rcfent all af- 
 fronts put upon philofophers. I acknow- 
 ledged, at the fame time, to this author, 
 that the king of Pruffia had difcarded me ; 
 a circumftance very poffible, but very falfe, 
 and concerning which this gentleman has 
 told a downright Jye. 
 
 I ailured himlikewife, it feems, that I had 
 no attachment to France, at a time when the 
 king is perpetually heaping favours on me, 
 continues to me the place of his gentleman 
 in ordinary, and obliges me by annexing the 
 moft valuable privileges to my eftate. All 
 this I frankly acknowledged to this worthy 
 perfon, only that I might be ranked amongft 
 the philofophers. 
 
 I have
 
 ( 73 ) 
 
 1 have moreover dipped into the infernal 
 cabal of the Encyclopedia. There are at 
 leaft a dozen articles of mine publifhed in 
 the three firft volumes, and had prepared 
 for the fucceeding part a dozen more, which 
 would have overturned all the orders in the 
 ftate. 
 
 I am withal one of the firfl who made 
 ufe of that vile Word humanity t againft 
 which you have made fo brave an attack in 
 your pretended comedy; after this, to re- 
 fufe me the name of a philofopher, would 
 certainly be the moft crying injuftice. 
 
 So much for myfelf. As to the perfons 
 whom you have attacked in this work, if 
 they have injured you, you have certainly a 
 right to retaliate. It has always been 
 deemed lawful in fociety to turn into ridicule 
 thofe who have at any time- done us the 
 fame little favour. I remember, when I 
 lived in the world, I was fcarce ever 
 prefent at an entertainment, where fome 
 laugher did not exercife his raillery on one 
 E of
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 of the company; who, in his turn, endeavour- 
 ed to raife the laugh againft his competitor. 
 Lawyers do the fame at the bar ; and all the 
 writers I know ridicule one another as much 
 as they poffibly can. Boileau laughed at 
 Fontenelle, and Fontenelle at Boileau. The . 
 'firft Roufleau made a jeft of Zara and Al- 
 zira, and I did the fame by his latter epiftles ; 
 acknowledging at the fame time, that his 
 ode on Conquerors was excellent, and moft 
 of his epigrams very clever ; for above all 
 things we muft remember to be juft. 
 
 Examine your confcience, and fee if you 
 are fo in reprefenting D'Alembert, Dide- 
 rot, Helvetius, Jaucourt, and the reft of 
 them as fp many fcoundrels and pick- 
 pockets. Again I fay, if they laughed at 
 you in their books, you have a right to 
 laugh at them again ; but, by heaven, your 
 raillery is too ftrong; if they really were fuch 
 as you have made them, they ought to be 
 fent to the gallies, which is by no means a 
 comic fcene. To fpeak plainly to you, thofe 
 whom you endeavour to reflect on are known 
 
 to
 
 ( 75 5 
 
 to be fome of the beft men in the world ; 
 and I am not certain whether their honour 
 and integrity are not even fuperior to their 
 philofophy. 
 
 I frankly avow to you I do not know a 
 more refpe&able chara&er than Helvetius, 
 who has given up two hundred and fifty 
 thoufand livres a year for the advantage of 
 cultivating the Belles-Lettres in peace and 
 quiet. If he has, perhaps, in a large volume, 
 full of new and fublime things, advanced, by 
 chance, half a dozen rafh and ill-founding 
 propofitions, he has already fufficiendy re- 
 pented of them, without having his wounds 
 torn open by you on a public ftage. 
 
 Mr. Duclos, fecretary to the firfl academy 
 in the kingdom, had certainly a title to more 
 regard than you have (hewn him. His book 
 on Manners is by no means a bad one. It 
 is the performance of an honeft man, who 
 paints ftrongly what he has himfelf feen and 
 well obferved. In a word, have thefe gen- 
 tlemen publicly offended you ? It does not 
 2 ap-
 
 r 76 ) 
 
 appear to me that they have. Why theo 
 calumniate them fo outragioufly ? 
 
 I am a ftranger to Mr. Diderot, nor did 
 I ever fee him j I only know he has been 
 unfortunate, and unjuftly perfecuted by fome 
 ignorant and cruel tyrants. This confidera- 
 tion alone fhould have made you drop the pen. 
 Jregard withal thedefign of the Encyclopaedia, 
 as one of the fineft monuments we could raife 
 to the arts and fciences. There are in it 
 fone excellent articles, not only by D'Alein- 
 bert, Diderot, and Jaucourt ; but by feveral 
 others, who, without any motive of profit or 
 ambition, took a pleaufure in contributing 
 towards that immortal work. There are in- 
 deed fome parts of it throughly contemptible, 
 and mine perhaps may be of the number ; 
 but there is fo much more of the good than 
 of the bad, that all Europe defires a con- 
 tinuation of the Encyclopaedia. The firft 
 volumes have already been tranflared into fe- 
 vcral languages. Why then expofe and ri- 
 dicule on the fhge, a work become necef- 
 
 fcrr
 
 ( 77 ) 
 
 fery to the inftru&ion of mankind, and th 
 glory of our nation ? 
 
 I muft own to you I am aftonifhed at what 
 you tell me concerning Mr. Diderot. He 
 has publifhed, you <vflure me, two libels 
 againft two ladies of the firft rank, who pa- 
 tronize you. You faw his name to them ia 
 his own hand-writing. If it be really fo, 
 1 have no mope to fay, I defcend from the 
 clouds, renounce philofophy, and pailofor- 
 phers, bid adieu to books, and {hall think 
 of nothing for the future but my plough 
 and feed-bag. But you will give me leave 
 to afk you, which I may with juftice de- 
 mand, feme pertain proof of this. Permit 
 me to write to thefe ladies friends ; I fliould 
 be glad to know for certain whether I muft 
 abfolutely burn my library. But if Mr. 
 Diderot was really wicked enough to abufe 
 two refpe&able ladies, and what is more, two 
 fine women, did they order you to revenge 
 their caufe ? And the other characters whorr* 
 you bring upon the flage, have they been fo 
 rude as to affront thefe ladies alfo ? 
 
 E 3 Though
 
 Though I never faw Mr. Diderot, I have 
 always had the greateft refpet for his pro- 
 found knowledge. Not that I find any 
 thing very pleafant in his Father of a Fa- 
 mily j yet, prefixed to this piece, there is an 
 epiftle to the princefs of NafTau, which ap- 
 peared to me as the mafler-piece of elo- 
 quence, and the triumph of humanity. For- 
 give me the expreflion. Twenty people of 
 the beft characters have aflured me, he has 
 a good and noble heart. I /hould be forry 
 to be undeceived, though I would gladly 
 know the truth. 
 
 Such is the wcaknefs of our nature, moft 
 we wifh to learn, what we moft dread to 
 know. I have given you my opinion with 
 the utmoft freedom. If you find in the bot- 
 tom of your own heart that I am right, ob- 
 ferve what you have to do. If I am in the 
 wrong, tell me fo j make me acknowledge 
 it, and correct me. I aver to you I have no 
 connections with anyperfons concerned in the 
 Encyclopaedia, except perhaps Mr. D'Alem- 
 bert, who writes me a Lacedaemonian letter 
 once in three months. I have indeed for 
 
 him
 
 ( 79 ) 
 
 him the greateft regard, and fmcerely hope 
 he never was wanting in refpedt to your no- 
 ble patronefies. Once more I beg your per- 
 miffion to confult Mr. - about this whole 
 affair, 
 
 I have the honour, Sir, to be, with the 
 trueft efteem of your abilities, and the 
 ftrongeft defire of that peace which * MefT. 
 
 * The French editor of thefe letters tells us, in 
 a note on this paflage, that Paliflbt was remark- 
 able for abating and calumniating his beft friends 
 and benefactors: that Mr. Helyetius, when he 
 was in great diftrefs feven years ago, lent him a 
 hundred louis-d'ors : that he made fongs upon 
 Freron and his wife, who fupported him for four 
 years : and that, in return for their good offices, 
 he made the following madrigal, which has 
 fome archnefs in it, and which therefore I {hall 
 give the reader in the original, together with a 
 tranflation of it: 
 
 I. 
 
 Freron a 1'an literaire 
 Met fon nom & fait fort bien, 
 Car il paye ce qu'il fait faire; 
 Mais des enfans d'un tel pere, 
 Si chacun reprenoit le fien, 
 Monfieur Freron n'auroit plus rien, 
 
 I[
 
 Freron, Pompignan, and fome other bad 
 writers would fain deprive me of. Your mcxft 
 obedient, fcfc. (if*. 
 
 II. 
 
 C'eft dont a tort qu'on le blame 
 D'etre mordant comme un chien, 
 11 peut faire une epigramme ; 
 Mais, demandez le a fa femmc, 
 Si chacun reprenoi: le fien, 
 JMonficur Fteron n'auroic plat rien* 
 
 IIL 
 
 fl eft loge comme un prince, 
 Mais il doit, je ne fcai conibicn, 
 J'ai bien peur qu'on ne le pince. 
 Car Ton credit eft ft mince, 
 Quc fi chacun reprend le iien, 
 
 Freroa n'aura plus ricn. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Auffi malgre 1'etalage 
 
 De fes talcns & de fon bien, 
 
 Et de ion noble compcrage 
 
 Tant cnfans, meubles, qu'ouvrageB, 
 
 (^u.md chacun rcprenJra le fien, 
 
 Monfieur I'rcron n'aura plus ricu. 
 
 I. Fre-
 
 ( 8i ) 
 
 I. 
 
 Freron, a candidate for fame, 
 To his review has put his name ; 
 And well he might, for he, you'll fay, 
 May thofe who do it for him pay, 
 The children for their father writ ; 
 But from this mingled mafs of wit, 
 Were ev'ry one to take his own, 
 What would be left for poor Freron ? 
 
 II. 
 
 'Tis wrong to tax him with ill-nature, 
 Freron's a poor but harmlefs creature ; 
 Tho', to preferve a poet's name, 
 He boafts of many an epigram ; 
 Yet mould you aik the poet's wife, 
 She would confefs, I'll lay my life, 
 Were ev'ry one to take his own, 
 Few would be left for poor Freron. 
 
 in, 
 
 Lodg'd like a monarch, he forgets, 
 Like other kings, to pay his debts ; 
 His creditors, a numerous train, 
 Who threaten hard, his pockets drain, 
 And fcarce the needy bard, I fear, 
 Can hold it out another year ; 
 Were ev'ry one to take his own, 
 'What would be left for poor Freron ?
 
 IV. 
 
 Spite of this pompous long parade 
 Of genius, and of fortune made, 
 His wealth, his family, and birth, 
 His wit, his humour, and his worth, 
 With all the offspring you can find, 
 Or of his body, or his mind, 
 Were evVy one to take his own, 
 What would be left for poor Freron ? 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 83 ) 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 To Mr. P A L I S S O T. 
 
 SIR, Chateau de Ferney, a8 June, 1760. 
 
 A AM very angry with you. My refolu- 
 tion was to laugh at every thing in my 
 peaceable retreat ; but you have made me 
 melancholy. You load me with praifes, 
 compliments, and friendfhip. I blufh like 
 an Agnes, when you tell the world that I am 
 fuperior to all thofe whom you have at- 
 tacked. 
 
 I believe I can write better verfes than 
 them, and perhaps know as much of hiftory as 
 they do ; but, by myGod, and upon my foul, 
 (as the Englifh fay) old as I am, I am but 
 a fchool-boy to them in every other refpecl. 
 But proceed we to fomething of more con- 
 fequence. 
 
 A friend of mine, of irreproachable cha- 
 ra&er, and worthy of all attention, has af- 
 
 fured
 
 fured me, and indeed proved in his lafl let- 
 ter, that Mr. Diderot is not guilty of the 
 facls which you lay to his charge. An- 
 other perfon, no lefs refpe&able, has fent me 
 a long detail of that whole affair, from, 
 whence it plainly appears, that Diderot had 
 no concern in thole infamous letters im- 
 puted to him. I have never feen, nor 
 know any thing of him, any more than 
 that he is engaged with the worthy and 
 learned D'Alembert in a work which I read 
 every day with frefh pleafure ; a work, be- 
 fules, of no lefs than fix hundred thoufand 
 crowns value in a library, which has already 
 been tranflated into three or four lan- 
 guages, and yet 
 
 fabbia dtlla gelofia 
 
 was quickly a-med againft a work, which 
 would have been an honour to our nation, 
 and towards which above fifty pcrfons df 
 the firft diftinclkm were eager to contri- 
 bute j but one Abraham Chaumeix took it 
 into -his head to write a paper againft the 
 Jincyclopcedia, where <he nukes the authors
 
 ( 85 ) 
 
 fay what they never meant to fay, arid-even 
 argues againft what they may fay hereafter. 
 He mifquotes the fathers of the church, as- 
 well as the authors of the dictionary. Abra~ 
 ham Chaumiex notwithstanding io believed, 
 the licence withdrawn from the bookfellers, 
 and procefs iflued out againft the authors^ 
 and I, amongft others, am pointed out in 
 the indictment, penned by the eloquent and 
 fublime Robin, that great benefactor to, and : 
 glory of his age j the eagle of magiftrates,, 
 and the phccnix of France.- Whilft things 
 are in this difagreeable fituation you write a 
 comedy againft the philofophers, and wound' 
 them when they are fub gladio. The party 
 no doubt, of a Chriftian full of humanity and- 
 charity. 
 
 You tell rne r in xcufe, that Moliere 
 laughed at Cotin and Menage. It may hefo ' y 
 but he never aflerted that Colin and A^enage 
 advanced immoral tenets ; whilft you attri- 
 bute to thefe gentlemen the moft dreadful 
 maxims, both in your play and the preface 
 to it 
 
 You
 
 C 86 ) 
 
 You aflure me that you never accufed 
 Mr. Jaucourt, who notwithstanding is moft 
 certainly the author of the article GOVERN- 
 MENT, there is his name in great letters 
 immediately under it ; you have extra&ed fe- 
 veral paflages from it, which may do him 
 great injury, detached from what goes be- 
 fore, and what follows them, and yet, if 
 taken all together, are worthy of Tully, 
 Grotius, or de Thou. You feem befides not 
 to know that Mr. Jaucourt is of a very illuftri- 
 ous family, and no lefs refpe&able for his 
 character than for his birth and fortune. 
 
 You find fault with a paflage in Mr. 
 D'Alembert's excellent preface to this work. 
 Whilft not a word of any fuch paflage is to 
 be found in it, and impute to Mr. Diderot 
 what is to be met with only in the Jewifli 
 letters. Certainly feme Abraham Chau- 
 miex muft have furnifhed you with this 
 paflage, as he did the Orator of juftice : but 
 you have done more ; you have added to 
 your accufations of fome of the worthicft 
 men in the world, fome (hocking things, 
 
 taken
 
 taken from a foolifh pamphlet, called Tlie 
 Happy Life, or Man a Plant, which a filly 
 fellow, one La Mettrie wrote in a drunken 
 fit at Berlin, above fifteen years ago. This 
 fatire of La Mettrie, long fince forgotten, 
 and revived by you, has no more relation to 
 philofophy and the Encyclopaedia than the 
 porter of the Chartreux by matter Gervaife 
 has to the hiftory of the church ; and yet 
 you join all thefe accufations together : and 
 what is the confequence ? Your information 
 falls perhaps into the hands of a prince, a 
 minifter, or a magiftrate, bufied in affairs 
 of importance ; perhaps of the queen her- 
 felf, ftill more bufy in relieving the indigent, 
 and doing good, and who withal is too much 
 taken up with the n^ceflary forms attendant 
 on her high ftation to have much leifure. 
 One may have time to read curforily over 
 your preface, which contains but a fheet, 
 and yet not have time to examine and con- 
 front with it that immenfe work to which 
 you impute fuch abominable tenets. No 
 body knows who this La Mettrie is ; many 
 perhaps believe he is one of the writers in 
 *> : the
 
 ( 88 ) 
 
 the Encyclopaedia, whom you attack. Thus 
 the innocent, now living, may fuffcr fur the 
 guilty, who are no more. You have done, 
 therefore, more mifchief than you thought 
 of, and more than you ever intended j ami 
 certainly, if you reflecl coolly upon it, muft 
 one day feel the moft frequent and bitter K- 
 morfe for it. 
 
 Shall I then tell you my fentimcnts with 
 freedom ? Your comedy lias been played, and 
 ha- fucceeded. You have now another kind of 
 glory to acquire, and the only way you can 
 do it is, to make m all the journals a public 
 declaration, carefully drawn up, wherein 
 you fbould acknowledge, that not having a 
 copy of the Encyclopaedia in your own poi- 
 fcfiion, you had been milled by Come un- 
 iaithful extracts which iiad been grvcn you ; 
 that you were, as you very reafonably might 
 be, alarmed at fuch- pernicious tenets ; but 
 that having fmce carefully confuted thole 
 |>aflages in which fuch maxims were fup- 
 pokd to be contained ; having read with at- 
 tention die preface to that woj-Jc, Jid fcveral 
 
 ether
 
 other articles equally worthy of admiration, 
 you efteem it a pleafure, as well as duty, to 
 do all deferved juftice to the immenfe labour 
 of the authors, the fublime morality fpread 
 throughout their works, and the purity of their 
 manners. This procedure would not, in my 
 opinion, be confidered as a retractation, which 
 is the bufmefs of thofe who had mifinformed 
 you. It would, I think, do you a great 
 deal of honour,, and put a happy end to a very 
 unfortunate quarrel. 
 
 This, Sir, is my advice; good or bad I 
 know not j after which, I will never in any 
 fort trouble myfelf with the affair ; it has. 
 given me uneafmefs, and I would fain fpend 
 the reft of my life in peace and happinefs. I 
 love to laugh. I am old and fickly, and hold 
 gaiety to be a better remedy even than the 
 prefcriptions of my dear and honoured friend 
 Tronchin. I {hall laugh as much as I can. 
 at thofe who have laughed at me. This will 
 divert me, and can do me no harm. A 
 frenchman who can't be gay, is out of his 
 element, You are a writer of comedies ; be 
 
 joyous
 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 joyous therefore, and do not make the {[age 
 a criminal amufement, that may involve you 
 in difficulties, and perhaps ruin you. You 
 are now at your eafc ; have a refpe& for your 
 matters and protectors. Fortune is blind ; 
 keep her favours, if you can, by honeft means, 
 and be happy amongft your worthy friends, 
 if you have any fuch in your cotterie *. 
 
 *Chaumeix, the writer mentioned in the above 
 letter, was formerly under-mafter in a fchool. 
 His principal, a great Janfenift" and caballer, 
 brought him up, and made a convulfionift of him. 
 This wretch, after having praftifed fevcral forts 
 of trades at Paris, driven from every place, at 
 laft has taken refuge at Peterfburgh, where he is 
 now ftarving, in the infamous profeffion of a pa- 
 rafite, to which he is intirely devoted. 
 
 Paliflbt, fo univerfally known and defpifed, 
 did not venture to appear at Paris for a long 
 time, being obliged by his creditors to leave that 
 ftage of fortune, where knaves play fo many ca- 
 pital parts ; at length fome people of fafhion, to 
 whofe pleafures this fatirical poet had been fub- 
 fervient, found themfelves under the neceflity 
 of protect ng him, and gave him an opportunity 
 of paying his debts. Rafcals are fure of meeting 
 with encouragement from the great. He foon 
 {hewed his whole character. He was carefTed 
 and employed. By attending to the means of 
 
 raifing
 
 ng his fortune, he was in a capacity of acquit- 
 ting himfelf to his patrons? but, in fpite of all 
 the favours he received, was forced at laft to 
 hide himfelf in one of the provinces on the pub- 
 lication of the Dunciad, a work equally con- 
 temptible and malicious. This was the only 
 means he could poflibly take'to avoid a beating, 
 which he would moft certainly have received. 
 That which he experienced for his comedy of 
 the Philofophers taught him, that a relapfe in 
 thefe cafes is generally fatal. 
 
 N. B. Thefe two notes are by the French editor 
 of the letters. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 To Mr. de la H A R P E, Author of the' 
 Earl of Warwick, a Tragedy, which wa 
 well received. 
 
 N 
 
 SIR, Nov. i 7 6j. 
 
 E X T to the pleafure of reading your 
 excellent tragedy, was that which I received 
 from the letter you did me the honour to 
 write on that occafion. Your principles are 
 good, and your piece confirms them. 
 
 Racine, the firft writer amongft us who 
 had tafte, like Corncille, was the firft who 
 had genius aJTo. The admirable Racine, ne- 
 ver fufficiently admired, thought as you do. 
 The pomp of fpeclaclc is never a beauty but 
 when it makes a neceflary part of the fubje&, 
 otherwife it is no more than decoration. In- 
 cidents have ho merit but when they are na- 
 tural, and declamation is always childifh, 
 efpecially when it is (luffed with bombaft. 
 
 You
 
 ( 93 ) 
 
 You applaud yourfelf for never writing verfes 
 that are to be got -by heart, and f, Sir, have 
 found out that you make a great many fuch. 
 The verfes which I get by heart with the 
 greateft eafe, are thofe where the maxim is 
 turned into fentiment, where the poet feems 
 Jefs ambitious of appearing himfelf than of 
 /hewing his characters, where no opportu- 
 nities are fought after to elevate and furprize.; 
 where nature alone f peaks., and nothing is 
 faid but what ought to be faid. Thefe are 
 the verfes which I like; judge if J have not 
 reafon to be fond of yours. 
 
 You have a great deal of merit, and there- 
 fore muft expel a great many enemies. For- 
 merly, when a man had written any thing 
 good, fomebody told brother Vadeble that he 
 was a Janfenift, brother Vadeble told it to 
 father Tellier the Jefuit, who told it to the 
 .king ; at prefent, if you write a good tra- 
 gedy, they will fay you are an atheift. It is 
 pleafant enough to hear the abufe which the 
 * abbe d'Aubignac, the king's preacher, has 
 
 D'Aubignac, fays the French editor, in a 
 
 on this paflage, a bad preacher, and a Hill 
 
 2. worle
 
 ( 94 ) 
 
 lavished on the author of Cinna. At all times 
 there have been * Frerons in literature ; but 
 they fay, one muft have gnats for nightingales 
 to devour, that they may fing the better. 
 
 worfe writer aud poet, publifhed two volumes on 
 the theatre, which are deteftable. He was an 
 enemy of the great Corneille, and abufed him 
 frequently in the grofleft manner. 
 
 D'-Aubignac's Pratique du Theatre, or Praftice 
 of the Stage, is notwithftanding, with all due de- 
 ference both to Mr. Voltaire and his editor, a very 
 good book, and contains many ufeful obferva- 
 tions on the conduft of the drama. 
 
 * Mr. de la Harpe was abufed by Freron, and 
 nick-named by him the Baby of the Stage, after 
 the name of the king of Poland's dwarf. De la 
 Harpe, to be revenged on this hangman of Par- 
 naflus, wrote the following tolerable epigram : 
 
 Bufo, prepar'd to bid the world good night, 
 Sends for his pried to fet all matters right ; 
 Struck with remorfe, he makes a long confeffion 
 Of many a heinous vice, and foul tranfgreflion, 
 Whoring and drinking, bafe hypocrify, 
 Impudence, lying, and malignity. 
 And is this all, cries Dominic ? Run o'er 
 The reft, my friend. Indeed I have no more. 
 You have forgot, reply'd the prieft, by chance, 
 One crying fin the fin of ignorance. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 95 ) 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 To Mr. B L I N, Author of the heroic 
 EpiftlesofGABRIELLE D'ESTREES, 
 miftrefs of Henry IV. 
 
 Ferney, Feb. 1762. 
 
 -L HANKS to my friend when men like 
 
 you admire, 
 
 It fooths our pride, and fans the poet's fire. 
 Never was love in fweeter fong difplay'd ; 
 Never was truth with finer art betray'd. 
 Critics, perhaps, the taftelefs world may tell 
 Your dying Gabrielle only talks too well i 
 
 * Mr. Blin, as the French editor of thefe let- 
 ters informs us, is author of feveral heroic epiilles, 
 and other pieces of poetry univerfally admired. 
 His ftile is eafy, and his manner agreeable. He 
 exerted himfelf with great warmth and humanity 
 in the affair of Galas, which was reheard by the 
 chamber of requefts, compofed of forty-five fen- 
 fible and upright judges, who gained immortal 
 honour by their decision of it. There are feveral 
 good copies of verfes of Mr. Blin's in the col- 
 leclion of poems in three volumes, I2mo. pub- 
 li(hed by Mr. Lunan de Boifgermain. 
 
 But
 
 J&ut feeling hearts compaffionate her pains, 
 .Pity her paflion, and applaud her {trains. 
 She loolc'd for pardon to oftendcd heav'n, 
 And hop'd a fault like hers might be forgiv'n. 
 And fo it might, for 'twas a pious thing 
 To love fo dearly our moft-chriftian king. 
 Such .fond and tender hearts- ev'n faints 
 
 approve ; 
 Th damn'd are thofe alone who nothing 
 
 love. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 97 ) 
 
 L E T-T E R XI. 
 
 Suppofed to be written by Father CHARLES 
 GOUJU to his Brethren the Jefuits. 
 
 JL Conjure, not you only, my dear fellow- 
 countrymen, but all my dear brethren of Ger- 
 many, Italy, and England, to reflect: ferioufly 
 with me, for your edification, on what is at 
 prefent going forward with regard to our right 
 reverend fathers the Jefuits, both the well- 
 doing and the well-faying. 
 
 I am coufm to Mr. Cazot, and related 
 to Mr. Lionci, whom the right reverend fa- 
 ther la Valette, the apoftolical firft lord of 
 trade, has totally dernolifhed. The lord will, 
 no doubt, have mercy on his firft director; 
 but I would beg leave to afk any man who 
 makes ufe of his reafon, whether it is pof- 
 fible that father la Valette, after ftudying 
 theology for two years, had really any be- 
 lief in the Chriftian religion, when, after 
 making a folemn vow of poverty, and con- 
 F fulling
 
 ( 98 ) 
 
 fulting the gofpel, he traded for fix mil- 
 lions ? Is there the leaft probability in na- 
 ture, that a grave divine, of fo much faith 
 and piety, Ihould, with fo much eafe and 
 indifference, run the hazard of his falvation, 
 by doing "any thing fo in.confiftent with his 
 vows, and fo dirc&ly oppofite to his re- 
 ligion ? 
 
 That one of the faithful, mifled by the 
 violence of his paflions, fhould for once be 
 guilty of a crime, and repent of it, might be 
 expected from the frailty of our nature ; but 
 when the matters in Ifrael rob and plunder, 
 whilft they are preaching and fhriving ; when 
 they excrcife themfclves in this manner for 
 whole years together, I muft afk you, my 
 dear brethren, if you think it poflible that 
 they fhould thus be always perfuaded them- 
 felves, and always deceiving others ? That 
 they (hould think of carrying God in their 
 hands at mafs, and pillage their neigh- 
 bours as foon as they come from the holy 
 table ?
 
 ( 99 5 
 
 It appears from the depofitions of the con- 
 fpirators at Lifborij that their confeflbrs the 
 Jefuits had affured them, they might fafely, 
 and with a good confcience, aflaffinate the 
 king. I would only beg to know whether 
 thofe who made ufe of a facrament to excite 
 men to a parricide, could really believe in 
 that facrament ? 
 
 But to pafs from thefe enormous crimes to 
 iniquities of another kind. Do you imagine 
 that the JefuitTel Her believed in JefusChrift? 
 Do you even fuppofe he could believe in a juft 
 God, the rewarder of good and evil, whilft 
 he abufed the ignorance of Lewis XIV. in 
 religious matters, on purpofe to perfecute 
 the virtuous cardinal de Noailles, when mak- 
 ing no fcruple to commit forgery, he fhexved 
 his penitentiary letters from feveral bifhop's 
 which thofe bifhops had never written ? 
 Does not this conduct, perfevered in for fe- 
 veral years, fufficiently demonftrate that the 
 confeffor did not htmfelf believe a word of 
 what he taught? 
 
 F 2 The
 
 The adverfaries of the Jefuits likewifc, 
 who pretended to convulfions and fo man)' 
 other miracles, and who have been convicted 
 of fo many impoftures, were they better 
 believers than father Tellier ? 
 
 I fay again, a man may believe in God, 
 and yet kill his father ; but is it poflible he 
 fhould believe in God, and pafs his whole 
 life amidft deliberate crimes, and an unin- 
 terrupted feries of fraud and impofture ? He 
 mufl repent at laft, in his laft moments j 
 but I defy you to find in hiftory one fingle di- 
 vine who ever acknowledged his crimes on 
 his death -bed. 
 
 Amongfl: the laity we frequently fee men, 
 who have been guilty of inceft and murder, 
 making public acknowledgement of their 
 fins ; but I will be bound to forfeit ten thou- 
 fand crowns, the remains of all that fortune 
 which father la Valette robbed me of, if 5 ou 
 can produce me one penitent divine. 
 
 Shall I give you fome dill more noble ex- 
 amples ? Take them from your firft popes. 
 
 Julius
 
 ( iox ) 
 
 Julius II. with his helmet and coat of ar- 
 mour, the voluptuous Leo X. Alexander VI. 
 polluted with incefts and aflaflinations, fo 
 many fovereign pontiffs furrounded by mif- 
 trefles and baftards, laughing at the credulity 
 of mankind in the bofom of riot and de- 
 bauchery, think you that thefe ever lifted up 
 to God hands filled with gold, or ftained 
 with blood ? Did one of them ever repent in 
 their retirement ? Whilft we behold Charles 
 the fifth chaunting his de profundis to every 
 faint in the Calendar. In every age the 
 true unbelievers, great or little, fhaved or 
 mitred, have been all, divines. 
 
 If I am not miftaken, this is the manner 
 in which they all argued. The Chriflian re- 
 ligion which I teach is moft certainly not 
 that of the primitive times. It is clear that 
 the communion of the firft Chriftians was 
 not a private mafs j it is equally indifputable 
 that the images we invoke were forbidden 
 for more than the two firft centuries ; that 
 auricular confcffion was for a long time ut- 
 terly unknown ; that all our rites have 
 F 3 been
 
 ( 102 ) 
 
 been changed, not excepting one of them, 
 and our tenets alfo. We know when the ad- 
 dition was made to the fymbol of the apoftles, 
 touching the procedure of the Holy Spirit. 
 Amongft all thofe opinions, which have 
 coft fo much bloodfhed, there is not one 
 which can be fairly deduced from the gof- 
 pel j all is our own work, and all arbitrary : 
 We cannot polBbly therefore believe what we 
 teach ; we have nothing to do then but to 
 avail ourfelves of the folly of mankind ; we 
 may venture, without fear, to flirive our 
 neighbours, and plunder them ; to aflaflinate 
 them, and give them extreme un&ion. 
 
 It is apparent not only that they muft have 
 argued thus,but thatitisimpoflible theyfhould 
 have argued in any other manner ; for once 
 more I affirm, it is not in nature for a man 
 to fay, I firmly believe what I teach, and 
 yet a& the direct contrary during my whole 
 life, and even at the latt moment of it. 
 
 The laity, indeed, efpecially among the 
 great, have imitated the clergy in all reli- 
 gions. Muftapha faid, my mufti docs not 
 
 believe
 
 ( 103 ) 
 
 believe in Mahomet, I ought not therefore 
 to believe in him myfelf, and may ftrangle 
 my brothers without any fear or fcruple 
 whatfoever. 
 
 That abominable fyllogifm, my religion h 
 foife, therefore there is no GW, is as common 
 as any thing I know, and the moft fertile 
 fource of every crime. 
 
 What, my brethren, becaufe Malagrida is 
 an Aflaffin, le Tellier a forger, la Valette a 
 bankrupt, and the mufti a knave, muft it 
 follow that there is no fupreme being, no 
 creator and preferver, no equitable judge, to 
 punifh or reward ? I knew a Jacobin friar, 
 a do&or of the Sorbonne, who turned atheift, 
 becaufe the prior of his convent obliged him 
 to maintain within the walls of his cloyfter 
 that the virgin Mary was born in fin, whilft 
 in the Sorbonne he was forced to fupport the 
 contrary. This man faid very coolly, my 
 religion is falfe : if my religion, therefore, 
 which is beyond all difpute the beft in the 
 world, carries with it the marks of falmood, 
 there can be no fuch thing as religion, nor 
 F 4 any
 
 ( 104 ) 
 
 any fuch thing as a God. What a fool was I 
 to become a Jacobin at the age of fifteen ! 
 
 I had compaffion on this poor man, and 
 talked to him : My dear friend, faid I, you 
 were certainly a great fool for becoming a 
 Jacobin ; but whether the virgin Mary was 
 maculate or immaculate, would God there- 
 fore lofe his exigence ? Would he be lefs the 
 judge and father of mankind ? Does he not 
 command the firft Colar of China, as well as 
 the loweft Jacobin, to be juft, temperate, 
 and fincere, and do unto every one as he 
 would wifh (hould be done unto him, and 
 to love one another in honour ? Tenets 
 change, my friend > but God never changeth. 
 The Cordelier St. Bonaventure, and the Ja- 
 cobin St. Thomas, are fcarce ever of the 
 fame opinion ; ncverthelefs they are, with a 
 number of other faints, encircling the throne 
 of glory, and waiting for many more who 
 reafon no better than themfelves. Never do 
 you think like Thomas, or like Bonaven- 
 ture. Some books have been mifmterpretcd, 
 others forged ; does that give you concern ? 
 
 Comfort
 
 Comfort yourfelf, my friend; the great vo- 
 lume of nature cannot be mifmterpreted : 
 there it is written, Adore one God ; be juft 
 and charitable, kind and benevolent. If the 
 holy fathers, the children of Ignatius, had 
 given this excellent precept a .place in their 
 Catholic Catechifrn, they might have filled 
 the world with good and valuable men : they 
 might have ranked with other faints in the 
 circle of God, and we (hould not, as we now 
 do, have congratulated mankind on their de- 
 Ihuclion. 
 
 I perceived, on concluding, that my fer- 
 mon, though a little too long, had made a 
 flrong impreffion on my * Jacobin. 
 
 * Father la Valette, fo well known amongft 
 us, was three years at London after the famous 
 bankruptcy of his fociety. He went by the" name 
 of le chevalier Duclos, and afTumed the chara&er 
 of a f financier in that large city, the general re- 
 
 f- This is an excellent and fenfible letter. Hew !it:]e 
 fhnuld we have to complain cf with regard to this ingenioas 
 writer's re.igious opinion*, 
 
 f'fa 
 
 Omnia dixifftt ! 
 
 F 5 fort
 
 ( io6 ) 
 
 fort of foreign ndventurers. He feemed to be of 
 opinion, that having cheated the fociety of Jcfus, 
 he might alfo take the liberty to cheat fome of 
 his particular friends. He left London very fud- 
 denly about fifty thoufand crowns in debt, to 
 play fome new part on another ftage. This 
 fharper was feen afterwards at Liege, and de- 
 camping from thence, now wanders about, levy- 
 ing contributions in every place on all fuch fools 
 as judge of men only by external appearance. 
 
 N. B. This note is fubjoined by the French 
 editor. It is not eafy to determine what he means 
 by the word Financier in this place, as we have 
 DO Englifh word properly correfpondent to it, 
 except perhaps that of an excifeman, an office 
 which would hardly have been entrulled to this 
 gentleman. I am rather inclined to think he 
 meant a kind of private banker, broker, or dealer 
 in money-matters, probably only amon git thofe 
 of his own perfuafion. This whole llory of his 
 leiidence in London fecms to want confirma- 
 tion. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XII. 
 To Mr. D'A L E M BERT, 
 
 1 HOUGH fome pedants among us have 
 warmly attacked philofophy, they have had 
 no great reafon to value themfelves upon it, 
 as fhe can now boaft of her alliance with 
 the northern powers. The emprefs of Ruf- 
 fia's excellent letter has given you ample re- 
 venge- It puts us in mind of the epiftle 
 which Philip wrote to Ariftotle, with this 
 difference only, that Ariftotle accepted the 
 honourable employment, the education of 
 Alexander, which you have the glory of re- 
 fufmg. 
 
 I remember, when I was young, I had 
 no Idea that the time would ever come 
 when fuch a letter fhould be written from 
 Mofcow to a member of the French aca- 
 demy. I was an eye-witnefs of the rife of 
 that empire, and behold! four women have 
 
 at
 
 ( io8 ) 
 
 at length completed what one man had be- 
 gun. 
 
 Surely fome compliments are due from our 
 native gallantry to the fair fex, on a circum- 
 ftance Ib extraordinary, and of which hiftory 
 can furnifa us with no example. What a 
 charming letter has this Catherine wro'.e ! 
 Neither St. Catherine of Boulogne, nor St. 
 Catherine of Sienna ever wrote half fo good a 
 one. If princefles apply themfelves to the 
 cultivation of their minds, the Salic law 
 muft quickly be aboliflied. 
 
 Have you not obferved, my dear friend, 
 that all our great examples, and all our moft 
 ufcful knowledge, comes from the north ? 
 Newton, Locke, Guftavus, Peter, and the 
 reft of them, were not educated at Rome, in 
 the college de Propaganda. 
 
 I have read lately a moft voluminous * apo- 
 logy for the Jcfuits, wherein all the great ge- 
 
 * This apology for the Jefuits was written by 
 father Ceruti, at prefent atv abbe. This man> 
 
 who
 
 niufes of our age are enumerated. They are 
 all Jefuifs. There is, fays the author, Pe- 
 rufiau, Neuville, Griffet, Chapelain, Bau- 
 dori, Buffier, Debillon, Caftel, Laborde, 
 Brief, Gamier, Pezenas, Siennez, Hut, and 
 
 who was formerly a Jefuit, is patronifed by the 
 princefs of Carignan, who has given him an 
 apartment in her own palace at Paris. Some 
 Janfenifts fcruple not alfo to affert, that both the 
 apologiil and his brother Berthier have private 
 penfions from feveral ladies about the court, 
 ftrongly attached to the late modeft and humble 
 fociety of Jefuits. 
 
 D'Alembert certainly deferves the thanks of 
 his countrymen, for his generous refufal of the 
 offer made him by rhe emprefs of Ruffia. It is 
 noble in a queen to invite a philofopher to her 
 court, to initruft her fon, and teach him to pro- 
 mote the happinefs and glory of his country; 
 but a Frenchman, whofe merit and virtues are 
 all that he can boaft, mould never banim. 
 himfelf, but remain devoted to his country, 
 and his friends. Perdition on thofe weak and in- 
 conftant minds, who fell to foreigners their talents 
 and their fervice ! A Frenchman fhould not, can- 
 not, indeed, live with any fatisfaclion out of his 
 own country. Of this Voltaire is a miferable ex- 
 ample, which mould be a warning to all men of 
 fenfe and abilities, and teach them to avoid the 
 great, their moft cruel and contemptible enemies. 
 To be happy with thefe, we muft be ambitious,
 
 ( "0 ) 
 
 to crown all, fays he, the great Berth! ?f, 
 who has fo long been the oracle of men of 
 letters. Now I proteft (and I have as good 
 a right to be believed as Mr.Chicaneau) I never 
 heard of any of thefe gentlemen, except bro- 
 ther Berthier, the journalift, who I thought 
 died on his way to Verfailles, and who un- 
 fortunately confc fled himfelf, without know- 
 ing it, to the ecclefiaftical gazetteer the abbe 
 Poignard, who refuted him abfolution three 
 times. 
 
 I am very glad to find that France can 
 ftill boaft of fo many great men. I am told, 
 that, amongft thefe fublime geniufes, there is 
 one Mr. Le Roi, a famous preacher, whofe 
 eloquence is equal to that of father Garafle. 
 To fpeak ferioufly, if any thing does honour 
 to the age we live in, it is, in my opinion, 
 
 ean, and dirty. The man of merit ftiould ne- 
 ver fo debafe and proilitute himfelf, as to offer 
 incenfe to fuch idols. They are unworthy the re- 
 gard of genius, and only fit to be a prey to flat' 
 tcrers and courtezans. 
 
 N. B. This note by the French editor. 
 
 the
 
 ( III ) 
 
 the three memorials of Mariette, Beaumont, 
 and 1'Oifeau, in favour of the unfortunate 
 family of Galas. Thus to employ their time, 
 their eloquence, and their credit, and with- 
 out any reward, to fuccour the opprefled ; 
 this is truly great, and brings us nearer to 
 the times of Cicero and Hortenfius than thofe 
 of Briet, de Hut, and brother Berthier. I 
 have pleafmg expectations of the judgment 
 that will be given. Thank heaven, Europe 
 has already determined it, and I know of no 
 more infallible tribunal than that of all honeft 
 men, in different countries, joining in the fame 
 opinion : they form together a body corpo- 
 rate, which cannot err, becaufe it has not 
 that fpirit which in other bodies corporate 
 doth generally prefide. 
 
 I know nothing of the little libel you meife- 
 tion, where I am abufed for my Examen of 
 fome pieces of Crebiilon. I am a Granger 
 both to the Examen, and the abufe of it. I 
 ftiould have enough to do, if I were to read 
 all thefe beggarly fcraps. Peter the Great 
 and Corneilie find me fufEcieat employment. 
 
 I have
 
 I have got as far as Pertharite, and intend to 
 portion out the niece of that noble writer 
 to comfort myfclf under the abufe which I 
 expect for it. We (hall put it into the con- 
 traft that fhe is coufin-german to Chimene, 
 and that (he is no relation to Grimauld, or 
 Mulple. Perhaps fhe may have had a child 
 before the edition is finiflied. A number of 
 people of fafhion have fubfcribed generoufly. 
 The graver fays their names are not quite fo 
 valuable as bank-bills. 
 
 tt.il nc:ij ' ;:;;r*r.; ilfiiiMm 31, m 
 I have fent the academy my tranflation of 
 Heraclius from Calderon. You will fee 
 which is the original, Calderon orCorneilie. 
 You will die with laughing at fome parts of 
 it ; you will find, notvvithftanding, in Cal- 
 deron, fome fine ftrokes of genius. You 
 will receive foon my General Hiftory alfo. 
 The picture which I have drawn this time 
 of human nature is a three-quarters length ; 
 in the other editions it was only a profile. 
 Old as I am, I begin to know it better evtry 
 Day. 
 
 Adieu,
 
 Adieu, my dear and illuftrious philofopher. 
 I am obliged to dictate this; for I grow 
 blind, like la Motte. When the abbe 
 Trublet knows this, perhaps he will have 
 a better opinion of my verfes, 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 To his Royal Highnefi the ELECTOR 
 PALATINE, at Manheim. 
 
 F.rney, Aug. 14, i 7 i. 
 
 W OU'D gracious heaven hear the pray'r, 
 And grant the wifti of poor Voltaire, 
 'Twou'd be to fee the happy day, 
 When news moft welcome fhall impart 
 Joy unfeign'd to ev'ry heart, 
 
 And I with honeft rapture fay, 
 * I've fcen the lovely babe, my fears are o'er, 
 Thefe aged eyes fhall wifh to fee no more. 
 
 Your highnefs will pardon this enthufiafm ; 
 my tranfport mufl plead my excufe. I know 
 not what I am doing. My letter, I fear, is 
 wanting in the etiquette. At the birth of the 
 duke of Burgundy, all the boys danced in the 
 apartments of Lewis XIV. I fhould be a 
 
 * The original is an allufion to a paflage of 
 fcripture, and borders a little upon the profane. 
 
 great
 
 ( "5 ) 
 
 great boy at Schwetzingen, if I could have 
 the happinefs of throwing myfelf at the feet 
 of the father, mother, and child. Peace and 
 an heir together are fortunate events indeed. 
 I fall at your knees, my lord, and embrace 
 them with joy. You and the ele&refs will 
 pardon, I hope, my bad profe, my bad 
 verfes, my profound refpedt, and the intoxi- 
 cation of my heart, and condefcend to pre- 
 ferve fome regard for your little Swifs, 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 L E T-
 
 C 116 ) 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 To his Royal Highnefs the ELECTOR 
 P A L A T I N E, at Manhchiu 
 
 Ferney, Sept. 9, l 
 5T-< 
 
 1 IS over then : I give you joy, 
 
 My noble friend, or girl or boy, 
 It matters not j when Providence 
 Thinks fit her bleflings to difpenfe, 
 She keeps her fecrets cover'd o'er, 
 Nor lets us know her mind before : 
 * And we, poor mortals, good or ill, 
 Wife, foolifh, great, or little, ftill 
 Muft blindly her behefts fulfil. 
 
 * The fame thought is to be met with in one 
 of our bell poets : 
 
 this coercive force 
 
 Without your choice rnufl take its courfe. 
 
 Great
 
 As we know nothing of her plan, 
 Muft grope our way out as we can. 
 The machinift, you underftand, 
 Who is above, with pow'rful hand 
 Directs the whole ; and man, I ween, 
 Is nothing but a poor machine. 
 Perhaps all is not as it cou'd be ; 
 But all, no doubt, is as it fhou'd be. 
 We know, of all the worlds at leaft 
 That cou'd have been, this is the beft; 
 
 Great kings to wars are pointed forth, 
 
 As loaded needles to the north ; 
 
 And thou and I, by pow'r unfeen, 
 
 Are barely pafiive, and fuck'd in 
 
 To Heinault's vaults, or Celia's chamber, 
 
 As ftraw and paper are by amber. 
 
 If we fit down to play, or fet 
 
 (Suppofe at ombre or baflet) 
 
 Let people call us cheats or fools, 
 
 Our cards and we are equal tools. 
 
 We fure in vain the cards condemn, 
 
 Ourfelves both cut and muffle them. 
 
 In vain on fortune's aid rely ; 
 
 She only is a ftander-by. 
 
 Poor men ! poor papers ! we and they 
 
 Do fome impulfive force obey, 
 
 And are but play'd with do not play. 
 
 And,
 
 ( "8 ) 
 
 And, fpite of ficknefs, grief, and pain, 
 We have no reafon to complain. 
 
 To have a fon and heir, tho' late, 
 Were doubtlefs better for the ftate $ 
 And if a fon like you is giv'n, 
 It is the nobleft gift of hcav'n. 
 
 If haply 'tis a daughter well, 
 I greet you ; for on her fhall dwell 
 Each grace and beauty, that unite 
 To catch the gazing lover's fight, 
 And draw admirers to her arms, 
 The rival of her mother's charms. 
 
 Illuftrious pair ! if ever I, 
 
 As poets may, can prophcfy, 
 
 The offspring of thy nuptial bed, 
 
 Or fmiling boy, or beauteous maid, 
 
 Shall be the theme of ev'ry tongue, 
 
 And worthy them from whom it fprung. 
 
 And yet, my lord, in fpite of all I have 
 
 faid, the affair is of confequence to me, and 
 
 1 would come roft immediately to know 
 
 which
 
 ( H9 ) 
 
 which it is, if that fame Providence, which 
 does all for the beft, had not treated me 
 moft cruelly. She has indeed ufed your 
 poor little old Swifs extremely ill, and made 
 me the moft miferable, decrepid, and fhri- 
 velled mortal which this heft of all poflible 
 worlds can produce. 
 
 I fliould really make an excellent figure 
 amidft the rejoicings of your electoral high- 
 nefs. It was only, I think, in the Egypt of 
 antiquity that fkeletons were admitted to a 
 place in their feftivals. To fay the truth, 
 my lord, it is all over with me. I laugh 
 indeed fometimes ; but am forced to ac- 
 knowledge that pain is an evil. It is a com- 
 fort to me that your highnefs is well ; but I 
 am fitter for an extreme unction than a bap- 
 tifm. May the peace ferve for an rera to 
 mark the prince's birth j and may his * au- 
 
 * Mr. Voltaire has praifed with the gieateft 
 degree of juftice this excellent prince and princefs, 
 who in the eafieft and politeft manner take a 
 pleafure in diiKnguiftiing all the men of letters 
 and genius who frequent their court, which is
 
 ( 120 ) 
 
 guft father preferve his regard for, and ac- 
 cept the profound refpe&s of, his little 
 Swifs, 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 remarkable for its tafte, magnificence, and every 
 virtue which adorns humanity. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 To Mr. DIODATI, on his Diflertation 
 on the Italian Language. 
 
 SIR, Ferney, Jan. 24, 1761. 
 
 A AM thoroughly fenfible of the honour 
 you did me, by your kind prefent of a trea- 
 tife on the excellency of the Italian tongue : 
 it was fending a lover an eulogium on his mif- 
 trefs. You will notwithftanding pardon me, 
 I hope, a few reflections in favour of the 
 French language. When a miftrefs palls 
 upon us, we may fometimes take the part 
 of a wife. 
 
 No language, I believe, is Intirely perfeck 
 It happens in this, as in many other things, 
 that the learned receive laws from the igno- 
 rant. It is the multitude who have formed 
 every language : the Workmen have given 
 names to their inftruments : the people got 
 G toge-
 
 ( 122 ) 
 
 together and invented terms to exprefs their 
 feveral wants and neceflities ; and, after a 
 number of years, the men of genius who 
 rofe up were obliged to make ufe, as well as 
 they could, of fuch phrafes and expreflions 
 as had been eftablifhed by mere chance, and 
 the caprice of a multitude. 
 
 I think there are but two languages in 
 the world that are truly harmonious, theGrcek 
 and the Latin. They are indeed the only 
 ones whofe verfe has any true meafure, the 
 certain rythmus, a proper mixture of dudyls 
 and fpondees, and a real value in the fyl- 
 lables. The ignorant people who formed 
 thefe languages had certainly a better tafte, 
 a finer ear, and fenfes more delicate than 
 ether nations. 
 
 You have indeed, as you obferve, long 
 and fhort fyllables in your beautiful Italian 
 tongue, and fo have wej but neither you 
 nor we, nor any other people have the true 
 da&yl and fpondee. Our vcrfes are cha- 
 ra&erifed by the number, and not by the 
 
 fyllable.
 
 C 1*3 ) 
 
 Fyllable. * La bella lingua Tofcana, fay you, 
 e la figlle primogenita del Latino. True, Sir, 
 enjoy your birth-right ; but let the younger 
 fifters come in. for their part of the patri- 
 mony. 
 
 I have always looked upon the Italians as 
 our matters ; but you muft acknowledge we 
 are good difciples. Almoft every language in 
 Europe has its beauties and its faults. You 
 have not thofe melodious noble terminations 
 of the Spaniards, which a happy union of 
 vowels and confonants renders fo fonorous ; 
 hi Ombres^ las Hiftorlas^ los Cotumlres : You 
 want likewife the diphthongs, which have 
 fo melodious an effect in our language ; les 
 rob, les emperewsj les exploits. Its hijioires. 
 You find fault with our e mute, which you 
 call a harlh and melancholy found, which ex- 
 pires as it were in the mouth ; and yet in the 
 e mute principally confifts the great harmony 
 both of our profe and verfe. empire^ ecu- 
 
 * The beautiful Italian language is the 
 daughter of the Latin. 
 
 G 2
 
 C 124 ) 
 
 ronnt, diadime^ famme^ tendrejfg, vifioire, all 
 thefe happy terminations leave a found in 
 the ear, after the pronunciation of the word, 
 like a harpfichord, that rings after the finger 
 is ofF the keys. 
 
 You muft allow that the vaft variety of 
 thefe falls muft have fome advantage over the 
 five fingle terminations of every word in 
 your language ; and even out of thefe five 
 you muft take away the laft : for you have 
 not above feven or eight words that end in 
 u ; fo that there are in effet only four 
 founds, a, e, /, 0, that finifh every Italian 
 word. 
 
 Do you really think the ear of a foreigner 
 can be charmed, when he reads for the 
 firft time, II capitano ch'el grand ftpolcro 
 libero dl Crijlo, e (he molto opro col fenno 9 
 el colla mano ? Can you imagine all thefe 
 founds can be agreeable to an ear unaccuf- 
 tomed to them ? Compare with this dull dry 
 uniformity, fo difagreeable to a foreigner, 
 thefe two plain verfes of Comeille : 
 
 If
 
 ( 125 ) 
 
 Ledefhnfe declare^ &f nous venans d* entendre 
 Ce qtiila refolu du beau-pere fcf dugendre. 
 
 You may obferve every word has a diffe 
 rent termination. Pronounce now thefe tw 
 verfes of Homer : 
 
 E| a $*) rat Tr^wr 
 ArgitSVjj Tt ca| 
 
 Pronounce thefe verfes before any young per- 
 fon, Englifh or German, who has any ear, 
 they will certainly prefer the Greek, barely 
 fuffer the French, and be {hocked with the 
 perpetual repetition of the fame termination 
 in the Italian. This I have myfelf fevers! 
 times experienced. 
 
 You boaft the extraordinary copioufnefs t 
 your language ; you will at the fame time 
 allow we are none of the pooreft. There is 
 in reality no idiom in the world which ex- 
 prefles all the gradations of things : they are 
 all poor in this refpecT:. None of them, for 
 example, can exprefs, in one word, that love 
 G 3 which
 
 which is founded on eftcem, or that 
 which is founded on beauty alone ; that 
 which arifes from a conformity of manners, 
 and that which fprings from the neceffity of 
 loving fomcthing. Thus it is with all the 
 paffions and qualities of the foul, that which 
 we feel the moft, is what we raoft {land in 
 need of words to exprefs. 
 
 But do not imagine, Sir, we are reduced 
 to the extreme indigence which you reproach 
 us with. You have made out a long cata- 
 logue, of two pages, of your fuperfluities, and 
 our poverty. On one fide, yon have placed 
 irgoglio, aherigla^ fuperbia, and on the other 
 only orgueil\ but befides orgueil^ Sir, we 
 hzvefuperbe, hauteur, ferte, eltvation, dedatn^ 
 arrogance^ injalencf, /*/r/, gloriole^ prefom- 
 tiorty outre- cuidance ; all thefe words exprefs 
 the different (hades and gradations of pride, 
 in the fame manner as with you orgoglio, al- 
 terigia, fuperbia, are not always fynoni- 
 mous. 
 
 In your alphabet you find fault with us 
 for having but one word to fignify valiant. 
 
 I
 
 f "7 ) 
 
 I know very well, Sir, that your nation is 
 very valiant when it has a mind, or other 
 people have a mind that it fhould be fo ; both 
 Germany and France have been fo happy as 
 to have in their fervice many brave and 
 noble Italian officers^ 
 
 L'ltalico valor nan e ancor morto. 
 
 But if you have vaknte, prode, animofi, we 
 alfo have vail!ant 9 valcureux, preux, courageux^ 
 intrepidf, bardi, amme^ audacleux^ brave, &c. 
 Courage and bravery have feveral different 
 characters, which are expreffed by fo many 
 different words. We would fay our generals 
 are valiant, couragious, brave ; but we would 
 diftinguifh the lively and bold courage of 
 that general, who carried fword in hand all 
 the works at Port-mahon, cut out of the 
 live rock, from that deliberate, conftant, 
 adlive firmnefs with which one of our chiefs 
 faved a whole garrifon from inevitable de- 
 ftruHon, and marched thirty leagues in- 
 fight of the enemy's forces, confifting of 
 thirty thoufan d. 
 
 We
 
 We would exprefs differently alfo that 
 calm intrepidity which fome pretended con- 
 noifleurs admired in the youngeflr nephew 
 of the hero of the Valteline, who feeing his 
 army routed, occafioned by the panic of our 
 allies at Rofbach, which produced our own 
 alfo, having obferved the regiment of Dief- 
 bach and one more who flood firm and un- 
 broken, as if they had been victorious, 
 though they were furrounded by the cavalry, 
 and battered by the cannon, marched up to 
 them alone, praifed their valour, firmnefs, 
 intrepidity, patience, boldnefs, fpirit, bravery, 
 &V. You fee, Sir, what a number of terras 
 we have to exprefs one thing. Afterwards 
 he had the courage to rally thefe two regi- 
 ments, and fave them from an imminent 
 danger, which their extraordinary bravery 
 had led them into, conducted them fafely in 
 the face of a victorious enemy i and mewed 
 ftill greater ftrcngth of mind, in fupporting 
 the bitter and inexhauftible reproaches of the 
 foolifla multitude, who are always too fooji 
 and too well acquainted with every thing, 
 be it good or bad. 
 
 You
 
 ( 129 ) 
 
 You may remark, Sir, that the courage, 
 valour, and firmnefs of the men who guarded 
 Cafiel and Gottingen, and held out againft 
 fixty thoufand of the enemy, was a courage 
 compofed of a&ivity,. boldnefs, and fore- 
 fight j as was that alfo of him who faved 
 Wezel. Believe then, Sir, I intreat you* 
 that we have in our language a power of ex- 
 preffing every thing which the defenders of 
 our country have the power to perform! 
 
 You infult us alfo with the word ragout^ 
 as if it were the only term we had to exprefs 
 our feveral courfes. I wifti to God you were 
 right ; it would be better, I believe, for my 
 health ; but, unhappily for us, we have a 
 whole kitchen dictionary full of them. 
 
 You feem proud of having two words that 
 fignify glutton ; but pray, Sir, call to mind, 
 and at the fame time lament, our gourmands, 
 genius, friandS) mangeurs, and gloiitons. 
 
 For the man of knowledge you don't remem- 
 ber that we have any word befides fyvtvit ; 
 G. 5 but
 
 C 130 ) 
 
 but be pleafed, Sir, to add dofte, erudit t in- 
 Jlruit, eclaire, you will find, I believe, both 
 the name and the thing amongft us ; and 
 thus it is with regard to every thing you have 
 reproached us for. We have indeed no di- 
 minutives, though we had as many as you 
 in the time of Marot, Rabelais, and Mon- 
 taigne ; but this puerile mode of expreflion 
 feemed beneath the dignity of a language 
 ennobled by fuch writers as Pafcal, Bofluet, 
 Fenelon, Peliflbn, Corneille, Boileau, Ra- 
 cine, Maflillon, Fontaine, la Bruyere, and 
 Roufleau. We left the oltes and ettes to 
 Ronfard, Marot, and Dubartas, and only 
 kcptj&ttrv/fr, amourette ifillette) grandclette^ veil- 
 lotte, nabutte, maifonette, and villotte j and even 
 thefe we never make ufe of when we fpeak 
 or write in the familiar ftile. Don't imitate 
 Matthei therefore, who, in his fpeech to the 
 academy of la Crufca, dwells fo largely on 
 the vaft advantage of calling corbcllo corbellino, 
 forgetting at the fame time that we have 
 corbeil and corbilhn. 
 
 You have advantages over us of much 
 greater confequence, that particularly of in- 
 
 yerfions
 
 C 131 ) 
 
 verfions. You can make a hundred good 
 verfes in Italian with more eafe than we can 
 make fix in French, and the reafon is, be- 
 caufe you allow yourfelves, that hiatus, thofe 
 gapings of fyllables which we don't admit of, 
 becaufe all your words end in rf, e, i, or 0, 
 becaufe you have at leaft twenty times as 
 many rhimes as we have, and tiecaufe, which 
 is ftill more defirable, you can do without 
 any rhymes at all. 
 
 But do not reproach our language with 
 roughnefsj bad profody, barrenefs, orobfcu- 
 rity ; your own tranflations * prove the con- 
 trary. Read moreover every thing that MefT. 
 D'Olivet and du Marfais have faid concern- 
 ing the manner of fpeaking our language 
 
 * Diodati tranflated into Italian the Peruvian 
 Letters> by M. de Graffigny, and publimed them 
 in 2 vol. izmo. with the original. His Di/erta- 
 tion on the Italian Language was much talked of, 
 probably on account of the above letter from 
 Voltaire concerning it. The French editor tells 
 us, in a note on this- letter, that Voltaire only 
 wrote it to make his court to fome great people, 
 and give himfelf an air of importance with men 
 of literature. - 
 
 With
 
 ( '3* ) 
 
 with propriety, Read Mr. Duclos, and 
 Douchet ; obferve with what force and per- 
 fpicuity, with what energy and grace, Mr. 
 D'Alcmbert and Mr. Diderot exprefs them- 
 felves ! what piclurefque phrafes are often 
 made ufe of by du Buffon, Helvetius, and 
 Roufleau, even in works that do not appear 
 f ufceptible of them ! 
 
 I (hall put an end to this letter, already 
 too long, by one reflection ; if to the com- 
 mon people we owe the formation of lan- 
 giages > to great writers we are indebted for 
 the perfection of them ; and the beft of all 
 languages is that which can boaft of the beft 
 works in it. 
 
 I have the honour to be, with the greateft 
 efteem, both for yourfelf and the Italian lan- 
 guage* 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Your, &V. &V. 
 
 AN-
 
 t *33 I 
 
 ANOTHER ANSWER 
 
 FROM 
 
 Mr. VOLTAIRE to Mr. DIODATI. 
 
 Eenwy, Feb* I, 1761, 
 1. 
 
 1 ALK not to me of your exalted worth,. 
 Your wealth, your fame, your honours, and 
 
 your birth ; 
 
 *Tis foolifh pride, my friend j you feldom fee 
 Men, highly born, boail of their pedigree. 
 
 II. 
 
 Tho' France has long by Italy been taught, 
 And (till reveres her miftrefs as fhe ought ; 
 
 Yet
 
 f 134 ) 
 
 Yet keen reproach, like yours, may pay the 
 
 debt, 
 And make the warmeft gratitude forget. 
 
 III. 
 
 Beyond our childhood, we have quitted long; 
 Our ancient nurfe, and now are grown fo 
 
 ftrong, 
 We fcorn the milk which once our weaker 
 
 frame 
 Suftnin'd, and proud return from whence we 
 
 came. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If aught could make us jealous, 'twere the 
 
 fong 
 
 t Of Diodati In his rival's tongue. 
 Do not thy own fair image then deface, 
 Nor do an inj'ry where thou ow'ft a grace. 
 
 f Alluding to bis elegant tranflations from 
 the French,
 
 t 135 1 
 
 V. 
 
 No longer let us fquabble for the prize*. 
 Equality, you know, contents the wife : 
 Henceforth let this thy happinefs enhance, 
 'Tis no difgraceful lot to rival France. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 To Mr. BAILLON, Intendant of Lyons, 
 on account of a poor Jew taken up for 
 uttering contraband Goods. 
 
 BLESSINGS on the Old Teftament, 
 which gives me this opportunity of telling 
 you, that amongft all thofe who adore the 
 New, there is not one more devoted to your 
 fervice than myfelf, a certain defcendant of 
 Jacob, a pedlar, as all thefe gentlemen 
 are, whilft he is waiting for the Mefliah, 
 waits alfo for your protection, which at pre- 
 fent he has the moft need of. Some honeft 
 men, of the firft trade of St. Matthew, who 
 gather together the Jews and Chriftians at the 
 gates of your city, have feized fomething in the 
 breeches pocket of an Ifraelitim page, belong- 
 ing to the poor circumcifed, who has the ho- 
 nour to tender you this billet, with all proper 
 fubmiffion and humility. I beg leave to 
 join my Amen to his at a venture, 
 
 I but
 
 I but juft faw you at Paris as * Mofes faw 
 the Deity;, and fhould be very happy in fee- 
 ing you face to face. If the word face can 
 any ways be applied to me, preferve fme re- 
 membrance of your old eternal humble fer- 
 vant, who loves you with that chafte and 
 tender affeclion, which the religious Solor 
 nion had for his three hundred Shunamites* 
 
 See Vohaire'8 Di&ionaire 
 
 LET.
 
 ( 133 J 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 To the Count de SERBETTI, on 
 tV new Edition of Corneille. 
 
 SIR, Ferney, Aug. 13, 17^1. 
 
 JL AM old, infirm, and overloaded with 
 ufelefs and unnecefiary employments, three 
 excufes for not anfwering your kind letter.. 
 I find them all three difagreeable enough"; 
 I bear the weuknefs of my own dotage tole- 
 rably ; but cannot fo well reconcile myfelf 
 to that of Corneille, which neverthelefs 
 muft, it feems, be publifhed j becaufe the 
 world, who have not fo much tafle as cu- 
 riofity, will have all a man's follies, as well 
 as his works. I know you are a lover of 
 truth, and becaufe you think flie is dear to 
 me alfo, pardon my poor abilities. I flatter 
 myfelf you will find fome proofs of my ad- 
 herence to her in the new edition of my Ge- 
 neral Hiftory. I had fketched human na- 
 ture ; I hope now I have drawn her at full 
 length. 
 
 Lbe-
 
 ( 139 > 
 
 I believe Meflf. Cramer the bookfelltts 
 propofe publifhing thefe additions in a fepa-* 
 rate volume. I leave the corre&ion of the 
 the prefs intirely to them, as I have no * in- 
 tereft in the affair. All I have to do is to 
 fearch out the truth as well as I can, and the 
 applaufe of men of merit like yourfel is my 
 tcward, 
 
 I am, with the greateft refpe&, 
 
 Your's, fcf<v 
 
 * Mr. Voltaire (fays the French editor) gave 
 *way all the profits of his Uttiverfal Hijlory to the 
 bookfellers of Geneva, and has made prefents 
 of all his productions for thefe fifteen years paft, 
 either to aftors, or fome of his particular friends. 
 Mr. Voltaire's enemies either do not believe this,. 
 or can fee very little merit in it. Such inftances 
 of generofity are notwithftanding very rare. We 
 ihould praife the meritorious aftions of an ene- 
 my, as well as a friend. Any man who, as Vol- 
 taire did, could portion out the niece of the great 
 Corneille, would furely deferve to be immor- 
 talized,
 
 ( 140 ) 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 To Mr. LA COMBE, an eminent Lawyer,, 
 on the Letters of Chriftina Queen of Swe-* 
 den, publiflied at Paris. 
 
 S I R Feroey, June 13, 17*3. 
 
 1 -Received, the day before yefterday, by the 
 duthefs D'Anville, the private letters of the 
 queen of Sweden, which you did me the ho- 
 nour to fend me. I am not furprifed to 
 find how much you are fhocked at the * af- 
 faffination of her gentleman-ufher, nor at the 
 indignation which you exprefs againft that 
 cruel and capricious woman. 
 
 You do other kingdoms too much honour, 
 1 am afraid, when you fay that Chriftina 
 
 * In the gallery at Fontainbleau, for which (he 
 was commanded to quit the kingdom by Lewis 
 XIV. who held this aft of hers in the utmoft de- 
 teftation. 
 
 would
 
 vrould have been punifhed any where but in 
 France. Punimed fhe would moft certainly 
 have been, in countries where juftice and the 
 laws prefide ; but thofe countries are few in 
 number ; and, to fpeak the real truth, I know 
 of no place where they are ftriclly obferved. 
 This woman, wicked as fhe was, might moft 
 afluredly have remained with impunity at 
 Rome, Madrid, or Vienna, and in fhort in 
 any place where one man extinguifhes all 
 laws, and money is the only God. 
 
 I fhould be greatly obliflied to you for any 
 intelligence with regard to the authenticity 
 of tbefe letters. I have published fome of 
 Henry IVth's in the new edition of my Ge- 
 neral Hiftory, which are extremely curious, 
 which I did from the love I bear to the me- 
 mory of that illuftrious hero, the only mo- 
 narch of France, who was an honour to hu- 
 man nature, who is intitled to our bleflings,~ 
 our regret, and our everlafting remembrance 
 of him. I am obliged forthefe divine letters 
 to Mr. La Mothe, who copied them at An- 
 *louin from the original. I am yet to learn
 
 ( 142 ) 
 
 Whether the letters of Chriftina were written 
 in Italian, and tranflatcd by you into French 5 
 and am forry to find in them the words 
 pompons and culctins, which have been adopted 
 into our language within my own me- 
 mory. 
 
 If the letters are really Chriftina's, it might 
 not be improper to obferve, that a perfon 
 who abdicates a crown on purpofe to run 
 about, and fee the world, ought at leaft to he 
 wife ; and even if we fuppofe her obliged to 
 write with all that imprudent pride, we fliall 
 be apt more to condemn than to pity her. 
 It had been very eafy for this princefs to have 
 acquired glory whilft (he was on the throne : 
 the daughter of Gultavus might have been 
 adored, even if Ihe had done nothing but 
 common things, like other princes, the re- 
 putation of her father was fo great, that the 
 people would readily have made allowance 
 for all the follies of her fex, and even for 
 all the mifchief which fhe might have done 
 if fhe had dared. Thofe muft be born 
 without the leaft (hare either of wit or vir- 
 3 virtue
 
 ( 143 ) 
 
 virtue who can't fhine upon a throne, and 
 immortalize themfelves by what are called 
 good actions, which by the way are much 
 more ean'ly performed than fuch as are truly 
 great and noble. 
 
 The book, however, is a valuable reli6r, 
 and may ferve at leaft as an example to other 
 princes, who may have the fame foolifh de- 
 fire to abdicate. I thank you for the pre- 
 feut, and hope you will endeavour to clear 
 up my doubts concerning it. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Sir, your's, &V. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 To the Sieur FEZ, Bookfeller at Avignon; 
 
 J. N your letter from Avignon, dated April 
 30, you propofe to fell me, for a thoufand 
 crowns, the whole edition of a colle&ion of 
 Voltaire's miftakes, both with regard to max- 
 ims and hiftorical facts, which you tell me 
 you printed in the pope's dominions. I think 
 myfelf in confcience obliged to inform you, 
 that in compofing a new edition of my works, 
 I have difcovered, in the firft, above two 
 thoufand crowns worth of errors, and as in 
 quality of author, I have probably miftaken 
 about one half on my own fide ; this you 
 fee would amount to at leaft twelve thoufand 
 livres ; fo that I fhould cheat you of nine 
 thoufand francs. Obferve moreover what 
 you get on the account of maxims ; this is an 
 affair particularly interefting to all the powers 
 engaged in war, from the Baltic to Gibral- 
 tar j I am not therefore in the leaft furprifed 
 
 when
 
 ( 14$ ) 
 
 when you inform me, that the work is uni- 
 verfally fought after. 
 
 General Laudon, and the whole LIvres. 
 imperial army, cannot poflibly take 
 lefs than thirty thoufand copies, 
 which you will fell at forty fous a 
 piece; that you know is 60000 
 
 The king of Pruffia, who is paf- 
 fionately fond of maxims, and more 
 bufy about them at prefent than 
 ever, will help you off with nearly 
 the fame quantity, which will be 60000 
 
 You may depend alfo on prince 
 Ferdinand ; for I always obferved, 
 when I had the honour of paying 
 my refpe&s to him, he was happy 
 in rinding out my miftakes of this 
 kind ; you may therefore put him 
 down, for twenty thoufand, - 40000 
 
 160000 
 H Brought
 
 Brought over 160000 
 
 With regard to the French army, 
 where they talk more French than 
 the Auftrians and Pruffians put to- 
 gether j you may fend them at leaft 
 a hundred thoufand copies, which, 
 at forty fous each, will amout to 200000 
 
 In England and the colonies, 
 where thefe iflandcrs ftudy from 
 morning till night to find out my 
 miflakes, and turn them to their 
 own advantage, you may hope at 
 leaft to difpofe of a hundred thou- 
 land, 2COOOO 
 
 As to monks ad divines, 
 who deal particularly in this kind 
 of ware, you can't fet them down 
 at lefs, in all parts of Europe, than 
 a hundred thoufand, which makes 
 in all, . 600000 
 
 1160000 
 Brought
 
 ( H7 ) 
 
 Brought over ii6oo<&!5 
 
 Add to this lift about a hundred 
 thoufand lovers of the dogmatic 
 amongft the laity, 200000 
 
 1360000 
 
 Sum-total one million three hundred and 
 fixty thoufand livres, which you will touch 
 at one ftroke, from which, fome little ex- 
 pence being deducted, the net produce re- 
 maining for you will be at leaft one mil- 
 lion. 
 
 I cannot therefore fufficiently admire your 
 difmtereftednefs, in facrificing fo large a funi 
 to me, on paying down only three thoufand 
 livres. The only thing which could prevent 
 my accepting your propofal would be the fear 
 of offending Mr. Inquifitor of the faith, or 
 for the faith, who no doubt has given you 
 his imprimatur, for certain mafies which he 
 will fay for you ; that is, if you pay him ho- 
 neftly for them. This fandion once given, 
 H a muft
 
 muft not be given in vain ; the faithful mud 
 rejoice in it, and I mould be afraid of excom- 
 munication, were I to fupprefs an edition fo 
 ufeful, approved by a Jacobine, and printed 
 at Avignon. 
 
 * As to your anonymous author, who 
 has dedicated his evening vigils to this im- 
 portant work, I admire his modcfty. I beg 
 my beft compliments to him, as well as to 
 your ink-merchant. 
 
 I am, in hopes of becoming better, and 
 acknowledging my faults with all humility, 
 yours, 5V. 
 
 * Though Mr. Voltaire (fays the French edi- 
 tor) diverts himfelf thus agreeably with his own 
 mill; kcs, he was not m'uch pleafed at the difco- 
 very of fo many blunders, anachronifms, and 
 contradictions, which Mr. Berthier and others 
 found out in his Univerfal Hiftory. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 149 ) 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 To the King of P R U S S I A *, on his 
 Recovery. 
 
 1 N Pluto's dark abodes, the fifiers three, 
 Who weave too faft the threads of deftiny, 
 As 'long the Styx they took their ev'ning 
 
 walk, 
 
 Had often heard the wand'ring fpirits talk 
 Of Pruffia's gallant deeds, the laws he made, 
 The wars he fought, the viitues he difplay'd. 
 As thus they trac'd the hero from his birth, 
 They took him for the oldefl king on earth ; 
 And as his wond'rous acts they counted o'er, 
 Inftead of forty, wrote him down fourfcore. 
 
 * This very pretty complimentary letter is not 
 to be met with in the new edition of Voltaire's 
 works, and was never printed before, though 
 written above fifteen years ago. The thought 
 is well carried on ; but the poem ends flatly and 
 abruptly. 
 
 H i Then
 
 Then Atropos, to kings a hateful name, 
 Difpatch'd by gloomy Dis, to Berlin came ; 
 Her fatal fhears prepar'd, expe&ing there 
 To find a poor old man, with filver hair, 
 And wrinkled forehead : Great was her 
 
 furovize, 
 
 To fee his auburn locks, and fparkling eyes ; 
 To fee him wield the fword, to hear him 
 
 play 
 
 On the foft flute. r his jovial roundelay. 
 She cali'd to mind how once Alcides great, 
 And fmooth-tongu'd Orpheus, brav'd the 
 
 pow'r of fate ; 
 
 She trembled wheji fhe faw, in Pruffia join'd, 
 The voice of Orpheu?, with Alcides' mind j 
 Affrighted, threw her fatal Clears afide, 
 And home returning, to her fitters cry'd, 
 For Pruffia weave a new and golden thread, 
 Lading as that for god-like Lewis made. 
 In the fame caufe did both the heroes fight ; 
 'Gainft the fame foes with equal zeal unite. 
 Both gain'd by wond'rous a&s immortal 
 
 fame ; 
 The fame their valour, and their end the 
 
 fame; 
 
 And
 
 And both hereafter {hall but foft ; the muie 
 No longer the unequal tafk purfues ; 
 Two living monarchs aptly to defign, 
 Requires an abler pen, and ftronger pow'r-s 
 than miner 
 
 H 4. LET-
 
 '5* 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 To Mr. ROUSSEAU*, of Touloufe, 
 Dire&or of the Encyclopoedian Journal, 
 printed at Bouillon, concerning a letter 
 inferted in the St, James's Chronicle, 
 July, 1762. 
 
 S I F, Taaty, Olt. iff, 1764, 
 
 1 N anfwer to yours of Auguft 14, for which 
 I am greatly obliged to you, I muft inform 
 you, that the duke of Grafton, who has 
 been in my neighbourhood for fome time 
 peft, (hewed me, in the St. James's CLronicle, 
 a latter attributed to me; but apparently 
 the produce of Grub-ftreet, or the charnel- 
 
 There were at this tirr.e at Paris three Roufleaus ; 
 Mr. Roufieau of Touloufe ; the celebrated John 
 Baptilt Rou/Teau, an eminent poet ; and the 
 famous John James Roufleau of Geneva, equally 
 diilinguiflied for his extraordinary abilities, his 
 ingenious paradoxes, and the perfections which 
 he has fuffered from bigotry and enthufiafm. 
 
 houfc
 
 houfe of St. Innocent. ,1 mud be obliged, 
 out of regard to my chara&er, to contra- 
 dict this impertinent rhapfody in all the 
 Englifti papers. Men of fenfe and candor 
 know what credit is to be given to idle re- 
 ports of this kind, which the public is over- 
 run with, and heartily tired; of. 
 
 With regard to the German critique on my 
 Hiftory of Peter the Great, I {hall be glad to 
 fee it in your Journal. Thofe remark?, 
 which are fenfible and judicious, will be of 
 fervice to me in the fecond volume. I may. 
 very probably be miftaken in fome points, 
 though I have followed as nearly as I could' 
 the memoirs fent me from * Peterfburg. 
 
 There was a grofs error in the manufcript 
 concerning religion ; the patriarch Nicho- 
 las was miftaken for the patriarch Photius,. 
 
 * The French editor tells us, in a note otv 
 this paflage, that Mr. Voltaire's Hijlory of Peter 
 the Great is nothing but a Gazette, and that it 
 was written by him merely to conciliate the fa- 
 vour of the court of RulSa. 
 
 H c. who
 
 C 154 ) 
 
 who lived an hundred years before him. This 
 has been corre&ed in fevcral copies. In an- 
 other place, Apraxin is put for Narifkin. 
 As to matters of fact, if they are contcfted, 
 the archives of Peterfburgh muft anfwer for 
 me. My Hljlory of Charles XII. was fe- 
 verely critic! fed j the criticifms are forgotten^ 
 the hiftory remains. 
 
 LET-
 
 C 15S ) 
 
 LETTER XXII, 
 
 To Mr. ROUSSEAU, of Touloufe. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 YOU wrote to me fome time ago con- 
 cerning a letter, as ridiculous as it was inju- 
 rious, printed in my name, in the Englifh 
 Monthly Review for June ; I then fignified to 
 you both my refentment and contempt of this 
 very vifible impofture ; but as fome very 
 refpe&able characters are attacked in this 
 letter, it is of confequence that the author 
 fhould be difcovered : I therefore hereby pro- 
 mife a reward of fifty louis-d'ors to any one 
 who will convict him, c3V, 
 
 LET-
 
 ( is* ) 
 
 L B T T E R XXIII. 
 
 To Mr. de la F A R G U E, a Poet, 
 \vho had addrefled Come verfes to him. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 A H E lefs I deferve your elegant verfes, 
 the more I am pleafed with them. Beauties 
 receive the compliments paid them with in- 
 difference ; the homely are delighted with 
 them. I would have an&vered you in fome 
 verfes of my own, if I had not been fo 
 deeply engaged in thofe of Corneille. Every 
 moment that I fpare from my commentary 
 on the works of that great man, is a robbery 
 of him. I cannot, hoy*ever, deny myfelf 
 the pleafure of thanking you, and faying 
 with how much eftceru I have the honour; 
 to be v 
 
 Sir, yours, (iff. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 157 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 From Mr. VOLTAIRE's Secretary 
 to the Secretary of Mr. le F R A N C de 
 POMPIGNAN. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 IOU wrote three letters to Mr. de Vol- 
 taire, figned Ladouz, at the Hotel des Aftti- 
 ries, wherein you inform him that you had 
 been fecretary to the famous Mr. le Franc de 
 Pompignan ; but that you have no longer 
 the honour to belong to him, being dif- 
 mifled j on a fufpicion of having furnifhed 
 Mr. de Voltaire with memoirs againft him. 
 The falfity of this you defired Mr. Voltaire 
 to atteft. His anfwer was, that he knew 
 nothing of you, nor you of him ; and that 
 he never received any memoirs againft Mr. 
 le Franc de Pompignan but his own works, 
 which being himfelf old, infirm, and almoft 
 blind, he has now commiifioned me to re- 
 peat to you. 
 
 This
 
 ( IS* ) 
 
 This then is the fubftance of all.he knows 
 concerning Mr. le Franc de Pompignan. 
 
 1. Some very indifferent verfes. 
 
 2. An oration befoie the academy, in 
 which he infults all men of genius and 
 letters. 
 
 3; A memorial to the king, wherem he 
 informs his majefty, that he has an excellent 
 library at Pompignan. 
 
 4. The defcription of a fine feaft, which 
 he made at Pompignan, and the proceffion 
 in which he marched behind a young Jefuit, 
 accompanied by all the bagpipes in the coun- 
 try ; with an account qf a treat of fix and 
 twenty covers, which was talked of all over 
 the province. 
 
 5. A fine fermon of his own composing, 
 where he tells us, that he was with the ftars 
 in the firmament, whilft the preachers of 
 
 Paris,
 
 ( 159 > 
 
 Paris, and all the men of letters, flood be* 
 low in the mire* 
 
 6. A fine wife, very rich, very devout, 
 and very amiable, who cries night and 
 morning for the lofs of her dear friends the 
 faithful Ignatians, who has brought the 
 fignor de Pompignan, her worthy fpoufe, a 
 fon and heir, and who is now very forry fhe 
 was made to believe that fhe had married 
 an Apollo, &V. 
 
 My matter has likewife been informed, 
 that Mr. le Franc de Pompignan (though he 
 is drowned) compared himfelf to Mofes, 
 and Jiis brother the bifhop to Aaron j he 
 defires his compliments to them. 
 
 He has alfo heard talk of a paftoraJ 
 of the bimop's, addrefled to the inhabitants 
 of Puy, in Velai, by Mr. Cortiat, fecretary. 
 He is told, that in this paftoral mention is 
 made of Ariftophanes, Diogenes, the Ency- 
 cloposdia, Fontenelle, la Motte, Perrault>
 
 f 160 ) 
 
 Teitaflbn, Boindin, Bacon, Defcartes, Malie- 
 branche, Lock, Newton, Leibnitz, Montef- 
 quieu, &c. We congratulate the gentleman 
 ef Puy in Velai, on having perufed all thefc 
 writers : like mafter, like man ; but Mr. Vol- 
 taire enters info none of thefe fcientiftc 
 fquabbles : he tills his land, and leaves to 
 great men the honour of enlightening the 
 age they live in. 
 
 You acquaint him that the bifiiop of 
 Alais will take you for his fecretary, pro- 
 vided you can get an atteftation in due 
 form that you never betrayed the fecrers 
 of Mr. le Franc de Pompignan ; this attefta- 
 tion he readily fends you, and hopes that 
 when you are fettled at Alais, you will not 
 be like the fecretary Cortiat. 
 
 I am, Sir,. 
 Whatever you pleafe to ftile me, bV. &t. 
 
 P. S.
 
 P. S. I afk pardon, Sir ; I had forgot to 
 mention, amongft the works of Mr. cle Pom- 
 pignan, the Deift's Prayer, which he ha* 
 elegantly tranflated from the Englifh into 
 excellent French, and in a fine modern 
 ftile. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 102 ) 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 To Mr. R O U S S E A U, Direftor of th* 
 Encyclopcedian Journal. 
 
 SIR) Paridife, near Genci-z, 
 
 Nov. 19, 1764. 
 
 J. T is very true, as you obfervc in your 
 letter of the 4th inftant, that there is always 
 fomething coming out in my name, as peo- 
 ple often give you made wines inftead of 
 foreign ones. The venders of this merchan- 
 dize deceive themfelves more than the public. 
 My \vines have always been but indifferent, 
 and thofe who put my name will never make 
 a fortune. 
 
 I have been informed moreover, that they 
 have publifhed in Holland my private letters ; 
 the collection, I believe in reality to be very 
 private j for the public will know nothing 
 ef it. I cannot indeed help thinking but 
 that it is an affront to the public, aad a viola-
 
 tion of all the laws of fociety, to publifh any 
 man's letters in his life-time without his con- 
 fent; but to impute to him fuch as he never 
 wrote, an abominable piece of forgery *. 
 This collection has never yet reached me ; 
 I am told it is a very bad one, and therefore 
 give myfelf no concern about it. 
 
 I prefume, that in thofe familiar letters 
 attributed to me, not one of them will be- 
 gin like that of Tully's, " I fhall be glad to 
 
 * Mr. Voltaire wrote feveral fetters, whereiti 
 ie difclaimed the Pucelle and the Dittionaire Phi- 
 lofopbique. The letter before us is full of con- 
 tradiftions and falfe modefty : he avows and dif- 
 avows at the fame time the private letters printed 
 at Amfterdam, as is evidently proved by Mr. 
 Freron, who was fo cruelly and unjuftly treated 
 in the Pucelle, and many other parts of Voltaire's 
 works, for attacking the inconfiftency of his con- 
 duft, which Freron difcovered and reflected on, 
 perhaps with too much feverity; but when au- 
 thors quarrel, they generally treat each other 
 like pirates. For Voltaire's real character, fee a 
 book, much admired, entitled, The Oracle of the 
 uenv Philofopbers, by Mr. Guyon. 
 
 N. B. This note by the French, editor. 
 
 hear
 
 ( 164 ) 
 
 hear you are in good health ; for myfelf, 
 I am perfectly well." This would evidently 
 be a lye in print. 
 
 I know we have the letters of Henry IV. 
 cardinal d'Oflat, and madam de Sevigne. 
 Young Racine published fome of his fa- 
 ther's ; they were but trifling, and were only 
 pardoned out of refpect to his illultrious 
 namei but we are not at liberty to publifh 
 the correfpondence of obfcure men, unlefs 
 they are as agreeable, like the epifto'a obfcxrsrum 
 virorum. What entertainment can the pub- 
 lic expect from a few ufelefs infipid letters, 
 written by a man retired from the world, to 
 people whom the world know nothing of? 
 It is as ill-advifed a thing to print fuch fluff, 
 as it is ridiculous to read it ; for which rea- 
 fon all this kind of frippery finks into eternal 
 oblivion within a fortnight. Our modern 
 publications referable the innumerable quan- 
 tity of flies, that, after buzzing a few days, 
 perifh, and give place to others, who quickly 
 undergo the fame fate, 
 
 Few
 
 Few of our occupations indeed are of much 
 more value or conicquence j and he was no 
 fool who firft faid that all was vanity, ex- 
 cept the peaceable enjoyment of ourfelves. 
 What I have faid would deferve a place in 
 your journal, if it was adorned by your own 
 pen. 
 
 I am, Sir, &t. 
 
 LET-
 
 i66 ) 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 To Mad. DU F I D AN, a Lady celebrate* 
 for her Wit and Underflanding, 
 
 W E both, fo heav'n decrees, have loft our 
 
 eyes, 
 
 Voltaire the weak, and Dufidan the wife. 
 And where's the mighty lofs ? No more we 
 
 fee 
 
 The fons of folly, pride, and treachery, 
 Who, drunk with power, lord it o'er man- 
 kind ; 
 
 Nay, in this little world we all are blind_ 
 Thecity and the court, the great, the fmall, 
 Fortune, and Love, and Plutus govern all ; 
 And all are blind, like us, if, out of five, 
 One fenfe alone we lofe j but few alive, 
 With ages like our'own, can boaft the fame. 
 We live, we think, have honours, friends, 
 and fame j 
 
 3 And
 
 And many a pope have feen, and many a 
 
 king; 
 
 Befides, you know, for fo the poets fmg, 
 Great Epicurus faid, The gift of heav'n 
 Was a fixth fenfe, which wou'd alone be giv'n 
 To its choice fav'rites, well worth all the 
 
 reft; 
 
 But were the foul of perfect light pofleft, 
 We'd better then, my friend, have kept our 
 
 eyes, 
 Jiv'n though we cou'd not fee without our 
 
 fpe&acles. 
 
 You fee, madarn, I am a worthy brother, 
 and bufied in the affairs of our little an- 
 tient republic, few of us being lefs than 
 ninety. You tell me people are not fo 
 agreeable as they were formerly; yet the 
 partridges have the fame flavour as they 
 had in our youth, and the flowers the fame 
 beauty ; but it is not fo with mankind : the 
 foundation of every thing is the fame ; but 
 talents are not fo : the talent of making our- 
 felves amiable, which has always been an un- 
 common one, degenerates like others. It is 
 not you who are changed, but it is the court, 
 
 and
 
 ( 168 ) 
 
 and the city, as I hear by thofe who know 
 them. The reafon perhaps is, we have not 
 fufficiently ftudied the art of pleafing by 
 Moncreif : we are employed about nothing 
 but the fafhionable follies of the age. 
 
 Reafon gains credit flowly, and with pain. 
 How do you think fociety can be agreeable 
 with all that pedantic rubbifh that perpetually 
 furrounds it ! You certainly deferve the com- 
 pliment of a Pucelle: one of your good 
 things is quoted in the notes to that theo- 
 logical work j but at prefent you muft know 
 it is impoflible to bring any printed book 
 from foreign parts to Paris. Even the mi- 
 nifter whom you mention will not permit me 
 to fend any thing under his cover, or directed 
 to him. They are frightened, and I don't 
 know why. Be contented, and if, in a 
 fortnight's time, I don't fend you my Joan 
 by fome honeft traveller, tell Mr. Prefident 
 Hainault he muft furnifh you with one by 
 means of fome hawker or other. It will 
 coft you three livres, and is a very cheap book 
 f divinity. 
 
 I am
 
 ( 169 ) 
 
 I am forry your friend fliould be fo hunted ; 
 you muft have lefs of his company, and it is 
 a great lofs to you both. I fpend my life 
 pleafantly enough in my retreat, and with 
 the family I have got about me. Adieu, my 
 dear friend ; take courage, and let us make 
 a virtue of neceffity. Do you know this is a 
 proverb taken from Cicero ? 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 To King STANISLAUS, at Luneville. 
 
 SIR, Paradife, April 15, 1760. 
 
 1 Have nothing but thanks to return your 
 majefty ; you are known indeed but by your 
 benevolence, which has gained you the no- 
 ble title you poflefs. You inftruct the world; 
 you adorn, you relieve, you direct it, both 
 by precept and by example. I have endea- 
 voured at a diftance to profit from both as 
 much as I could. We mould all endeavour 
 to do as much good in proportion, as your 
 majefty does in your kingdom. You have 
 built fine royal churches, I raife village 
 fteeples : Diogenes removed his tub, when 
 the Athenians equipped their fleets. Whilft 
 you relieve a thoufand poor diftrefied wretches, 
 we little folk muft relieve ten. It is the duty 
 of princes and of private men, every one ac- 
 cording to his condition, to do as much good 
 * as
 
 as he can. Your majefly's laft book, 
 tvhich brother Menou tranfmitted to me by 
 your order, is a new favour conferred on 
 mankind. If any atheifts there be in this 
 world, which I do not believe, your book 
 will confute their impious abfurdity. The 
 philofophers of our age have happily removed 
 all your majefty's fufpicions on that head, 
 and rendered your labours unneceflary. They 
 .blefs God that, fince Newton and Defcartes, 
 no atheift has ever appeared in Europe. You 
 have likewife admirably well refuted thofe 
 who formerly believed that chance had con- 
 tributed towards the formation of the uni- 
 verfe. Your majefty muft with the greateft 
 pleafure obferve, that there is not a philo- 
 fopher amongft us who does not confider the 
 word itfeif as intirely void of all fenfe and 
 meaning. The greater progrefs natural and 
 experimental philofophy have made amongft 
 us, the more vifibly do we perceive in every 
 thing the hand of the Moft High. 
 
 The philofophy of our days is full of re- 
 
 fpecl: for the deity. It doth dot content 
 
 I 2 itfeif
 
 ( '7* ) 
 
 Stfclf with a barren worfhip alone ; but ex- 
 tends its influence over our manners, and 
 makes our philofophers the beft of citizens 
 alfo. They love their country and their king, 
 fubmit to the laws, and fet examples of loy- 
 alty and obedience. They condemn to fhamc 
 and infamy thofe pedantic and furious fac- 
 tions, which are equally prejudicial to the 
 royal prerogative, and the peace and hap- 
 pinefs of the fubjet ; nor is there, I believe,, 
 one of therp who would not gladly contri- 
 bute half his fortune to the fupport of the 
 kingdom. Continue, Sir, to countenance 
 and protect them by your authority, and 
 by your eloquence to convince the world 
 that men cannot be truly happy ; but 
 when kings are philofophers, and have a 
 number of fubjects who are philofophers alfo. 
 Encourage, by your powerful voice, thofe 
 citizens who teach nothing in their writings 
 and converfation but the love of God, their 
 king, and their country. Confound and de- 
 ftroy at the fame time thofe mad and factious 
 fools, who accufe every man of atheifm that 
 is not of their opinion in matters the moft 
 indifferent, 
 
 The
 
 ( 173 ) 
 
 The angelic dodor aflerts, that all the 
 Jefuits are atheifts, becaufe they won't allow 
 the court of Pekin to be idolaters ; and 
 Hardouin the Jefuit tells us r that Pafcal, 
 Arnauld, and Nicole muft be atheifts, be- 
 caufe they would not be Molinifts. Brother 
 Berthier fufpeb the author of the General 
 Hiftory of the fame crime, becaufe he does 
 not agree that the Neftorians, conducted by 
 the blue clouds, came from the country of 
 Jacin, in the feventh century, to build Nef- 
 torian churches at China, Brother Berthier 
 ought to have known that the clouds conduct 
 nobody to Pekin, and that we ought not to 
 mix old wive's fables with facred truths. A 
 Briton, fome years ago, making fome enqui- 
 ries about the city of Paris, was accufed by 
 the abbe de Trublet and Co. of irreligion, 
 on account of the ftreet Tireboudin, and 
 the ftreet Troufle Vache ; and the Briton was 
 obliged to fettle the affair with his accufcr at 
 the Chateletde Paris. 
 
 Kings look down with contempt on thefe 
 
 little diffentions ; they confult the general 
 
 I 3 good,
 
 ( 174 ) 
 
 good, whilft their fubjefts, enraged one 
 againft the other, are always doing private 
 wrongs. A great king, Sir, like your ma- 
 jcily, is neither Janfenift, nor Molinift j he 
 makes reafon refpedable, and faction ridicu- 
 lous. He makes even Jefuits good at Lor- 
 rain, in fpite of themfelves. When they 
 are driven out of Portugal, he gives twelve 
 thoufand livres a year, a good houfe, and a 
 convenient cave to our dear brother Menou, 
 that once a year he may have it in his power 
 to ferve the friends under his protection. He 
 knows that virtue and religion confift in good 
 morality, and not in contention. He gain* 
 a blefling from all, while calumniators are 
 univerfally detefted. 
 
 I call to mind, Sir, with the greateft and 
 moft refpeclful acknowledgement, the happy 
 hours which I have pafled in your palace, 
 and remember well that you condefcended to 
 be the delight of private company, with as 
 much eafe as you create public felicity ; and 
 that if it is a happinefs to be your fubjedt, it 
 is a ftill greater happinefs to be admitted as 
 
 your
 
 C '75 J 
 
 your friend. I fincerely wifh, that a life fb 
 ufeful to the world may be extended beyond 
 the ordinary limits. Aureng-Zeb and Muley- 
 Ifhmael lived to above the age of a hundred 
 and five. If God granted fuch length of days 
 to the. infidel princes, what will he not do 
 for Staniflaus the Beneficent ? 
 
 Lam, Sir, with the moft profound refpe&, 
 yours, &?*. &f. 
 
 I 4 L E T-
 
 176 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 To Mr. LE BRUN*, Secretary to his 
 Serene Highnefs the Prince of Conti, who 
 had fent Mr. Voltaire a fine Ode on Cor- 
 neille, and was the firft who recommended 
 the niece to, and brought her acquainted 
 with him. 
 
 Ferney, Nov. 5, 1760. 
 
 1 Should have made you wait at leaft thefe 
 four months, if I had pretended to anfwer 
 you in as good verfes as your own 3 I muft 
 
 * Mr. Le Brun was the firft man of letters 
 who entered warmly into the caufe of Mr. Cor- 
 neille. Mr. Voltaire very generoufly embraced 
 the opportunity of fupporting a family which had 
 been left in great diitrefs by their relation Mr. 
 de Fontenelle, who intirely neglefted them. 
 Freron, about this time, not knowing any thing 
 of Voltaire's intention, applied to the comedians, 
 and got a benefit in favour of Corneille's ne- 
 phew. What Voltaire has done fince, is well 
 known. It was a noble thing in him to portion 
 her out from the profits of her uncle's works : 
 
 that
 
 ( 177 ) 
 
 therefore content myfelf with telling you in 
 plain profe, that I admire both your ode and 
 your propofal. It is fit that an old foldier of 
 the great Corneille's fhould endeavour to be 
 ferviceable to the grand-daughter of his ge- 
 neral j but when we are building caftles and 
 churches, and have relations to provide for, 
 we can't do all we would wifh to do for a 
 perfon who ought to be affifted by the,greateil 
 people in the kingdom. 
 
 I am old, Sir, but have a niece with me 
 who is a lover of the arts, and has made a 
 proficiency in fome of them. If the lady you 
 mention, and whom I fuppofe you are ac- 
 quainted with, will accept of fuch an educa- 
 tion as my niece can afford her, fhe will take 
 care of her as of a daughter, and I will en- 
 deavour myfelf to be a father to her : her 
 own need not be at any expence, and her 
 
 that edition, with other prefents, got in the whole 
 above fixty thoufand livres. To Voltaire in a 
 great meafure was owing alfo the reverfion of the 
 ientence againft the family of Galas. When the 
 charafter of Voltaire is canvafled, thefe a&ions 
 iiiould not be forgotten. 
 
 I f paffage
 
 pafTage mall be paid to Lyons, where fhe may 
 wait on Mr. Tronchin, who will furnifli her 
 with a carriage up to my houfe, or a fervant 
 fhall meet her with my equipage. If this is 
 agreeable, I am at her fervice, and hope to 
 thank you to the laft hour of my life, for pro- 
 curing me the honour of doing what Mr. de 
 Fontenelle ought to have done. Part of her 
 entertainment {hall be to fee us p!ay fome of 
 her grandfather's pieces, and difcufs the fub- 
 jeds of Cinna and the Cid. 
 
 I have the honour to remain, with all du 
 efteem and refpect, 
 
 Sir, your, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 C 179 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 To Mr. L E B R U N. 
 
 SIR, Delices, Nov. 22, jyGo.. 
 
 1 N confequence of your laft letter, on the 
 name of Corneille, and the merit of his de- 
 fcendant, as well as on account of another 
 which I received from her, I have refolved 
 to do every thing in my power to ferve her. 
 I flatter rnyfelf (he will not be difgufted at a 
 retreat where (he will fometimes meet with 
 men of merit, who have all the refpscl: for 
 her great uncle that is due to him. Mr. La 
 Leu, though an eminent notary of Paris,, 
 who lives in your neighbourhood, will, on 
 fight of this letter, immediately reimburfe to- 
 you the money advanced for the journey of 
 Madem. Corneille. She has no preparations^ 
 to make, as linen and proper drefs of every 
 kind will be provided for her on her arrival.. 
 
 Mr.
 
 C 1 80 ) 
 
 Mr. Tronchuin, banker, at Lyons, will have 
 advice of her coming, and will be ready to 
 receive, and conduct her to me. As you 
 are fo obliging as to enter willingly into this 
 little neceflary bufinefs, I (hall fubmit it in- 
 tirely to your care, and depend on the in- 
 tercft you take in a matter that concerns a 
 name fo dear to every man of letters. 
 
 I am, Sir, with the greateft friendfhip 
 and efteem, 
 
 Your, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 To Mademoifelle CORNEILLE, 
 
 MADAM, Delices, NT. 22, 1760. 
 
 YOUR name, your merit, and the letter 
 you honoured me with, increafe both in Mrs, 
 Dennis and myfelf our impatience to receive 
 you, and we hope to deferve the preference 
 you have been fo obliging as to favour us 
 with. I muft inform you that we pafs fe- 
 veral months in the year at our country houfe 
 near Geneva, where notwithftanding you 
 will be accommodated with everything necef- 
 fary with regard to the duties of religion ; 
 but our principal refidence is in France, 
 about a league off, in a very tolerable houfe, 
 which I am building, and where you will be 
 more commodiouily lodged than in the place 
 which I now write from. You will find fuf- 
 ficient amufements in both, either in work, 
 reading, or mufic. If you have any inclina- 
 tion to learn hiftory and geography, we will 
 * fend
 
 ( -182 ) 
 
 fend for a mafter, who I doubt not will think 
 himfelf highly honoured in teaching any thing 
 to a niece of the great Corneille, and I fhall 
 be ftill more fo in having you with me. 
 
 I am, with the greateft refpecl, 
 
 Madam, yours, sV, 
 
 LET-
 
 C 183 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 To Mr. the Chevalier de R X, at 
 
 Touloufe. 
 
 SIR, Delices, Sept. zo, 1760. 
 
 J- AM not well enough at prefent to have 
 as much wit as yourfelf ; you take me at a 
 difad vantage -j as Waller faid to St. Evre- 
 mond, you are very good to read things which 
 I have intirely forgot ; but you muft have 
 too much fenfe not to fee that. Mr. Man- 
 tefquhu received into the academy for having 
 laughed at it, is a piece of drollery, and 
 nothing more. Do as the academy did, Sir, 
 enter into the joke ; and above all take care 
 never to read the difcourfes of Mr. Mallet, 
 unlefs you are troubled wic.h a want of deep, 
 
 You have explained very well what Mon- 
 tefquien meant by the word virtue in a re- 
 public ; but if you recollect that the Dutch 
 broiled upon a gridiron the hearts of the two 
 
 De
 
 De Wits ; if you call to mind how my good 
 neighbours the Swifs fold duke Lewis Sforfa 
 for a little ready money ; if you remember 
 that the republican John Calvin, that worthy 
 divine, after having maintained in his writings 
 that no man fhould ever be perfecuted, not 
 even thofe who denied the Trinity, burned 
 alive with green fagots a Spaniard who dif- 
 fered with him in opinion on that fubje&, 
 you will moft certainly conclude, that there 
 is no more virtue in a republic than in a mo- 
 narchy. 
 
 Ublcunque cahulum ponas, ibi naujragium fere 
 invenies, 
 
 The world, my friend, is one great fiiip- 
 wreck : and man's motto, " Save yourfelf 
 if you can. " 
 
 I am forry I faid that William the Con- 
 queror difpofed of the lives and fortunes of 
 his new fubje&s like an eaftern monarch : 
 you did right in condemning me for it : I 
 ihould only have faid, he abufed his victory, 
 
 as
 
 ( 1*5 ) 
 
 'as they always do, both in the eaft and Hi 
 the weft ; for mofl indifputable it is, that 
 no monarch upon earth has a right to divert 
 himfelf with plundering and killing his fub- 
 jels juft as he thinks proper. We poor hif- 
 torians are too often believed, and the greateft 
 injury we can do mankind is to tell them, as 
 fome do, that the princes of the eaft are 
 very welcome to cut off as many heads as 
 they pleafe. It might very probably happen, 
 that the oriental princes and their confelTors 
 might imagine this noble prerogative was by 
 divine right. I have feen many travellers 
 who had palled through Afia, who all fhrugged 
 up their (houlders when you talked to them- 
 of this pretended defpotifm independent of 
 the laws. It is true, indeed, that in trou- 
 blefome times, both the monarchs and mi- 
 nifters of the eaft are as wicked as our 
 Lewis XI. or Alexander VI. True alfo it 
 is that men are every where equally inclined 
 to violate the laws, when they are angry, 
 and there is no great difference in this refpeft 
 from Ireland to Japan. There are, notwith- 
 ftanding, in every place fome honeft men, 
 
 and
 
 r 186 ) 
 
 and virtue, improved by fcience, turns th*t 
 hell of this world into a paradife. 
 
 Your virtue, Sir, as appears by your 
 letter, is of this kind ; and the illuftrious 
 prefident Montefquieu would have found in 
 you a friend worthy of him- 
 
 A gentleman, whofc eftate lies, I believe-, 
 not far from you, is now with me, and pro- 
 pofes fpending fome time in my little retreat ; 
 it is the Marquis d* Argent. He has con- 
 vinced me that nothing can be more amiable 
 than a man of honour and virtue, who has 
 wit and genius. I could wifli you would do> 
 me the fame honour, and aflure you it would 
 be the greateft happinefs to him, who with. 
 ^11 refpect and efteem is* 
 
 Sir, yours, &c* 
 
 P. S. You will pardon my not having 
 wrote this with my own hand. 
 
 LET-
 
 C 1*7 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 To Mr. HALL.ER, a celebrated Phi* 
 lofopher and Poet of Switzerland. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 A Send you a little certificate, which may 
 ferve to acquaint you with the character of 
 GrafTet, for whom your immediate protection 
 is warmly folicited. This fellow publifhed 
 at Laufanne an infamous libel againft mora- 
 lity, religion, -the peace of individuals, and 
 the good order of fociety. It will become a 
 man of your worth and abilities to deny a 
 wretch like him that favour and protection, 
 which fhould only be referved for the good 
 and virtuous. I ihall depend on )our 
 Ijindnefs and on your juftice in this particular. 
 Pardon this fcrap of paper ; it is not agree- 
 able, I know, to the k ufage of Germany, 
 
 but
 
 but it fuits the franknefs of a Frenchman, 
 who has a greater refpedt for you than any 
 German. 
 
 ne Lerveche, formerly preceptor to Mr. 
 Conftant, is the author of a libel againft 
 the late Mr. Saurin ; he is minifter of a village 
 fomewhere near Laufanne. He has wrote 
 me two or three * letters in your name. Thefe 
 fellows are fet of wretches very unworthy 
 the honour of being folicited for to a man of 
 your merit and confequence f. 
 
 * The original is " Deux ou trois lettres ano- 
 *' nymes fous votre nom." Two or three anony- 
 mous letters in your name. 
 
 This Teems to be a kind of bull of Mr. Vol- 
 taire's, as one cannot well conceive how the let- 
 ters figned with Mr Halter's name could be pro- 
 perly called anonymous. 
 
 t This letter, fays the French editor, full of 
 revenge and diiquietude called for the elegant 
 and fenfible anfwer of the celebrated and inelti- 
 mable rebublican Mr. Haller, which we have 
 therefore with great pleafure tranfcribed. It will 
 let us into the Itrange and unaccountable character 
 of Mr. dc Voltaire. 
 
 I take
 
 I talce this opportunity to allure you of 
 the great efteem and refpeft which I fhall al- 
 ways have for you. 
 
 I am, Sir, &V, 
 
 LET-
 
 190 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 Mr. HALLE R's Anfwer to Mr. 
 de VOLTAIRE. 
 
 s IR, 
 
 YOUR letter has given me the greateft 
 concern. I fee and admire a gentleman pof- 
 fcfled of riches and independency, who has it 
 in his power to choofe the beft company, 
 equally applauded by monarchs and by the 
 public, and immortalized by fame ; and fhali 
 I behold this very man lofing all his peace 
 and quiet, only in endeavouring to prove, 
 that one man has ftolen from him, and * an- 
 other is not yet convinced whether he has 
 or no? 
 
 * In fpite of the memorial and certificate (fays 
 the French editor) which Mr. Voltaire procured 
 from the fieur Cramer, nothing could be done ; 
 though his enemies might probably have advanced 
 fomething againft him not ftriftly true : but Mr. 
 Voltaire always (hewed too keen a refentment of 
 the trifles which were \vritten againft him, as wit- 
 nei* hit. affair with Freron. 
 
 Pro-
 
 Providence holds an equal balance to all 
 mankind ; it has flioweted down riches and 
 glory upon you. You muft have your mif- 
 fortunes alfo, and it has found out the equal 
 poife againft your happinefs, by giving you, 
 too much fenfibility. 
 
 The perfon whom you complain of would 
 lofe -very little by lofing the protection of a 
 man, who has long laid hidden is an obfcure 
 corner of. the world, and who is happy in 
 having no influence or connections. The 
 laws alone have here power to protect the 
 citizen and the fubjer. Mr. GralTet has the 
 care of my library. I have feen Mr.Lerveche, 
 (you mean Laroche) with one Mr. May, an 
 exile, whom I have vifited fometimes fmce 
 his difgrace, and who pafled the latter part 
 of his time with this minifter. 
 
 If either of them have put my name to 
 their letters, and made people believe, that 
 we are more intimate than we really are, I 
 {hall certainly, when I fee them, refent it as 
 an injury done to me, which from too great 
 
 a friend-
 
 ( '9* ) 
 
 a friendfhip for me you feem to have exagge- 
 rated. 
 
 If wiflies had any power, I would add 
 one to the bleflings you enjoy. I would 
 wifli you that tranquillity which flies before 
 genius, which perhaps is not of fo great 
 value when confidered with relation to fo- 
 ciety, but of infinitely more with regard to 
 ourfelves j the moft celebrated man in Europe 
 would then be alfo the moft happy. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your perfect admirer, &f 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 193 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 To Mr. BELLOY, Author of the 
 Siege of Calais, a Tragedy, reprefented 
 in February, 1765. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 1 AM almoft blind, but have ftill my hear- 
 ing, and the voice of fame has acquainted 
 me with your aftoniming fuccefs. I have 
 a heart alfo that is interefted in it : permit 
 me to join, though at fo great a diftance, my 
 warm applaufe, with that of the * whole 
 
 * All Paris, fays the French editor, crouded 
 with rapture to this excellent tragedy, fo intereft- 
 ing to every lover of his country. The city of 
 Calais fignalized themfelves more particularly by 
 the marks of favour fhewn both to the tragedy 
 and the author of it. He was crowned for 
 the firft time, and the applaufe of the court 
 equalled that of the city. Nothing lefs than 
 goki was given to Mr. Belloy. A medal was 
 ilruck at the Louvre ; one fide of it reprefents 
 K the
 
 ( 194 ) 
 
 kingdom. Long and uninterrupted may be 
 your merit and your happinefs ! Nothing 
 
 the king, with thefe words, Artlum parens ; on 
 the reverfe, is Apollo holding a flag, on which 
 is written Cornell le, Racine, Moliere; and a 
 little below, 
 
 Et qui nafcetur <tl iUit. 
 
 An aera glorious for the poets, and which at the 
 fame time does honour to the monarch, who 
 mews fuch tafte and love for genius and abili- 
 ties. 
 
 The extraordinary, tho' deferred fuccefs of this 
 tragedy, excited the malice of fome little poets, 
 who wrote epigrams againft the author and his 
 piece. 
 
 Epigram, on the Siege of Calais. 
 
 Bombaft and fuftian all, a deal 
 Of idle prate, and foolilh zeal ; 
 A heap of flattery, great pretence, 
 With very little wit or fcnfe : 
 .Such was the merits join'd to raife it, 
 And fuch are all the fools who praife it. 
 
 Another, on the fame. 
 
 Rejoice, ye knaves and fools, I fay, rejoice. 
 All citizens enroll'd by public voice. 
 
 A glo-
 
 ( 195 ) 
 
 remains to crown your glory but to be abufed 
 by Freron. 
 
 I embrace you without ceremony, which, 
 with brother poets, is unnecefiary. I am, 
 with great pleafure and iincerity, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 A glorious honour, which, in Lewis' reign, 
 Who fav'd their country only cou'd obtain. 
 Of old 'twas dearly bought! but now-a-days 
 *Tis to be had for praiiing Belloy's plays. 
 
 There follows, in this place, an epigram, as it 
 is called in the original, on the pifture of Mr. 
 Eelloy ; but it is fo poor a piece, that it is not 
 v/orth tranflating. And likewife another on the 
 word Jiege, which, in French, fignifies both fiege 
 and/eat; but, as the pun does not anfwer in 
 Englifh, it could not be tranflated. 
 
 K 2 LET-
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 PARODY of Mr. VOLTAIRE's 
 Letter to BELLOY. 
 
 JDLIND tho' I am, my friend, I (till can 
 
 hear 
 The voice of fame, which thunders in my 
 
 ear, 
 
 And talks for ever of thy charming lays, 
 Which make ev'n malice fmile, and envy 
 
 praife. 
 
 The patriot and the poet all commend ; ' 
 Whoe'er is Belloy's muft be France's friend. 
 Equall'd by few, by fewer ftill furpafs'd, 
 Long may thy merit, long thy praifes laft. 
 One honour ftill remains, and one alone, 
 To crown thy fame, the cenfure of P'reron. 
 Whilft I from envy, pride, and malice free, 
 Who look not on thee with bafe jealoufy, 
 
 In
 
 ( 197 ) 
 
 In brother bards unfeemly, give thee joy ; 
 Nor fteal we from le Franc, r poor * Rofoy; 
 
 * Mr, Du Rofoy, author of a tragedy called 
 the Siege of Calais, printed about two months 
 before theappearance ofMr. du Belloy's, wasim- 
 prifoned at Fort PEvigne, for endeavouring to 
 perfuade the public, that the players communi- 
 cated that piece in manufcript to Mr. du Belloy. 
 This young man, who is but an indifferent poet, 
 quarrelled with fome perfons of the firft confe- 
 quence. He even went fo far as to accufe M. da 
 Clairon of having ftolen the manufcript of the 
 tragedy of Cromwell from the Sieur Morand, 
 who has been dead thefe ten years. Unhappily 
 the world, and particularly Mr . Morand's friends 
 believed the accufation. 
 
 N. B. This note by the French editor. 
 
 The above Paiody is a very poor piece of 
 poetry, as well in the original as in the tranfla- 
 tion, and feems not to have been written by Vol- 
 taire, though inferted amongft his letters by the 
 French editor. 
 
 K 3 LET-
 
 198 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 To the Marquis de V I L L E T T E, 
 Son of the Treafurcr. 
 
 Al O W few are thofe who teach while they 
 
 delight ! 
 How few, like thee, who think as well as 
 
 write ! 
 
 But reafon with the fitter graces join'd, 
 To give thee perfect empire o'er the mind, 
 Thus with his lyre Apollo wins our hearts, 
 And kills the ferpent Pytho with his 
 
 darts. 
 
 'Tis the fame great, the fameall-pow'rful god, 
 Who quells the favage monfters of the 
 
 wood, 
 
 As he whofe active and enlivening ray, 
 Gives warmth to nature, and lights up the 
 
 day. 
 
 But
 
 ( 199 ) 
 
 But more a god he is, when to the charms 
 Of love he yields, and fports in Daphne's 
 
 The lefs, Sir, that the owl of Ferney de- 
 fenes your fine verfes, the more ought he 
 to thank you for them : he interefts him- 
 felf in every thing that concerns you, be- 
 caufe he knows your worth. 
 
 In thee we, as in others, find 
 The venial faults of heedlefs youth ; 
 But pardon foibles, where the mind 
 Is fraught with wifdom and with truth. 
 
 I (hall retain you as one of the befl advo- 
 cates for our philofopny, and I hereby give 
 you notice of it ; all will by and by be un- 
 veiied to you ; you fhall be one of us. 
 
 To be good-natur'd, eafy, gay, and free, 
 Is man's due tribute to focicty : 
 For others this ; and to ourfelves remains 
 The duty to be happy for our pains, 
 
 K 4 We
 
 ( 200 ) 
 
 We have one little new cell, aiid^are 
 building another. You know how much 
 you are beloved in our convent *. 
 
 * The French editor, in a note to this letter, 
 has given us fome very dull anecdotes concern- 
 ing the marquis tn whom it is addrefled, which, 
 as they could afford no entertainment to the 
 leader, are omitted, 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 201 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 To Mr. D'A M O U R E U X*. 
 
 My DEAR FRIZNU, Ferney, March I, 1765} 
 
 1 Have read over with the greateft fatisfac- 
 tion the new memoirs of the innocent fa- 
 mily of Galas, by Mr. Beaumont. I admired, 
 and even med tears over it j but I learned 
 nothing from thence which I did not know 
 before. I have been thoroughly convinced 
 with regard to that point for fome time paft, 
 and had the happinefs of procuring the firlt 
 fatisfadtory proofs of it. 
 
 * This letter, fays the French editor, has been 
 already publifhed : we have repiinted it here, 
 with additions, or more properly {peaking, the 
 reftoration of a long pafTage, which was not fuf- 
 fered to appear in the Paris edition ; we mean that 
 part of it which concerns Mr. RoiuTeau of Ge- 
 neva. It is fo far particularly valuable, as it 
 gives us a farther infight into the character of 
 Mr. Voltaire, and his opinion of that celebrated 
 philofopher. 
 
 K 5 You
 
 You feem defirous to know how this uni- 
 verfal abhorrence of it has happened, that 
 all Europe cries out againft this legal mur- 
 der of poor Calas, broke upon the wheel at 
 Touloufe ; and how it came to pafs that the 
 difcovery of this dreadful piece of injuftice 
 fhould take its rife in a little unknown cor- 
 ner of the world, between the Alps and 
 mount Jura, a hundred leagues diftance from 
 the fcene of this mournful tragedy. 
 
 About the end of March, 1762, a tra- 
 veller, who had parted through Languedoc, 
 came to fee me at my little retreat, two 
 leagues from Geneva, who acquainted me 
 with the punifhment of Calas ; and at the 
 fame time aflured me, that he was perfectly 
 innocent. I obferved to him, that it was 
 fcarce probable he could have committed the 
 crime ; and ftill leas probable that the judges, 
 who had no private intereft in the affair, 
 could condemn an innocent man to be broke 
 upon the wheel. 
 
 The day after, I was informed that one 
 cf the children of this unhappy father had 
 
 taken
 
 ( 203 ) 
 
 taken refuge in Switzerland, not far from 
 my little cottage. His flight inclined me to 
 think the family guilty. I reflected, not- 
 \vithftanding, that the father had been con- 
 demned for aflaffinating, without any ac- 
 complice, his own fon on account of his re- 
 ligion, and that this man was fixty-nine 
 years of age at the time of his death. I ne- 
 ver remembered to have heard of any old 
 man who was fo horrible an enthufiaft. I 
 had always remarked, that this kind of reli- 
 gious rage feldom attacked any but young 
 man, whofe lively, weak, and tumultuous 
 imagination is frequently inflamed by fuper- 
 ftition. The fanatics of the Cevennes were 
 all madmen of between twenty and thirty, 
 and taught from their infancy to ftile them- 
 fclves prophets. The convulfionifts, many 
 of whom I faw at Paris, were all little girls, 
 or young fellows ; the old men in our mo- 
 nafteries are not fo fufceptible of furious zeal 
 as thofe who are juft out of their noviciate. 
 All the remarkable affaffins, who were armed 
 by fanaticifm, have been young men, as well 
 as thofe who pretended to be poffeffed, and 
 
 I ne-
 
 ( * ) 
 
 I never heard of an old man's being exor- 
 cifed. This confideration induced me ta 
 doubt of his guilt; befides that s the crime 
 was to the laft degree unnatural. 
 
 I ordered the young man to be brought to 
 me, and expeded to find him one of thofe 
 wild enthuliafts whom I have frequently 
 met with in his country j inftead of which, 
 } faw before me a fimple lad, open and in- 
 genuous, with a countenance of the utmoft 
 foftnefs, and which at once interefted you 
 in his favour, and who, whilft he was 
 fpeaking to me, endeavoured, but in vain, 
 to hide the tears that fell from him. He 
 told me he had been apprentice to a. manu- 
 facturer at Nifmcs, where it was the public 
 talk that his whole family at Touloufe would 
 foon be condemned to death ; that all Lan- 
 guedoc believed them guilty j and that, to 
 avoid fuch dreadful ignominy, he had fled to 
 Switzerland. 
 
 I alked him if his father and mother had 
 the chara&er of being paifcoiute and cruel ; 
 
 He
 
 He allured me to the contrary ; and that 
 they had never beat one of their children 
 in their whole lives j but on the other hand, 
 were the moft tender and indulgent parents. 
 I muft own to you this thoroughly convinced 
 me of their innocence. I received more in- 
 formation, a little after, from two merchants 
 at Geneva, men of undoubted probity, who 
 had lodged with Galas at Touloufe > they 
 confirmed me in my opinion. Far from 
 thinking the family of Caks a fet of parricides 
 and fanatics, I began to fee that they had 
 been accufed and ruined by fome vile enthu- 
 fiails. Long fince had I experienced what 
 the fpirit of party and calumny were capable 
 of. 
 
 But what was my aflonifhment, whea, 
 on rny writing to Languedoc concerning this 
 ilrange affair, both Catholics and Proteftants 
 aflured me, in anfwer, that no doubt was to 
 be made of Calas's guilt ; but I was not yet 
 deterred. I took the liberty to write to the 
 Governors of the province, and all the neigh- 
 bouring places, and even to the minifters 
 
 of
 
 ( 206 ) 
 
 of ftate. All unanimoufly advifed me not to 
 interfere any farther. Every body condemned 
 me, and I {till perfifted. Such, Sir, was my 
 conduct. 
 
 The widow of Galas, from whom, to 
 crown her misfortunes, they had taken away 
 her daughters, was retired into folitude, to 
 indulge her griefs, and wait for that death 
 which (he every day expected. I did not in- 
 quire whether (he was a Proteftant, but only 
 whether ihe believed in a God, the rewarder 
 of virtue, and the avenger of guilt. I afke3 
 her, whether in the name of that God, (he 
 would atteft, under her own hand, that her 
 hufband died innocent : fhe never hefitated 
 in the leaft ; no more did I. I defired Mr. 
 Mariette to take her defence to the king's 
 eouncil. Mad. Galas was obliged to leave 
 her retreat, and undertake her journey to 
 Paris. 
 
 We fee by this, that if there are great 
 crimes in the world, there are perhaps as 
 many virtues j and that if fuperftition pro- 
 duces
 
 ( 207 ) 
 
 duces misfortunes, philofophy can repair 
 them. 
 
 A lady, whofe generofity was equal to her 
 high birth, and who had been fome time at 
 Geneva to inoculate her daughters, was the 
 firft that affifted this unfortunate family. Se- 
 veral French, who had retired into this coun^ 
 try, contributed alfo. The Englifh travellers 
 diftinguifhed themfelves more particularly in 
 this affair. As Mr. Beaumont obferves, there 
 was a conteft of generofity between the two 
 nations, which fhould be the moil forward 
 in fuccouring virtue thus cruelly opprefled. 
 
 What followed no one knows better than 
 yourfelfj who laboured in the caufe of 
 innocence with more zeal and intrepidity ? 
 How nobly did you encourage thofe orators 
 who were heard by France and by all Europe 
 with fo much attention ! It recalled to mind 
 the .times when Cicero defended Amerinus, 
 accufed of parricide, before the fenate. Some 
 perfons, indeed, who ftiled themfelves holy 
 and devout, declared againft Galas j but, for 
 * the
 
 ( 208 ) 
 
 the firft time fince the eftabliihment of fana- 
 ticifm, the voice of wifdom put them to 
 filcnce. 
 
 Reafon may now indeed be faid to have 
 gained a glorious victory amongft us ; but 
 would you believe it, my dear friend ! the 
 family of Galas, fo nobly aflifted, and fo 
 well revenged, was not the only one ac- 
 cufed of parricide on a religious pretext j 
 not the only one who has been Sacrificed to 
 the rage of prejudice ; there is one which is 
 yet more unhappy, becaufe whilft it expe- 
 rienced the fame misfortunes, it has not met 
 with the fame confolation, or found a Ma- 
 liette, a * Beaumont, and a Loifeau. 
 
 * Mr. Beaumont, to the honour of humanity, 
 feems refolved to defend the caufe of the Sirvens, 
 as he has already done that of Galas, which I re- 
 marked to him at the time when he wrote me 
 this letter. 
 
 N. B. This note by the French editor, "who, 
 according to the laft fentence in it, (hould feem to 
 be the perfon to whom this letter is addrefled, Mr. 
 D'. \rnoureux. 
 
 It
 
 It fliould feem that there {till dwells In 
 Languedoc an infernal fury, brought thither 
 in former times by the inquifitors in the train 
 of Simon de Montfort, and that ever fince 
 thofe days fhe continues, every now and 
 then, to fhake her torch amongft us. 
 
 A lawyer of Caftres, whofe name was 
 Sirven, had three daughters : as the family 
 were Proteftants, the youngefl of the daugh- 
 ters was ftolen away from her mother, put 
 into a convent, and well whipped, to teach 
 her her catechifm : flie runs mad, and throws 
 herfelf into a well about a league from her fa- 
 ther's houfe. The zealots immediately con- 
 clude, that the father, mother, and fitters 
 had drowned the child. It was taken for 
 granted amongft the Catholics of that pro- 
 vince, that the Proteftants always make it 
 a rule for fathers and mothers to hang, drown, 
 or cut the throats of all thofe children who 
 fhew any inclination towards the Romifli re- 
 ligion. This was at the very time when the 
 family of Galas was in prifon, and the fcaf- 
 fqld prepared for them, 
 
 The
 
 ( 210 ) 
 
 The affair of the drowned child foou 
 reached Touloufe. Here, faid they, is a 
 new inftance of a father and mother con- 
 victed of parricide. The rage of the popu- 
 lace increafcd ; Galas was broke upon the 
 wheel, and a warrant iflucd out againft Sir- 
 ven, his wife, and daughter. Sirvcn had 
 juft time to efcape with his fick family ; they 
 travelled on foot, and without any provifions, 
 over cragged mountains covered with fnow. 
 One of the daughters was brought to-bed in 
 the midft of all the ice and cold, and dying 
 herfelf, carried her dying infant in her arms. 
 They bent their courfe toward Switzerland. 
 The fame chance which conducted the chil- 
 dren of Galas decreed that thefe alfo {hould 
 put thcmfelves under my protection. 
 
 Figure to yourfelf, my friend, four fheep, 
 whom the butchers accufe of having {Lin a 
 lamb ; fuch was the fight i had before me. 
 So much innocence, joined to fo much mi- 
 fery, it is impofiible to defcribe. What 
 could I do ? What would you have done in 
 my fituation ? Mull one be content to weep 
 
 over
 
 over human nature? I took the liberty to 
 write to the firft prefident of Languedoc, a 
 fenfible and good man ; but he was not 
 at Touloufe. By means of a friend of ours 
 I got a placet prefented to the vicechan- 
 cellor. During this time the father, mo- 
 ther, and two daughters were hung in effigy 
 near Caftres, their goods confifcated, and 
 not a (hilling left to fupport them. 
 
 Here, Sir, is a whole honeft, virtuous, 
 innocent family given up to beggary and ruin, 
 and in a ftrange country. They meet indeed 
 with companion ; but how hard it is to re- 
 main an obj eel: of companion all our lives. 
 At laft, I am told, that a pardon fhall be 
 procured for them. I thought at firft they 
 meant the judges, and that the pardon was 
 for them. You muft be fatisfied that this 
 wretched family would rather beg their bread 
 from door to door, and die with hunger, than 
 fue for the pardon of a crime they were never 
 guilty of, and which is too horrible, were they 
 fo, even to deferve it. And yet how are 
 they to obtain juftice ? How furrender them- 
 
 felves
 
 ( 212 ) 
 
 felves to prifon in a country where half the 
 people ftill believe the murder of Calas'jufti- 
 able ? Muft they go a fecond time to de- 
 mand a new trial ? Muft they endeavour 
 again to excite the public pity, which the 
 misfortunes of Calas have already exhaufted, 
 and which will grow tired of always having 
 accufations of parricide to refute, condemned 
 perfons to acquit, and judges to confute ? 
 
 Are not two fuch tragical events, happen- 
 ing fo clofe to each other, my dear friend, 
 proofs of that unavoidable fatality to which 
 our miferable race is fubje&ed ? That dread- 
 ful truth, fo often told us by Homer and by 
 Sophocles, an ufeful one indeed, as it may 
 teach us patience and resignation. 
 
 Muft I add, on this occafion, that whilft 
 thefe aftonifhing events touched me in the 
 tendereft manner, and affeted me to the laft 
 degree, a man whofe profeffion you will guefs 
 at by what he faid, reproached me with the 
 intereft I had taken in two, families, that 
 were utter ftrangers to me. Why, faid he, 
 
 do
 
 do you trouble yourfelf about them ? Let the 
 dead bury the dead. To which I replied : I 
 have found in my defart an Ifraelite bathed 
 in his own blood ; permit me to pour oil into 
 his wounds. You are a Levite j let me be 
 a Samaritan. 
 
 They treated me indeed like a Samaritan, 
 made a defamatory libel upon me, which 
 they called a Paftoral Letter ; but it was 
 the work of a Jefuit, and fhould be forgotten. 
 The wretch did not know that I had at that 
 time taken a Jefuit under my protection. 
 Could I give a ftronger proof that we fhould 
 look upon our enemies as our brethren ? 
 
 This melancholy madmam, formerly a 
 little petty citizen of Geneva, is eternally 
 clamouring againft me, and crying out in his 
 convulfions, that I perfecute and purfue him 
 from place to place, and, in the end, fhall 
 force him to hang himfelf; fo much have 
 I fet the minifters of the gofpel and the ma- 
 giftrates 'of the country againft both his 
 writings and his perfon. He writes all thefe 
 
 fine
 
 fine things to a great lady at Paris, who ad- 
 mires his eloquence more than that of Cicero 
 or Bofluet, and loves her John James * like 
 her lap-dog. This good lady fpreads her 
 pretty little ftories about amongft other good 
 ladies, who tell them to the very good ladies 
 at court, till all thefe agreeable goffips are 
 infenfibly as it were perfuaded into a moft 
 Cordial hatred of me, either upon the ftrength 
 of her word, or from mere idlenefs. Good 
 God ! of me,who never fo much as pronounced 
 the name of John James four times in my 
 life; who never read any of his melanchely 
 reveries, becaufe I hold it as an eftabliflied 
 maxim, that he who would live long muft 
 always laugh ; me who, for thefe ten years 
 paft, did not know whether this Allobrogian 
 Hercules exifted or not j who thought he 
 had been fhut up in fome hofpital, or 
 wedged into the trunk of fome old tree in the 
 fublime forefts of philofophic Switzerland. 
 
 John James Roufleau, the celebrated writer 
 and philofopher, fo well known by his New 
 Eloifa, Wr, cow in England. 
 
 Your
 
 Your paffions are humanity, love of truth, 
 and hatred of calumny. Conformity of 
 chara&cr produced our friendfhip. I have 
 fpent my life in fearching for and publim- 
 ing that truth which I revere ; what other 
 modern hiftorian has defended, the memory 
 of a great prince againft the mameful im- 
 poflures of an * obfcure writer, whom one 
 may properly ftile the calumniator of kings, 
 minifters, and generals, and who notwith- 
 flanding is no longer read ? 
 
 I have done nothing more therefore with 
 regard to the dreadful calamities of Galas 
 and Sirven, than what every other man would 
 have done, followed the bent of my own in- 
 clination. The aim of a philofopher is 
 not to lament the wretched, but to ferve 
 them. 
 
 * Mr. Voltaire, according to the French editor, 
 alludes to the memoirs of Mad. Maintcnon, by 
 Mr. de la Beaumelle, an author who had treated 
 Mr. Voltaire, in feveral of his performances, with 
 great fe verity. 
 
 I know
 
 ( 216 ) 
 
 I know the rage with which fanaticifm 
 would perfecute philofophy, whofc daugh- 
 teYs, truth and toleration, fhe would deftroy, 
 as flic did poor Galas j vvhilft Philofophy 
 only wiflies to difarm the children of fanati- 
 cifm, falfhood and perfecution. 
 
 Thofe who are not able to reafon, have 
 always endeavoured to difcredit tbx>fe who 
 are. They have confounded the philofopher 
 with the fophift, and miferably deceive them- 
 felves. The true philofopher will fometinies 
 indeed fhew his indignation againft that ca- 
 lumny which purfues him : he may over- 
 whelm in eternal infamy the bafe, merce- 
 nary, hireling fcribler, who twice in the 
 month affronts truth, reafon, tafte, and 
 virtue. He may, as he goes along, facrifice 
 to ridicule and contempt thofe who infult 
 literature even in the fancluary, where they 
 Ought moft to revere it j but at the fame 
 time he is a flranger to cabals, party-preju- 
 dice, and revenge. He fludies with the wife 
 
 Montbar,
 
 (2I 7 ) 
 
 Montbar*, and the philofopherof f Vore, to 
 make the earth more fertile, and its inha- 
 bitants more happy. He clears the lands that 
 are uncultivated, increafes the number of 
 ploughs, and confequently of men alfo ; 
 
 * Author of an excellent work, intiiled Na'ural 
 Kfcry. 
 
 f The celebrated Helvetius, author of the 
 Li*vre (fe I'Efprit, or A Treatife on ibe Faculties of 
 the Mmd. The moft humane and generous crea- 
 ture upon earth. The inhabitants of Vore, where 
 he lived, are continually blefiing and praying 
 for him. He was persecuted and baniihed on 
 account of his treatife. The hypocrites and de- 
 votees of the court, thofe cruel and vindictive 
 fpirits, confpired to deftroy him ; but the pubHc, 
 which always does juftice to virtue and abilities, 
 , have amply repaid him for the injuries and con- 
 tempt which he met with at court. 
 
 Such, adds the French editor, was alfo the fate 
 of the fublime Mirebeau, who fell a viftim to 
 fixty tax-gatherers of France, who procured an 
 order to imprifon him in the cattle of Vincennes. 
 
 * This alludes moft probably to the Annee like- 
 wife, a kind of revievv^ published in France, and 
 fuppofed to be written by Freron. 
 
 L employs
 
 ( 218 ) 
 
 employs and feeds the poor, encourages ma- 
 trimony, relieves the orphan, never mur- 
 murs againft neceflary taxes, but enables the 
 hufbandman to pay them with chearfulnefs. 
 He expects nothing from the world, but does 
 in all his power to ferve it ; abhors the hy- 
 pocrite, pities the fuperftitious, and, in (hort, 
 is a friend to all mankind. 
 
 I perceive I am drawing your portrait, 
 and that it wants nothing to make it per- 
 fectly like, but your being happy enough to 
 live in the country *. 
 
 * After the publication of this letter, Freron, 
 in his dnnet, likewifc put out a letter from a Pro- 
 teftant philofopher, which was very fevcre both on 
 Calas and Voltaire, which probably gave occa- 
 fion to the following letter from Mr. D'Ar- 
 
 LET.
 
 ( 219 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 From the Marquis D'ARGENU*, 
 Brigadier General, 
 
 My DEAR F'RIENB, 
 
 1 Have lately read, in a little periodical pa- 
 per, called, The Annah of Literature, a fatire, 
 occasioned by a piece of juftice done to the 
 family of Galas, by the fupreme tribunal of 
 the mafters of requefts, which has raifed the 
 indignation of all honefr. men, as I am told 
 moft of thefe papers do. The author, by 
 a very ftale device, which every body fees 
 through, pretends that he received a letter 
 from a Proteftant philofopher, who tells him, 
 that if the world were to determine concern- 
 ing that affair from Mr. Voltaire's letter, 
 which has circulated over Europe, they 
 
 * We are informed by whom, but not to 
 whom, this letter was written ; but may conjec- 
 ture it was moft probably addrefTed to the French 
 editor. 
 
 k 2 would
 
 ( 220 ) 
 
 would entertain but a very falfe idea of it. 
 '.The author of the paper docs not venture 
 directly to attack the mafters of requcfts ; but 
 feems to hope his cenfure of Voltaire will 
 fall upon them, as they all proceeded on the 
 fame evidence. 
 
 He begins by endeavouring to dcftroy that 
 favourable prcfumption which all the lawyers 
 went upon, that it was not natural to fup- 
 pofe a father fhould afiaflinate his fon, mere- 
 ly on a fuppofition of his being inclined 
 to change his religion. He oppofes to this 
 argument, the validity of which is fo univer- 
 fally acknowledged, the example of Junius 
 Brutus, fuppofed to have condemned his 
 fon to death, and is fo blind as not to fee 
 that Junius Brutus was a judge, who with 
 the greateft concern facrificcd nature to duty, 
 What kind of comparifon can there be be- 
 tween a fevere fentence and an execrable af- 
 faflination ! between an ac"l of duty and a 
 parricide, and fuch a parricide too ! which, 
 if it had been committed, the father, mother, 
 brother, and friend, mufl all have been ac- 
 complices in ! 
 
 He
 
 C 221 ) 
 
 He goes fo far as to after*-, that if the fons 
 of Galas did actually fay there never was a 
 more tender and indulgent father., and that 
 he had never beat one of his children, it is 
 rather a. proof of the fimplicity of thofe who 
 believed this depofition, than any made of 
 innocence in the accufed. It is true, indeed, 
 that it is not an abfolute legal proof; but 
 furely it is highly probable : it was a power- 
 ful motive for a further examination, and 
 Mr. Voltaire was only at that time in fearch 
 of fuch circumftances as might determine him 
 to enter thoroughly into this interefting affair, 
 concerning which he afterwards produced- 
 fach convincing proofs, which had been pro- 
 cured for him at Touloufe. 
 
 But there Is fomething ftill more abfurd. 
 Mr. Voltaire, with whom he parted three 
 months near Geneva, at the time when he- 
 undertook this affair, infifted on it, before 
 he engaged, that Mad. Galas, whom he 
 knew to be a very religious woman, fhould 
 fwear in the name of that God whom (he 
 adored, that neither her hu-fband or fc-lf had' 
 t 3 the
 
 C 222 ) 
 
 (he Icaft concern in it. This oath had great 
 weight, as it was hardly pnffiblc Maj. Ga- 
 las {hould fvvear falfcly, or run the hazard of 
 coming to Paris, and expofe hcrfelf to the 
 leverity of the iaw. She was intirely out of 
 the caufe; nothing obliged her to take fo 
 dangerous a ftep as to recommence a crimi- 
 nal procefs, in which fhe might have lolt 
 her life. This author feems not to know 
 how much it muft fhock a perfon, with any 
 fenfe of religion, to be guilty of perjury ; 
 but this he fays is a falfe method of reafon- 
 ing ; " it is juft as if we were to afk one of 
 *' the judges who had condemned Galas, 1 * 
 
 JW how abfurd is the comparifon ! The 
 judge, no doubt, will make oath, that he 
 judged according to his confcience ; but 
 this confcience might have been impofed on 
 by falfe evidence : whereas Mad. Galas could 
 never be deceived or impofed on with re- 
 gard to the crime imputed to her hufband or 
 herfeJf. The accufed muft know in their 
 own hearts whether they were guilty or not ; 
 
 but
 
 "but the judge can only know it by the evi- 
 dence, which is often equivocal ; the writer 
 of the paper therefore mufl have argued (for 
 1 love to call things by their names) with as 
 much folly and malignity. 
 
 He makes bold to deny it was ever " be- 
 " lieved in Languedoc, that the Proteftants 
 " make it a point to deftroy thofe childicn 
 ** whom they fufpet of any defign to change 
 ** their religion." Thefe are the words of 
 this very filly writer. He does not know 
 that this accufation was fo ferioufly and fo 
 univerfally believed, that Mr. Sudre, the 
 famous advocate of Touloufe, who gave us 
 an excellent memorial in favour of the Galas 
 family, has there refuted this populaf error 
 in page 59, 60, and 61, of his account. Pie 
 does not perhaps know likewife, that the 
 church of Geneva was obliged to fend to 
 Touloufe a folemn proteft againft this hor- 
 rible accufation. 
 
 He makes himfelf merry with this ferious 
 
 and important affair, and laughs at the 
 
 L 4 fcheme
 
 C **4 ) 
 
 icheme of writing to the governors of Lan- 
 gucdoc and Provence, to get proper informa- 
 tion from them, that they might know how 
 to proceed. What could have been done 
 better for this purpofe ? 
 
 I {tall lay nothing of the little witticifms 
 fcattered about in this paper. The innocence 
 of Calas, and the folemn decree made by the 
 Bvifters of requeils, are things of too much 
 confequence to be debafed by the mixture of 
 fuch trifles. 
 
 I afk pardon of Mr. Voltaire for joining 
 his name to that of fuch a man as Freron j 
 but as thefe poor and miferable fcriblcrs are 
 iuflrrcd at Paris to abufe genius and merit, I 
 thought a foldier, actuated by a fenfe of ho- 
 nour, might be permitted to fpeak his fenti- 
 ments on the occafion ; and I am fatisfied 
 you may fafely impart my thoughts to all lovers 
 of truth. 
 
 You know how much I am, &c 
 L E T-
 
 t 225 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 : ,.:;J V. 
 
 To the Marquis D'ARGENU, 
 
 1 HE letter you wa~s fo obliging as to 
 write, {hews at once the goodnefs of your 
 heart, and the excellency of your under- 
 ftanding. You acquaint me at this time 
 with the infolence and bafenefs of Freron, 
 which I was before a flranger to, having 
 never lit of his paper. That chance which 
 furnifhed you with one of them, was never, 
 I thank her, fo unkind to me ; but you have 
 extracted gold from his dunghill, by con- 
 futing his calumnies. 
 
 If this man had read the letter which Mad*, 
 Calas wrote from her retreat, where (he was 
 almoft expiring, and from whence they 
 dragged her with the greateft difficulty. ; if 
 he had feen. the candour, the grief, the re- 
 fignation, which ihe exprefied in her recital 
 
 of
 
 ( 226 ) 
 
 ef the murder of her fon and hufband, and 
 that irrefiflble air of truth with which fhe 
 called God to witnefs her innocence, he 
 would not, I believe, have been touched 
 himfelf, but he muft have feen that every 
 honeft heart would be touched and con- 
 vinced alfo. 
 
 But tyrants cannot feel the force of nature, 
 Kor can a Freron feel the pow'r of virtue. 
 
 As to marfhal Richelieu, and the duke of 
 Villars, whofe protection he feems fo much 
 to undervalue, and whofe teftimony he re- 
 jec"b, he does not perhaps know that it was 
 at my houfe they fuw young Galas, whom I 
 had the honour to prefent to them, and that 
 moft afTuredly they did not protecl him till 
 they had enquired into the affair ; after fuf- 
 pending their judgment a longtime, which 
 every wife man ought to do, before his finaj 
 decifion. 
 
 As to the matters of rcquefts, it is their 
 buiinefs to fee whether, after their fovereign 
 
 deter-
 
 ( 227 ) 
 
 determination, which had confirmed the in- 
 nocence of Calas and his family, a Freion 
 fliould be permitted to call it in queftion. 
 
 I embrace, love, and refpe& you, 
 
 And am, Zfc, 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 228 ) 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 To the Abbe de V O I S E N O N, 
 
 A Had a little ftunted vine, 
 
 Which brought me neither leaves nor wine, 
 
 An honeft gard'ner came, and dreft 
 
 And trimm'd it fo, that ev'ry gueft 
 
 Who us'd to rail at, honour'd me 
 
 For my high-flavour'd Burgundy, 
 
 I had a rough unpo!i(h'J ftone,, 
 Which few would deign to look upon 9 
 An artift faw the ufelefs thing, 
 He cut and form'd it to a ring ; 
 You fee it now a diamond fine, 
 And brighter than its matter fhinc. 
 
 What nature leaves unfmilh'd, art can mendk 
 Alas ! what fhould we do without a friend ? 
 
 You will eafily guefs, my lord bimop of 
 Montrouge, to whom thofe bad verfes are 
 
 addrefled.
 
 C 229 ) 
 
 sddrefied. Prcfcnt my compliments to Mr. 
 Favart, who is one of thofe deities who pre- 
 fide over the genius of French gaiety. As it 
 is ten years fince you wrote to me, I dare not 
 cry out, Write to me, my friend ; but I muft 
 fay, O my friend, you have quite forgotten 
 me. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 THE ANSWER. 
 
 INgenious Favart, prais'd by thee, 
 Afpircs to immortality. 
 On ev'ry bard whom you approve, 
 Apollo looks with fmilcs oflove ; 
 Configns the gardens to his care, 
 And to adorn his patron's hair, 
 He form'd of flow'rs the choiceft band 
 That fell from thy all-plcafing hand j 
 As thou art for his mafter known, 
 He counts thy treafures as his own. 
 Whilft thy example thus the poet fires, 
 He gives to thee the verfe thypraife infpires. 
 
 He would not have failed offering his co- 
 medy of Gratitude to you ; but he has a ti- 
 midity natural to men of genius, and feared 
 it was not worthy of your acceptance. You 
 
 will
 
 C 231 ) 
 
 will hardly believe that, in fpite of all his 
 merit, the ill-natured world will not allow 
 him to be the author of his own excellent 
 works; but malicioufly and unanimoufly at- 
 tribute half of them to * me. I am fure you 
 
 * The public have unanimoufly, fays the 
 French editor, attributed the moft delicate and 
 agreeable parts of Mr. Favart's works to M. de 
 Voifenon ; and it mufl be acknowledged that 
 there is a great fimilitude of ftile and manner 
 between the Annette and Lubin, the three ful- 
 tanas and the Englifhman at Bourdeaux, and all 
 the new pieces publiftied by Mr. and Mad. 
 Favart, with whom Mr. de Voifenon has been 
 a long time connected. The author of the 
 Queen of Golconda, Mifapouf, fo much the 
 vvorfe for her, and other very agreeable novels, 
 may very poifibly have compofed love fonnets and 
 fmart epigrams. It is likewife faid, that Mr. 
 Favart was not the author of La Chercheufe 
 aEfprit, a charming little piece, and generally 
 attributed to the marquis of P , who is certainly 
 very capable of writing it. 
 
 The prediction in the letter concerning the 
 Fairy Urgelia was fulfilled. This piece, fo ftrong- 
 ly talked of, fo warmly deiired, and fo highly 
 applauded at court, was received vsry coldly at 
 Paris. In fpite of all the fine habits and decora- 
 tions beftowed upon it, it did not fucceed at 
 all. 
 
 will
 
 will not fall into this miftakc, when he uflff 
 your fluff" to make his holicly cloaths of; you 
 don't make it a point to {hip him of them. 
 
 He will fend you immediately his Fairy 
 Urgelia, which has met with fuccefs at 
 Fontainbleau, which I am juft now come 
 from. This may be no reafon why the piece 
 fhould fucceed at Paris. The court is the 
 chatelet of Paris, and Paris is the grand 
 chamber, which almoft always reverfes its 
 decrees. You indeed furnifhed hirn with the 
 fubjecT: of this work, which will be its bcft 
 recommendation. Adieu, my beft and oldeft 
 friend ; I {hall not ceafe to be yours till the 
 parliament {hall recal the Jefuits, nor {hall I 
 ever forget you till I have forgot to read. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 To Mr. C A V A I L H A, Author of 
 a Comedy called the TUTOR DUPED,, 
 which met with Succefs on the French 
 Theatre, 
 
 SIR, Ferney, Nov. 30, 1765, 
 
 JL Am greatly obliged to you for the op- 
 portunity you have given me of participating 
 that pleafure which all Paris has tafted in 
 your excellent performance. I am not at 
 all furprized at the fuccefs of it : it has 
 not only in it a variety of pleafrng inci- 
 dents, but is fet off by eafy and natu- 
 ral dialogue, and is as well written as 
 played. You will not, I hope, flop here ; 
 but go on to enrich our ftage. It is the 
 M grcateft
 
 ( 234 ) 
 
 greateft comfort of my old age to fee thefe 
 fine arts, which I love, adorned and fup- 
 ported by men of fuch merit and ge- 
 nius. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 * University of California 
 
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