^IOSANGEI% 
 o ^Bt . ^ 
 
 a S 
 
 B i 
 
 ^. c^ 
 
 OB 
 
 u-i 
 
 :IOS-ANCE1^ 
 Tfcl rt 
 
 
 I 
 
 iKAUFOBfe 
 
 IL <s 
 
 a g 
 
 1 I 
 
 II 
 
 s fe 
 
 
 
 
 P %
 
 jOF'CALIFOfy^ ^OF-CAIIFO^ 
 
 S <5e 
 
 :> 
 
 ^clOS ANGELA
 
 A 
 
 CRITICAL ANALYSIS 
 
 AND 
 
 REVIEW, 
 
 OF ALL 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE'S WORKS; 
 
 WITH 
 
 OCCASIONAL D I S QJLJ I S I T I O N S 
 
 O N 
 
 EPIC POETRY, 
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMA, ROMANCE, &c, 
 BY MR. L I N G U E T. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, NO. 72, ST. PAUL'S 
 CHURCH-YARD. I- CO.
 
 Stack 
 Aaaex 
 
 5" 
 
 o&7 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 ^TPHE republic of letters was in May, 1778, 
 -* deprived of that celebrated man, whofe 
 whole life was devoted to its fervice. Though 
 he died at a very advanced age, his death might 
 appear premature ; for by a fate as fingular and 
 as extraordinary as were his talents, when upwards 
 of eighty years old, he felt none of the infirmities 
 incident to age. His mind and his body were 
 alike free from debility. 
 
 An indifcreet friendlhip, or interefted motives 
 difguifed under that name, fo/ced him into im- 
 prudencies which accelerated his death. After a 
 period of twenty-five years, fpent in the rnoft 
 peaceful retreat, in the moft regular habits of 
 living, in as profound a calm as a conftitution fo 
 replete with fire was capable of enjoying, he was 
 fuddenly tranfported to the centre of diffipation. 
 There, his mind was thrown into an agitation 
 no lefs violent than his perfon. The public en- 
 thufiafm, heightened by fecret anecdotes, and 
 B concealed 
 
 2065460
 
 2 GhNERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 concealed artifices, overwhelmed him with ho- 
 nours too Weighty for his age : his health, which 
 labor and folitude could not impair, funk under 
 the lafiitude and intoxication of a triumph re- 
 newed every day, and at every moment. By a 
 misfortune, which it is not ufual to hear old men 
 complain of, it was in reality excefs of pleafure 
 that led him to the grave. Thus from begin- 
 ning to the end, in every thing, and at all times, 
 he was an extraordinary man. 
 
 It is my intention to fpeak here of his works 
 only. Of what is merely perfonal, or relates but: 
 to his private life, I fhall fay nothing. Let us 
 not furnifh matter to that treacherous curiofity 
 which feeks for anecdotes of an illuftrious man, 
 with a view rather to derive confolation under his 
 fuperiority, than to add to his fame. The life 
 of a fedentary writer, as Mr. Voltaire himfelf 
 has very well obferved, is beft found in his own 
 Works. It is this part of his life only in which 
 the liberal contemporary, or pofterity, can be truly 
 interefted. It is from thence only that thofe who 
 have not been perfonally acquainted with him 
 can form a certain judgment of his character. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire appears to have pofiefTed ex- 
 treme ienfibility. His impetuous imagination 
 was ftrongly affected at injuflice and vice : this 
 natural difpofition may have fometimes rendered 
 
 hirat
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 3 
 
 him imprudent, and even in his turn unjuft. 
 During his refidence at Cirey, the Marchionefs 
 QU Chatelet ufed on port-days to fend a rnefienger 
 before-hand to bring the letters to the caftle ; 
 and then fhutting herfelf up with another friend, 
 they opened all Mr. Voltaire's letters, fufTering 
 none to reach him, but thofe in which nothing 
 appeared capable of giving him uneafinefs. 
 
 Perhaps we ought rsther to pity, than blarney 
 the man whofe irritability of temper rendered 
 this office of compaffionate friend fnip necclTary 
 to his repofe. This organization is allied to 
 genius ; but it may hurry it into fteps which 
 will in time furnilh arms to hatred ; to efti- 
 mate it at the prefent day according to its juft 
 value, materials would be wanting, which it" 
 is now impoflible to collect ; and were it in our 
 power to procure them, of what ufe would" 
 they be ? 
 
 It muft be conferled th^t Mr. Voltaire has run 
 into an extreme directly oppofite : a nlercilefs 
 fatyrift, v/hen his anger was excited, he has too 
 often defcend-ed even to adulation, when he 
 thought it might prove advantageous. His flat- 
 tering hyperboles have included every rank of 
 fociety : he has decreed titles of immortality to 
 every clafs, from the throne to the lowed fpecies 
 f literature. Whether an interested policy taught 
 B 2 him
 
 4 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 him to endeavour at difarming, by infmcere 
 panegyric, thofe dangerous defpots, whom the 
 freedom of his other writings might have alarmed -, 
 or whether an inlatiable vanity would not fuffer 
 him to omit any means of encreafmg the number 
 of his admirers, he has left behind him but too 
 many monuments of the facility with which he 
 could lavifh his praifes. He witlied not to want 
 a fingle voice ; and without fcru pie, condefcended 
 to flatter men who could not be flattered but by 
 him alone, that he himfelf might appear an 
 object of univerfal applaufe. 
 
 Whatever might be his character in this refpect, 
 and perhaps in fome others, I fee no neceffity 
 for deep inveftigation. Mr. Voltaire had faults, 
 for he was a man ; let us leave them in 
 oblivion, with thofe of fo many millions who 
 poffefled ftill greater and more pernicious errors, 
 but the memory of which is notwithstanding 
 blotted out for ever. Let us reject thofe private 
 and fufpicious anecdotes, which can tend only to 
 tarnifh the honor of literature, without pofTefling 
 even the painful merit of certainty : in the pre- 
 fent impoflibility of appreciating their value, as 
 to what concerns his principles, it were better to 
 attribute to him virtues than vices. Let us reft 
 fatisfied in examining his works, fince, as I have 
 
 before
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 5 
 
 before obferved, it is from thofe only we car* 
 judge with any precifion. 
 
 What immediately ftrikes, in the immenfe 
 collection, is their number and variety : two Epic 
 Poems ; twenty-four Tragedies ; twelve Come- 
 dies, at lead ; Operas; Moral EiTays, in verfe j 
 Odes i and Epiftles on all forts of fubjects ; 
 Tales i an incredible number of little convivial 
 pieces, fuch as of themfelves have eftablifhed 
 the reputation of Voiture, Chapelle, and Chau- 
 lieuxj Hiftories, which had alone been fufficient 
 to occupy the life, and eftablifh the reputation of 
 any other literary character ; an Abridgement of 
 the Theory of Sir Ifaac Newton, on Natural 
 Philofophy and Aftronomy, too much contemned 
 perhaps by the prejudice of thofe times, becaufe 
 it came from a poet's pen, and ufelefs in the 
 prefent, becaufe the fubject has been more fully 
 inveftigated by others ; but which, notwithftand- 
 ing, had the merit of being the firft work in 
 which that fubject was treated of in France * : 
 
 1 This Theory, at bottom, is not more folid than that of 
 Defcartes, but this is not the ftandard by which the work of 
 Mr. Voltaire is to be eftimated : what has been capable of 
 producing in men of fcience a conviction, or an enthufiafm, 
 extending even to fanaticifm, may befuppofed, with ftronger 
 reafon, to have caft an illufion before a writer who was prin- 
 cipally engaged in letters and arts. 
 
 B 3 Romances,
 
 6 GENERAL O B SL R VAT I O N S. 
 
 Romances, in which gaiety, philofophy, refined 
 criticifm, and elegance of fbyle, lupply the place 
 of imagination, which till then had engrofied thai: 
 department of literature ; Diflertations withov.L 
 number on various points of Hiftory, the Belles 
 Lettres, the Sciences, Philofophy, and even Ju- 
 rifprudence, wherein, without the confufion, the 
 heavinefs, and obfcurity of legal erudition, uni- 
 verfal knowledge and an ardent defire of con- 
 tributing to the happihefs of mankind, are con- 
 flantly difcoverable ; this paffion unhappily ex- 
 tended to indifcretion on a delicate fubjeft, on 
 which filence is better than difcuffion ; a Com- 
 mentary, full of tafte and impartiality, on the 
 nrft and moft prolific of Tragic Poets : and 
 finally, an Epiftolary Correfpondence, more ex- 
 tenfive, perhaps, than any man, of any nation, 
 or of any country, has been found capable of 
 maintaining ; a correfpondence of which, if we 
 may form an opinion from what has already 
 tranfpifed of it, ever ingenious, ever agreeable, 
 and almoft always on his part inftrudlive : this 
 may ferve to give fome idea of the literary labors 
 of Mr. Voltaire. 
 
 When we refledl moreover that he travelled a 
 
 great deal in his youth : that he fpent thirty years 
 
 in the diffipatipn of courts, and in the moft 
 
 brilliant circles j that he underftood Italian, 
 
 J Spanifh,
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. J 
 
 Spanifh, and Englilh -, that he had read, as it 
 appears, attentively, in the originals the befl 
 authors in each of thefe languages j and that in 
 the midft of thefe interruptions and occupations 
 he was by no means indifferent to his own affairs, 
 which were arranged and kept in an order and 
 exactnefs equal to his perfonal vigilance and re- 
 gularity ; that he infpected his bills, and balanced 
 his accounts, with as much punctuality as a man 
 who had no other bufinefs ; our aftonifhment at 
 fuch a prodigious fertility of talents muft without 
 doubt be increafed. But I ought here to make 
 two obfervations, which will partly ferve to ex- ' 
 plain this enigma. 
 
 Firft, the youth of aim oft all our celebrated 
 authors has been uiually fpent either in painful 
 ftruggles, or in thofe embarraJTrnents which at- 
 tend on what is called the choice of a profefiion j 
 they are tyrannized over for a long time, or at 
 leaft impeded in their progrefs by the importu- 
 nities of their relations, if not by their own 
 neceffities : there is hardly one in whom the fjrft 
 efforts of genius have not been combated as a 
 pamon which it was neceiTary to reprefs, or at 
 leaft to watch over as fomething dangerous. 
 Enfeebled by diftrefs, ftiil more grievous than 
 reilraint, it was even amidft the toil of ignoble 
 occupations, very oppofite to the natural bent of 
 B 4 their
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 their inclination, that the greater part have given 
 birth to thofe productions which have eftablifhed 
 their fame. 
 
 There are therefore very few amongft them of 
 whofe abilities the public may be fuppofed capable 
 of forming an adequate opinion.- At an age 
 when cultivation, exercife, and liberty, are ne- 
 ceflary to nourifh, call forth, and ftrengthen their 
 talents ; care withers, and flavery ftifles them. 
 When the reputation is eftablifhed, it is then 
 again too late, they then become enervated by 
 reft and plenty. When young, literary men are 
 removed from the world, with which a moderate 
 commerce, fought for' on the one hand without 
 degradation, and granted on the other without 
 the pomp of patronage, might ferve greatly to 
 their improvement ; at a more advanced period 
 of life, they are hurried into it, courted, carefled, 
 and become fo abforbed in its pleafures, as to 
 have no time left for labor and ftudy. 
 
 It was far different with Mr. Voltaire. 
 Every thing feemed to concur in favoring and 
 affifting that love of glory and of fcience which 
 he inherited from nature. A fettled fortune 
 which devolved to him at an early period of life, 
 left him in his youth at full liberty to gratify this 
 paffion, and freed him from thofe obftructions 
 
 which
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 9 
 
 which a timid family would not have failed to 
 throw in his way. 
 
 The care of his youth was entrufced to the 
 Jefuits, whofe knowledge of the human mind, 
 and whofe care to excite emulation in their pupils, 
 at leaft cannot be denied them. At thirteen years 
 old, they announced him as a prodigy, who 
 would produce a revolution in literature. Thus, 
 even at this early age, had he acquired, through 
 their favor, a fpecies of celebrity. 
 
 Ninon de 1'Enclos, that celebrated beauty 
 who arrived at fame by a road through which 
 other women are conducted to infamy, fhe 
 who, after having been adored by the old men 
 of the laft century, was idolized by the young 
 ones of the prefent ; who was regarded as one 
 of the arbiters of good tafte of every kind, 
 made honorable mention of him ; Ihe diftin- 
 guilhed him in her will, and, by the nature of 
 her legacy, which was a fum of money to pur- 
 chafe books, pays him a tribute due, in her 
 opinion, to his rifing genius. 
 
 The friends of Ninon introduced him to the 
 Vendomes, the Chaulieux, and to the Duchefs of 
 Maine and her courtiers ; philofophic voluptu- 
 aries, perhaps fomewhat fatyrical, but with en- 
 lightened minds, and who retained all the elegance 
 urbanity of the age of Lewis the XlVth, 
 
 unite(|
 
 10 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 united with that liberality of fentiment which 
 prevailed at his death. Amongft fuch charac- 
 ters, there was much to be learnt by a young man, 
 more especially in whatever related to tafte. 
 
 Thus ufhered into life, his firft productions 
 arreftcd the attention of all France ; his youth 
 gained him the favour of the women and the 
 court; even thus early, the encouragement he 
 received was general, the criticifm and malignity 
 of the few was loft in the admiration and applaufe 
 of the many. If his firft fucceflfes drew on him 
 fome rancorous foes in the lower departments of 
 literature, they amply repaid him in the pro- 
 tection of feveral perfons of high rank, who be- 
 came the more warmly attached to him, as from 
 his fortune, he was placed above all interefted 
 views ; and as he feemed to folicit his friends 
 only to co-operate with him in promoting his 
 reputation, they had it in their power to afford 
 him proofs of their attachment on very eafy terms. 
 
 To complete his good fortune, when he com- 
 menced his literary career he found no rivals who 
 could, or ought to have indulged a hope of eclipf- 
 ing him. Rouffeau was overwhelmed with mif- 
 fortunes. Crebillon and La Motte did not feem 
 to threaten a very formidable conteft : little pene- 
 tration and felf-love feems to have been necef- 
 fary in the author of Oedipus to perceive that 
 
 not
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. II 
 
 fiot only the theatre, but even the poetry of 
 France, would fhortly have him alone for their 
 fupport. 
 
 Add to all thefe favourable circumftances, 
 thofe gifts he had received from nature ; a pro- 
 jdigious memory, a quick conception, a Hate of 
 health fufficiently robuft to fuftain the mod ar- 
 duous labor, and too delicate to bear any other 
 excefs ; a facility of compofition, which leffen- 
 ing the fatigue of ftudy, rendered relaxation lefs 
 neceflary to him, and his triumphs more nume- 
 rous and frequent. It may by this time be 
 conceived, that, with lefs natural abilities than 
 Mr. Voltaire pofiefied, he muft have excelled all 
 his contemporaries. 
 
 Laftly, let it be recollected, that having been 
 early initiated in the moil brilliant circles, in 
 fuch as were mod capable of forming his tafte, 
 and polifbing his ftilej two thirds of his life, 
 that is to fay, thofe years which other writers 
 lofe, as I have before obferved, in ftruggling 
 with the difficulties of life, thofe which are 
 loft between the defire of eftablifhing a name, 
 and the neceffity of obtaining a provifion , that 
 time which others almofl wholly devote to enjoy 
 in eafe, the honors they have earned with diffi- 
 culty, was by him dedicated to retreat and to 
 fedulous application. Let it be remembered 
 
 too,
 
 12 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 too, that having from his youth constantly had 
 at his command books, fecretaries, and copy ids, 
 and confequently been placed in a fituation where 
 no opportunity of gaining, or retaining his ideas, 
 could be wanting, he had it in his power to 
 Ipare much time, which being however em- 
 ployed, in fome meafure doubled his literary 
 capacity and refources. Arriving at his labo- 
 rious retreat, with immenfe materials as we may 
 fay both in his head and in his port folio, the 
 furprife will partly ceafe, that he was able to 
 multiply, with a fertility of invention which 
 hitherto feemed peculiar to writers on divinity, 
 or of romance, thofe {hiking productions, many 
 of which are worthy of being regarded as models 
 of our literature. 
 
 But this is not all. Perhaps \ve are too apt 
 to annex the idea of extraordinary to the union 
 of feveral talents in the fame man ; perhaps it is 
 only thought fo uncommon, becaufe prejudice 
 has taught us to confider it as impoffible. We 
 deride thofe Egyptian legiflators who confined 
 their fubjecls to the cultivation not only of a 
 fingle art, but even to part of one : this appears 
 to us abfurd, and we notwithftanding imitate 
 them in the arts of the mind. 
 
 Should a phyfician, or even a lawyer, dif- 
 cover a tafte for letters, it is fufncient to dif- 
 
 credit
 
 GENERAL OE S E ft. VAT IO N S. IJ 
 
 credit him in his profefllon, render him fuf- 
 peded among his fellows, and of little eftima- 
 tion with the public. If a poet chances to 
 write on fome ferious fubjec~t in profe, a hiftory 
 for example, or a treatife on geometry, or le- 
 giflation, every one is (truck with aftonifhment ; 
 the fuccefs even of theie extravagancies makes 
 no addition to his former reputation, and may 
 do it an injury : fhould a foldier hazard a few 
 rhymes, whether on his own accomplifhrnents, 
 his reputation, or his gallantry, he may gain 
 fome applaufe, but reft allured, he will not, on 
 that account, be more efteemed in his corps : 
 his military talents will moft affuredly be lefs 
 regarded ; and he may think himfelf happy if a 
 fecret murmur does not prevail, that with his 
 poetical trifling, he is likely to do little honor to 
 the regiment. 
 
 It may neverthelefs afford much more rational 
 ground for furprize, to find a man whofe capacity 
 is confined to a fingle point, than to meet with 
 others in whom feveral are found united. Parts, 
 in general, have a near affinity to each other ; 
 and perhaps, there are very few, if any, that are 
 abfolutely incompatible. 
 
 What is it we mean by genius ? It is the faci- 
 lit)rof conceiving, and the aptitude of expreffing 
 ideas whether by words or actions ; and fhall 
 
 thefe
 
 14 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, 
 
 thcfe powers have but one application ? Shall 
 they be ab for bed in the firft employment, which 
 chance or reflection may have pointed out ? It 
 were to fay that the pencil with which Titian 
 painted his Venus's, would not ferve alike to 
 form the Titans of a Julio Romano. 
 
 It might feem, indeed, that thofe turbulent 
 qualities which conftitute a hero, would be rarely 
 found united with that ferenity of mind necefiary 
 in a good orator, or an able writer j experience, 
 however, has fhewn that they are by no means 
 incompatible. Thucydides, Xenophon,- Caefar, 
 even Cicero, and feveral others united them; 
 and if in modern times fuch inftances are rarely 
 to be met with, it is owing to the prejudice I 
 have mentioned. It is this which has fepa- 
 rated and divided the different departments 
 of fcience, beyond all refource, and has thrown 
 up fuch barriers between them as nature never 
 intended. 
 
 Thofe at leaft who are embarked in the tranquil 
 departments of fcience, have not at prefent 
 even the leaft incompatibility to contend a- 
 gainft : yet when a poet touches on natural 
 philofophy, aftroriom'y, &c. we decry the at- 
 tempt as rafh and indifcreet : in our colleges, 
 however, are we not told that the knowledge of 
 Homer was univerfaL and defcended even to a 
 
 particular 4
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 15 
 
 particular acquaintance with the loweft mecha- 
 nifm ? Was not Plato, whofe profe is much 
 more poetical than die verfe of many poets, a 
 geometrician ? Has he not too much indulged 
 in the theory of that fcience, in digefting his 
 philofophical ideas ? Has not Ariftotle aifo written 
 on natural hiftory, politics, logic, poetry, and 
 morality ? And was not Cicero equally emi- 
 nent as a moralift, and a profound dififertator 
 on thofe points of philofophy moft interefting to 
 mankind ? 
 
 If more examples are wanting, has there been 
 one eminent painter, at leaft of thofe who have 
 given a free fcope to their genius, who has con- 
 fined hhnfelf to that art alone ? Michael Angelo 
 was a great painter, a (till more eminent fculptor, 
 and an equally good architect. Leonardo de 
 Vinci produced excellent pictures, while engaged 
 in the ftudy of mufic, in drawing plans of canals, 
 and in works wherein he difplayed all the bold- 
 nefs and capacity of an excellent engineer. 
 Raphael was likewife both a poet and a mufician. 
 In fhort, if inftances of this verfatility of genius 
 are rare in modern times, we muit attribute it, 
 firft, to the effects of that prejudice which, in 
 exalting it into a kind of prodigy, takes from 
 thofe whofe natural abilities might enable them 
 to renew the illuftrious examples, the idea even 
 
 of
 
 16 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 of making the attempt. Secondly, to thofe 
 impediments and deprefling cares which, as 
 I have before remarked, almoft ever attend 
 the juvenile years of men of parts, and which 
 deprive them at once both of power and incli- 
 nation to embrace the various departments of 
 icience : though its branches are nearly allied, 
 and interwoven with each other ; though the fame 
 genius which animated a Virgil or a Racine } 
 would have made a Raphael -, though an Hip- 
 pocrates might have fhone out a Tacitus, had 
 he begun early to delineate hifrorical characters, 
 inflead of collecting medical aphorifms ; and 
 though the only difference between them con- 
 fided, perhaps, in habits contracted at an early 
 age : habits by which they were fettered during 
 the remainder of their lives, and they died not 
 only without difcovering, but even without fuf- 
 pecting in themfelves the talents they porTefled. 
 Mr. Voltaire, even at his firft outfet, being 
 freed from thefe fhackles, poflefled his abilities 
 in their full force, and as thefe were great from 
 the prodigality of nature, fo were they enlarged 
 by incefifant application. He had already at- 
 tained the art of increafmg his varied productions 
 with eafe, often fuccefsfully contending with thofe 
 writers who had been exclufively engaged in their 
 refpective departments. 
 
 This
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 17 
 
 This consideration detracts nothing from his 
 merit, and mayferve to leflen the concern of 
 the public under its lofs by the emulation it has a 
 tendency to excite in others. It was even necef- 
 fary to enlarge upon it here, in order to refcue 
 his memory from the reproach but too often 
 repeated during his life, of levity or indifcretion, 
 founded on the variety of his productions. 
 
 In reviewing his works we fhall divide them 
 according to their different fubjects, and fuc- 
 cefilvely proceed to examine the refpectve me- 
 rits of each clafs : he was a poet and of every 
 kind : he was a profe writer and diftinguifhed 
 himfelf on all fubjefls ; he has treated on phi- 
 lofophy and the demonftrative fciences ; but 
 above all, it was to morality and that part of 
 reafoning which comprehends politics, and more 
 efpecially religion, that he particularly devoted 
 himfelf. Hence naturally refults the order of 
 this inquiry. 
 
 FIRST
 
 FIRST PART 
 
 O F 
 
 MR. V O L T A I R E's 
 POETICAL WORKS. 
 
 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 MR. Voltaire made two efforts to gain the 
 Epic Laurel, denied to every French wri- 
 ter before him who had the ambition to afpire 
 to it. Has he been more fuccefsful than his 
 predeceflbrs ? Has he vindicated the French 
 nation from the fuppofed difgrace of not having 
 as yet produced an epic poem ? Of remaining 
 wholly deftitute of that glory granted with fo 
 much honor to Greece, and lavilhed, as it were, 
 on Italy ? 
 
 Many are of opinion that he has not. Some 
 
 there are too, who willing to reconcile their 
 
 feverity with a patriotic fentiment, and con- 
 
 C i ceiving
 
 2O EPIC POEMS. 
 
 ceiving the national honor interefted in its being 
 able to boaft on any terms of one epic poem at 
 lead, have dignified Telemachus with that epi- 
 thet j as if a romance in profe, could properly 
 be reckoned among the treafures of French 
 poetry ; or as though the univerfal reproach un- 
 der which our language has labored of pretended 
 fterility in the epopeia were not in reality a dif- 
 paragement to it. 
 
 But the truth is, that we not only have col- 
 lections of verfes of this defcription, but our 
 language has proved as prolific in this fpecies 
 of compofition as all the other languages in 
 Europe put together. An epic poem fignifies a 
 reckal made by the poet, in contradiftin&ion to 
 the drama, wherein a fet of perfonages are in- 
 troduced, by whofe fpeaking and acting the 
 piece is conducted. Now it appears to me very 
 abfurd that it fhould be faid of a language that 
 it is incapable of producing fuch works, while it 
 poffeffes in the proportion of more than ten to one 
 of them ; as we might inftance in the Louifiad 
 of P. Lemoine, the Alaric of Scudery, the Clovis 
 of Defmaretes, the Pucelle of Chapelain, &c. &c. 
 
 But it will be faid of thefe recitals, of thefe 
 epic poems, are they good ? This is quite another 
 matter. If in every department of literature 
 the name that diftinguifhes each fpecies were t'o 
 
 be
 
 EPIC POEMS. 11 
 
 be applied to fuch works only as had attained the 
 height of perfection, would the titles of tragedies, 
 comedies, odes, &c. be fo confidently applied 
 as at prefent ? The Italians do not refufe the title 
 of epic poets either to Triffino or'Pante, who 
 are not heard of beyond the Alps, and who are 
 in trifling repute with their own countrymen. 
 The Englifh unanimoufly decree that honor to 
 Milton, who remained a long time in obfcurity 
 and contempt even among themfelves, and who 
 is not yet in general eftimation with other na- 
 tions. Why fhould we be more fcrupulous oj: 
 nnjuft towards thofe, who amongft us have moved 
 in the fame fphere ? 
 
 It is true that the delicacy of the language and 
 the refined tafte of the nation have not been fuf- 
 ficiently attended to by our heroic poets. With 
 a minute attention to every other rule, they 
 have failed in that grand particular, which 
 fhould be univerfally deemed of moft impor- 
 tance in every literary production, that of pleaf- 
 ing and creating an intereft by the general de- 
 fign of the work, the epifodes, and the flile : 
 they have poflefled imagination without taftej 
 and compofed verfes without poetry : it is this, 
 that hath condemned their works : and although 
 they are at leaft as much entitled to 'the epithet 
 of epic poems as the Iliad itfelf, they are properly 
 excluded from the number of thofe productions 
 C 3 deftined
 
 22 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 deftined to immortality. May that portion of 
 Mr. Voltaire's works which, agreeably to the 
 definition I have laid down, are inconteftably 
 epic, expect a happier fate ? Let us enquire ; to 
 begin with the Henriade. 
 
 I (hall not examine if Mr, Voltaire has exactly 
 obferved the rules of Ariftotle, or of Father le 
 Boflii, or whether in any work, either poetical 
 or profaic, any other can be prefcribtd than the 
 univerfal ones of pleafing, affecting, and in- 
 ftrudYmg. Rules can have no other end than 
 that of rendering a work capable of producing 
 thefe effects; whoever has fucceeded in this re- 
 fped, has obferved all the rules, or fuch as he 
 has tranfgrefied were not neceffary. 
 
 Among the fmall number of productions on 
 which, by common fuffrage, this merit is con- 
 ferred, may be difdnguifhed the Iliad, the ^neid, 
 the Jerufalem Delivered, and the Orlando Furiofo. 
 Now I can difcern no real refemblance in thefe 
 pieces, but in the excellence they poffefs in 
 common, of exciting attention, and intereft, of 
 occupying the imagination, and roufing the 
 affections, of prefenting to the mind a variety 
 of events, either ftriking from their grandeur, 
 affefting from their tendernefs or fimplicity, 
 interwoven with art, and rendered pleafing by 
 the charms of poetry. To eflimate the excel- 
 lence
 
 P I C P O A! S. 23 
 
 lence of the Henriade we have therefore only to 
 enquire, if it pofiefTes any of thefe chara&eriftics. 
 
 It muft be inftantly apparent, that the fubjecl: 
 is in itfelf the mod happy, the moil fertile, and 
 moft truly epic, that any poet has hitherto made 
 choice of; that it is admirably calculated for the 
 developement of the nobleft paffions, and of 
 courfe very proper for fupplying ingenious epi- 
 fodes, and interefting narrations. 
 
 The Iliad turns upon a dorneflic and perfonal 
 quarrel between two princes. The argument of 
 the yneid is a relation of the travels and voyages 
 of a fingle fugitive, in fearch of an afylum for 
 himfelf and fome of his diftreffed countrymen 
 who furround him. The Jerufalem prefents at 
 firft view a grander fubject, that of recovering 
 the Holy Land : but, in fact, the true object of 
 the poem, is the fiege of a fingle city, and that 
 part of the enterprize which is moft refpeflable, 
 is not that which the poet has endeavoured to 
 render moft confpicuous. With regard to Ariofto, 
 he appears to have no object at all ; at leaft his 
 only one feems to be, to unite in his Orlando 
 all the qualities in which the excellence of fuch 
 a poem confifts. 
 
 Thus of the four works I have enumerated, 
 
 whatever beauty, grandeur, and machinery they 
 
 contain, is wholly to be attributed to the imagi- 
 
 C 4 nation
 
 24 PIC POEMS. 
 
 nation of the poet. Like Prometheus, they aC 
 once gave exiflence and animation to their 
 Pandoras. 
 
 In the Henriade, on the other hand, hiftory 
 fupplied a ground of action, characters, and in- 
 cidents in great variety, ready at hand. We 
 fee a great kingdom divided into two parties, 
 who wage the moft cruel war againft each other. 
 Religion becomes intermixed with ambition, and 
 increafes their animofity. A foreign family, 
 by availing itfelf of their mutual diflenfion, forms 
 the daring project of overturning and ufurping 
 the throne. Thefe defigns are oppofed by a 
 hero endowed with every great and amiable virtue, 
 who, fupported by his perfonal merit alone, and 
 the effect of an invincible firmnefs and dignity 
 of mind, at length fucceeds in extinguifhing the 
 flames of civil war. 
 
 Thus, whatever intrigues and violence bound- 
 lefs ambition may create among the nobles ; all 
 the tranfports, fervility, and crimes, with which 
 fanaticifm and habits of obedience may infpire 
 the populace; all that attachment to royalty, 
 and thofe generous virtues which true heroifm 
 gives birth to in that clafs of men, more efpecially 
 devoted to the paths of honor ; all naturally enter 
 into the reprefentation. 
 
 The
 
 EPIC POEMS* C 
 
 The ftate of men's minds, at the time of 
 which we are fpeaking, was no lefs intereft- 
 ing, nor 'efs favorable to epic poetry, than the 
 circumftances themfelves : on every fide new 
 objects croud on the beholder : the policy of 
 Hates altering with the fituation of the world, 
 which within fifty years was enlarged, if we fnay 
 fo fay, by one-half, till then unknown, Com- 
 merce, by a revolution no lefs furprifmg, had 
 from the centre of Europe connected the ex- 
 trerr.i ies of Afia. Philip too, whom thele 
 wonderful difcoveries feemed principally intended 
 to aggrandize, was the great enemy to the hero 
 of the Kenriade, and by a fmgular fatality, while 
 afiifting the revolted fubjects of the latter in ex- 
 pelling their lawful fovereign, was himfelf braved 
 and conquered by his own fubjecls, whom the 
 oppreffion of his government had excited to 
 revolt. That monarch, while fupporting the 
 League, was unable to reduce the United Pro- 
 vinces to obedience, confederated together for 
 their mutual defence againft his tyranny. 
 
 As to characters, hiflory at this period fur- 
 nifhes a number of remarkable ones already de- 
 lineated, and as it fhouid feem formed to make 
 a firiking figure in an Epic Poem. Among 
 foreign nations we difcover a Philip II, gloomy, 
 difiembling, bloody, and hypocritical ; an Eliza- 
 beth,
 
 l fePlC POEMS. 
 
 beth, crafty, interefted, jealous of her glory, and 
 frill more of her tranquility ; a Sixtus V. haughty 
 and impetuous, but enlightened and juft, more 
 of a king than a pontiff; a prince of Orange, 
 ambitious of power and glory, but wife enough 
 to perceive that Holland once feparated from 
 Spain, could exift by liberty alone ; laboring 
 himfelf therefore to deliver her from the bond- 
 age, without wifhing to fupply the place of the 
 tyrant whom he was to dethrone, and content- 
 ing himfelf with a reward founded on gratitude ; 
 a duke of Parma, a great general, phlegmatic, 
 ftill more ambitious perhaps than the prince of 
 Orange, but reftrained by oppofite duties, and 
 lefs aflifted by favorable events. 
 
 In France we fee a Henry III. weak and im- 
 prudent, enervated by pleafure, and degraded 
 by trifling; intermingling devotion and diforder, 
 fcandal and religion; a duke d'Epernon ren- 
 dered odious by his pride and his caprice, ufing 
 his fortune with an infolence equal to the bafe- 
 nefs by which it was acquired. The two Birons 
 men of courage and of parts, but the one more 
 defirous of riches and of power, than of the 
 public welfare ; the other vain and prefumptu- 
 ous, and calculated to lofe in extravagant pro- 
 jects the merit and reward of his brilliant ac- 
 tions ; a Sully haughty and ceconomical, and 
 
 animated 
 4
 
 EPIC POEMS. 27 
 
 animated with almoft an equal attachment to- 
 wards his religion, his country, and his fove- 
 reign ; a Crillon the intrepid emulator of Bayard, 
 The fecontl knight without fear and without reproach, 
 equally daring at court, and in the field of ac- 
 tion j a Briflac, and d'Aumont, illuftrious from 
 their own and their anceftors exploits ; a du- 
 chefs of Montpenfier at firft diftinguifhed by 
 her beauty, afterwards by her intrigues j enraged 
 by refentment, and feeking by the exile, depo- 
 fition, and even the death of Henry the Third, 
 to revenge a perfonal affront rather than to ferve 
 her party, or punifh the deftroyer of her fa- 
 mily; a duke of Mayenne cool, ambitious, 
 poffeflfed of great abilities, but without the fury 
 of an enthufiail, or the vices which perhaps are 
 necefiary for the leader of a party ; and a thou- 
 fand others might be pointed out in the church, 
 the army, the law, and among the commonalty. 
 Henry IV. is here certainly furrounded by a 
 greater number of principal characters than -are 
 to be found in the whole .Sneid, and as many 
 as the Iliad itfelf pfefents. We fee them ready 
 pourtrayed,ancl it is before the eyes of their grand- 
 children that the poet brings them again into 
 exiftence ; an advantage that Homer alone pof- 
 fefled among the epic poets, for it may be con- 
 
 jeilured
 
 & EPIC POEMS. 
 
 jeftured that he, like Mr. Voltaire, wrote in an 
 age not far removed from that of his heroes *. 
 
 The latter then, both from the fubjecl: and 
 the events, had a thoufand times lefs difficulties 
 to encounter, and more refources to refort to, 
 than any of his predeceflbrs. All he had to do, 
 was by a happy fiction, to reanimate thefe dor- 
 mant particles fcattered abroad over the wide 
 field of hiftory, to fet them in motion on a 
 theatre properly difpofed to exhibit them to ad- 
 vantage, and to form them into a body, which 
 
 a It is an advantage in point of intereft, perhaps a difad- 
 vantage in point of poetry, in the liberty of inventing 
 fidlions, and in the arrangement of facts. But Homer was 
 not embarraffed with thefe difficulties : he has availed him- 
 felf of every bold and grand idea his imagination dilated 
 to him ; which he was not deterred from adopting by the 
 fear of offending or contradicting hiftory. Speaking to the 
 children, he has drawn their fathers fo great, that the mind 
 of man has never yet been capable of producing any thing 
 which could do away their impreffion. 
 
 With an equal portion of genius it is poffible then at any 
 time to have produced the like prodigy. A divine fpirit of 
 poetry is neceflary to metamorphofe into demi-gods men fo 
 hear ourfelves ; but poflefled of the genius, any one may per- 
 form the miracle. That the characters fhould be recent 
 and their memory dear to us, muft then be attended with 
 fuperior advantage. What Frenchman would not more 
 readily admit the apotheofis of Henry the Great than tliat 
 of Childebrand. 
 
 having
 
 $ P I C P O E M S, 29 
 
 having truth for its animating principle, fhould 
 be clothed and adorned with all the foft illufions 
 of fable, and the richeft embellifhments of 
 poetry. This is what the Henriade ought to 
 have been. Let us now fee what it is. It is 
 impofllble to conceal the avowal : no ; the 
 Henriade has nothing of all this. It is wholly 
 deficient in action ; the author has not even, 
 availed himfelf of the numberlefs valuable ma- 
 terials which were at his, difpofal : he has not 
 added to the fubject any of thofe ornaments 
 which the nature of it required, and with which 
 an imagination tolerably fertile might fo eafily 
 have enriched it; he has even weakened the 
 few embellifliments which he has endeavoured 
 to borrow from preceding poets. This I fhall 
 endeavour to explain. 
 
 Of the inaction, and confequently the coldnels 
 which prevails throughout this poem, we need 
 but open it to be fenfible. It will be found to 
 abound with beautiful defcriptions, but hardly a 
 fingle animated being. They are highly finiflied 
 medallions, adapted to the decoration of a gal- 
 lery, not living characters crouding into it, 
 
 To begin with Sixtus the Fifth. It is in his 
 reign that the poet fends Difcord to the Vatican 
 jn fearch of Policy, to come and corrupt the 
 
 Sor-
 
 30 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 Sorbonne : this certainly was the occafion wherein 
 he fhould aft in the poem, at leaft as much as 
 he really does in hiftory j in any cafe, it is from 
 him that Policy ought to receive her orders and 
 inftru&ions. But there is nothing of all this. 
 We find, contained in fifty verfes, a very fine 
 defcription of ancient and modern Rome, of the 
 different revolutions of the Holy See, of its 
 lofles and acquisitions ; but, after all, it is but 
 a defcription. A portrait of Sixtus the Fifth 
 follows in eight verfes, after which he difappears 
 and is never again heard of. It is not from 
 any regard to his dignity that the author has 
 thus configned him to oblivion, fince the prin- 
 cipal quality by which he is here diftinguifhed, 
 is that of fraud; for of eight verfes which 
 relate to this pontiff, feven are taken up in 
 defcribing his propenfity to cheating, which 
 has not even the merit of being an hiftorical 
 faft. 
 
 It is the fame with the queen of England, 
 and the king of Spain, Henry the Third, and 
 the principal French officers. Thefe the poet 
 fhould more elpecially have endeavoured to en- 
 gage in action, to have placed them in fituations 
 wherein their virtues or defects might have been 
 rendered confpicuous, in order to contribute to 
 
 the
 
 the intereft and general defign of the poemj 
 and this is what he has not done; the greater 
 part of thofe characters which I have before 
 enumerated are not even mentioned, or he has 
 been fatisfied with barely mentioning them. 
 
 Henry the Third is introduced in a narrative 
 at London but to be cenfured 3 , and at Paris 
 but to be affaffinated. Biron reprefented as the 
 bofom friend of Henry the Fourth, as the He- 
 pheftion of this Alexander, appears but once, 
 folely for the purpofe of receiving this eulogium, 
 after which we know not what becomes of him. 
 Mornay is brought on three or four times, twice 
 to furnifh an occafion for faying the fame thing 
 in different terms, namely, that he is a philo- 
 fophic leader detefting war, notwithstanding en- 
 
 3 We may even fay to be cruelly and indecently traduced.' 
 It is bis ally, his prefumptive heir, his ambaflador, who 
 fpeaks, and while uniting in his own perfon thefe three 
 feveral characters, he twice charges hint in direft terms in 
 the fame verfe with bafenefs. Speaking of the duke of Guife, 
 his crimes and his death, Henry the Fourth fays, 
 
 The king from whom he wrefted his authority, 
 Safely endur'd, and meanly reveng'd his wrongs. 
 
 This is true, but was it the part of his reprefentative to de- 
 clare it. In every page of the Henriade may be traced the 
 philofopher in the author, or the author philofophizing ; the 
 perfonages themfelves never fpeak in their own character. 
 
 gaged
 
 3<1 EPIC P O EMS. 
 
 gaged in it from complaifance to others, but 
 without deflroying any one. 
 
 f Detefting war, and fmgularly brave, 
 
 " Knew boldly to face death, but never gave." 
 
 which, though very fine in philofophy, is very 
 dry and infipid in a poem, more efpecially as 
 this fage in his whole conduct confines himfelf 
 to his part of an automaton, and acts elfewhere 
 with as little energy as he does in battle. 
 
 Thofe perfonages who are ibmetimes placed 
 in fituations fomewhat animated, retain them 
 but for a fhort time : it is even by forced epi- 
 thets, or adventitious helps, that they are in- 
 efficiently characterifed. We have the valiant 
 Turenne, and the prudent Mayenne, Harley that 
 poble leader, and Potier the man of virtue, to- 
 gether with the Sixteen, rendered eminent among 
 the factious by their crimes, 
 
 But Turenne is a valiant knight, who. fights 
 a duel, and who is heard of neither before nor 
 afterwards. After Harley has been put into the 
 Baftilc by Bufly le Clerc, the account of which 
 occupies about thirty lines of the poem, after Po- 
 tier has made a fpeech to the ftates, which contains 
 with all its appendages about fixty, they both dif- 
 appear never to be feen more : the ftates them- 
 
 felves
 
 EPIC. POEMS* J3 
 
 felves are but the apparition of a moment, and 
 have no influence on any thing. 
 
 The duke of Mayenne, the fecond character, 
 and in a degree the hero of the pcerr^ the Hec- 
 tor of the French, who at leaft for a time 
 fhould divide our intereft and regard ; the duke 
 of Mayenne is himfelf but a fpeftator. In 
 battle it is his brother, and not he, who diftin- 
 guifhes himfelf. In the fanatical procefiion of 
 the monks, he looks on without interfering. In 
 the preparation for the regicide of Jacques Cle- 
 ment, 
 
 " he fees the fatal blow, 
 
 " And more he knows, than what he feelns to know." 
 
 He appears to the dates 
 
 " With all the ornaments of kingly pride," 
 
 but to be told he is but a fubject ; and he hears 
 it without a word in reply : he fpeaks as little as 
 he ads. 
 
 Thofe fixteen daring commoners, the prin- 
 cipal fources of the rebellion, thofe heads of the 
 League, thofe rivals of the duke of Mayenne, 
 placed at his fide, and, as the poet fays, 
 
 " Ennobled by their enmity to kings, 
 
 " And feated by the people next the throne;" 
 
 D ihefe
 
 34 PIC POEMS. 
 
 thefe formidable fixteen, ferve in the Henriade 
 but to commit the parliament to the Baftile, 
 and afterwards fhut themfelves up in a cavern 
 with a Jewiili forcerer, to accomplifh the de- 
 ftruction of the two kings, by thrufting needles 
 into waxen images. Laftly, Henry the Fourth, 
 towards whom every thing ought to tend as to 
 a common centre, and from whom all Ihould 
 be infpired with exiftence and motion ; Henry 
 the Fourth himfelf is fcarcely more animated 
 than the reft. Of the ten little cantos which 
 compofe the poem, one is occupied in relating 
 his voyage to England, two in a very fine ftory, 
 but productive of nothing, and which gives not 
 birth to any event whatfoever; a fourth in a 
 journey to heaven, performed in a dream, which 
 likewife is nugatory ia its confequences ; and a 
 fifth he fpends in the arms of a little girl whom 
 he meets by accident, for whom he forgets all 
 his ferious concerns, and whom he abandons as 
 liftlefsly as he firft took her. 
 
 In the five remaining ones what does he do ? 
 
 O 
 
 With regard to the eighth and tenth, wherein 
 may be traced fome of the features of the times, 
 we do not even find in the Henriade the Henry 
 of hiftory. We may with fafety affirm, that as 
 in the epifode of Anet his frailties poflefs a 
 5 ftronger
 
 PIC POEMS. J 
 
 ftronger relief than his virtues, at lead they are 
 defcribed at greater length. 
 
 How much unlike the other poets I have men- 
 tioned ! What fire and animation is there in 
 the Iliad during the abfence of Achilles ? How 
 many leaders on both fides are covered with 
 glory, without its being poffible for us to forget 
 that the hero is not prefent. It is true, when 
 he does appear, he Ihines alone ; but with what 
 art has Homer preferved the honor of Diornede, 
 Agamemnon, and UlyfTes ? He has cauied them 
 all to be wounded in fome of the preceding 
 battles, fo that it at leaft remains a doubt whether 
 it is by the prefence of Achilles or their own 
 forced inaction, that they are thrown into a kind 
 of eclipfe. 
 
 There is lefs action in the Eneid ; and this, 
 indeed, is the principal objection made to that 
 admirable poem : but, notwithftanding this, its 
 calm is a whirlwind when compared to the dead 
 ftilnefs of the Henriade. Let a comparifon be 
 drawn between the tender Dido, and the philo- 
 fophic Elizabeth, or the eafy Gabrielle ; the 
 games of Aceftes at Anchifes's tomb, or the 
 
 vifit to the venerable Evander, &c. with the 
 
 * ' 
 
 fhort morning repaft in the ifland of Jerfey, or 
 
 the dry prophecy of the gentleman hermit; the 
 
 Sybil and her hell, with the dream infpired by 
 
 D 2 St.
 
 St. Louis with its detail ; in fhort, the negoti- 
 ations, defcriptions, and battles, with which the 
 laft fix books of the Latin poem abound, to- 
 gether with that continual attention of the au- 
 thor, to place before the Romans not only their 
 hiflory, but what was flill more interfiling, the 
 fables of their anceftors ; let this be compared 
 with the void of the Henriade, its filence on all 
 thefe fubjects, and if any then prefume to cen- 
 fure the indolence of the pious ,/Eneas amidft 
 fo many animated objects, what will be faid to 
 that of the Bourbon of the fixteenth century, 
 imitated and rivalled by every object around 
 him. 
 
 In the Jerufalem Delivered, witchcraft, per- 
 haps, holds too confiderable a part ; but the re- 
 mainder is full of life and fire. We fympathize 
 with Armida when (he bears away Rinaldo j we 
 partake of her defpair when lie quits her j we 
 lament with Herminia ; and deplore with Tan- 
 cred the lois of his Clorinda, though it is his 
 indifference which caules the tears of the princefs 
 of Antioch to flow. The battles of Taflb, as 
 well defcribed as tliofe of Homer, are more va- 
 ried, and he had the art of introducing into 
 them Armida, Armida ever amiable, ever in- 
 rerefting, beeaufe ihe is always animated. 
 
 Ariofto
 
 EPIC POEMS. 37 
 
 Ariofto himfelf, whofe flile of compofition is 
 half ferious and half burlefeque, who feems to 
 give up the reins to an imagination wild, and 
 without any fixed objedt j even Ariofto himfelf 
 has not one of his characters, and their number 
 is incredible, who is not in action ; not one 
 whofe fuccefs does not afford us pleafure, or in 
 whofe misfortunes we do not fympathize. 
 
 In fhort, each of thefe poems is a mine of 
 characters, all widely differing, and placed in 
 fituations each more interefting than the other. 
 They afford an inexhauftible fund of fubjeft- 
 matter for tragedies, operas, and romances, and 
 the fubjefts are fuch as are worthy the imagina- 
 tion of their feveral auihors. Can a fingle one 
 of this nature be found in the Henriade ? Whence 
 is it that fictions thus founded in abfurdity, 
 fhould, under the hand of other poets, have 
 produced fuch admirable compofition s, while a 
 ground-work fo true, fo noble, fo fertile, and fo 
 grand, fhould under that of Mr. Voltaire, have 
 given birth to nothing but puppets without mo- 
 tion and without expreffion ? The coloring, as I 
 before faid, is pleafing, but it is a reprefentation 
 of dead, not living characters. 
 
 There is befides in epic poetry another kind 
 
 of acYion, perhaps no lefs neceffary to it, which 
 
 though not arifmg immediately from the ground- 
 
 D 3 work
 
 38 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 work of the piece, nor having any direct rela- 
 tion to its inrereft, does not fail to increafe it, 
 and which leaves the reader in a foft repofe, with- 
 out caufing him to forget the heroes : this is 
 either in the occafional defcription of countries 
 through which the characters are made to travel, 
 of cuiloms either foreign or domeftic depicted 
 in the epifodes, or of fuch arts and fciences as 
 are mod capable of exciting curiofity and pro- 
 ducing lively imagery. 
 
 It is here that the poet may, and even ought, 
 to diiplay all his knowledge. As he fpeaks in 
 the firfi perfon, as he claims to be infpired by 
 the mufes, he is at full liberty to create inci- 
 dents, and as it fhould be his firft care to be 
 always affecting, inftructive, or entertaining, he 
 may here without fcruple difcover the full extent 
 of his acquirements, provided that his inftruc- 
 tions are feafonable, and his learning free from 
 pedantry. 
 
 This is what Homer and Virgil did not 
 fail to do. The Iliad and the OdyfTey are 
 Sketches of natural philofophy, policy, hiftory, 
 arts and fcience, and geography ; at leaft in the 
 latter as far as the knowledge of the Greeks ex- 
 tended, that is to fay, to a part of the fhores 
 and iflands of the Mediterranean, for to thefe 
 limits were confined their knowledge of the earth. 
 
 The
 
 EPIC POEMS. 39 
 
 The manners, cuftoms, religion, arts, and laws, 
 the boundaries of dates, and the interefts both 
 public and private, of communities and indi- 
 viduals, are all here pourtrayed : and .this iecret 
 charm which immediately excited the attachr 
 ment of the cotemporary, has probably con- 
 tributed at lead as much as the merit of the 
 poetry itfelf, to eftablifh that reputation of Ho- 
 mer which time feems incapable of imparing. 
 
 Virgil has been careful to imitate Homer in 
 thefe refpects. The boundaries of the world 
 fmce the fiege of Troy were confiderably en- 
 larged, and the field of the /Eneid is accordingly 
 extended in proportion. 
 
 He fird prefents his hero in Africa; but a 
 narrative ably conducted brings the reader back 
 to Afia, and makes him a fpedlator of the de- 
 {truction of Troy, the mod celebrated city of 
 that part of the globe. 
 
 This leads to the amours of Dido, whom if 
 Eneas had forfaken with more honor, the piece 
 might have vied with every other as the chef 
 d'ccuvre of epic poetry ; and, perhaps, in fpite 
 of this defect, may ftill be regarded as fuch. 
 Arrived in Italy, Eneas begins by making his 
 defcent into the infernal regions, which gives 
 occafion to the fined reprefentation of the re- 
 ligion, myfteries, and philofophy, and to a dif- 
 D 4 play
 
 4O EPIC POEMS. 
 
 play of every grand and ingenious idea on thefe 
 fubje&s, which the intercourfe with the Greeks 
 had transferred to the modern Romans. But 
 while thus engaged in a foreign fyftem of phi- 
 lofophy, the poet does not omit to defcribe by 
 their ancient names the inhabitants of Italy, their 
 original codes of legiflation and their mytho- 
 logy, and even the old topography of Rome 
 and its environs : in fhort, he has collected to- 
 gether all that antiquity can offer to the memory 
 as facred and valuable. 
 
 Neither Taflb nor Arioflo pofiefles this ex- 
 cellence in an equal degree, but they are by no 
 means wholly deftitute of it. The manners of 
 the times are at leaft reprefented, the cufloms 
 of chivalry are obferved j we travel with their 
 heroes $ the whole world paries in review before the 
 reader ; and though their games, particularly in 
 Ariofto, are altogether as extraordinary as their 
 perfonages, we are lefs ihocked at their prodi- 
 gies and eccentricities, than we are amufed by 
 their machinery and continual buftle. It pre- 
 vents monotony, and we admire the art by 
 which the poet, always mafter of his fubjecl, 
 {leers without error through the immenfe laby- 
 rinth, from which he feems to have taken nu 
 previous meafures of extricating himfelf, 
 
 In
 
 EPIC POEMS. 41 
 
 In die Henriade, the author has prefcribed to 
 himfelf a narrow circle, out of which he departs 
 no more than his hero. The latter is conducted 
 into England, for no other end than to meet St. 
 Bartholomew there. This voyage gives occa- 
 fion to forty very fine verfes on the govern- 
 ment and character of the Englifh, but not one 
 circumftance which brings them into aftion, or 
 incorporates them into the poem; not one 
 event relative to that ifland, which even in thofe 
 days was capable of affording fo many beautiful 
 epifodes. 
 
 Difcord is tranfported to Rome, and this 
 furnilhes matter, as I have before obferved, for 
 a defcription of fixty verfes, but a defcription 
 wholly fpeculative and antithetical, without one 
 acuon or a fmgle fact ; when Difcord difappears, 
 Rome difappears likewife*from the poet and the 
 reader. 
 
 With regard 'to Spain and its inhabitants, all 
 that we find of them in the Henriade is the 
 epithet of old Caftilian applied to Philip the lid. 
 which is neither very pleafing nor inftruftive. 
 
 After the converfation at London, and the 
 journey to Rome, the mod diftant country which 
 appears in our poem is Normandy. The whole 
 fcene lies in the vicinity of Paris : the reader is 
 perpetually chained to this Ipot as well as the 
 
 poet :
 
 42 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 poet : not a {ingle digreflion to divert him from 
 it ; not an idea to relieve him from the painful 
 and diigraceful fpedtacle, of the French endaved 
 by tyrannical ufurpers, and in rebellion againft a 
 monarch as virtuous as he was legal ; not an allu- 
 fion to the manners of the times, or to the ancient 
 cufloms, or if there are any fuch, they are falfe. 
 Such is the opening of the Sixth Canto. 
 
 *' In France an ancient cuftom we retain, 
 When death, refiftlefs, ends the monarch reign ; 
 When deftiny cuts ftiort the fmooth defcent, 
 And all the royal pedigree is fpent j 
 The people to their former rights reftor'd, 
 May change the laws, or chufe their future lord. 
 The flutes in council reprefent the whole, 
 Elect the king, and limit his controul : 
 Thus our renown'd forefathers did ordain, 
 That Capet (hould fucceed to Charlemagne. 
 The League, with vain prefumption, arrogates 
 This right, and haftens to convene the Hates." 
 
 Nothing can be lefs correct in every fenfe 
 than thefe afiertions. Can that be called cuftom, 
 which is never done ? For it never has happened 
 in France, that the people have difpofed of the 
 crown, from the blood royal becoming extinct. 
 In the two changes which our hiftory prefents, 
 the depofed race had ftill fome branches remain- 
 ing. Childeric the Hid. was dethroned by Pepin, 
 but he furvived his degradation, and his youth 
 
 gave
 
 EPIC POEMS. 43 
 
 gave reafon to expect he might have an offspring* 
 The defcendants of Pepin experienced nearly 
 the fame treatment at the hands of Hugh Capet : 
 but it was not the parliament, or the ftates, who 
 conferred the crown on the latter, he poiTefled 
 himfeif of it by force, and at the time when the 
 pofterity of Charlemagne was not extinct. The 
 throne was difputed by a great uncle of the late 
 king, who was not the only furviving Prince of 
 the blood. 
 
 It was not the genealogy of Henry the IVth. 
 which was contefted in the aflembly of the 
 ftates at Paris : the legitimacy of his right, 
 founded on his filial claim, was never queftioned : 
 the League felt this, and fo well did they agree 
 as to the right of his houfe to the throne, that 
 they acknowledged the Cardinal de Bombon, his 
 uncle, as king. It was to his religion they object- 
 ed : it was as a heretic, and as no otherwife in- 
 competent to the fucceffion, that they affumed a 
 right to exclude him from it. 
 
 Such deviations from hiftorical truth are the 
 more inexcnfable, as no fort of beauty refults 
 from them. * 
 
 Thefe ftates too furnifh matter for a beautiful 
 epifode : this was the proper place to have fpoken 
 of their ancient rights and cuftoms ; and to have 
 brought forward into action the members moft 
 
 interefted
 
 44 EPIC POEMS, 
 
 intereftedin the impending decifion, which feems 
 to be expected from this afiembly : and we find 
 only a mute fcene, as fhort as it is infipid. It 
 occupies fcarcely one hundred verfes of the poem, 
 fifty confift of a fpeech which is made in the 
 afiembly, and which in itfelf appears fufficiently 
 ilrange, after the author has faid, 
 
 ' No deputies are there difcreet and bold, 
 Our poor remains of freedom to defend." 
 
 We are very much aftonifhed at feeing the 
 only orator who does fpeak in it, is a counfellor 
 of the Parliament, and that he actually does 
 claim thofe liberties. So much drynefs, joined 
 to fuch languor and inaccuracy, is the more 
 furprifing in a fubject, which, as I before remark- 
 ed, furnifhed the richeft fund that ever an epie 
 poet reforted to. 
 
 But it feems that Mr. Voltaire, inftead of 
 feeking to avail himfelf of this richnefs, was 
 fearful of fhrinking under its weight. Far 
 from endeavouring to improve it to its full 
 extent, one would be led to imagine his only 
 aim was to contract: it : he has chalked out 
 his career, like an infirm man, who, dreading 
 to find it too long, ufed every means to fhorteh it, 
 
 We perceive in every page that he is in hafte 
 to get to the end of his work : inftead of feeking, 
 
 as
 
 EPIC POEMS. 45 
 
 as the models of the Epopeia have done before 
 him, by happy illufions, artfully to prolong the 
 pleafure and admiration of his readers, he thought 
 he could not get rid of them foon enough. We 
 may obferve in the fhortnefs of his cantos, in 
 the ftudied brevity of the few incidents which he 
 introduces into them, how much he felt opprefled 
 under the arduous attempt; the Battle of Ivy 
 fcarcely contains three hundred verfe?, one-third 
 of which are engaged in the relation of a pathetic 
 anecdote, but taken elfewhere, that of the young 
 D'Ailly : it is wholly from Ariofto ; and how far 
 does the copy fall fhort of the original ! 
 
 But what feems moft unaccountable is, that 
 
 writing to a people, among whom the women 
 
 have at all times made fo confiderable a figure ; 
 
 having made them appear with fo much eclat in 
 
 his tragedies, having chofen for his eflay in the 
 
 Epopeia an epoch wherein, if they did not fhine 
 
 with moft luftre, they acted with more fpirit and 
 
 violence than in any other ; Mr. Voltaire has 
 
 afligned them no part in his poem : for I call 
 
 not an epic part the little daily frolic of the 9th 
 
 canto, this weak and fervile copy of Taflb, in 
 
 which is to be found as little paffion as decency. 
 
 Gabriella, that favored beauty, who pofiefTed 
 
 fo large a fhare not only of the love but the 
 
 confidence of Henry IV. and by whom, not- 
 
 withftanding,
 
 46 gPJCPOEMS. 
 
 withftanding, he did not always fuflfer himfelf' 
 to be influenced ; Gabriella, who for fome time 
 had reafon to hope, and not without good 
 grounds, of becoming queen j ought to have 
 been one of the principal actrefies on the epic 
 ftage, or not have made her appearance on it at 
 all. It would have been better to have excluded 
 her wholly, than to have made of her a petty ad- 
 ventrefs unknown, and introduced at the end of 
 the poem, to be at once the inftrument and the 
 viftim of an artifice, which, having no relation 
 to any thing that had pafTed, terminates without 
 leaving any trace behind it. 
 
 The predeceflbrs of the French poet facri- 
 ficed every thing, hiftory, truth, and probabi^ 
 lity, in order to procure women of feeling ; and 
 he who porTeffed this advantage without any 
 effort, has either neglected it, or knew not how 
 to avail himfelf of it. 
 
 Might he not have drawn an interefting part 
 from that famous Duchefs of Montpenfcer, more 
 truly the foul of the League than the Duke of 
 Mayenne ; of that implacable woman who always 
 carried fciiTars in her pocket, to (hear Henry IIL 
 when he was made a monk ; who had been one 
 of the principal ornaments of a court, in which 
 beauty ferved fo eminently to pave the way to 
 political depravity, and to iafure its fuccefs 2 
 
 Would
 
 PIC POEMS. 47 
 
 Would not the invocation to love, fupplicating 
 him to lay ihares for the conqueror of Ivy, have 
 been better put into her mouth than into that of 
 Difcord ? Would it have been fo difficult to have 
 made her one of the principal inftruments in the 
 poem, whether (he had confined her artifices, in 
 endeavouring to make a conqueft of Henry him- 
 felf, or had extended the fnare to feveral officers 
 of the royalifts, and by fuch means to introduce 
 diftruft, difcontent, and treafon into the army 
 which threatened Paris ? 
 
 And Mary Stuart, did not hiftory naturally 
 lead the poet to fpeak of the murder of a Queen 
 of France, fo ignobly affaffinated by a vindictive 
 rival ; of a queen whofe misfortunes had fo near 
 a relation to the troubles which with-held Henry 
 from the throne fhe had occupied ? Her beauty, 
 her imprudencies, and her calamities, but too 
 well juftified by her crimes, did they not con- 
 ftitute her a real epic character, and the fubject 
 of an interefting epifode ? 
 
 The Earl of Eflex too, fo long a favorite cf 
 that queen who devoted him to the fcaffold, did 
 not his fate prefent a fit occafion to defcribe the 
 effects of female paffions in general, by bring- 
 ing the Englifh into action, to pourtray theirs in 
 particular ? An event which has furniflied a 
 fubject for a French tragedy, reprefented every 
 
 day,
 
 48 PIC POEMS. 
 
 day, might it not have ferved equally for that Oc" 
 one canto at leaft in a French epic poem ? 
 
 But that would have been to depart from 
 hiftory j Elizabeth never was in love with the Earl 
 of EfTex. She was old. And what fignifies that ? 
 Achilles perhaps never killed Hector. Hiftory 
 relates that the fiege of Troy ended in an ac- 
 commodation difhonorable to the Greeks ; and 
 that the fiege itfelf was far from a very glorious 
 expedition. Homer wrote to a generation whofe 
 grandfathers probably aflifted at thefe treaties, 
 and had a lhare in their pretended exploits. 
 Has he been the kfs lavifh in extolling the 
 prowefs of his chimerical heroes ? 
 
 In point of fact, was Henry IV. ever in 
 England ? Was Queen Elizabeth to be defcribed 
 in love in the epifode ? Was love even necefTary 
 to render her interefting; to defcribe her as a 
 woman in action, as a living creature, inftead 
 of alifelefsbuft? 
 
 I fay nothing of fo many other characters, 
 whofe number gives even to the unadorned hif- 
 tory of thofe times a dramatic air, fo favorable 
 to the epic fubject : I will fuppofe that Mr. 
 Voltaire may be held excufable in not availing 
 himfelf of them in that extent of which they are 
 capable, by the powerful aid of fome imaginations; 
 but how could it happen that the mod fmgular 
 
 revolutions,
 
 EPIC p o fe M s, 49 
 
 revolutions, the mod memorable events, fhould 
 have efcaped an author who might be faid to 
 have them forced on him at every inftant, and 
 who muft have been at more trouble to reject 
 than to make ufe of them. 
 
 Whence is it that he has faid nothing of Hol- 
 land ; of that admirable monument of human 
 induflry, of this barrier oppofed by Defpair to 
 defpotifm ; of thofe natural allies of Henry IV. 
 thofe irreconcileable and fuccefsful enemies o 
 Philip II. ? They enter fo naturally, fo necef- 
 farily into the plan of the Henriade, that it muft 
 have been by an effort of labour and reflection; 
 that they were excluded from it. 
 
 How happens it, that not a word is faid about 
 the conquefts of the Portuguefe in Afia, or of 
 the Spaniards in America ; of thofe immenfe and 
 invaluable dominions, all united under the power 
 of the fortunate Philip, and whofe treafures en- 
 abled him to fupport the league in their rebellion ? 
 
 The novelty of thefe events, the importance 
 of thefe pofleflions, and the preponderancy they 
 gave to Spain in the fcale of power j the rifing 
 rivalfhip of the French, who began to view them 
 with an envious eye, did not all this enter into the 
 fubject of a poem, whofe epocha is fixed at the 
 end of the i6th century, and in which the actors 
 are Frenchmen, Englifhmen, and Spaniards ? 
 
 E But
 
 50 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 But how to pafs from the river Eura to the 
 feas of Mexico and Calicut ? From Paris to Vera 
 Cruz, or Goa ? How ? By an effort of imagi- 
 nation, as Virgil has done in making ./Eneas and 
 Dido contemporaries, who lived at the diftance 
 of three hundred, years from each other j or 
 like Taflfo, who ferioufly inlifls as a foldier 
 under Godfrey -of Bologne; a Renaldo, that 
 never exifted; and afligns to him a miftrefs, 
 an Armida, no lefs chimerical : or again, like 
 Ariofto, who pleafantly gives to the fabulous 
 Rolando a rival, and a fucccfsfi.il one in the 
 affections of an ideal Chinefe princefs, an Eailern 
 Shepherd j of whom copies are not uncommon 
 in France, but whofe original is no where to be 
 met with but in the poet's brain. Some means 
 fliould have been found to draw the Indies to 
 Henry's camp, and it does not appear that fifch 
 an attempt would have been impracticable, with- 
 out even offending againft probability. 
 
 The French proteftants had already made more 
 than, one enterprize in thefe diftant countries. 
 A Chevalier deVillegagnon had founded in Brafil, 
 in the year 1552, if I miftake not, a colony of 
 ' proteftants, under the orders and with the affift- 
 ance of the Admiral de Colligni. This expe- 
 dition not proving fuccefsful, fome other navi- 
 gators of the fame perfuafion had, in 1564, 
 9 made
 
 EPIC POEMS. 1 
 
 made an attempt of the like nature on the coafts 
 of Florida, and were there cruelly mafiacred by 
 the Spaniards. A detachment of Calvinifts, 
 under the command of a Chevalier de Gorguesi 
 had croffed the feas, folely to revenge this murder 
 of their brethren upon a people in other refpects 
 diftinguifhed for their generofity, but whofe 
 foldiers in this age, and more efpecially in thefe 
 newly difcovered regions, feem too often to have 
 loft fight of the magnanimity natural to their 
 country. 
 
 Might not thefe martial navigators, attached 
 by birth and religion to Henry IV. and his con- 
 temporaries, have made their fecond appearance 
 with probability in the Henriade, and achieved 
 new exploits againft the Spaniards, in relating 
 the paft ? 
 
 Betides, as there were many Caftilians and 
 Portuguefe in the armies of the League, would 
 it have appeared extraordinary, that fome of 
 thefe fhould have ferved under the fucceflbrs of 
 Cortez or Pizarro ? Might they not have had 
 in their fuite fome Mexicans or Incas I Might 
 not Villegagnon, or the Chevalier de Gorgues, 
 have brought over fome natives ? When Charles 
 the Xllth. gained the battle of Narva, he made 
 prifoner among the Ruffians on the borders of 
 the Baltic, a Tartar prince, born near the Palus 
 E 2 Meotides.
 
 $1- E P I C *P O M S. 
 
 Meotides. Might not the French poet have 
 brought into the battle of Ivry, a defcendant of 
 Montezuma or Hufcar, and caufed him to be 
 difarmed by the French monarch ? Overpowered 
 by the generofity of his conqueror, the Indian 
 might relate to him the difaflers of his country, 
 and refolve to revenge her wrongs, in taking part 
 with thofe who had juftice on their fide, againft 
 rebels, fupported in their contumacy by her 
 deflroyers. 
 
 Might he not have met a mother, a fitter, or 
 a beloved miftrefs, carried off by the Rochellois, 
 in fome of their expeditions againft the new 
 American fettle men ts of the Spaniards ? Their 
 gratitude, their converfion, their happinefs, or 
 their new diftrelles ; if the author determined 
 that his new Abradates, in fignalizing his grati- 
 tude for the French Cyrus, fhould, like him, be 
 torn from his Panthea; might not all this, have 
 furniftied matter for an epifode, at once varied, 
 pathetic, and fublime ? 
 
 Would any reader have accufed the poet on 
 this occafion of boldnefs, or of failing in proba- 
 bility ? Would not even reafon itfelf join in 
 applauding the fiction, and does not true philo- 
 fophy offer here as many, and even more helps 
 to poetry j than the flights of imagination ? 
 
 In
 
 EPIC POEMS. 53 
 
 In thus rejecting beauties which naturally arofe 
 out of the fubject, has Mr. Voltaire fubftituted 
 others in their room ilifficiendy fplendid to pre- 
 vent our regret ? Is it to difplay his own riches 
 that he feems to have difdajned thofe which his 
 fubject offered ? I fee in his whole poem but 
 three pieces which deferve the title of epifodesj 
 that is_, where he has endeavoured to detach him- 
 felf from hiftory, and to give loofe to imagina- 
 tion ; the one is the journey to England, in the 
 firft canto; the next that to heaven, performed 
 in a dream, in the yth ; and the third, which i$ 
 a journey likewife, but fomewhat different from 
 the other two, is that of the Shepherdefs d'Anet, 
 in the 9th canto. Unfortunately if thefe are 
 not taken from materials fupplied by hiftory, 
 they are copied from the JEneid and the Jeru- 
 falem, which alone drafts from them a great 
 part of their merit. 
 
 I know it will be faid, that by an eftablilhed 
 right every modern writer is at liberty to borrow 
 from thofe who have gone before him, with- 
 out incurring cenfure ; Virgil borrowed from 
 Homer, Ariofto and Tafib from Homer an4 
 from Virgil ; the defcent into hell is taken from 
 the Odyffey j Alcida and Armjda are drawn after 
 Dido. From this adoption of foreign ideas, when 
 naturalized and embeilifhed in their own language, 
 E 3 poets
 
 54 ZPIC' POEMS, 
 
 poets have never yet been charged with want of 
 powers, or barrennefs of invention. 
 
 No, doubtlefs, when they do embellifh them. 
 Thus compare the 6th book of the /Eneid, with 
 the invocation of the departed fpirits in the 
 OdyfTey ; and then fee if Virgil can be regarded 
 as a copyift. In the Greek poem, Ulyffes digs 
 a hole at the mouth of a cave, which has a 
 communication with Tartarus, he pours into it 
 the blood of feveral victims ; the fouls then 
 immediately flock thither to drink of it ; until 
 they have drunk they recognize no one : and not- 
 withflanding this blindnefs, and their astherial 
 nature, the fight of a fword frightens and dif- 
 perfes them ; at length when they are admitted 
 to partake of this potent liquid, they recognize 
 Ulyfles, and tell him a number of filly, or if you 
 will have it fo, ingenious conceits, worthy of all 
 this preparation, 
 
 Virgil's defcent into hell is as much fuperior 
 to this grofs puerility, as a perfect and finely cut 
 diamond is to the fand in which nature formed 
 it. Are the imitations of Mr. Voltaire equally 
 happy ? 
 
 The firft, which is his vifit to London, leads, 
 but to an infulated recital; Elizabeth is there 
 for no other end but to hear him, and wilh 
 him a good journey -, not a fingle feature is in- 
 troduce^
 
 EPIC POEMS. 55 
 
 troduced that bears any relation to the manners 
 of the Englifli, to the magnificence of Lon- 
 don, or to its commerce ; to the memorable 
 reign of Henry VIII. and the manner in which 
 the daughter of Anna Bullen had acquired the 
 throne, after bdng excluded from it. We fee 
 in this canto, as in the print which ferves for its 
 frontifpiece, but a clofet, a man feated who is 
 fpeaking, and a woman feated alib and attending 
 to him. 
 
 What a falling off is here from the original I 
 The poet begins with a defcription of the found- 
 ing of a fuperb city ; before he introduces his 
 hero telling his own ftory, he firft relates that 
 of the place of which it is natural for him 
 to fpeak, and of the fovereign who is his au- 
 ditor. The artifices of Venus have already 
 prepared the reader for the confequences of this 
 tale on the unfortunate queen, and indeed at- 
 tention leads her to affection. She indulges a 
 
 o 
 
 flame for a hero who fo gracefully relates his 
 misfortunes. She gives way to a paffion which 
 appears in itfelf innocent, and which is even 
 fanctioned by policy , and ftie falls a victim to it. 
 The defcription of her love, of her defpair, and 
 the cataftrophe with which it concludes, is at 
 once a mafler-piece of fentiment and poetry, 
 which has never yet been equalled in any language. 
 E 4 Laftly,
 
 56 EPIC. POEM 3. 
 
 Laftly, By an effort of genius which can- 
 not be fufficiently admired, .this piece, which 
 abftraclx'dly confidered, and dripped of every 
 other merit than the perfection of the picture 
 itfelf, would have excited the conftant wonder 
 and the admiration of men of every country, 
 was to the Romans interwoven with one of the 
 molt remarkable events of their hiftory : it ac- 
 counted for the origin of that irreconcileable 
 hatred, which had fo long prevailed between the 
 descendants of Dido and ' of Jneas, between 
 Rome and Carthage ; and in fome meafure jufti- 
 fies the ruin of the latter crufhed at length by 
 the power of her more fortunate rival. Every 
 man of letters knows, and can recite by heart, 
 thofe verfes which will retain their novelty to the 
 end of time, 
 
 Rife fome avenger of our Libyan blood, 
 With fire and f\vord purfue the perjur'd brood j 
 Qur arms, our feas, our ftiores oppofed to theirs, 
 And the fame hate defcend on all our heirs. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Does the feeble French imitation retain the 
 Jeaft trace of thefe beauties, and more efpecially 
 the laft, which, by a fingular fimilarity of circum- 
 ftance, fhould have prefented itfelf to t|ie poet ? 
 Is not the rivalfhip between England and France, 
 between London and Paris, nearly the fame? 
 
 Was
 
 EPIC POEMS. 57 
 
 not this the place to have invented a reafon 
 .equally fpeciqus to explain why the (traits of Ca- 
 lais, which feparate the two countries by the in- 
 tervention of fo fmall a fpace, fhould have made 
 fuch an immenfe difference in the minds gf their 
 inhabitants. 
 
 The kings were then in amity, it is true, but 
 .the kingdoms were not; befides, the bufmefs 
 was not to copy this effort of genius in the yE- 
 neid, but to equal it, to fubftitute another in 
 its ftead, which, notwithstanding this temporary 
 agreement of the two people, ihould bear as 
 pointed an allufion to their fecret and hereditary 
 difpofition towards each other. With fo ad- 
 mirable a model in his view, and while pur- 
 pofing to imitate it, Mr. Voltaire has reduced 
 his peaceful conference between the fceptered 
 ambafiador, and die daughter of Henry the 
 Eighth; to mere compliments, portraits, and 
 antithefes. 
 
 There is, perhaps, a flill greater difference 
 between the dream, wherein a fainted king be- 
 comes the guide of Henry the Fourth, and the 
 fub terraneous paffage in which a Sybil performs 
 the like fervice to Eneas. -In the fame degree 
 that the defcription of the Latin poet is grand, 
 fimple, affecting, clear, and fkilfully interfperfed 
 with a variety of philofophic, hiftoric, mytho- 
 logical,
 
 58 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 logical, and moral matter, that of the French is 
 hurried, monotonous, and obfcure. 
 
 Virgii, when the nature of the place is too 
 difmal, is careful to relieve the gloom by the 
 fuccefllve meeting of Palinurus, Garon, Deipho- 
 bus and Dido : there is not even a defcription of 
 Tartarus,, which is not animated by painting and 
 poetry, alike deflined to immortality, as in that of 
 the unhappy Tytyus ; 
 
 A rav'nous vulture in his opened fide 
 
 Her crooked beak, and cruel talons try'd : 
 
 Still for the growing lirer digg'd his breaft, 
 
 The growing liver ftill fupply'd the feaft : 
 
 Still are his entrails fruitful to their pains, 
 
 TV immortal hunger lafts, th' immortal, food remains. 
 
 qr of that celebrated reprobate who calls aloud, 
 
 Learn righteoufnefs, and dread th' avenging deities. 
 
 P.RYDEN* 
 
 and many more with which this piece abounds. 
 
 The geography of the country is accurately 
 defcribed agreeably to the pagan mythology j 
 the two travellers firft pafs over the river Ache- 
 ron, then, traverfe the entrance into hell, in 
 which there is rather privation of happinefs than 
 .actual mifery. They then arrive at Tartarus 
 .itfelf, in which are atrocious criminals, and real 
 punifhments ; and 3 laftly, they reach the Elyfian 
 
 Fields,
 
 EPIC POEMS. 59 
 
 Fields, where futurity is unfolded to them on 
 the borders of Lethe. All thefe diftant regions 
 were in effect placed by the fable near each 
 other, and under the fame power. The poet is 
 at the fame time a majeftic philofopher, and an 
 accurate delineator of the religious opinions which 
 prevailed in his days, 
 
 But in the Henriade, the two kings imme- 
 diately afcend into heaven, to affift at the judg- 
 ment of fouls ; from whence they are tranfported 
 in a whirlwind into a chaos, where is hell accord- 
 ing to the poet, and purgatory according to the 
 faint; near at hand is paradife, and at the end 
 of paradife the palace of the Fatal Sifters. We 
 comprehend nothing of this expedition : it is 
 not conformable to our religious ideas ; there is 
 no reafon.to fuppofe .that the author meant to 
 give it as a fyftem of his own : what is it then ? 
 Certainly this blending together of terms and 
 ideas, half pagan and half chriftian, can never be 
 deemed a beauty, in which we can neither trace 
 the doctrine of one of thefe perfuafions, nor find 
 any of the pleafing illuflons which accompany 
 the other. It may even be faid that the mora- 
 lity of the latter is far more rigid. Virgil places 
 in that part of hell called Tartarus, not only 
 thofe guilty of facrilege, tyrants, and traitors 
 *yhp have fold their country, but voluptuous 
 
 epicures,
 
 60 E P I C P O M S. 
 
 epicures, and, what is much more rigid, thofe 
 avaricious wretches who have not difpenfed a 
 part of their riches among their relations j while 
 the French poet piteoufiy exclaims, 
 
 , ch ! ye fons of eafe, 
 
 Mud tender fpirits dwell in climes like thefc ; 
 Ye who on flowery couches pafs'd away 
 The tranquil moments of life's ufeful day. 
 
 That we may be the better able to conceive 
 the prodigious diftance between the original and 
 his imitator, we muft above all bring thofe paf- 
 fages together wherein by a fingular concurrence 
 of circumftances the two poets had precifely the 
 fame things to fay, the fame lories to deplore, 
 and where cqnfequentjy the modern might, and 
 even ought, to have taken the ancient for his 
 model. 
 
 In the JEneid we fee a young Marcellus, in 
 the Henriade a young duke of Burgundy, both 
 born to a throne, both affording the faireft hopes, 
 alike untimely fnatched from their families and 
 their country, extolled ajike in the poems by 
 the founders of thofe families, whofe glory it is 
 fuppofed they would have provecl j and finally, 
 both recently brought again into exiftence, to 
 anfwer the purpofe of the poets : fince the duke 
 died in 1712, and the Henriade^ at that time 
 
 called
 
 EPIC POEMS. 6f 
 
 'called the League, appeared in 1723; but this 
 is all the fimilarity between them. The la- 
 mentations of Anchifes are natural, affecting, 
 and expreffive of an enthufiafm at once grand 
 .and mournful. 
 
 The gods too high had rais'd the Roman ftate ; 
 
 Were but their gifts as permanent, as great. 
 
 What groans of men (hall fill the Martian field. 
 
 How fierce a blaze his flaming pile ftiall yield ! 
 
 What fun'ral pomp {hall floating Tyber fee, 
 
 When rlfing from his bed, he views the fad folemnityl 
 
 No youth (hall equal hopes of glory give, 
 
 No youth afford fo great a caufe to grieve : 
 
 The Trojan honor, and the Roman boail, 
 
 Admir'd when living, and ador'd when loil ! 
 
 Mirror of ancient worth, in early youth, 
 
 Undaunted faith, inviolable truth! 
 
 No foe unpunifh'd in ths fighting field, 
 
 Shall dare thee foot to foot, with fword and ftiield j 
 
 Much lefs in arms oppofe thy matchlefs force, 
 
 When thy (harp fpurs fliall urge thy foaming horfe. 
 
 Ah, cou'dft thou break thro' fate's fcvere decree, 
 
 A new Marcelius fhall arife in thee! - 
 
 Full canifters of fragrant lilies bring, 
 
 Mix'd with the purple rofes of the Ipring : 
 
 Let me with fun'ral flowers his body ftrow, 
 
 This gift which parents to the children owe, 
 
 This unavailing gift, at leaft I 'may beftow. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 This is the language of a poet ; let us now 
 hear his imitator. 
 
 What
 
 6^ EPIC POEMS. 
 
 What princely youth draws near, whofe manly 
 United majefty and fweetnefs grace ? 
 See how unmov'd Oh heavens ! what fudden fhade 
 Conceals the graces which his form difplay'd ! 
 Death flutter's round j health, beauty, all is gone, 
 He falls, juft ready to afcend the throne : 
 Heaven form'd him all that's truly juft and good, 
 Defcended Bourbon from thy royal blood. 
 Oh gracious God ! (hall fate but ihew mankind 
 A flower fo fweet, and virtues fo refin'd : 
 What could a foul fo gen'rous not obtain ? 
 What joys wou'd France experience from his reign ? 
 Produc'd and nurtur'd by his foftering hand, 
 Fair peace and plenty had enrich'd the land. 
 Each day fome new beneficence had brought : 
 Oh how (hall Gallia weep ! alarming thought ! 
 When one dark filent fepulchre contains 
 The fon's, the mother's, and the fire's remains. 
 
 What a difference ! Does Anchifes amufe him- 
 felf in faying of Marcellus that he was a tranfi- 
 tory flower ? Does he apply the epithet of au- 
 gtift to that blood which fpringing from the po- 
 fterity of his fon, was of confequence his own ? 
 Does he call the moft upright of the Romans a 
 young man who never was to fill the throne ? 
 An epithet the more fingular in the French au- 
 thor, as he had before iaid of Lewis the Twelfth, 
 that that monarch, 
 
 Rul'd our realm with juftice at his fide : 
 
 and that of courfe it is difficult to be more juft. 
 Does he content himfelf with faying he would 
 
 have
 
 PIC POEMS. $ j 
 
 have loved his people? An eulogium fo weak 
 after this verfe, 
 
 Each day fome new beneficence had brought : 
 
 an eulogium, moreover, which is but a repeti- 
 tion, fince the poet has already faid, fome few 
 lines above, of the cardinal of Amboife, that 
 
 To him alone was Gallia's homage dear, 
 To him alone her homage was fmcere. 
 
 And, laftly, let us fee if the ancient Trojan mort 
 drily breaks off in a cold exclamation on the 
 afflicting image of a tomb, and in an anecdote 
 unintelligible without a note or a previous know- 
 ledge of the fact, that this whole family became 
 extinct at once. Anchifes does not complain 
 to the gods of their hard treatment of Mar- 
 cellus; he accufes them of being jealous of 
 him. " The fates will but fhew him to the 
 " earth ; fathers of heaven ! Rome, had fhe 
 " preferved him, would have appeared to you 
 " too powerful." If he fpeaks of a tomb, it is 
 that he may join with it an image which gives it 
 animation, and renders the idea affecting and 
 foft. " With what regret (hall the field of Mars 
 ." refound ! what tears, oh Tyber ! as thou paffeft 
 " the verge of that tomb newly erected on thy 
 " banks, fhalt thou fee ih.ed !" It is not at the 
 
 expence
 
 64 IPIC POEMS: 
 
 cxpence of the great men of his line that he 
 praifes his young defcendant; " Never ihall 
 " child have afforded fuch grounds for the moft 
 < fanguine hopes, nee puer" It appears to 
 me that there is contained in thefe words an ad- 
 mirable delicacy, far from making him eclipfe 
 the ancient heroes j his greateft merit will be to 
 poflefs their virtues and fidelity j " heu pietas, 
 " heu prifca fides I" At length, he thus addrefies 
 him : " Unhappy boy ! fhould'ft thou be able 
 <f to vanquifli the cruelty of thy fate, thou wiU'ft 
 " prove a real Marcellus give me lilies in 
 " abundance, that I may cover his dear lhade 
 * f with flowers, that I may at lead offer to it 
 " this unavailing homage." This is the fpeech 
 of Anchifes, as far as the weaknefs of the idiom, 
 and my own want of power enable me to render 
 it. We may difcover through it the expreflion 
 and the poetry of the original: accordingly, 
 though we are neither Auguftus nor Oftavia, 
 and though eighteen centuries are fince elapfed, 
 this piece forces tears from us. Can its feeble 
 copy do the like ? The epifode of Gabrielle, 
 when compared with thofe of Dido and Armida, 
 is no lefs inferior in the detail of circumftances, 
 and is moreover efTentially defective in itfelf, be- 
 caufe the hero is debafed. Every thing concurs 
 to degrade Henry the Fourth in his unfortunate 
 5 adventure
 
 EPIC POEMS. 65 
 
 adventure with Anet, as it is reprefented in the 
 poem. 
 
 I have already called it a trick ; and what other 
 name can we give to this ftrange incident, or the 
 manner in which it is conducted, and in which 
 it finifhes ? to that fudden and tender reconciliation 
 unexpectedly produced through the intervention 
 of Difcord to this amour, which arofe from 
 chance, and which vanifhes like the intrigues of 
 a campaigner, the day after its birth ? The 
 reader who reflects finds here but one embarraf- 
 ment, which is, to determine whether the hero 
 is lefs when he quits his miftrefs, than when lying 
 at her feet. 
 
 Dido conceives a pafllon for a flranger ; but 
 with what fkill is her weaknefs conducted ! how 
 well does fhe appear juftified I how many inte- 
 refting events are produced from it ! The object 
 of her affection is a hero, and the fon of the 
 goddefs of love ; it is under the appearance of 
 generofity that this pafllon infinuates itfelf into 
 her heart ; j^Eneas is as unfortunate as he is ami- 
 able ; his eloquence finifhes what his adverfity, 
 his form, and the power of his mother had be- 
 gun ; nor was it till a moft pathetic tale had dif- 
 played his virtues in their full luftre, that fhe 
 wholly yields herfelf up to the pafiion with which 
 
 F he
 
 66 P I C P O E M 5. 
 
 he infpired her. Befides, fhe defended heffclf 
 againfl it : fhe for a long time oppofed to this rifing; 
 attachment, her ancient refolution to contract no 
 new alliance, the remembrance of her firft huf- 
 band, a regafd to her own glory : nothing is 
 omitted which might ferve to give proofs of 
 her virtue, and to render her vveaknefs excufable. 
 
 And at length to acccmplifh her fall, it was 
 neceffary that her mind (hould be previoufly 
 difpofed to tendernefs, by that kind of emotion 
 which accompanies the pomp of a fplendid fefii- 
 val ; Juno and Venus muft concert together to 
 overcome her refiftance. To effect her over- 
 throw, all the merits of a hero, all the influence 
 of two powerful divinities, all thofe incidents 
 which, taking the mind by furprife, lead to the 
 difcovery of pafijon, muft combine together. And 
 what grandeur, what poetry, what truth is there 
 not in the general reprefentation, and in each 
 particular detail of this unhappy attachment ! 
 
 TaiTo has likewife made his hero in love. He 
 has defcribed him for a moment buried in plea- 
 fure : but when Rinaldo abandons himfelf to the 
 careffes of Armida, independent of the power 
 of magic, by which he is captivated, it is in a 
 time of exile and leifure, at a time when his 
 mind was inflamed with jnft refentment againft 
 . his general, and when .an order which he could 
 
 not
 
 E P I C P O E M S. 67 
 
 not avenge caufed his abfence from the chrifliaa 
 army. 
 
 Let It be remembered too, that it is a ftranger, 
 an enchantrefs, free and miftrefs of herfelf, by 
 whom he is fought after, the triumph which he 
 gains over her can neither tarnifh his own repu- 
 tation, nor affect the interefts of his party j on 
 the contrary, he is flill victorious, and almoft 
 an hero while fuffering himfeif to be enflaved : 
 it is as we may fay honor, which gives him up 
 to love. In fhort, he is not only in the flower 
 of youth, and confequently in the feafon when 
 errors are mod readily excufecf, but the pafilon 
 which he infpires, and which he hirnfelf feels, 
 continues long enough to acquire a fort of dig- 
 nity : for love becomes ennobled by conftancy. 
 A confiderable interval elapfes, and a variety of 
 events take place, between the period which, 
 (hews him enervated by pleafure, and that which 
 reftores him to glory : his tranfports are not be- 
 gun and concluded in the fame canto. 
 
 But Henry, in a mature age, with the expe- 
 rience of misfortune, in the mod critical mo- 
 ment of his affairs, delivers himfeif up to the 
 firft appearance of pleafure: at a time, when 
 after gaining a battle, his abfence might caufe 
 him to lofe the fruits of it, he abfents himfeif 
 without reflection, and for what , ? to feduce a 
 F 2 young
 
 68 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 young perfon whofe innocence he ought, efpe- 
 cially after his journey to heaven, to have re- 
 ipected ; and what is ftill more fcandalous, and 
 flill more inconceivable, this young perfon is the 
 daughter of one of his old officers, who at the 
 very moment is hazarding his life in his fervice. 
 It is the author who informs us, 
 
 {he waits her fire, 
 
 Who faithful to our kings, and old in arms,. 
 Had follow'd Henry's cnfigns in the field. 
 
 In return, the great Henry goes to fee his daugh- 
 ter, feduces and abandons her, and all this in an 
 inftant of time. 
 
 But is that the fad ? no ; firft, as I have al- 
 ready faid, Gabrielle in hiftory is nothing lefs 
 than a fimple fhepherdefs, eafily feduced and 
 foon forgotten : but were it even the truth, that 
 was not an anecdote that fhould have been feized 
 and introduced into an epic poem ; on the con- 
 trary, it fhould have been wholly fupprefled, or 
 metaphorfed by an effort of the imagination. 
 The charms of Armida are no where fuffered to 
 operate to the prejudice of Rinaldo's fame. This 
 artifice fhould have been imitated. Were it 
 necefiary to fpeak of the weaknefs of a hero, it 
 fhould have been covered with a veil, which 
 would have refcued it from ignominy. 
 
 Q It
 
 EPIC POEMS. 69 
 
 It appears true then, that the author of the 
 Henriade has not en^bellifhed his fubjefl, that 
 he has even voluntarily weakened it, by negleft- 
 ing to avail himfelf of thofe beauties which na- 
 turally arife out of it; and inftead of that mix- 
 ture of fiction which in other epic poems, whofe 
 names have been confecrated by time, furnifhes 
 the ground of a career at once fo rapid, and not- 
 withftanding fo well fuftained, fo varied, and fo 
 interefting; we find in this but a frigid mo- 
 notony j we admire, indeed, the fine verfes with 
 which it often abounds, efpecially in the level 
 and defcriptive parts, but the events neither ex- 
 cite intereft or paflion. In a word, if I may 
 be permitted to give my opinion, the Henriade 
 is rather a diflertation in rhyme, an ornamented 
 treatife in verfe, on the latter half of the fixteenth 
 century, than a poem. 
 
 But it will be faid, the author could do no 
 more ; he was deprived of one grand refource, 
 open to all his predeceilbrs, that of the mar- 
 vellous : our religion forbids thofe fictions which 
 paganifm authorifed, and our manners fuch as 
 were tolerated by the cuftoms of chivalry. The 
 Italians, who have immortalifed Armida and 
 Rolando, were enabled to fubftitute the wonders 
 of magic and the illufions of enchantment, in- 
 iltud of the deities of Greece and Rome : this 
 F 3 the
 
 70 E P I C P O E M -S. 
 
 the name of his hero, the proximity of the time, 
 and the progrefs of letters in our age, denied to 
 Mr. Voltaire. AHuredly an Ifmeno would have 
 made but a poor figure by the fide of the duke 
 of Mayenne; we ftiould have condemned the 
 poet if he had, like Tafib, enchanted by a for- 
 cerer all the trees of the foreft of Bondy, in or- 
 der to prevent the fiege of Paris ; and although 
 the charming d'Eftrees was, perhaps, in reality 
 more beautiful than the fuppofed Armida, the 
 Parifian author would not have been excufed 
 had he built, by the ftroke of a wand, a beauti- 
 ful magic palace in the mid ft of d'Anet's park, in 
 which Henry fhould have been immured within 
 walls of adamant. 
 
 I acknowledge it : neither is it thefe fairy tales 
 which have eftablifhed the fuccefs of the Jeru- 
 falem and the Orlando. On the contrary, they 
 would have proved their downfall, or have funk 
 them into contempt, without thofe juft reprefen- 
 tations,without thofe affecting and grand fituations, 
 with which the fkill of the artifts has embellifhed 
 thefe chimeras. What father le Bofiu riclicu- 
 loufly enough calls the machinery, that is, the 
 intervention of fupernatural beings, I do not 
 think at all neceffary to the epopela. 
 
 .Virgil
 
 EPIC POEMS. 71 
 
 Virgil has adopted it, but it is likewife the 
 weaken: part of his poem. The gods of Ho- 
 mer do not cad a damp on the Iliad, becaufe 
 they are but men : they have their language and 
 paffions, and moreover enter for nothing into 
 the fineft parts of this revered poem. 
 
 They are not to be found in the parting of 
 Hector and Andromache, nor in that nervous 
 fcene, fo fraught with varied eloquence, between 
 the deputies of the Greeks, and Achilles rc- 
 fufing them his affiftance ; they form no part of 
 the adventure of Patrbclus, nor of that fcene, 
 perhaps ftill more beautiful than any of the reft, 
 wherein Priam comes to kifs the hand ftained 
 with the biood of his fon : we connot confider 
 as an intervention of a divinity, the fubaltern 
 part which Mercury performs. It is not, there- 
 fore, the marvellous which conflitutes the merit 
 of thefe models in the art of relating, defcribing, 
 and moving; but thcfb pieces are ir.terefting, 
 becaufe they prefent nothing but what is natural. 
 In fairy tales the marvellous is profufely intro- 
 duced ; accordingly they intereft not : far from 
 the epic poem not being able to difpenfe with 
 gods, with for carers, or intellectual beings, how- 
 ever perfonified ; I am perfuaded, on the con- 
 trary, that the only means of equalling at prefent 
 the models handed down to us in this fpecies of 
 F '
 
 72 E P I C P O E M S. 
 
 writing, and to form others equal to them, would 
 be to fet afide thefe puerile and fuperfiuous ex- 
 pedients. 
 
 True epic fictions fhould confift of events fkil- 
 fully conceived, artfully arranged, and happily 
 defcribed. Thefe poems are romances in verfe ; 
 intereft accordingly in thefe, as in romances, 
 fhould give birth to grand pafftons, happily 
 feized and ably developed; to incidents, regu- 
 larly connected and well related ; to epifodes, 
 which arife without conftraint, and interwoven 
 in fuch a manner as to prolong the action of the 
 poem, without fufpending its effect, or weaken- 
 ing its force ; in fhort, an addrefs, a fecundity 
 to multiply fituations capable of calling forth the 
 paflions, traits which depict the hero but by means 
 of facts, in which they are feen to act, and not 
 of words, which only difcover the author. 
 
 This, is the truce machinery of the JEneid, 
 the Iliad, the Jerufalem, the Orlando, &c. and 
 not the gods and bugbears, which, if they flood 
 alone, would have been abandoned, with Tom 
 Thumb and Blue Beard, to children. Thefe 
 fictions exift independent of a change of man- 
 ners, or the variations of prejudice in doctrines 
 or in government ; they are allied to the heart, 
 which is always the fame ; to that natural dif- 
 pofition by which we are always led to admire 
 
 what
 
 EPIC POEMS. 73 
 
 "what is great, to efleem what is ingenious, and 
 to fympathife with what is pathetic. This is 
 the true marvellous, which has fucceeded in all 
 ages, and which offers to true poetry a thoufand 
 times more refources than all the witchcrafts and 
 enchantments in the world. 
 
 Even fuppofing, with father le BofTu, a ma- 
 chinery ftill neceflary, it is not the impofiibility 
 of fupplying one which conflitutes the weaknefs 
 of the Henriade, fince the author, like his pre- 
 deceflbrs, has availed himfelf of this help in 
 adopting their inventions; but he has been as 
 unfortunate in this as in his other attempts. 
 
 For inftance, we fee Difcord perfonified in his 
 work, as in the Orlando - 3 fhe is even a per- 
 fonage of much greater confequence ; in the 
 Italian poem fhe plays but a fubaltern and mo- 
 mentary part, whereas fhe is the foul, the mover, 
 and the entire machinery of the French one. 
 To appreciate the imagination of the two poets, 
 we need but compare the effe<5ts refpeclively pro- 
 duced by them from this refource, which they 
 have in common chofen. 
 
 In the Henriade, Difcord is perfonified in 
 the fourth canto, and fhe appears for herfelf 
 alone j d'Aumale is expofed in a fally, fhe 
 trembles to loie him. 
 
 As
 
 74 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 As barVrous as the fiend, fhe fears to lofe 
 A life fo needful to her, fhe to his fuccor flies, 
 And 'gainft furrounding enemies his breaft defends 
 With her vaft iron impenetrable 4 fhield. 
 
 He efcapes from thence; fhe departs to Rome 
 in fearch of Policy to come and corrupt the 
 Sorbonne, an office it appears to me fhe was 
 herfelf very capable of executing ; fhe makes a 
 fecond journey to hell, to engage Fanaticifm to 
 come and prepare the afTaflmation of Henry the 
 Third, a function which appears neither above 
 nor beneath her own power; fhe then for a mo- 
 ment animates the Sixteen, and fi nifhes with an 
 invocation to Love to come and enQave Henry 
 the Fourth. 
 
 In all this, excepting the protection which {he 
 affords to d'Aumale, and her league with Love, 
 
 4 It is fingular enough that Mr. Voltaire, fearful of giv- 
 ing too much into the marvellous, from a regard to the phi- 
 lofophy of his age, has armed. Difcord with a fhield, which 
 Homer himfclf would never have done. This poet, an exact 
 obferver of proprieties, never gives this fort of armour but 
 to thofe deities whofe attributes it in fome fort coincided 
 with ; to Jupiter, the ftipreme god ; to Minerva, and to 
 Mars, the peculiar divinities of war. Neptune, Apollo, 
 and Mercury have no fhield ; when they wifh to engage in 
 the field they borrow the ^Egis, or clothe themfelves in the 
 armour of ordinary combatants : a proof, in my opinion, 
 that even in his enthufiafm Homer did not lofe fight of hi* 
 good fenfe, and that he hazarded nothing without reflection. 
 
 which.
 
 IP i- c POEMS. 75 
 
 v.'hich are not two very great or marvellous in- 
 cidents, the hiftory is didactically followed. The 
 Difcord of Mr. Voltaire is to be found equally 
 with P. de Thou as in the Henriade : this pre- 
 tended fury is there no longer a poetical perfon- 
 age, but a name given to the fpirit which ani- 
 mated the league and its partifans. 
 
 This name too is as ill imagined as it is ill 
 applied : with equal propriety might the poet 
 have perfonified Ambition, Revenge, &c. and 
 have affigned them the fame parts which he 
 has to Difcord. In the conduct of the latter 
 we perceive nothing characteristic of her name, 
 or rather on the contrary {he belies it , for, in- 
 ftead of being employed in caufing divifion, her 
 fole care is to promote union. 
 
 It is true, that the object of the union thus 
 effected, is to produce mifchief, but this figni- 
 fies not ; to juftify her title {he {hould have ac- 
 complished this by difieminating diforder, mif- 
 truft, and hatred : the object of her manoeuvres 
 in the party of Henry, {hould be to detach 
 his friends from his interefts, and to incite 
 them againft each other, inftead of being con- 
 fined as they are, to ftrengthen the union of his 
 enemies. 
 
 Would you behold a real Difcord, a Difcord 
 poetical and active, fee one delineated by Arioflo. 
 
 A
 
 j6 E P I C P O E M S. 
 
 A cloud of infidels in arms, and in perfect union, 
 threaten Chriftendom under the command of 
 Agramant, the Agamemnon of thefe new Greeks. 
 God employing fecondary caufes for the prefer- 
 ration of his church, fends an angel in fearch of 
 Difcord, and orders her to perplex thefe mif- 
 creants - } to excite fuch divlfions in the troops as 
 fhall confound and defeat their enterprifes. The 
 angel feeks her, and finds her in a chapter of 
 monks, (obferve that the Orlando is an hero- 
 comic poem, a fpecies of which I (hall fhortly 
 fpeak,) he announces his commiffion to her, 
 fhe departs, and alights on the infidel army. 
 
 The camp is immediately filled with diilen- 
 tions, difputes, and quarrels of every kind : the 
 moft important arife among the principal war- 
 riors, who determine to fettle them by fingle 
 combat. 7\s there are four whole mutual inte- 
 refts are involved in the moft complicated per- 
 plexity, they are forced to draw lots to know 
 who is to begin the battle. The lot falls on 
 Mandricard and Rodomant. The day is fixed : 
 whatever concern thefe diforders, and ftill more 
 this mode of appeafing them, may caufe to the 
 great Agramant, he is forced to confent. 
 
 All the cuftoms of knight-errantry are pour- 
 trayed and defcribed with the greateft fplendor 
 by the poet. Two tents are prepared at the 
 
 extremities
 
 EPIC POEMS. 77 
 
 extremities of the camp, to which the comba- 
 tants refpe&ively repair, each with his fquires, 
 whoie office it is to prefent him with the different 
 pieces of his armour. One of the fquires in 
 giving Mandricard his fword, which is that of 
 Rolando, recognifes it ; he had formerly vowed 
 to conquer this fword likewife, and determines 
 to keep it. A great difpute enfues. Roger, 
 one of the four knights whole combat was de- 
 layed by the event of the lots, renews his pre- 
 tenfions, and will no longer refpecl: the order 
 agreed on, becaufe it was infringed by a new 
 competitor. Mandricard challenges both foes 
 at the fame time : they all go out in a rage, 
 ready to attack each other ; and here are already 
 three duels for one. 
 
 Agramant aflonifhed at the uproar, hailens 
 thither with his Neftor, the old Marfillus : whilft 
 they are feeking the means of reconciliation, a 
 dreadful tumult is heard in the other tent. Rodo- 
 mont was ready to mount his charger, of which he 
 had gained poiTeffion after many adventures, when 
 one of the fquires examining the harnefs of the 
 fiery deed, perceives him to be his dear Cream- 
 face, an excellent horfe, which had been formerly 
 ftolen from him, and fince the lofs of which 
 , he had fworn to go on foot till he fliould find 
 him again. He inftantly feifes the bridle, makes 
 
 oatji
 
 7$ EPIC POEM 5. 
 
 oath that he will never again quit it, and draw's 
 his fword in fupport of his right : hence pro- 
 ceed mutual reproaches, blows, and a horrible 
 tumult. 
 
 Agramant leaves Marfillus to reftrain one of 
 the tents within bounds, and returns haftily to 
 the other, followed by a great number of the 
 principal officers of the army, all like him much 
 furprifed at this new mifchance. Among thefe 
 is the haughty Marphifa, an invincible Amazon, 
 arrived lately in the Moorifh camp, with the 
 fole d.fijn of challenging the knight-errants 
 in the army of Charlemagne. Hearing the 
 ftolen horfe fpoken of, ihe recollects being ac- 
 quainted with his owner, and that on the fame 
 day when he was thus cheated by a knave, file 
 herfelf loft a rich and valuable fword. She is 
 much furprifed to find the thief in the fuite of 
 d'Agremant, who, to reward him, has made 
 him a king : ihe falls on the crowned plunderer, 
 drags him to the neck of the horfe to hang 
 him, and challenges Agramant himfelf, if he in- 
 terpofes his authority. This completes the gene- 
 ral confufion j and all the interefted parties hay- 
 ing their troops in the army and their party in 
 the council, the diforder that muft refult from 
 thefe divifions in the hoft of. Charlemagne's ene- 
 mies may be eafily conceived* 
 
 4 This
 
 P I C P O E M S. 79 
 
 This is what is achieved by Difcord in the 
 Orlando en pafTant, where fhe is but an epifodic 
 and momentary perfonage : this is what Ariofto 
 has produced from nothing, what fcarcely. occu- 
 pies in his work a quarter of a canto. I know 
 not if in all the ancient and modern poets there 
 is to be found a paflage which gives ftronger 
 proofs of genius and imagination. 
 
 Cervantes has imitated it with considerable art 
 in his Don Quixote; but Cervantes is but a 
 copyift. How weak and inefficient appears, the 
 profmg Difcord of the French author, after the 
 active one of the Italian ! It is not then owing 
 to the revolution which has taken place in our 
 manners and religion, that the Henriade is fb 
 far inferior, even in point of machinery, to the 
 poems which have gone before it. 
 
 It abounds with very fine portraits I have ac- 
 knowledged ; but I repeat, thefe cold inanimate 
 images freeze the poem : other epic works have 
 their portraits likewife, but they refult from the 
 action of their heroes; they are not hung up 
 and fattened motionlefs to a wall, till the eye of 
 the fpectator fhall happen to catch them : it is 
 the reader, who having feen the characters in 
 action, figures them to himfelf, their forms, their 
 figure, and phyfiognomy are prefent to his ima- 
 gination,
 
 SO EPIC POEMS. 
 
 gination, he has previoufly conceived an idea of 
 their character. 
 
 Does Ariofto wifh to difplay the greatnefs of 
 foul, the generofity, the haughty heroifm of a 
 knight, who is above all things apprehenfive left 
 he ihould be fufpe&ed of feeking to avail him- 
 felf of unfair advantages in battle, who willies 
 to be indebted to his prowefs alone for his fame 5 
 ru does not lofe time in meafuring terms and 
 fonorous verfes, metaphyfically to defcribe what 
 paffcs in the breaft of the warrior, he produces 
 on the fcene, Roger armed by the enchanter 
 Atlant with a marvellous fhield compofed of a 
 fmgle diamond, whofe luftre at once ilrikes the 
 beholders blind, and deprives them of all power 
 of motion. This is an imitation of the head 
 of Medufa, but what follows is an imitation of 
 no one. 
 
 Roger has taken the fhield becaufe it is im- 
 penetrable, and becaufe the laws of chivalry do 
 not deny to valour any help that it may derive 
 from the fuperior temper or folidity of arms; 
 but he carefully covers it with a veil, in order 
 that he may by no means be indebted to its other 
 property. 
 
 In the midft of a fcuffle however, wherein he is 
 infulted by ftrangers, who attack him feveral of 
 them together, a blow is (truck on the veil, which 
 
 tears
 
 EPIC POEMS; Si 
 
 tears it, the fatal light manifefts itfelf ; the whole 
 troop in a moment fall motionlefs, and the herd 
 finds himfelf out of danger. 
 
 But difdaining a premature help, which feems 
 to leave his courage irt doubt, he perceives a 
 deep well, into which he haften" to plunge the 
 burning fhield, and precipitates it before him, 
 that he may no longer be fufpected of relying 
 more on the afliftance of magic than his own 
 fword. This trait from Orlando is doubtlefs 
 fine even in a fabulous hero j and what prevented 
 Mr. Voltaire from creating the like ones under 
 real names ? 
 
 Whatever had a tendency to elevate the mirid, 
 to foften, to furprife, or to intereft, has beeri 
 eagerly adopted by the epic poets, even among 
 the moderns who preceded Mr. Voltaire ; they 
 have in fome fort prodigally dealt them but 
 with equal profufion and fuccefs. Sometimes it 
 is from incidents arifing in the common order 
 of eventSj which are rendered extraordinary by 
 aids derived from genius alone ; at others the 
 circumftanccs, though in themfelves romantic, 
 are introduced with fueh attention to probability, 
 and pourtrayed in a manner fo pathetic, that 
 the heart is captivated before the underftanding 
 Can find time for cenfure. 
 
 G Thus
 
 02 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 Thus that a jealous woman fhould be driven 
 to reproaches, threats, and even actual violence 
 againft a rival, is what often happens, and re- 
 quires no great effort of the mind to conceive ; 
 but that {he fhould enjoy the fatisfaclion of fee- 
 ing this rival expofed to the danger of lofing her 
 life by the hands of that lover who is thought 
 unfaithful, or of depriving him of exiftence by 
 her own ; that fuch a one as fhe fhould enjoy 
 this fcene with delight, and that it fhould be a 
 probable confequence of contempt, is an inte- 
 refting fiction, well adapted to the epopeia which 
 is to be found in Ariofto. 
 
 That a lover by another miftake, rendered 
 equally probable, fhould have the misfortune to 
 kill his miftrefs r while he fuppofes himfelf en- 
 gaging and conquering his mortal foe, is a fic- 
 rion lefs natural indeed, bur equally diftreffing, 
 and calculated to move every heart : this is to 
 be found in the Jerufalem, when Tancred takes 
 Clorinda for Argant, whofe armour fhe wore, and 
 it is there admirably managed. Again, a lover 
 equally delicate and faithful, but excluded by 
 the relations of his miftrefs, a celebrated warrior, 
 is informed that, with the view of repulfmg all 
 his rivals, and infuring him her hand, fhe has 
 formed the refolution of beftowing it only upon 
 him who can vanquifh her in the lifts j, that, by a 
 
 con-
 
 EPIC POEMS. 83 
 
 concurrence of extraordinary circumftances, he 
 finds himfelf compelled to maintain his combat 
 under the name, the arms, and for the benefit 
 of a ftranger who had preferved his life; fo that 
 if he is overcome, he is liable to the fufpicion 
 of having betrayed the confidence of his bene- 
 factor, and thus become, in a double point of 
 view, unworthy of his miftrefs ; and, if he proves 
 victor, it muft be to throw her into the arms of 
 another. This again is a fiction, which interefts 
 and affects the reader in a moft fenfible degree; 
 and it is the ground of the epiibde of prince 
 Leon at the conclufion of the Orlando, All the 
 fituations, it is true, arife from the miftakes 
 juftified by the cuftoms of chivalry. The 
 vizors of the helmets in thofe times concealed 
 the combatants, who were not otherwife diftin- 
 guifhable but by particular marks, as their horfes, 
 their armour, &c. and the ciiftom of fighting 
 with the face uncovered, which preceded our 
 own of braving lead, iron, and fire, with the 
 entire body expofed, deprives our poets of this 
 refource, fo fertile in beauty; but how many 
 others remain open to them ? With how many 
 models of a different nature do the authors I have 
 enumerated furniih them ? 
 
 The Henriade, as I have before remarked, 
 
 has but one fingle amour, an amour which 
 
 G 2 occupies
 
 #4 P I C POEMS. 
 
 occupies but a Tingle canto, which does not de- 
 pend on the poem, an amour which degrades 
 the hero without exalting the miftrefs, which 
 afflicts the mind, without affecting the heart. 
 Ariofto has twenty, all varied, all pleafing, all 
 interwoven in interefting epifodes, related to the 
 principal action of the poem, and adapted to 
 the feveral characters of the perfonages ; and in 
 defcribing which the poet fometimes difcovers 
 the tendereft fenfibilityj at others the moft fter-> 
 ling humor. 
 
 Ifabella and Zerbin are models of honor and 
 delicacy. Roger is more ardent, and Brada- 
 mante more empafiioned, but always decent. 
 Mendriard is a libertine, and the beautiful Do r 
 ralixa precifely what a woman Ihould be to pre- 
 fer fuclr a lover. Rodomonte abandoned by her', 
 plays a ridiculous part: his difafler is comic, 
 and he is', notwithstanding, not difparaged by it'. 
 Alcine, Angelica, Medor, and feveral others', 
 throw into the vaft field of the Orlando an in- 
 exhauftible variety ; there is no mind, no heart, 
 but may find materials whereon to exercife the 
 fenfibility they polTeTs, whether derived from 
 their natural organization", or from a tafte de- 
 veloped and perfected by reflection.- 
 
 TafTb is lefs fertile : he is always grave, always 
 Tnajeilic $ but, as I faid before, the tendernefs 
 
 whichr
 
 EPIC POEMS. 85 
 
 which breathes through every page of his work, 
 tempers its elevation. 
 
 In the /Eneid Dido is but an epifode, but 
 how beautiful a one ! How foft is the beginning, 
 how animated its conclufion ! In the Iliad Bri- 
 feis is a fort of outwork without action -, but 
 Andromache occupies a grand place in the pic- 
 ture j and this fcene of conjugal love, depicted 
 with the moft exprefiive traits, disfigures none 
 cf the paffions with which it is furrounded, nor 
 is itfelf weakened by them. In the Henriade 
 we perceive none of thefe beauties, nor even any 
 thing which can furnifh us with the leaft trace 
 of them. 
 
 After thefe obfervations, what then are the 
 remaining merits of this work ? Firft, as I have 
 obferved, the title of epic, which is a very in- 
 confiderable one, and the dill more eflential ex- 
 cellence cf containing fome very fine verfes, and 
 fome portraits admirably drawn ; of collecting 
 together in the text and in the notes annexed to 
 it, the principal events of an epocha ever memo- 
 rable to the French nation ; of furnifhing to thofe 
 amongft them who have the charge of educating 
 youth, fome details, which they may compare in 
 their language with the fine defcriptions taken 
 from the poets of antiquity. This will not pre- 
 vent the work from exhibiting the inferiority of 
 G 3 its
 
 86 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 its author, and proves only, that amid the va- 
 riety of mental powers which nature had pro- 
 fufely endowed him with, Ihe had at Jeatt refufed 
 him one. 
 
 In other refpe&s I am inclined to think, that 
 it is rather owing to the precipitation of Mr. 
 Voltaire's friends than to himfelf, that we fhould 
 impute the imperfections of the Henriade, and 
 even its exiftence. He had, as it is well known, 
 conceived the plan, and made his firft fketch of 
 it, at an age when it is difficult to conceive that 
 he fhould be able to do juftice to fuch an at- 
 tempt, efpecially while dividing his time, and 
 devoting his attention in the manner he did, to 
 all the fubjefts of literature. The fociety he 
 then lived in was compofed of friends rather en- 
 lightened than rational, poflefled of more deli- 
 cacy than paflion, delivered up to a philofophy 
 proper enough for the cultivation of tafte, but 
 not calculated to roufe the imagination, and va- 
 luing themfelves on a peculiar mode of thinking 
 on every fubject. 
 
 The draught of the Henriade, under the name 
 of the League, was very highly applauded by 
 them ; they found in it fome lively pafTages againft 
 the priefthood which pleafed them, and fome fine 
 verfes which they admired with flill more reafon : 
 they were not repelled by the coldnefs of their 
 
 principles.
 
 EPIC POEMS, 87 
 
 principles. Inftead of giving the young author 
 fuch wholefome advice as would have induced 
 him to abandon the defign, they loaded him with 
 fuch eulogiums as induced him to commit it 
 to the prefs, not only before the coloring was 
 complete, but before any thing was fettled either 
 in the defign or in the execution. 
 
 Thefe praifes thus lavilhly beflo^ed, caft 
 an illufion before the public ; and even the au*. 
 thor himfelf, fortified by thefe againft his own 
 internal conviction, has all his life long la.borecj 
 to poliih his fketch, but he never thought of im- 
 proving or enlarging the plan of it, and had he 
 conceived the defign, perhaps he might not 
 have been able to execute it. He would con- 
 ftantly have preferred the more eafy labor of the 
 theatre, and the numberlefs more pleafing oc? 
 cupations which he had formed, to that pro- 
 found meditation, and thofe laborious efforts ne- 
 cefTary to form the plan of a good epic poem, 
 and ftill more to amend that of a bad one. 
 
 G 4 OF
 
 O F 
 
 MR. V O L T A I R E ? s 
 SECOND EPIC POEM. 
 
 NEARLY about the fame time that Mr. 
 Voltaire was thus occupied on the ferious 
 epopeia, he adventured to try the burlefque. We 
 find in the hiftory of France a fecond epocha, 
 almoft fimilar to that which has been the fubject 
 of our remarks : that is, the reign of Charles the 
 Seventh; the events and the two monarchs bear 
 a like affinity to each other. 
 
 Charles and Henry were both brave, both 
 amiable and indulgent; they alike intermingled 
 pleafures and bufinefs, love and war; both were 
 profcribed in their own dominions, ancj had to 
 wreft from their fubjects, fupported in rebellion 
 by foreigners, their own territories, which werq 
 likewife the fame. It was the care of each, 
 \yhen fettled on the throne, to re-eftablifh order 
 plenty in their provinces, that had been fo 
 
 long
 
 90 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 long in a ftate of defolation. Laftly, they both 
 met with a melancholy and premature death ; 
 the one perifhed with hunger, for fear of being 
 poifoned by his fon ; the other fell by the hand 
 of one of his fubjects. 
 
 The firft difference we perceive between them 
 is, that religion, which occafioned all the misfor- 
 tunes of Henry, had no influence on the affairs 
 of Charles ; and a fecond is, the furprifmg event 
 which diftinguifhes the reign of the latter, in 
 the fuccour he derived from the Maid, fur- 
 named d'Orleans, becaufe her firil exploit was 
 that of making the Englifh raife the fiege of that 
 town. 
 
 If one of thefe reigns has been deemed worthy 
 of the epopeia, and capable of furnifhing the fub- 
 je6l of an heroic poem, why fhould not the fe- 
 cond be entitled to the like honor ? Joan of 
 Arc, without doubt, fighting for her country, 
 equalling the moft renowned warriours in valour 
 and fuccefs, carries nothing ridiculous in it. 
 TheClorindas, the Marphifas, the Bradamantas, 
 the Camillas are not fo, and it may be fairly 
 queflioned if they ever equalled the fhepherdefs 
 of Vancouleurs. 
 
 The daftardly cruelty, which not being able to 
 conquer, was capable of avenging itfelf on her cou- 
 rage by condemningherto a barbarous death, might 
 
 have
 
 EPIC POEMS. 91 
 
 have fupplied a moft affecting epifode : I know not 
 if I am miflaken, but it appears to me that the 
 fubverfion of France, and its re eft ablifhment un- 
 der the father of Louis the Eleventh, opened a 
 new field to the epopeia, and prefented refources 
 which might have interefted readers of every na- 
 tion, and from ftronger motives thofe of that 
 country in particular. 
 
 Unhappily, a man void of genius has under- 
 taken this fine fubje<5b, and failed in the attempt : 
 it has therefore, after the manner of the French, 
 been haftily confidered as impracticable. Be- 
 caufe Chapelain has not fucceeded, it has been 
 fettled that no one elfe could. Mr. Voltaire him- 
 felf fomewhere treats the idea of coniidering it 
 ferioufly as abfurd j and fo well was he perfuaded 
 of this, that, after having dared to cope with 
 Virgil in the ferious line, he now propofed imi- 
 tating the moft humorous part of Ariofto, and 
 made choice of this fubject as a canvas adapted 
 to receive this light bordering, and, under the 
 title of the Pucelie, given us an exact parody of 
 the Henriade. 
 
 This work has had a great run. The youth- 
 ful part of its readers have been feduced by the 
 licentious pictures with which it abounds, and foine 
 voluptuous images which are to be found in it : 
 even connoiffeurs themfelves have applauded the 
 5 details
 
 C>a EPIC POEMS. 
 
 details of fine poetry, which are not uncommon 
 in it. It has thus appeared to unite the fuffrages 
 of all ; and even its enemies have not had the 
 courage to examine it rigidly. The plan of the 
 work is Co licentious, that they have not under- 
 taken to eftimate the merit of its execution, or 
 that of the extraneous matter ; they have for- 
 borne to touch it, as pirates avoid a town that 
 is feeble and defencelefs, but in which they know 
 the plague rages. From thefe confiderations 
 j^lone, the Pucelle might already be ranked 
 much beneath the Orlando. 
 
 The pleafantries of Ariofto have, in general, 
 nothing at which modefty can take exception : 
 if fome few of his tales pafs fomewhat beyond 
 the boundaries of fimple fport, his language, 
 and the age in which he lived, concur in his 
 extenuation. We admired the exceptionable 
 parts of Rabelais, when the Italians fmiled at 
 Joconda. 
 
 And this tale, the moft licentious of any in 
 Ariofto, is not put into the mouth of the poet. 
 It is a hoftefs who relates it, who tells it to a 
 lover that has recently experienced a moft cruel 
 mortification from his miftrefs j this pretty ftory 
 is fo well adapted to comfort him, and the au- 
 thor paries on fo rapidly to objects with which 
 the niceft delicacy cannot be offended, that 
 
 criticifm
 
 EPIC POEMS. 93 
 
 criticifm is difarmed before fhe has time to be 
 dilpleafed. 
 
 The other occafions which might excite fe- 
 ver ity are rare in the Orlando ; whereas in the 
 Pucelle of the eighteenth century, there is fcarcely 
 a canto which has any claim to our indulgence. 
 Modefty is inceflantly hurt, and that in the grofleft 
 degree ; even the coloring does not difguife the 
 offenfivenefs of the defign. Scarcely can we 
 excufe the author in having fometimes borrowed 
 the pencil of La Fontaine, and almoft through- 
 out ufed the brufh of Aretin. 
 
 By this alone then, as I have faid, this fecond 
 poem, did it poflefs in other refpe<5bs every per- 
 fection of which this fpecies of literature is 
 capable, could not bear a contraft with the Or- 
 lando, which is juftly ranked amongft the moft 
 glorious monuments of Italy. But unfortunately 
 it has not even this merit. The author has evi- 
 dently fet before him Ariofto as a model, and, 
 notwithilanding, he has in no refpect followed 
 him, -he has produced neither an original nor a 
 copy. His poem is a monftrous aflemblage of 
 detached pieces collected together, fometimes 
 indeed dazzling from their agreeable fallies, but 
 which no more confritute a poem than the hun- 
 dred new novels eompofe a romance.
 
 94 fc p f c p o E M s. 
 
 The Orlando is itfelf of a nature apparently 
 very extravagant. The Jerufalem, the ^Eneid, 
 the Iliad, are grave and heroic from end to end. 
 If in the fifth book of the Latin poem you meet 
 with the adventure of the pilot thrown into the 
 fea by the rage of the captain ; if Virgil amufes 
 himfelf in defcribing him well foaked, throwing 
 up the fait water he has fwallowed, and the Greeks 
 enjoying his difafler and its confequences ; it is 
 in a defcription of Games that this caricature is 
 placed, it occupies but a corner of the picture, 
 which is moreover wholly defigned to exhibit a 
 Icene of feftivity and diverfion. The adventure 
 of eating the tables, and the comic verfe of 
 little Julius, 
 
 Menfas confumere ipfas, 
 
 is no pleafantry ; it is the ground of a flory long 
 before admitted among the antiquities of Rome, 
 fmce we meet with it again in hiftory, where it 
 is handed down to us in profe. 
 
 The OdyfTey is widely different from the Iliad, 
 it is even almoft the oppofite extreme. Homer 
 has not painted on the fame canvas the battles 
 of the g6ds, and the metamorphofes of the com- 
 panions of Ulyflesj the parting fcene of An- 
 dromache, and the lowing of the fkins of the 
 
 oxen
 
 EPIC POEMS. 95 
 
 oxen which the companions of UlyfTes had eaten 
 a week before. 
 
 The Italians were the firft who conceived the 
 idea of intermixing in epic poetry tender events, 
 and ridiculous adventures ; of paffing all at once 
 from the moft elevated, to the moft playful 
 ftile; of giving loofe to an imagination to all 
 appearance the mod void of order, without 
 wholly lofmg fight of nature; of exhilarating 
 the mind, without ceafmg to move the heart j 
 and who have thus thrown into their compo- 
 fitions all the dignity of tragedy, without exclud- 
 ing from them reprefentations not only taken 
 from common life, but even from fuch fcenes 
 in it as abound v/ith incidents, beft adapted 
 to create mirth. And of all the Italians who 
 have written in this ftile, none have produced 
 any thing worthy of being compared with the 
 Orlando Furiofo. It ib the perfection of the 
 burlefque, a fpecies of compofition more natu- 
 ral, more refpectable, and more difficult to attain 
 than is iuppofed -, apparently cried down in our 
 language, becaufe it has been too much debafed, 
 but of which our beft authors, with Boileau at 
 their head, have found means to avail themfelves 
 in a great degree, while they were cautious of 
 employing it under its ancient name. 
 
 There
 
 9 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 There are in it certain limits, which muft not 
 be left far diftant, delicate paffages to be feized, 
 light fhadings which muft not be too much 
 forced. It is the art with which all thefe regu- 
 lations are obferved, that conftitutes the merit 
 of the Orlando. It is that which Mr. Voltaire 
 propofed to imitate, what he feemed, from his 
 caft of mind, more capable of imitating than 
 any other, but which unfortunately he has not 
 imitated in the leaft in his Pucelle. 
 
 The ftile of Ariofto is always adapted to what 
 he has to fay : in battle it is full of energy, of 
 impetuofity and grandeur j foft, tender, and 
 brilliant in adventures of gallantry, at other 
 times humourous, ferious, animated or grave, 
 as the fubje<5t required : whereas, from the be- 
 ginning to the end of the Pucelle, but one ftile 
 is difcoverable. It is a perpetual irony, one con- 
 tinued fneer throughout. 
 
 Ariofto-is matter of his ftibjec~r, but he makes 
 it his bufmefs ; even when jefting, he has not 
 the air of making game of his heroes or his 
 readers; and this is what Mr. Voltaire does cori- 
 ftantly. 1 he Italian author is correctly atten- 
 tive to the cuftoms of chivalry, but it is with a 
 view to render it refpectable , the French writer 
 conforms to it likewife, but it is to make it 
 ridiculous. The former fometimes indulges 
 
 himfdf'
 
 EPIC POEMS. 97 
 
 himfelf in humorous tales or laughable adven- 
 tures, but it is not to his real heroes that they 
 happen. On the contrary, the latter feeks only 
 to enliven his readers ; all is buffoonery and pan- 
 tomime throughout his poem; the higheft and 
 the lovveft of his characters equally wear this dif- 
 graceful badge. Bonneau is truly comic, and it 
 is one of the bed drolls in the poem ; but Da- 
 nois, Charles the Seventh, the Pucelle, fhould 
 not be fo, and they notwithftanding meet with 
 nothing but ridiculous adventures which degrade 
 them. 
 
 It is in this more efpecially, in my opinion,, 
 that Mr. Voltaire has miftaken himfelf. He did 
 not confider that there were two forts of bur- 
 lefque ; one of which confifts in fpeaking with 
 dignity, and even force, of things in their nature 
 trivial and infignificant ; the other in depreciat- 
 ing fuch as are really great by vulgar expreffions 
 or low ideas. The firft may pleafe, and pleafe 
 even men of tafte and difcernmenr, becaufe there 
 is nothing in it painful or degrading. What is 
 beautiful is dill beautiful, in fpite of the inverted 
 purpofe to which it is in fome meafure applied. 
 Thus when la Fontaine, in his fable of the Fox 
 and the Goat, fays that time, by its continual 
 progrefs, had eaten into the circular form of the 
 planet with the filver face j this admirable pic- 
 H ture
 
 98 EPIC POEMS. 
 
 ture of the moon in its wane is not fpoiled, it 
 becomes more pointed when we find it conclude 
 in the goat's miftaking this ilar for a half-eaten 
 cheefe. This too is the burlefque which pleafes 
 in the Lutrin. 
 
 It is not Ib with the other burlefque, that of 
 Scarron, which defcends to apply the habits and 
 manners of the lower vulgar to the moil digni- 
 fied characters, to transform the moil majeftic 
 portraits into defpicable caricatures. Clothe a- 
 dwarf in the arms of Achilles, let the pigmy 
 under his burthen affect the deportment of the 
 conqueror of Hector, nothing can be more hu- 
 morous j but fhould the fon of Peleus, in order 
 to counterfeit Therfites, deliberately aflbme an 
 artificial hump; fhould the handfomeft of men, 
 by way of affording amufement to the fpecta- 
 tor, degrade himfelf fo far as to aflfume the air 
 and maik of the moil deformed, will not every 
 one turn with contempt from fuch a difguiling 
 mafquerade ? Thefe are the two fpecies of 
 burlefque. 
 
 Arioflo is fully fenfible of this ; he often in- 
 dulges himfelf in gaiety, but he no where dif- 
 parages his work -, there is always cafl over his 
 pictures, whatever they are, a delicate varniih, 
 which prevents their tarnifhing. Mr. Voltaire, 
 wn the other hand, in his Pucelle, moil plenti- 
 fully
 
 E P I C P O E M S. 99 
 
 fully bedaubs his with the coarfeft coloring. The 
 firft canto too, which is written in a pleafing 
 manner, announces quite a different thing from 
 what follows ; the reader has not One pleafure 
 which he does not purchafe with pain, not the 
 fatisfaction of one moment, for which he does 
 not experience feveral of indignation and dif- 
 guft. 
 
 Befides in the Orlando, comic and burlefque, 
 as in part it is, we difcern a conduct the refult 
 of deliberation, a connected plan ; I repeat, that 
 in every canto are to be found leflbns and mo- 
 dels of magnanimity and decency, together with 
 a variety and inexhauftible profufion of charac- 
 ters, exceeding the exuberance of Homer him- 
 felf in this refpect. Marphifa and Bradaminta 
 are both female warrionrs, the haughtinefs of the 
 one ferving as a relief to the tender fenfibility 
 of the other. Angelica and Fleurs de Lys are 
 both paffionate lovers, but how finely is the 
 coquetry of the firft depicted ! how beautifully 
 is the fidelity of the fecond pourtrayed ! 
 
 Rolando, Renaud, Roger, Brandimard, Ro- 
 domont, Mandricard, Ferragus, &c. are all 
 men of valour, but each recognizable by dif- 
 ferent features of character and different defcrip- 
 tions of courage. Rolando and Renaud love 
 with ardor, and fight with generofity. The foul 
 
 1 1 2 Of
 
 i'OO EPIC POEMS. 
 
 of Roger !s more tender, his pafllons lefs vio- 
 lent, but his heart equally noble. Brandimard 
 is as brave a knight, and as faithful a lover as 
 either, but friendfhip divides his heart with love, 
 without weakening its power ; Mandricard and 
 Rodomont are rafh and headftrong, in whom 
 tendernefs affumes the fame fierce and infulting 
 character as their valor ; Ferragus, befides their 
 defeats, is a ftranger to love, poflefiing but the 
 fnere animal part of it. 
 
 Add to this diverfity of character, all that the 
 heroifm of chivalry has captivating in it, all 
 the charms which a prolific imagination is capa- 
 ble of fupplying ; whatever emotions the ten- 
 dered fenfibility can effect, epifodes without 
 number, fome full of gaiety, as thofe of Medor 
 and Angelica, of Doralica and Rodomont; 
 others pathetic, like thofe of Zerbin and Ifa- 
 bella, of Brandirnard and Fleur de Lys ; and 
 Others again fabulous and amufing, as the voyage 
 of Atolphus to the moon : this may ferve to give 
 fome idea of Ariofto's admirable poem. In what 
 refpect does the modern Pucelle referable it ? 
 
 Add to this, that in the laft work, the 
 latire of Mr. Voltaire is carried to the laft 
 degree of licentioufnefs. The editions publifhed 
 tinder the infpection of the author, in his old 
 nge, contaia a new canto, wholly taken up in 
 5 abufmg
 
 EPIC POEMS. IOI 
 
 abufing his enemies, whom he transforms into 
 galley-flaves, and who being delivered from the 
 oar by their king, teftify their gratitude in no 
 other way than by robbing him. This abufe of 
 talent is atrocious. No poet before Mr. Voltaire 
 ever indulged himfelf in the like ribaldry, and 
 unhappily he has given way to it again, in a man- 
 ner almoft equally fcandalous, in his poem of 
 the War of Geneva. 
 
 Let us conclude this painful article, which a 
 regard to truth forces from me, and agree, 
 in fpite of the commencement of the cantos in 
 the Pucelle, which are mcft of them admirable j 
 in fpite of the charming digreffions, which are 
 frequent in this work ; and notwithstanding the 
 favorable reception it met with from the public j 
 that the poetical glory of Mr. Voltaire would 
 have fuffered no diminution if he had not given 
 this additional proof of his fecundity. It would 
 even have gained much from its fuppreflion, 
 fmce it indicates rather the limitation, than the 
 extent of his genius, 
 
 H 3 OF
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE'S 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 IT is very remarkable, that the firft and the 
 laft fteps of Mr. Voltaire have been towards 
 the theatre: he finifhed his literary life with 
 Irene, as he began it with Oedipus. This boif- 
 terous and fplendid career feemed, indeed, to 
 offer the ftrongeft allurements to a young man, 
 .fraught with all the enthufiafm of youth, and 
 full of that effervefcence which the view of great 
 models infpires in a mind fenfible of their ex- 
 cellence : the ardor of produdion is then as 
 ftrong in the moral as in the phyfical fyftem in 
 every man whofe organization is happily formed ; 
 and in him that this was not a blind or tranfitory 
 paflion 3 which had miftaken its ftrength, or 
 the deftination of its powers, his fuccefs has fuf- 
 ftciently (hewn. 
 
 H 4 It
 
 104 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that in his tragedies we 
 are not to look for thofe developements of 
 the human heart, fo juft, fo delicate, and fo 
 pathetically interefling, which conftitu.te the 
 charm of Racine's pieces ; or that force of 
 genius, and profundity of thought, that chain 
 of reafoning, and fubtilty of difcrimination, if 
 I may be allowed the term, which diftinguifh 
 thofe of Corneille ; or even the art of dialogue, 
 carried by both thofe authors to its height of 
 perfection ; that is to fay, that play of attack 
 find defence, thofe refources at once natural and 
 unexpected, which enrich the fcene, and leave 
 the audience at a lofs v;hether moft to admire the 
 propriety or rapidity of the replies. 
 1 Alzira, Merope, and Tancred, are fine trage- 
 dies. In the duke de Foix, or rather in the part 
 of Lifois, the political principles, the magani- 
 inity, and the heroic delicacy of a gallant knight, 
 who loves, pities, and follows his monarch, with- 
 out approving his wanderings, are moft happily 
 defcribed. Mahomet and Semiramis poflefs their 
 refpeclive merits ; but, in point of invention, 
 have they any thing worthy of being fet in com- 
 petition with the three firft a6ls of the Horatii; 
 with this iuperftructure raifed by the genius of 
 Corneille on a fingle word found in Livy j with 
 the contraft between a republican youth, whofe 
 
 heroifm
 
 TRAGEDIES. IO$ 
 
 heroifm degenerates into barbarity, and a true 
 hero in whom a fpirit of patriotifm is blended 
 with other virtues, with thofe propenfities natu- 
 rally dear to all tender minds, with thofe fhadings 
 fo fkilfully preferved between the conjugal affec- 
 tion of a wife, the violent paffion of a.miftrefs, 
 and the tender but mafculine regard of a father 
 grown old in the perfuafion, that every domeftic 
 tie fhould be facrificed to the duty we owe our 
 country j to this ingenious and probable error, 
 whence refults the falfe conclufion which forces 
 from the old man, that exprefiion fo grand, fo 
 fimple, and Ib natural in a Roman, while at 
 the fame time fo terrible and fgblime, " Let 
 him die." 
 
 Thefe three firft acts appear to m*e to have 
 reached, perhaps to have exceeded the bounds 
 of human capacity -, no theatre, in any age, 
 appears to me to have come near them: Corneille 
 himfelf after this effort was never able to raife 
 to the like height^ but in paffages where he does 
 not run into the oppofitc extreme, he prelerves 
 his fuperiority over Mr. Voltaire, in common 
 with every other dramatic writer. 
 
 The refignation of Gufman, in Alzira, is 
 doubtlefs a magnificent reprefentation j it is not 
 without reafon thofe lines are celebrated, wherein 
 jt is preferved, 
 
 " Qf our religions, &c,"
 
 1O6 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 But is not the pardon granted by Auguftus, in 
 Cuma, fbill more fublime ? Gufman in reality 
 does no more than obey the dictates of his re- 
 ligion, perhaps he can hardly be allowed the 
 merit of having fulfilled them : about to expire, 
 it is fcarcely pofiible for him to behave other- 
 wife. Inftances are not uncommon of men of 
 harfh and even barbarous difpofitions relenting 
 into tendernefs on a death-bed : in fuch moments 
 revenge becomes weak, as it is perceived to be 
 inefficient, and power is difregarded, as it cart 
 be no longer enjoyed j befides how great reafon 
 has the dying Spaniard to acc.ufe himfelf of 
 having injured his rival? 
 
 But in the cafe of Auguftus, it was while in 
 perfect health ; when the lives of his enemies 
 were at his abfolute difpofal - 3 while the power of 
 vengeance was eafy, and the pleafure of enjoying 
 it certain, that he grants a pardon ; and to whom ? 
 to men flained with ingratitude and treafon ; to 
 a knot of confpirators, whom the blackeft malice 
 and the bafeil treachery had combined together 
 for his destruction : under fuch circumftances, it 
 is the freedom of agency, the generofity of the 
 facrifice, which conftitutes its grandeur. Ordinary 
 men admire the fentiments of Gufman ; thofe of 
 
 Auguftus force tears from heroes. 
 
 The
 
 TRAGEDIES. IO7 
 
 The like obfervationwill hold good, with regard 
 
 O * O 
 
 to the part of Paulina, in Polieu6les : a part un- 
 fortunately weakened and even degraded by what 
 furrounds it ; and the more worthy of admira- 
 tion, as, like the three firft afts of the Horatii, 
 it is wholly of the author's own invention, as 
 he could not have gathered a (ingle idea on the 
 fubjeft, either from the ancients or moderns. 
 
 Racine himfelf has none of thefe flafhes of 
 genius : but then how ably is he fuftained ; how- 
 equal throughout ; what perfection does he not 
 pofTejTs, and that in every fpecies ! Burrhus, 
 Agrippina, Achmet, prove fufficiently that had 
 he oftener taken other paffions than love for his 
 fubject, he would have arrived, though by a 
 different path, to an equal perfection even with 
 Corneille himfelf, in that particular forte for 
 which the latter is diftingmlhed. If the public 
 Hill perfift in the opinion that he was capable of 
 defcribing tendernefs alone, it is one of thofe 
 errors fo common in literature, and which it is 
 impofiible to explain or to reform. Accuftomed 
 to applaud in him that fpecies of merit of which 
 he has given the moft abundant proofs -, and 
 which being of itfeif fufficient to eftablifh his 
 claim to genius, it became unneceflary to feek 
 other excellencies in him, and it has therefore 
 |>een tacitly concluded that he had them not. 
 
 That
 
 ICS TRAGEDIES, 
 
 1 That alone will no more authorize us in placing 
 Mr. Voltaire on an equal footing with him in this 
 refpcct, than we have already found him entitled 
 to hold with Corneille in the other. Zara is the 
 only piece wherein the latter has attempted to 
 defcribe the fury of war, and the tranfports of 
 love. But Zara is wholly borrowed : Orofmanes 
 is no other than ths Roxana of Bajazet, meta- 
 morphofed into a man. A fevere critic might 
 poffibly urge that the original has loft much of 
 its delicacy by the exchange, without having 
 acquired any additional ftrength ; that the ad- 
 ventitious matter, as being the author's own, is 
 ilill more weakened, and that in fpite of its repu- 
 taiion, this is one of the feebleft of his dramatic 
 works; but if from the circumftance alone, 
 that the principal character is but an imitation, 
 it does not confer on Mr. Voltaire the privilege 
 of ranking as a rival of Racine, in thofe lifts 
 wherein the latter has fo fuccefsfully diftinguifhed 
 himfelf. 
 
 And of this he was fully lenfibie : this was 
 his fole effort. He did not deceive himfelf, and 
 the proof that he cid not, refts equally in his 
 theatrical as in his other productions j poflelTed 
 of every imaginable mental refource, he was 
 deficient in that eloquence of the heart, thofe 
 powers of expreflion, fometimes foft and at 
 
 others
 
 TRAGEDIES. IOy 
 
 others impetuous, at once abundant and chafte, 
 which are necelTary to an adequate delineation 
 of the conflicts, the delicacies, and the tranfports 
 of love ; an eloquence, precifion, and abundance, 
 which in poetry has been granted among, the 
 Romans to Virgil alone, among the Italians to 
 Ariofto and Tafib, in France to the author ot 
 Phaedra, and among other nations to no one. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire, like Corneille, has contented 
 himfelf with making this pafllon a fecondary aid, 
 which ferves only to extend his pieces to their 
 proper length. In Semiramis, Mahomet, and 
 Cataline, it has no other office. It is not love 
 by which the fpectator feels himfelf affected in 
 Tancred ; but the generofity and magnanimity 
 which dazzles throughout the piece. In the 
 Orphan of China, the barbarous pafilon of 
 Gengifkan has none of the character iftics which 
 render love tragical ; on the contrary, it borders, 
 as well from its nature as expreuion, on the 
 oppofice defcription. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire, while he juflly obferved the error 
 of Corneille, who enfeebled his pieces by in- 
 troducing a paffion which, when it does not 
 excite the fole intereft, diminishes its force, has 
 neverthelefs imitated him. It is a tribute he 
 pays to cuftom, to convenience, to the conili- 
 tution, as we may fay, of the thracre, whence it 
 
 is
 
 HO TRAtftDTES. 
 
 is not allowable wholly to exclude women ; and 
 where it would be often very difficult to find 
 them employment, were they not engaged eithei* 
 in making, or in receiving declarations of love. 
 
 Nor are we to expect in Mr. Voltaire's pieces, 
 that conduct, that art of arranging, opening, and 
 thickening a plot, that (kill in die management 
 of his fcenes, in adding to the embarraffment, 
 and increafing the intereft of the piece, of nev^r 
 leaving the flage empty, or occupied by cha- 
 racters brought on for the fole purpofe of filling 
 it; an art which was perfectly underftood by 
 Racine alone , who does not even pofTefs it him- 
 fclf in all his pieces. 
 
 Laftly, We are not to require from Mr. Vol- 
 taire that delicacy, purity, and harmony, that 
 noble fimplicity, elegant, but not oftentatious, 
 that poetry of fentiment rather than of ftyle, 
 which exprerTes with equal fimplicity and rich- 
 neis, and always in the jutted terms, without 
 the reftraint of rhyme or meafure detracting in 
 the leaft from the propriety of language, the 
 rngings of love, the fury of ambition, or the 
 fubtikies of policy j excellencies, which, in our 
 language, and I believe in every other, were 
 granted to one man alone, -and that always the 
 lame, to the inimitable Racine, who died at ib 
 early a period, fo foon torn from his country, 
 
 by
 
 TR-AGEDIES. Ill 
 
 by whom he was very moderately honored in his 
 "life time, fordidly repaid, by the court for the 
 fervices he had rendered the language and poetry 
 in general, punifhed for an honeft and praife- 
 worthy action by a dilgrace which coft him his 
 life ; and laftly, even at the prefent day, held in 
 light eftimation by his own countrymen j who, 
 had he been born in England, Italy, or Germany, 
 would have had ftatues erected to him in his life, 
 and temples at his death. 
 
 The perfection of his language is fo great, that 
 half its excellence is loft in reprefentation. His 
 pieces are highly finiflied and exquifite pictures, 
 which, to difcover their full excellence, require 
 to be infpected at leifure and with reflection. 
 
 The {hades too of his bewitching poetry are fo 
 delicate, that it is difficult to find actors capable 
 of conceiving and expreffing them. Madam de 
 Sevigne has been harfhly reproached for the 
 decree fhe may be laid to have pronounced on 
 the merits of the two authors who divided the 
 theatre in her time ; and in the preference fhe 
 gave to Corneilie, by her comparifon of Racine to 
 a modifh tafte, to coffee, which as fhe faid would 
 not maintain its ground. 
 
 Madam de Sevigne, even in this error, feems 
 to me to have given a proof of her judgment. 
 She exprefied very happily the fentiments which 
 
 a difiipated
 
 112 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 a diffipated woman, who had lived a good deal 
 in the world, and whofe opinion of dramatic 
 productions arofe rather from reprefentation than 
 reading, was likely to form ; one who was de- 
 termined in her choice by the emotion (he felt at 
 the former, and who carried with her into the 
 clofet the impreflions fhe felt at the theatre. 
 Doubtlefs the terrible graces of Corneille, the 
 Michael Angelo of poetry, muft affect both her 
 and all of her age, in a more lively degree, 
 than the foft, eafy, and natural, though learned 
 tints of Racine, who may be deemed the 
 Raphael of that art. There is fcarcely any 
 company by which the characters of the Horatii, 
 Cinna, Polieuctes, &c. are not tolerably per- 
 formed. But where are we to find actors who 
 are capable of declaiming, without monotony, 
 Hippolitus's declaration of love, the tender re- 
 monftrarices of Iphigene in the part of Phasdra, 
 to vary the tones as the different paffions require, 
 ia that of Roxana, to hit the precife degree, 
 fometimes of confidence, at others of rage ; 
 fometimes of the pathetic, and at others of 
 rancour, which are neceffary to it; to reconcile % , 
 in the character of Achilles the anger of the fon 
 of Peleus, with the dignity and grandeur which 
 Racine has preferred to him amidft his tranfports. 
 He himfelf inftructed the celebrated Champ- 
 mefle. The manner in which fhe played his 
 
 characters
 
 TRAGEDIES. 1 13 
 
 characters made her pafs for the beft actrefs 
 of her age. It was thought fhe added to the 
 beauties of her author ; but on the contrary, 
 all her merit confifted in availing herfelf of his 
 inftru&ions, that fhe might not lofe any of them. 
 Accordingly Mad. Sevigne again fays, that to 
 difcern the beauties of the tragedy of Bajazet, 
 we ought to fee the a&refs. She formed her judg- 
 ment in this alfo like a fenfible woman, who 
 read little, but judged well of what fhe faw. 
 Her only fault was that of forming too hafty a 
 decifion > of not allowing herfelf time to examine 
 whether (he would not have found in reading 
 Bajazet what fhe had fo much admired in the 
 reprefentation ; and had fhe done fo, fhe would 
 have found much more. But fhe had not the 
 necefTary leifure to be correft ; and in more 
 ferious affairs, there are fo few men who take 
 this neceflary time, that in a point of literature 
 we may well excufe the want of it in a woman. 
 
 However this may be, it does not appear that 
 Mr. Voltaire in this refpeft can be confidered 
 as poflcffing any fuperior merit to diftinguifh 
 him from his predecefibrs : though infinitely 
 fuperior to Corneille, not in fome particular 
 paflages, wherein Corneille has not even an equal ; 
 but in his general tafte, in point of corre&nefs 
 and elegance of ftyle \ much is ftill wanting in 
 I all
 
 114 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 all thefe particulars, before he will be thought to 
 excel, or even to equal Racine. 
 
 The proper word is never wanting in Racine. 
 In Mr. Voltaire's poetry it is feldom found. 
 We difcbver even that he has not been at the 
 pains to feek it. Thus in the Death of Csefar 
 we find, 
 
 " Czefar was a hero, but Caefar was a traitor " 
 
 Traitre moft afiuredly is only placed there, be- 
 caufe the verfe that precedes it ends in maitre. 
 The proper word would have been tyrant, or 
 ufurper, &c. never was the brave, the generous 
 Csefar accufed of treafbn or perfidy. 
 
 We find the fame word equally mifapplied in 
 Merope. Polifontes fays of Egiftus, 
 
 " It is your fon, madam, or 'tis a traitor." 
 
 He fhould have faid an impoftor. Egiftus, in 
 giving himfelf even falfely for the Queen's fon, 
 is an impoftor, and not a traitor. 
 We read in Semiramis, 
 
 tf And unpropitious heaven 
 Hath corrupted the courfe of his profperity." 
 
 Is corrupted the proper word ? Racine fays of 
 Athalia, 
 
 ' Of late a fpeftre moft importunate 
 
 Hath interrupted the courfe of my profperity." 
 
 In
 
 TRAGEDIES. JI 
 
 In CEdipus, Philocletes, fpeaking of Hercules, 
 fays, 
 
 " From waiting at the altars 
 
 And railing tombs to that great hero, 
 
 I come " 
 
 Why tombs ? Altars may be raifed in honor of 
 a deity, becaufe many in reality may be con- 
 fecrated to him. But the fame man can have 
 but one tomb. 
 
 In Zara, Lufignan, in order to exprefs the 
 refurrection of Jefus Chrift, and defcribe the 
 holy fepulchre, fays : 
 
 " Behold the fpot, whence he drew life 
 From out the iilent grave." 
 
 Would Racine have exprefled himfelf thus.? Is 
 life to be found in the grave ? The author of 
 Andromache finely fays, 
 
 ' ' Thou ieek'ft her with thine eyes ; 
 Thou fpeak'ft to her with thine heart." 
 
 He has faid, 
 
 " Full plainly haft thou heard thofe fighs 
 Which fear'd to be repell'd." 
 
 But what a difference between them, between 
 thefe flights, which animate and perfonify every 
 thing j which excite no other furprife in the 
 reader, than that which fuch energy of thought 
 united with fuch eafe muft neceflarily produce, 
 and the languid turn of the King of Cyprus ! 
 I 2 In
 
 In Tancred, Orbafian fays to Argira : 
 
 " The tie which now unites us once again 
 Had ne'er ta'en place, but that in angry ftrife, 
 Now buried in oblivion, my fond heart 
 Which hated, ftill efteem'd you." 
 
 Hated, perhaps, is the proper word, but what a 
 Ihocking harihnefs ! 
 
 Racine allowed himfelf to fay, 
 
 " Did you e'en hate me, I could not complain." 
 
 There is no ear but muft perceive, that in the 
 laft verfe, the word has all the foftnefs it is 
 capable of, and that in the other inilance, its 
 natural harfhnefs is greatly augmented. 
 
 Inflances of this kind are innumerable. 
 
 In point of elegance, Mr. Voltaire is ftill lefs 
 qualified to maintain the comparifon. It is true 
 he has nearly approached Racine in feveral paf- 
 fages of Mariamne, Brutus, Semiramis, and 
 Tancred, and above all in the part of Lifois 
 Duke de Foix, a part written with a continuation 
 of grandeur, precifion, force, and fimplicity, 
 which is truly remarkable. But in general, he 
 has rarely piqued himfelf on devoting the necef- 
 fary labour, to infure to his poetical works, and 
 more efpecially to his tragedies, this fpecies of 
 merit. 
 
 Let the two poets be clofely compared, par- 
 ticularly where they have the fame things to 
 
 fay,
 
 lay ; for inftance, in the reflexions of Zara and 
 Eriphiles, on their mutual ignorance of their 
 origin. 
 The daughter of Lufignan thus exprefles herfelf, 
 
 -Ha ! What fay'ft thou ? Why 
 
 Would'ft thou recal my forrows, Fatima, 
 Alas, I know not who or what I am, 
 .Not e'en who gave me birth." 
 
 Hear the rival of Iphigene : 
 
 f Expos'd for ever to fome new diftrefs, 
 In earlieft youth to ftrangers' care entrufted ; 
 E'en from my birth till now, I've liv'd 
 Unconfcious of a tender mother's fmile, 
 Or father's kind regard." 
 
 The former verfes are not even tolerable prole, 
 the others are poetical, elegant, and abounding 
 with pathetic imagery. 
 
 Gengifkan and Hippolitus have each to exprefs 
 a barbarous love j both are equally at a lofs how 
 to exprefs a pafiion with which they are alike 
 unacquainted ; but the Tartar has not one ex- 
 preffion which goes to the heart, or comes from 
 it, not one that is poetical or affe&ing, it is a 
 grofs paflion, grofsly and profaically expreffed : 
 
 Beware how thou infult'ft excefs of weaknefs, 
 Which rage already turns to my reproach ; 
 E'en this avowal may create you danger ; 
 Pread then my love, and tremble at my favors, 
 
 I 3 My
 
 IlS TRAGEDIES. 
 
 My foul is but too eager for revenge ; 
 
 And I fhall punifh you for having lov'd you. 
 
 Oh pardon me E'en now amidft my threats I figh j 
 
 Quell then this rage, beginning to fubfide, 
 
 And by a fingle word decide my empire's fate ; 
 
 But this important word you muft pronounce. 
 
 Say then, without delay, referve, or art, 
 
 If you will have my hatred or my love." 
 
 What a cold declamation, when contrafted with 
 that well known paffage of Phaedra, fo often 
 quoted, and fo continually new to every reader 
 poffeiTed of tafte and fentiment. 
 
 ?' Behold before you an unhappy prince, 
 A ftriking monument of frantic pride ; 
 Who long a rebel to all pow'rful love, 
 ^ Jia}e oft infulted his poor captive's chains ; 
 Pitying the fate of thofe whofe wrecks I faw, 
 I deem'd myfelf fecure : ' and from the fhore 
 Thought to behold unhurt the ftorm around me, 
 Now made fubfervient to the common lot. 
 What wond'rous pow'r tranfports me from myfelf, 
 Which in a moment humbles my ram pride, 
 And proves this haughty foul is now enflaved. 
 In all the agonies of grief and fhame, 
 For fix long months I've borne the fatal dart 
 By which I'm pierc'd : againft myfelf and you, 
 I vent my fruitlefs vows. I fly you_, prefent, 
 Abfent, your lov'd, adored image haunts me 
 I trace it in the foreft's gloom, the day's bright beam. 
 The made of night ; each objedl I behold 
 Reflects thofe charms, I ftrive in vain to fly from ; 
 And ferves alike, fpite of myfelf, to give you up
 
 TRAGEDIES. 119 
 
 The rebel flave Hippolytus. E'en now 
 In vain I ftrive to feek my former felf ; 
 My bow, my car, my jav'lin ufelefs lie ; 
 Great Neptune's leflbns are forgotten ; 
 My fteeds no longer hear their matter's voice. 
 While every grove re-echoes with my groans. 
 A conqueft fo unworthy makes you blufli 
 How fierce the heart your beauty has fubdued ! 
 How ftrange a captive in fo fweet a toil ! 
 The offer therefore {hould the more be priz'd ; 
 I fpeak a language I am little vers'd in ; 
 Let not my vows be deem'd the lefs fincere, 
 Becaufe perhaps they're ill exprefs'd ; vows which 
 Hippolytus could form for you alone." 
 
 Doubtlefs Gengifkan, at a mature age, pof- 
 fefled of uncontrouled power and enraged, in 
 addreffing a woman whom he wifhes to force 
 from her hufoand, ought not to ufe the fame 
 fubmifiive language, the like foft and infmuating 
 eloquence in which the young and fufceptible 
 Hippolytus addrefTes his miftrefs, young, fuf- 
 ceptible, and independent like himfelf -, but he 
 ought equally to aim at enlivening what he has 
 to fay by imagery j he fhould equally endeavour 
 to unite energy with elegance, and to avoid 
 thofe turns of expreflion defective in themfelves, 
 and contrary to the fpirit of the language ; fuch as, 
 
 " I (hall punim you, for having lov'd you," 
 
 Or weak ones, fuch as, 
 '* E'en this avowal," 
 
 I 4 Or
 
 120 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 Or idle and embarrafled, as, 
 
 -" excefs of weaknefs, 
 
 Which rage already turns to my reproach." 
 
 Is an example equally ftriking, of the aftonifhing 
 fuperiority of Racine ftill wanting ? Let us at- 
 tend to the fentiments of Gengifkan and Achmet 
 on the fame fubjeft, that of tendernefs and po- 
 licy j who concur in preferring ambition and their 
 perfonal fecurity, to the delights which fuccefsful 
 love is capable of conferring. Behold Achmet, 
 
 tf - -And doft thou wifli me at my years 
 
 To ferve a vile apprenticefhip to love ? 
 
 And that a heart which toil and age have harden'd, 
 
 Should follow pleafure's vain, imprudent dictates? 
 
 Far other charms are thofe by which I'm caught : 
 
 I love in her the blood from which (he's fprung ; 
 
 To her united, and to Bajazet, 
 
 He fees me raife a barrier 'gainft himfelf j 
 
 A Vizier ever muft alarm his Sultan. 
 
 No fooner nam'd, than dreaded and fufpefted ; 
 
 Lur'd by the plenteous fpoil of his deftruftion* 
 
 And prompted by capricious cruelty, 
 
 His mafter feldom lets him fee old age. 
 
 Bajazet now much loves and honors me, 
 
 His daily perils ferve to wake regard ; 
 
 Once firmly feated on the throne, perhaps, 
 
 He'll view in me a ufelefs friend or flave ; 
 
 Should this be fo, and he demand my head, 
 
 Regardlefs of my loyalty or love, 
 
 Ofmin, I will not fay but I prefume 
 
 It may be long ere his command's obey'd. 
 
 n
 
 TRAGEDIES. 12>1 
 
 I'll fare the Emp'ror with fidelity, 
 But leave to vulgar minds to worfhip tyrants 
 The mad extravagance to blefs the arm 
 That's rais'd to (bed my blood is not for me." 
 
 What fays Gengifkan? 
 
 *' Since here my foul firft own'd a conqu'ror, 
 Since firft my haughty fpirit was fubdued, 
 My heart e'er fince retain'd its former freedorn, 
 Safe from the power of degrading love. 
 Jdamia, I confefs, rais'd in my reftlefs mind 
 Emotions ftrange, and pangs till then unknown. 
 Our northern caves and barren plains, produce 
 No beauty that can fafcinate the fenfes; 
 The fierce companions of our hardy labors, 
 Partake our fpoils and emulate our courage : 
 In thefe mild climes, from foft Idamia's eyes, 
 From her whofe ev'ry word and gefture charms, 
 
 I drank a new and fubtle poifon. 
 
 Thanks to the cruelty that rais'd my anger, 
 Contempt difpell'd this dang'rous charm ; 
 The fov'reign, but myfterious pafiion of the foul, 
 My happinefs, had caus'd my utter ruin. 
 Freed by her coldnefs, I purfu'd my bold 
 Career, and purchas'd boundlefs victory 
 For weak, unmanly fighs. Th' unworthy flame 
 With which I burnt, no more (hall fire my heart ; 
 Without a pang I banjfh the bafe thought, 
 Woman fhall ne'er poffefs fuch influence o'er me ; 
 J will forget her, and at leifure leave her 
 To feel my fcorn, and curfe her rebel pride. 
 Oftar, I charge you,. name hcj not." 
 
 The
 
 122 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 The objeft of all thefe quotations, is by no 
 means to detract from the merit of Mr. Voltaire, 
 but merely to evince the fuperiority of Racine 
 over him, in that fpecies of merit which has 
 hitherto come under our confideration. 
 
 "What chara&erifes the former, what is in an 
 efpecial manner a merit of his own, what, in 
 my opinion, entitles him to the claim of origi- 
 nality as an author, as the founder of a new 
 drama, and the creator of an original manner, is 
 the variety, the multiplicity of portraits, with 
 which his pieces abound. On this head, he has 
 the advantage over both Racine and Corneille. 
 
 The idea conceived of the variety of the 
 latter is perhaps no more founded in juftice, than 
 the reproach of famenefs repeated againft the 
 former. It. is in reality Corneille who may be 
 juflly accufed of too much uniformity. In his 
 pieces the names alone are varied ; the characters 
 and paffions are the fame : the fentiments are 
 alike in all. Haughtinefs, pretended Roman 
 magnanimity, fometimes fwellecl to a gigantic 
 fize, are conflantly the prevailing features, a defire 
 of revenge, oftentimes atrocious, and frequently 
 expreffed with an inconceivable mixture of tur- 
 gidnefs and familiarity. Of fix or feven pieces 
 which are in reprefentation, this is the ground 
 of four ; the C id, Cinna, Rodogune, and the 
 
 Peath
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 Death of Pompey. Chimena, Emilia, Cornelia, 
 all demand the punifhment of a father, or a 
 hufband, .and the abominable Cleopatra, in Ro- 
 dogune, enumerates revenge among her pretexts 
 for the horrors fhe meditates. 
 
 Racine would probably have diverfified his 
 Theatre much more, had he not renounced the 
 exercife of his genius when it had attained its 
 full vigor. Brkannicus, Iphigenia, Bajazet, 
 Phasdra, Athalia, have no common fimilitude 
 to each other, but this great man becoming in- 
 dolent at too early a period, has done fo little, 
 that, if we may fo exprcfs it, he feems barren in 
 the midft of fecundity. He has delineated but 
 few pafTions, becaufe he has written but few 
 pieces ; and if he had not produced Bajazet and 
 Athalia, it would probably have been faid, that 
 he was Incapable of fucceeding, but in fubjects 
 on which he borrowed his ideas from the ancients. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire chalked out for himfelf a 
 wider circle. He has, as we may fay, brought 
 mankind at large upon his theatre. He has, 
 under various forms, introduced on it every 
 interefl and paffion which actuate the human 
 heart. To thefe he has added fometimes frriking 
 defcriptions of foreign manners, and obfolete 
 cuftoms j at others, under national names, he 
 Jias alluded no lefs happily to our own habits ; a 
 
 fpecies
 
 124 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 fpecies of writing which he may even be accufed 
 of not having carried fo far as he might have 
 done, and which has degenerated in the hands 
 of his feeble imitators. 
 
 In Alzira, the cuftoms of America are oppofed 
 to thofe of Europe ; in the Orphan of China, 
 the virtues of a civilized people are contrafted 
 with the violences of a barbarous one : in Tancred 
 is dilplayed all the pomp, the grandeur, and 
 fublime magnanimity of chivalry, fuch at leaft 
 as it is defcribed in romances : maternal tender- 
 nefs fhines in Merope : the foundation of Ma- 
 hometanifm is pourtrayed in Mahomet, with 
 vigor, if not with fidelity ; the intrigues of 
 courts, the hidden crimes, and fecret remorfe, 
 which poifon and degrade external pomp, are 
 expofed to view in Semiramis. Even in thofe 
 pieces of which the general charafler is lefs 
 perfect, there are, notwithftanding, fome cha- 
 racters of great excellence to be found, and all 
 of a different defcription of beauty ; fuch is that 
 which I have before remarked, of Lifois, in 
 the Duke de Foix ; of Eleftra, in Oreftes - y 
 Cicero, in Rome Preferved ; of Fulvia, in 
 the Triumvirate, and of Athamara, in the 
 Scythians, &c. 
 
 This abundance, enriched by variety, is doubt- 
 kfs a valuable excellence, but in my opinion, 
 
 Mr,
 
 TRAGEDIES. 12$ 
 
 Mr. Voltaire pofleffes two others, (till mor& 
 precious and eftimable, which are no lefs ex- 
 clufively his own, and for one of which I have 
 not perceived that any one has hitherto given 
 him credit. 
 
 The firft confifts in that philofophy, at the 
 fame time dignified and pathetic, with which his 
 good pieces abound. The other is that of not 
 having admitted into them any villainous, bafe, 
 or abfolutely deteftable character ; of not having 
 racked his imagination to conceive, and to find 
 language and employment for fuch characters as 
 Narcifius, Marhan, and dill lefs for a Cleopatra, 
 Rodogune, Maximin, Felix, and others of this 
 defcription, oftentatioufly difplayed by one of 
 his rivals, fometimes efcaping the other, and 
 multiplied to the moft fcandalous degree on the 
 modern ftage, which thence affumes rather the 
 appearance of a field devoted to villainy, than a 
 fchool of virtue. 
 
 This is a point on which I prefume to think 
 almoft all our authors have been miftaken, who 
 have difplayed their talents in this fpecies of 
 compofition. It is neceflary, fay they, to avail 
 ourfelves of the feelings of the audience ; but 
 at the fame time they have forgotten that there 
 fhould be a proportion between the fhock, and 
 
 the organs which are to fuftain it. 
 
 In
 
 126 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 In common life, in fpite of our invincible 
 propenfity to intereft ourfelves in favor of every 
 being who feems to fuffer, if his cries are con- 
 tinual, if they degenerate into fcreams, if his 
 wounds are hideous and openly difplayed, we 
 are prefently impreiTed with horror, rather than 
 pity. We fly from a fpeftacle which operates 
 as a punifhment, and become indifferent from 
 excefs of fenfibility : it is the firing of the violin 
 which lofes its fweetnefs from being too much 
 ftretched. 
 
 This principle is univerfally true, equally on 
 the theatre as elfewhere. There the organs 
 fhould not be wounded, from a too great defire 
 of affecting them ; which muft happen, even in 
 comedy, when the humour is too grofs, or the 
 vices too odious ; and in tragedy, when the 
 misfortunes, and for a ftronger reafon, when the 
 guile of the heroes is extended to a degree of 
 atrocioufnefs. 
 
 Has notMoliere fomewhat violated this fitnefs 
 in his Tartuffe ? This piece pofleffes fome moft 
 excellent ftrokes of humor, and fome mafterly 
 traits of character : but the outlines of the picture 
 appear to me neither juft nor pleafing : his im- 
 poftor is at the fame time too bafe, too knavifhj 
 and too grofs 3 the real Tartuffes would be much 
 lefs to be dreaded, if they were not more 
 
 fkilful:
 
 TRAGEDIES. 127 
 
 fkilful : thofe among them who are capable of 
 equal guilt, ufe very different means to conceal it. 
 
 Further, an abufe of religion, pufhed to fuch 
 an excefs, becomes more properly an object of 
 juftice than comedy. We do not laugh at a 
 fcene of horror , and the character of the Tartuffe 
 is fo criminal, that the poet had no way left of 
 difpofing of him but by fending him to prifon, 
 by an immediate and irregular act of power, by 
 a lettre de cachet, which afiuredly is neither in- 
 flructive nor humorous. 
 
 The rule is the fame, and even dill more 
 eflential to tragedy. Its object is to imprefs and 
 affect the heart : true, but in order that the tears 
 may be gentle, it muft be gentle fenfations that 
 produce them, not painful ones, which force 
 them from us. 
 
 Even in catailrophes, which the audience has 
 forefeen, thofe which they appear to have fought, 
 but, in order to partake as it were, in the horror 
 attending them, fuch as public executions, (thefe, 
 as we know, are tragedies of the vulgar) in thofe 
 fcenes of terror to which the fpectators are at- 
 tracted by the hope and the expectation of being 
 affected, the fentiment mufl proceed from one 
 of thefe two fources j either the guilt is of fuch 
 a nature as abfolutely to extinguifh all com- 
 paflion, in which cafe the furTerings of the victims 
 3 excite
 
 128 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 excite no pity, or their remorfe, when compared 
 with their crimes, obtain their pardon ; the 
 audience then becomes interefted in their fate, 
 and every fpectator awaits the fatal moment with 
 painful anxiety. 
 
 Both reafbn and experience then feem to con- 
 cur, in admonilhing the poet not to carry thea- 
 trical emotion to that excefs by which it becomes 
 annihilated, or changed into fixed grief; which, 
 I repeat, can never fail to happen, when the 
 characters are too criminal, or too unfortunate. 
 
 But how happens it, that a principle thus 
 evident (hould have been unknown, even to the 
 moft celebrated adepts at that epocha, when the 
 art received its greateft perfection? Whence is it, 
 that in fpite of the concurring reflections of the 
 greateft geniufes, in a long feries of ages, the 
 axiom has prevailed, that the object of tragedy 
 fhould be to give a rude (hock to the paffions, 
 and not to make the feelings of an audience gently 
 vibrate ? How happens it, as a confequence, 
 that while nature and good fenfe direct us to 
 remove from the fcene whatever has a tendency 
 to wound the heart, with at lead as much care as 
 we do that which may offend the eye or the ear, 
 the ftage has been croudedwith hideous fpedtacles, 
 which would make an audience of executioners 
 fhudder ? How comes it that they have been not 
 
 only
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 only attempted, but applauded ? The folution 
 of this ftrange problem will perhaps be eafily 
 found, by recurring to the infancy of our drama, 
 and tracing its origin and progrefs. Although, 
 this digreffion may become fomewhat long, I 
 hope I (hall be excufed in making it. It is not , 
 foreign to an Art which engaged the attention 
 of him who is the fubject of this work for near 
 a century, and it may contribute to introduce a 
 reformation which to me feems really important, 
 as far as a reformation of this nature can be. 
 
 It is to Greece we are indebted for the drama, 
 in common with all the other arts. In archi- 
 tecture, fculpture, poetry, and eloquence, this 
 ingenious people foon emerged from barbarifm. 
 The theatre alone retained among them in its 
 maturity, the fame character it had in its origin, 
 and unhappily for us, this was a monftrous one. 
 
 Whatever might have been the unknown 
 caufe, which directed the tafte of the inventors 
 of the dramatic art, and thence formed that of 
 the audience, certain it is, that they appear to 
 have adopted from choice, the mod horrible 
 fubjects: crimes often as difficult to be con- 
 ceived, as committed i and what is very ftrange, 
 perpetrated often by virtuous perfons, whofe guilt 
 is rather to be attributed to the rigour of their fate, 
 than to the depraviry of their principles. Such, 
 K for
 
 13O TRAGEDIES. 
 
 for inftance, are thofe of Oreftes, Phsedra*, and 
 above all CEdipus. QEdipus the moft fcandalous 
 of all fubje<5b, which conveys no inftruftion, 
 except, that with the moft fpotlefs minds, men 
 are often doomed to perpetrate the moft horrid 
 guilt, and that by the eternal decrees of Pro- 
 vidence, the punifhment due only to atrocious 
 villainy, fometimes falls on the head of the vir- 
 tuous and innocent : a terrible and defponding 
 moral, impious in its tendency, and from which it 
 is impofiible that any one good effect fhould 
 refult. 
 
 CEdipus, a good hufband, a good father, and 
 a good king, excites indignation and murmur, 
 rather than pity, when we fee him not only in- 
 voluntarily become guilty of parricide and inceft, 
 but punifhed with rigour by the gods, for thofe 
 offences which themfelves have caufed him to 
 commit, and to which he was no way confcious. 
 
 Doubtlefs, from daily obfervation, a reflecting 
 man may be held excufed, in admitting a pre- 
 v deftination, a fupernatural power, which, in fpite 
 of ourfelves, difpofes the events on which our 
 fate depends. It is but too evident that there 
 are fome perfons born under the influence of a 
 
 1 Phaedra is virtuous, fmce the immediate interference of 
 the Divinity was neceflary to corrupt her. Oreftes has even 
 received order* from the Gods to avenge his father. 
 
 malignant
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 malignant fortune, which they cannot elude, while 
 others appear to inherit from nature a propenfity 
 to evil which they are unable to refift. The former, 
 notwithftanding the integrity of their principles, 
 are all their life the fport of, and often fall victims 
 to, the rigors of fociety , detraction even follows 
 them to the grave, and after death forbids them 
 the reparation due to fuffering virtue. The latter, 
 feem in an efpecial manner devoted to villainy 
 from their organization, and the fatisfaclion with, 
 which they commit it, and thefe again do not 
 always meet with the punifhment they deferve - 
 but can more be granted to fate ? 
 
 At leaft in this fyftem which confiders the 
 Deity as a capricious and fantaftic workman, 
 guided, in the diftribution of human propen- 
 fities, and the deftiny of mankind, by mere 
 whim ; the honeft man, abandoned to perfecu- 
 tion, retains his fentiments of virtue and inno- 
 cence to confole him under his misfortunes -, and a 
 Cartouche impelled to perverfe actions, has re- 
 ceived, together with the vocation to evil, that dif- 
 pofition which caufes him to love it : the one is un- 
 happy, but irreproachable : the other contributes, 
 at leaft in a fecondary degree, to thofe crimes with 
 which he is ftained : Providence has deftined him 
 to live and die a villain ; be it fo : but with the 
 lot of a villain he has apportioned him the mind 
 of one and this fyftem again is very fevere. 
 
 K 2 But
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 But the hiftory of CEdipus fuppofes one ftill 
 more terrible : this Prince abhors vice, and muft 
 notwithstanding commit it : his mind is un- 
 fpotted, while his hand is embrued in biood 1 
 And, after committing crimes to which he has 
 not confented, he is punifhed by the Deity, be- 
 caufe he has yielded, not to an impulfe of de- 
 pravity, but to an irrefiftible fate, originally 
 allotted to him : once again, this fyftem infpires 
 one with horror. Such a difpenfation makes of the 
 Divinity a monfter, a hundred times more wicked 
 than thofe frail beings whom he dooms to 
 wretchednefs with fuch wanton cruelty. 
 
 Is it not enough that Providence fhould have 
 given men that terrible power of treating innocence 
 like guilt ? At leaft, our religion abfolves it of 
 injuftice, by confidering this world as a {late of 
 paffage, as a feafon of trial, the defects of which 
 have no influence on futurity. It places beyond 
 life an Almighty Revifor, a Judge of Judges, 
 who reverfes thefe dreadful decrees j a Judge, 
 who in his turn puniflies the authors of injuftice, 
 and delivers the victims of it. But the Greeks 
 had not this refource. They did not place 
 CEdipus in theElyfian fields. He, notwithstanding 
 his integrity, was not only guilty, but puniChed, 
 for crimes which the Gods had ordained him to 
 commit : he feems to have exifled, but to afford 
 
 a terrible
 
 TRACEPIES. 
 
 a terrible monument of their defpotifm and in* 
 juftice. 
 
 I repeat it, were this horrid fyftem a true one, 
 is it one of thofe which a reflecting government 
 fhould endeavour to render common, and pro- 
 claim with a loud voice on the ftage ? 
 
 With this ftrange fyftem of metaphyfics, the 
 Greeks united manners which even the difference 
 of times and tafte cannot excufe. In Sophocles, 
 Oreftes ftabs his mother in cool blood : we hear 
 her wretched fcreams, and her daughter Electra, 
 who is alone on the ftage, applauds the parricide, 
 and encourages her brother in the perpetration 
 of it. 
 
 In Alceftes alfo, which with fo abfurd a plot, 
 ppflefies fuch pathetic details, Admetes loads his 
 aged father with revilings, in him more criminal 
 than all the enormities of CEdipus, becaufethey 
 are the refuk of will and of reflection : the fub.- 
 ject of his anger, is the refufal which the good 
 old man pleafantly makes of dying for him. I 
 know not if in literature a greater abfurdity was 
 ever hazarded, than the reafoning of P. Brumoy, 
 in juftification of this fhocking indecency. * It 
 " offends us only," fays he, " from the alteration 
 " which has taken place in our manners : the 
 '5 Greeks would have been equally hurt at thofe, 
 " fince eftablifned in other countries." In fup- 
 K 3 port
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 port of this, the learned Jefuit cites the fury of 
 fingle combat, fb long retained in Europe, and 
 the cuftom of the Iroquois, who put their fathers 
 to death when they become old : but this com- 
 parifon itfelf condemns the Grecian manners : 
 Can it be deemed a juftification of them, to 
 compare them with fuch as authorize aflaflinations 
 and parricides ? 
 
 Befides, a father murdered by his fon, or a fon 
 murdered by his father, has been prefented on 
 no ftage. When duels have been hazarded, as 
 in the Cid, what is blameworthy or offenfive in 
 the action, is compenfated for by the grandeur 
 which accompanies it, or by the beauties which 
 it produces ; but what is the refult of the tragical 
 farces on which we are now treating, and what 
 would it be if we had all the tragedies as pro- 
 digioufly multiplied on the Athenian theatre as 
 on our own ! 
 
 Do not thefe manners prove, that if the Greeks, 
 as inventors, were worthy of being looked up to as 
 guides by thofe who were willing to tread in their 
 footfteps, that they were not equally entitled in 
 all refpe&s to be regarded as models for imita- 
 tion ? From them were to be acquired the prin- 
 ciples of the art which Ihould have been applied 
 to wifer and more noble ends. The firft fculptors 
 ufed only wood and (tone : but the Olympian 
 
 Jupiter,
 
 TRAGEDIES. 135 
 
 Jupiter, and Athenian Minerva, were carved 
 in ivory and gold. Phidias, who brought the 
 art to its perfection, made choice of materials 
 worthy of his (kill. 
 
 This reformation, the Romans, who were the 
 imitators, and even copyifls of the Greeks, in 
 almoft every liberal art, failed of making: at 
 leafl we may prefume fo, from the declamations 
 of Seneca which we have, and the idea preferved 
 to us of what the tragedies of Ovid and Varus 
 were, which we have not. The misfortunes of 
 the empire which followed, the ravages of the 
 barbarians, and laftly, in the latter ages, the 
 quarrels between the altar and throne, (lifted the 
 dramatic, in common with every other art. The 
 people opprefied with their own misfortunes, but 
 too well realized ; had little inducement to repair 
 together to mourn over fictitious woes. Had 
 any poet attempted to draw tears by depicting 
 fome finking cataftrophe, there was then hardly 
 any family but could have furnifhed him with 
 a {ubjeft. 
 
 The modern Italians in the i6th century, 
 cultivated epic poetry with fuccefs, which had 
 degenerated fmce the time of Virgil, but they 
 made but vain and feeble efforts to awaken the 
 tragic mufe. Italy was then overrun with wan- 
 dering Greeks, who, in order to gain a fub- 
 K 4 fiftencej.
 
 136 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 fiftence, highly extolled the ancient models of 
 their country : they printed Sophocles, Euri- 
 pides, &c. they reftored them, commented, and 
 trar.flated them, but they taught no one the art 
 of imitating them. Their anceftors were un- 
 able to do it when they governed the world by 
 their arms : their defcendants did not even con- 
 ceive an idea of it, when they ruled it only by 
 opinion. 
 
 The Spaniards, who were long unknown to 
 the Greeks, and ftill longer the flaves of the 
 Romans, had opened to themfelves an inrerefting 
 field. This ftrange Melpomene was as new in 
 her nature as that of the Greeks in the days of 
 Thefpis, and was totally independent of her, 
 except in the fingular difparity of uniting Gra- 
 ciofo's buffoons with defpairing lovers ; of intro- 
 ducing on the fame fcene a Jodelet and an 
 Achilles. 
 
 Ordinary fubje&s, ufually taken from com- 
 mon life, but with complicated intrigues, fan- 
 taltic incidents, rr.iftakes, favored by the ufe of 
 v^ns, 01 (man.'ajy') in the women, and clokes, or 
 (capas,} in the men ; no crimes, no violences, 
 except luch as a falfe fpirit of bravery and of 
 do i.eftic delicacy could give rife to, a mixture 
 of defpotifm and gallantry towards the fair fex j 
 which made the men the flaves of their miftrefies, 
 
 and
 
 TRAGEDIES. 1 37 
 
 and the tyrants of their fitters ; amours crofled, 
 but always happy in the end : in fhort, aftonifti- 
 ing Tallies of genius, amidft a barbarifm no lels 
 ftriking: fuch are the charri&eriftics of the 
 dramas of the Lopez de Vagi, t'ie Calderonas, 
 the Moretos, &c. too little known, and too 
 much defpifcct, but more comic, and a hundred 
 times mere worthy of admiration than is ima- 
 gined *. 
 
 At 
 
 * About twenty years ago, on my return from Spain, 
 familiarized with the language, and retaining a lively im- 
 preflion of what I had feen, I ventured to tranflate fome of 
 their pieces. But I muft own, the copies conveyed a very 
 inadequate idea of their originals. I was at that time under 
 the influence of certain principles which fome modern tranf- 
 lators have endeavoured to eftablifh j fuch, for inftance, as 
 that it is the duty of a tranflator to accommodate his verfion 
 to the tafte of his reader, and to amend the text where it is 
 deficient in this refpeft. 
 
 It is owing to the prevalence of this and fuch like maxims, 
 that the tranflations of the Englim theatre, and of other 
 literary works, are rendered very ufelefs performances, be- 
 caufe they are faithlefs ones. My Spanifh drama is in a 
 fimilar predicament. It may ferve to afford fome idea of 
 the artifice and condudt of the pieces, of the difpofition and 
 even the talte of their fceaes ; but none of the ftyle of their 
 authors, and the nature of their dramatic poetry. I have 
 frenchified, and confequemly fpoiled it, in which I was 
 much to blame. More mature reEeftion has fince led me to 
 concur with Mr. Voltaire in the opinion, notwithitanding 
 
 what
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 At the revival, or more properly at the birth 
 of letters in France, in the beginning of the 
 i yth century, for the reign of Francis the ifl. 
 introduced there but a mafquerade of bacchanals, 
 difguifed as mufes ; at this epocha, the honor of 
 which is afcribed to Cardinal Richlieu, who, to 
 mention it by the bye, in no way contributed to 
 it, our firft authors, without any referve, made 
 the Spanifh drama their model : they made it 
 the common and only fource whence they drew 
 all their fubjefts. 
 
 Some fingular circumftances had caufed that 
 language and literature to become prevalent in 
 France : the courtiers who furrounded the throne, 
 
 what may be urged to the contrary, that a tranflation, in 
 order to be inftruftive and ufeful, fhould be literal. 
 
 But, owing to the difference of tafte and idiom, it will 
 be ridiculous ! Well, it will ferve to render the contraft ftill 
 more ftriking ! In order to bring the Europeans acquainted 
 with the drefs and converfation of the Turks, Indians, or 
 Chinefe, would it be an apt expedient to muffle them in our 
 fhort frocks, aflign them our viands and liquors, and make 
 them exprefs themfelves in the poliftied periods of Racine or 
 Addifon ? 
 
 But no body will read tranflations thus literally rendered ! 
 Be it fo : in that cafe none will imagine they know the 
 original, but thofe capable of reading the text ; there will 
 be no more tranflations, or at lead there will be no more 
 falfe conclufions drawn from tranflations : and this muft 
 certainly be deemed a benefit to literature. 
 
 the
 
 TRAGEDIES. 139 
 
 the petits maitres in private circles, were Spaniards : 
 as were the heroes both of the dramas and of 
 romance. Corneille, the great Corneille, himfelf 
 began, by aJTuming the Spanifh cape and the 
 Golila. 
 
 But the fcholar foon left his tutors behind him. 
 Having given the Cid after their manner, by 
 the force of his own genius, he produced the 
 Horatii ; a piece, by which, as I before obferved, 
 he placed a barrier between himfelf and other 
 dramatic writers, which no one has yet been able 
 to furmount j a piece in which there is nothing 
 but what is really noble j where the guilt which, 
 attends the afiaffination of Camilla, a facl: jufti- 
 fied moreover by hiftory, does not degrade the 
 murderer j nor the weaknefs of the two laft ads 
 derogate from decency, or good manners j where 
 the father of the guilty party, become his ad- 
 vocate, is lefs felicitous to juftify him, than to 
 obtain his pardon in favor of the triumph which 
 preceded the crime. Had Corneille continued 
 to labour in the fame road, he would in every 
 fenfe have been the creator of a new theatre, 
 and the reformer of the old. 
 
 Hitherto he owed nothing to the Greeks; he 
 had borrowed nothing from them ; perhaps they 
 were wholly unknown to him : but at this period, 
 whether he had lately thought proper to read 
 
 them,
 
 I4O TRAGEDIES. 
 
 them, and imagined he ought to follow examples, 
 he who had fo lately afforded an inimitable one 
 himfelf, or whether, (which is more probablej 
 he felt oppreffed and difconcerted by the pedantry 
 of the times, which became the refource of fuch 
 of his rivals, to whom genius was wanting j a 
 pedantry of which he was the victim, from the 
 whole phalanx of criticifm being united together 
 againft him, from hearing Ariftotle fpoken of, 
 the $o'j3(^>, *y A^>, ill explained, and flill worfe 
 underftood, he conceived that in future he ought 
 to treat his fubjects after the Grecian mode j to 
 place on the fcene vile or furious characters, 
 and accompany fentiments capable of dignifying 
 human nature, with puerilities or horrors cal- 
 culated only to degrade it j he produced Cinna, 
 Polieudtes, Rodogune, &c. Dramas looked on 
 as chefs d'ceuvres, and in reality fparkling with 
 admirable beauties. 
 
 But he made Emilia a direct fury, who joins 
 perverfenefs to ingratitude j who openly declares 
 that " Favors flowing from a hated hand operate 
 as injuries j and notwithftanding, does not hefitate 
 to accept them, in order to employ them in, 
 feducing the friends of her abufed benefactor, 
 who heaps them on her j who declares in exprefs 
 terms, that Ihe would marry Auguftus, to have 
 
 the
 
 TRAGEDIES. 14! 
 
 the pleafure of murdering him in his bed J , &c. 
 He makes Cinna a bafe and deliberate villain, 
 who having from weaknefs confpired againft his 
 prince, his protector, and his friend, under the 
 pretext that he has ufurped the empire of Rome ; 
 and obferving him about to make a voluntary 
 refignation of it, prefles him on his knees to 
 retain it in his pofieffion, that he may never 
 want an excufe to afiaffmate him ; and of this 
 policy he makes no fcruple openly to boaft. 
 
 He makes of Felix, in Polieuctes, the bafeft 
 and mod worthlefs vill.iin that ever exifted, an 
 old father, who having married his daughter to 
 a worthy but indigent country gentleman, fomc 
 years afterwards, on the ret'irn of one of her 
 former lovers, who had acquired a fortune, de- 
 liberates aloud with himfelf on the expediency 
 of cutting his fon- in-law's throat, by which he 
 (the father-in-law) mud become a gainer. 
 
 " If by his death the other were to marrv my daughter, 
 ** I fhould gain in him a powerful protector, who would 
 " raife me a hundred degrees higher than I am." 
 
 But above all, the character of Rodogune 
 may be regarded as conftituting the infamy 
 of the author, and the fuccefs of it that of 
 
 * " I would accept Livia's place of him, 
 " As a more certain means to compafs his deftruftion." 
 
 the
 
 142 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 the theatre j it is an affemblage of villainies, 
 each more abominable than the reft, at once 
 deflitute of caufe, connections, intereft, or pro- 
 bability. Horror itfelf degenerates into ridicule, 
 becaufe the wickednefs of one of the two per- 
 fonages becomes the parody of the other : it is 
 a mother, who while avowing, with extravagant 
 refinements, to her fons, that Ihe has with her 
 own hand murdered their father, her hufband ; 
 tells them, that in order to be declared king by 
 her, they muft, like her, commit parricide, and 
 bring her the head of a princefs with whom Ihe 
 knows them to be paflionately enamoured : a 
 conduct in her no lefs ridiculous than hor- 
 rible 4 . This is the ferious piece, and here fol- 
 lows the parody. 
 
 The 
 
 4 The idea of propofing to the lovers of Rodogune to put 
 her to death by their hands, is abfurd ; becaufe Cleopatra 
 cannot ferioufly imagine that they will accede to her pro- 
 pofal ; becaufe it is totally unneceflary ; and becaufe it is 
 imprudent. The old Megara has a thouf md other means to 
 rid herfelf of the princefs fhe fears ; and from the moment 
 that fhe has difclofed to her fons this extravagant bargain, 
 ftie muft expeft that if they are not the minifters of her 
 vengeance, they will take meafures to defeat it. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire has made thefe remarks in his commentary 
 on Corneille, and though he wanted confidence not to praife 
 the piece, he is, notwithftanding, charged with having 
 
 malignantly
 
 TRAGEDIES. 143 
 
 The young princefs informed of the propo- 
 fition made to her lovers, promifes in return to 
 beftow her hand on him who will bring her the 
 head of his mother. I know not what apologift 
 of Corneille pretends to juftify this paffage ; 
 becaufe, fays he, the bargain of Rodogune is a 
 mere fineffe ; fhe knows very well that they will 
 not take her at her word. It is in that very par- 
 ticular that it is the more abominable ; and that 
 I can neither conceive how Corneille could give 
 birth to fuch a monfter, nor how the public 
 could applaud it. 
 
 Even that celebrated fcene in the 5th act, is 
 like the reft of the piece, but aferies of puerility 
 as well as horror. The aflaflination of the 
 youthful and vigorous Seleucus, in a little walk 
 of the garden, by the hand of an aged mother, 
 his death, which happens juft on the pronunci- 
 ation of the word, " It is " which prevents 
 
 his revealing the name of his murderefs -, the 
 uncertainty of the good man Antiochus, divided 
 
 malignantly fought occafions for cenfure, and induftrioufly 
 laboured to leflen the tribute of applaufe. 
 
 One obfen ation ought to have its place here, which is, 
 that Rodogune, the moil horrible and difgufting piece, 
 except Atrea, on the theatre, is likewife one of the worft 
 written, and moft deficient in plot and in conduft ; fo much 
 was the genius of the author cramped, in being facrificed 
 to this abominable fpecies of writing. 
 
 between
 
 144 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 between his young miftrefs and the antique fury 
 who has already boafted to herfelf of the par- 
 ricide fhe has committed ; that fwelling cheft, 
 and at laft the horrid purpofe of Megara, re- 
 duced to the necefiity of poifoning herfelf; her 
 blafphemies ftill more ridiculous than ufelefs, all 
 this is beneath even the moft barbarous asra of 
 the theatre. 
 
 If the name of Corneille and the buftle of 
 reprefentation did not influence us ; if at the 
 prefent day we dared to eftimate according to its 
 real merit what our anceftors admired j and what 
 even we ourfelves have been long taught to efteem 
 from tradition j if we did not endeavour to 
 caft an illufion before us, by voluntarily dif- 
 guifing what we feel at this horrible fpectacle ; 
 in miftaking for an emotion occafioned by the 
 grandeur and beauty of compofition, that 
 which refuks from the ftage trick of actors, the 
 change of fcenery, and even the aftonifhment 
 into which we are thrown by a collection of 
 fuch abfurdities; Rodogune would be con- 
 figned to the like oblivion as Theodore, Surena, 
 Pertharites, and fo many other pieces, the fruit 
 of the moft unequal genius perhaps, ever pro- 
 duced by nature : a man to whom it was allotted 
 never to be moderately good, or bad j and who 
 
 in
 
 TRAGEDIES. 145 
 
 in the one is as much above his competitors, as 
 he is beneath them in the other. 
 
 The decent, tender, and delicate Racine, 
 uniting a fbperiority of tafte with an equal fhare 
 of expreffion and fentiment, took proper care 
 not to flain his drama in like manner, by making 
 of his principal perfonages, of thole through 
 whom he wilhed to excite die pity or admiration 
 of his audience, fuch characters as Brinvtfli&s, or 
 GuilleriS) whom even ordinary juftice muft de- 
 vote to the wheel or the Hake. 
 
 A deference for the Greeks, and the prejudice 
 of the age in which he lived, induced him to 
 undertake Phaedra ; but he called forth all the 
 powers of his genius to foften and modify this 
 fubject : perhaps he was to blame in having 
 undertaken it : but it was impoffible to palliate 
 it with more art. He throws on the confidante 
 the more odious part of the calumny which pro- 
 duces the cataftrophe : he made it a fpecies of 
 virtue in CEnone, and was equally attentive to 
 punifh her for it. 
 
 If, in compliance with historical fact, he was 
 obliged to defcribe Aggripina, the mother of 
 Nero, both in conduct and exprefiion, as a womari 
 void of principle > of putting into her mouth the 
 fame avowal as the Cleopatra of Rodogune, that 
 of an attempt on her hufband's life ; with what 
 L delicacy
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 delicacy does he pafs over the painful and necef- 
 fary paffage : 
 
 " He died a thoufand rumors fpread to my difgrace, 
 ' I check'd the early news of his deceafe, Sec." 
 
 We find in his pieces but two unpleafant cha- 
 racters of his own invention ; two villains dif- 
 agreeable to behold, NarciiTus and Mathan ; but 
 thefe, in the firft place, are fubaltern characters, 
 and in the next, the author has taken due care 
 to compofe the fpectators by more confoling 
 contrafts -, the generous Burrhus appears the more 
 noble, near the aflbciate of Locufta : the in- 
 dulgent magnanimity of the warlike Abner be- 
 comes the more finking, when oppofed to the 
 daftardly cruelty of the high prieft. If the latter 
 is bafe enough to fay, what fo many courtiers 
 think : 
 
 " What matters it, ignoble blood to fpill ? 
 
 " Let us not load our king with ufelefs cares, 
 
 ' To be by him fufpefted, ftands inftead of guilt." 
 
 The general of the army exclaims with horror, 
 Oh Mathan ! is that fit language for a prieft ?'* 
 
 Whereas, in Corneille, the wildeft and mod 
 atrocious fentiments, have nothing to counter- 
 balance them ; the bafe and vindictive rage of 
 Emilia, Cinna, Cleopatra, and Rodogune, has 
 no contraft or oppofition. 
 
 This
 
 TRAGEDIES. 147 
 
 This fpccies of brutality, much eafier to at- 
 tain than the delicacy of Racine, has likewife 
 gained many more profelytes : the pretended art 
 of poetry of the Greeks has been thought jufti- 
 fied by the example and fuccefs of Corneilie ; 
 our ftage has lince that period teemed vith 
 atrocious fpeculators, who perfuaded themfclves 
 that the moft certain method of interefting the 
 public, was to place before them fcenes worthy' 
 of the Greve, or of Tyburn ; they have infected 
 it with fandalous epilepfies, given as the effect 
 of paffions carried to their higheft pitch ; and 
 unhappily fometimes applauded. At the com- 
 mencement of the prefent century in particular, 
 a man appeared, who after his fecond tragedy* 
 was fuppofed to poffefs in an eminent degree the 
 talent of inventing refined villainies, of giving 
 birth to heroes whofe crimes our moft fhameful 
 punifhments were incapable of expiating : and 
 of this indeed he afforded us a terrible fpecimen 
 in his Atrea* 
 
 This firft eflay it is true, inftantly infpired a 
 juft horror : the poet never after dared to in- 
 dulge himfelf in fuch fhocking barbarities ; but 
 far from his docility gaining him applaufe, inftead 
 of allowing him the credit due to his reformation^ 
 it was not even remarked in him : he was flill 
 thought to retain the gloomy emhufiafm of which 
 JL 2 he
 
 148 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 he had been corrected ; this error, by another 
 inconfiftency, became the groundwork of his 
 glory and fame. He was decreed the honors 
 due to the inventor of a new ftyle. He was 
 compared to the two mailers at that time 
 in pofleffion of the French theatre, and as the 
 town had without reflection, and contrary to 
 reafon and evidence, afiigned to the one the 
 exclufive province of the fublime, and to the 
 fecond that of the pathetic ; they decreed to the 
 third the excellence of \htjombre and terrible : this 
 abfurd diftribution is flill regarded as a juil one 
 by the public, though it is but neceffary to open 
 one's eyes to be made fenfible of its impropriety. 
 Be it laid at the prefent day, when there re- 
 mains no more of Crebillon than his works, 
 when his pofterity is even extinct, and that in 
 appreciating his productions according to their 
 real merit, we run no rifkof hurting the feelings 
 of any ov? ; that though he had actually polTefied, 
 and was ftrongly impelled to a difplay of this hor- 
 rible talentj it was by no means proper to fanction 
 it by applaufe. But he had it not, at lead he 
 was contented with a fingle effort j as fince Atrea, 
 .which, as I have aleady faid, was but the fecond 
 of his pieces, and may confequently be regarded 
 as his debut y he is no more. /ombre than any other : 
 he is only fomewhat more harlh in his ftyle, and 
 
 oftentimes
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 oftentimes but a little more ridiculous in his 
 plans. 
 
 Pyrrhus, the bed, or rather the lead infuffer- 
 able of his pieces, prefents fcarcely any other 
 than traits of virtue, there is not a drop of blood 
 ipilled. Rhadamiftus is a foolifh, rather than a 
 wicked man : he defcribes himfelf as 
 
 " Virtuous without principle, vicious without defign." 
 " A foe to guilt; but yet no friend to virtue," 
 
 and accordingly he difcovers, till his death, 
 nothing but inconfiftency and irrefolution. 
 
 Eleclra is a puerile aflemblage of uncon- 
 nected fcenes, of rage without object and with- 
 out grandeur ; it is a romance, which unites the 
 extremes of infipidity and abfurdity. Even 
 Clytemneftra is nothing ; fhe appears in the 
 piece but twice, the firft time to load her 
 daughter with abufe, the fecond to die with a 
 jingle of words. In Semiramis, the plot is 
 rather ridiculous than terrible, and the jargon of 
 the Precieufes of Moiiere, may appear as natural 
 as that of the old Queen of Aflyria, foolifhly in 
 love with her own fon, whofe mother fhe does 
 not indeed believe herfelf to be. 
 
 In fhort, in Idomeneus, Xerxes, Cataline, 
 
 the Triumvirate, thde is no more horror than 
 
 genius. It is evident then, that the author was 
 
 L 3 indebted 

 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 indebted folely for his fame as a deep tragedian, 
 or of a writer worthy of being regarded as a 
 model in the terrible ftyle, to his Atrea ; a 
 ihocking performance it is true, but which, far 
 from being a chef d'teuire in a new fpecies, is 
 but the laft degree of licentioufnefs and depra- 
 vity, to which a ftyle already frightful in itfelf 
 could defcend, and which ought to have been 
 
 * O 
 
 ftifled at its birth, rather than have been nurfed 
 into maturity. 
 
 It is impoffible to conceive that there could 
 ever exift in the human heart, more efpecially 
 in youth, the idea of imagining, meditating on, 
 and digefting fuch a plot ; of fuperadding to the 
 guilt -which the Greek fable alcribes to the fons 
 of 1'antalus, the abominations with which the 
 French piece is ftained : a baleful fpirit of re- 
 venge, nourifhed and concealed for twenty years, 
 the fon of Thieftes, fupported during all this 
 interval by the uncle as his own, with the 
 defign of one day making him the affaffin 
 of his father ; the two fucceffive reconcilia- 
 tions, which are but the fame means of pre- 
 paring, under two different forms, a double 
 parricide ; thofe fits of vengeance which efcape 
 Atrea, at which a drunken Iroquois, depart- 
 ing to burn his enemy at the ftake, would 
 blulh i and that anfwer impoffible to be qualified 
 
 in 
 
 *
 
 TRAGEDIES. 1C! 
 
 \ * 
 
 in ThiefteSy who not being able to doubt that 
 his fon had been murdered, who beholding his 
 blood before him, which he was about to drink, 
 and whilft he touched the cup in which it was 
 contained hearing his brother aik him, 
 
 " Know'ft thou this blood ?" 
 replies in an epigram, in a play of words, 
 " I know my brother ?" 
 
 And this abominable conclufion of the piece, 
 " I now enjoy the fruit of all my crimes." 
 
 A verfe which {hocks us the more, becaufe in 
 fact every thing has fucceeded with the monfter 
 who pronounces it, and becaufe he quits the 
 ftage in triumph. Do not thefe confiderations 
 prove Atrea to be the fruit of a fcandalous 
 madnefs, rather than a tragedy replete with 
 terror ? 
 
 The author did not confider that the terrible, 
 pulhed to fuch an excefs, becomes a puerility. 
 An enraged grenadier, with a fabre in his hand, 
 is without doubt an object of terror and alarm : 
 but, if to make himfeif taller, he mounts 
 upon flilts ; if, in order to feem more enraged, 
 he covers his face with an illumined mafk, he 
 will then become a fcare-crow, and frighten 
 L 4 children j
 
 152 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 children only ; his enormous ftrides will but 
 ferve to render him the more ridiculous to 
 the rational fpec~lator. In like manner I think 
 fhould we have determined on Atrea, and the 
 pretended Jombre of its author 5 . 
 
 One might be led to believe that Crebillon 
 was indebted for his fame in general, at firft to 
 the, dearth which prevailed in the theatre when 
 he appeared there, and afterwards to the necef- 
 fity under which hatred andjealoufy labored, for 
 
 5 I recoiled! two lines of a piece I faw performed in my 
 youth, very applicable to the fubjedt. Previous to its re- 
 prefentation, it had run through all the circles of Paris, read 
 by the author according to cuftoin. The young poet, as 
 ufual, was looked on as a new heir to Corneille and Racine, 
 and as a competitor with Voltaire. His name already fuf- 
 ficiently famous, was about ro eclipfe them all. The fole 
 embarraffment was to affign him a department which was not 
 already occupied by one of his predeceflbrs. The public 
 fettled the difficulty by damning the piece, which was not 
 even fuffered to be finjfhed, like fo many more honored with 
 thi like premature applanfe. 
 
 The couplet which in the readings had been moft admired 
 by tl.e refined connoificurs were thefe : 
 
 ' Herod, to avenge an affront, would without remorfe 
 ' See the blood of his laft fubject flow." 
 
 The pit was fired with indignation at this infernal ejacu- 
 lation : it was received with univerfal execration and groans ; 
 but the audience have, not always been actuated by the like 
 equity, or political prudence. 
 
 want
 
 TRAGIDIES. 753 
 
 want of a competitor, whom they might oppofe 
 and prefer to Mr. Voltaire. It has been faid by 
 fome, that the public was never, or at leaft but 
 for a fhort time, the dupe of cabal, that it was 
 foon undeceived in all kind of ill-founded pre- 
 judice, this example and a thoufand others prove 
 the contrary. The public has, neverthelefs, in 
 part done juflice to Atrea, by configning it to 
 oblivion ; it has not done the like by Rodogune, 
 becaufe the tafte of the people was not at that 
 time formed, and that after all, Corneille, even 
 in his extravagancies, ttiil merited fome regard. 
 It were to be wiihed that mankind may never 
 more fuffer themfelves to be feduced by un- 
 natural contoruons, which are ftill fometimes 
 daringly prefented as fymptoms of grief, and 
 that they will no longer endure the ftage, or the 
 art of poetry, to be proftituted to licentious 
 orgies, and bacchanalian fcreams, where they 
 fhould be devoted to inftructive and pathetic 
 forrow. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire feems to have feared to lay down 
 the precept; .but he has at leaft given the example. 
 He has extended ftill further than Racine, that 
 delicacy, the purity of which, ought ever to 
 have been infeparable from thefe arts. He has 
 none of thole difgufting characters, none of that 
 horror which excites indignation, even againft 
 
 the
 
 154 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 the author ; he moves the heart and interefts the 
 foul ; he forces tears from his audience j he gives 
 iifeful lefibns, while employing no other refource 
 than the repi efentation of calamities from which 
 the pureft confcience cannot always preferve 
 mankind, and honorable fentimcnts, which the 
 paffions may fometimes combat, but which can 
 never become extinct in virtuous minds. 
 
 Gufman, in Alzira, is harfh and haughty, but 
 he is neither bafe nor cruel ; Zamora, Alzira, 
 Alvares, Monteza, are amiable, noble, and 
 magnanimous ; nor are they on that account the 
 lefs interefting. The Duke de Foix is violent 
 and even brutal ; neverthelefs we can neither 
 hate nor defpife him. OrbafTan, in Tancred, is 
 humbled, but not debafed : Aflur and Polifontes 
 in Semiramis and Merope, are not very dif- 
 tinguilhed characters, but they are not loaded 
 with that guilt which gives pain to the beholder, 
 or infpires him with horror and difguil. Poli- 
 fontes and Semiramis are indeed blackened with 
 guilt, but their crimes are long paft, nor do 
 they form the fubjcct of the piece: their re- 
 morfe, the punifhment of the repenting wife in 
 the one, and the maternal tendernefs of the 
 other, ere ail that intereft in the reprefentation. 
 In fhort, except Mahomet and Cataline (for I 
 do not impute CEdipus to him, his firft efTay, a 
 
 fubjed
 
 TRAGEDIES. I5 
 
 fubject forced on him in his youth, and which 
 was neither agreeable to his choice, nor to his 
 tafte,) except thefe two, there is not throughout 
 all his tragedies, one part which can canfe a 
 blulh in the actor who reprefents it ; nor is this 
 delicacy of lefs importance to genuine tafte in 
 literature, than to good order in fociety. And 
 of thefe two exceptions, there is but one in 
 which he is cenfurable. In Cataline, he was guided 
 by hiftory : he is reproachable rather in the choice 
 of the fubject, than in his mode of treating it : 
 but Mahomet is wholly his own invention j and I 
 own I cannot conceive that he fhould voluntarily, 
 and contrary to hiilorical truth, make a legiQator, 
 the founder of a great empire, of a religion {till 
 more extenfive, vicious without object, cruel 
 without a view, and a parricide without motive : 
 he has elfewhere too loaded him with praife : 
 what an idea, to repair to the theatre deliberately 
 to tarnilh a name venerated by one half of the 
 globe, a character never yet reproached with one 
 fanguinary act, no trick of deceit, except that 
 of affirming himfelf lent from God; a faife 
 miflion, but maintained by heroifm and not by 
 cruelty ! 
 
 Add to this, that in this fame piece, wherein 
 the hero is fo cruelly disfigured, the moral pre- 
 cept which the author propofes to deduce from 
 
 5 *
 
 156 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 it, is not more happily ertablifhed : neither is 
 the title of the tragedy juftified, or the end ob- 
 tained. The view of the author is to excite our 
 abhorrence at the enthufiafm infpired by fanati- 
 cifm ; and it is evident that fanaticifm is in no 
 ibrt the principle of the drama which bears the 
 title of it:. 
 
 The murder committed by Zeide, is an effect 
 of military obedience, rather than religious zeal. 
 It is his General he obeys, not his God : he feels 
 remorfe : he imagines that he is committing a 
 crime, an idea which is inconfiflent with fana- 
 ticifm : the character and danger of this terrible 
 alienation of the mind, confids in nothing more 
 flrongly than in the metamorphofe it produces by 
 erecting crimes into virtues, and degrading vir- 
 tues into crimes ; an alarming fafcination which 
 has conducted fuch characters as Pollrct, Clement, 
 Gir&rdy Diaz, Chatel, &c. to the moft fhocking 
 actions with the calm of the pnreft confcienrce. 
 This date the author himfelf has happily de- 
 fcribed in his Henriade. 
 
 He introduces the fnade of the Duke de Guife, 
 encouraging; the Dominican friar to the com- 
 
 O C? 
 
 miffion of the crime ; he recals to his remem- 
 brance the idea of his own murder, perpetrated 
 by Henry the third. 
 
 " Thefe
 
 TRAGEDIES. 157 
 
 " Thefs wounds, Valois, by his aflalfins made, 
 Punifh his perfidy, and pierce his heart ; 
 Shrink not at an aflaffin's horrid name, 
 In thee 'tis virtue, tho* 'twas crime in him. 
 
 The young reclufe, too eafily deceived, 
 Imagin'd he had heav'n's concerns in tcuft. 
 
 Full of the fiend that had inflam'd his ire, 
 Devoutly he for parricide prepares. 
 
 The foul of Clement happy, and at eafc, 
 Was with that confidence infpir'd, which none 
 But faints in perfefl innocence enjoy." 
 
 This is fanaticifm, and affuredly Zeide has 
 nothing of it. 
 
 He fuppofes alfo that he is murdering a foe: 
 he is ignorant that it is his own father he is 
 about to put to death ; had he known this ; if, 
 while his arm was raifed, his birth had been re- 
 vealed to him, and he had flill perfifted to facri- 
 fice an idolater, if he had imagined he was 
 making a facrifice to his religion, not only by 
 trampling on the ordinary rights of humanity, 
 but even on thofe of nature, fanaticifm had then 
 appeared in all its fury and its danger -, the 
 fpectacle would have been horrid. True : but 
 the moral would have been linking : it would 
 perhaps have been an exception to the principle 
 
 I have
 
 158 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 I have juft laid down, not to introduce too great 
 a degree of atrocioufnefs on the fcene. 
 
 Laftly, This parricide even, this affafTination 
 of Zopirus, by the hand of his fon, is, in the 
 piece of which we are fpeaking, but a mere 
 caprice in Mahomet, or rather in the author, 
 and unfortunately a copy of Atrea, it has no 
 connection with religion, it is no way necefiary, 
 it is founded neither on probability nor expe- 
 diency ; the manner in which it is conceived, 
 conducted, perpetrated, and punifhed, is alto- 
 gether unfkilful : but it is the only error of the 
 kind with which Mr. Voltaire can be accufed j 
 nor does it prevent his title to the applaufe I 
 have lately beftowed on him.- 
 
 Add to this, what may ferve to excufe the 
 one, and flill further to juftify the other, that the 
 character of Mahomet is pofTeffed of grandeur ; 
 he is not a mean and bafe villain, like Mathan, 
 NarcifTus, and Felix : take from the latter their 
 turpitude and atrocioufnefs, nothing more re- 
 mains of them ; whereas that of Mahomet, in- 
 dependent of this unneceflary murder, and ilill 
 more ufeiefs poifoning with which it is fullied,- 
 will ftill be intereiiing, and even grand. 
 
 However this may be, pofterity will find in 
 the theatre of Mr. Voltaire, as in that of his 
 pcedeceffors, after defects which will juftify 
 
 criticifm,
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 eriticifm, ftriking beauties, which will no lefs 
 certainly enfure applaufe. The modern author 
 will probably be cenfured, in general, for the 
 lamenefs of his plots, and above all the weak- 
 nefs of the principal incidents on which they 
 turn. It will appear ftrange for inftance, that 
 the plot of Tancred Ihould confift wholly in 
 omitting the direction of a letter j it may 
 feem inconceivable, that on fuch a difcovery, 
 Amenaide, the daughter of the moil venerable 
 knight of Syracufe, of the oldeft chieftain of 
 the ftate, fhould be condemned on the fpot, and 
 led forth to punifhment, that fhe fhould entruft 
 no one, not even her father, with the fecret 
 which proves her innocence. 
 
 Gengifkan may perhaps appear little and pu- 
 fillanimous, eipecially when contrafted with, 
 Idamea. The void which furrounds Semiramis 
 may perhaps feem furprifing, a void but ill fup- 
 plied by Arzaces and Azema, whofe amours are 
 neither fufficiently violent or complicated, to 
 intereft many fpectators. Pofterity will perhaps 
 be of opinion that the ghoft of Ninus is a 
 prodigy wholly inefficient, and very far from 
 being productive of confequences worthy of fp 
 much parade j and that the poet having intro- 
 duced it as a means of remedying the languor 
 
 of
 
 i6o 
 
 $f our theatre, ought to have given it more 
 aftion and importance. 
 
 It will be faid, that it would not at firft have 
 been fuffered, had he given it more force. I 
 believe nothing of this, on the contrary I think 
 that it is its infignificancy alone, which has ren- 
 dered it ridiculous : I am of opinion, that had 
 he given this fpectacle all the pomp and 
 energy which it is capable of receiving, had the 
 phantom before it appears to our view, been 
 previously announced to us, by thofe hollow 
 groans which are but hinted at in the piece ; if, 
 inftead of appearing at the moment to order in 
 vague terms a facrifice to his afhes, he had him- 
 felf revealed the crime that was to be expiated, 
 and poffeffed his fon t \vith thofe facts which 
 proved it ; if, inftead of affuming the puerile 
 form of a man clothed in white, with his face 
 covered with meal, that is to fay, in the abfurd 
 and irrational attire we affix to an inhabitant of 
 the other world, it had manifefted itfelf by fome 
 external fign, by thofe attributes of terror which 
 prevent or overwhelm reflection ; for inftance, 
 by fuch a circumftance as is recorded in the 
 hiftory of Daniel, of an illumined hand which 
 
 traces flaming characters on the wall j I doubt 
 
 * 
 not but it would have met with the greateft 
 
 fuccefs.
 
 TRAGEDIES. l6l 
 
 It is not eafy to forefee to which of his pieces 
 pofterity will give the preference. He has already 
 experienced at the hands of the public the fame 
 felection, if we may ufe the term, to which 
 Corneille and Racine have been doomed to fub- 
 mit. All the pieces of the latter have main- 
 tained their ground on the theatre, except three; 
 one of which was never intended for it, and the 
 two others are the production of early youth. 
 Corneille is computed to have written at leaft 
 thirty, of which fix or feven only have retained 
 the honor of reprefentation. Mr. Voltaire, if I 
 miftake not, has written twenty-four, whereof 
 to the beft of my recollection, nine have hithero 
 conftantly fupported themfelves on the ftage. 
 
 It is from ainongft thefe nine then, that we are 
 to fix our choice, and if the election were mine, I 
 fhould give it to Alzira : this piece feems to me 
 to be in the theatre of Voltaire, what Iphigene 
 is in that of Racine : the outlines of the two 
 are very different, but their excellence, as it 
 bears a relation to thofe which have gone before, 
 and fucceeded them, appears to me to be pretty 
 nearly the fame. I do not fay that Alzira is 
 fuperior to Iphigenia, but I think the one the 
 mailer piece of Voltaire, as the other is that of 
 Racine. 
 
 M Before
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 Before I conclude this head, I think it in- 
 cumbent upon me to fay fomething in fupport of 
 my former decifion on Zara, a piece received 
 with fo much enthufiafm at its birth ; the fuccefs 
 of which feems no ways impaired by time, a 
 piece of which the author has alv/ays fpoken 
 with fatisfaction, and hitherto inconteftably ranked 
 by his partizans among his beft productions, 
 I muft either juftify my opinion, or at leaft ex-^ 
 plain the grounds of it. 
 
 Firft, I think that the three firft acts of this 
 tragedy are cold, languid, unconnected with, and 
 even ufelefs to the piece : it can be faid to begin, 
 but at the fixth fcene of the third, wherein Zara* 
 evades the importunities of Orofmanes. 
 
 In the firft there is neither explanation nor 
 commencement of intereft, fince it relates only 
 to the marriage of the Sultan, and that this 
 marriage is not defcribed as capable of meeting 
 with the lead difficulty. The piece finiflies with 
 the order given to Nereftan to be out of the 
 dominions of Orofmanes the next day before 
 fun-rife. We fee no reafon why this order fhould 
 not be executed. 
 
 And it would have been fo, but for a wink 
 
 given by Nereftan to young Odali; but this 
 
 refource appears to me an additional defect; 
 
 it would not even be perceived, if the author 
 
 4 had
 
 TRAGEDIES. 163 
 
 had not caufed it to be taken notice of by 
 Orofmanes himfelf, by fuppofing in the latter a 
 prefentiment of jealoufy contrary to reafon. 
 He could have no caufe to fear, or the audience 
 any ground to fuppofe, that Zara, whofe heart was 
 full of her lo/er, to whom fhe had lately made 
 the mod explicit declaration of her paffion, and 
 whom fhe had heard refufe her ranfom, that 
 Zara, who from the very firft fcene, has declared 
 that tendernefs in her foul would triumph over 
 the remaining feeble ideas of Chriftianity im- 
 planted in her youth, fhould refolve, from a nod 
 of the head, to incur every rifk, in order to 
 procure an interview with the Chrifdan adven- 
 turer, whom the Sultan had in good humour 
 difmified : and neverthelefs if Nereftan returns 
 not, it is clear there can be no tragedy. 
 
 In the fecond act, the unexpected appearance 
 of Lufignan, and even the very romantic and 
 highly improbable recognition of him by Zara, 
 neither conftitutes a plot in the piece nor a com- 
 mencement of interefts, fince we perceive no 
 danger to which Zara can be expofed from re-> 
 vealing the fecret of her birth; we feel that 
 Orofmanes is too generous and too deeply in 
 love, at hearing this, to give up his miftrefs 
 from a fcruple of religion. A Sultan delicate 
 enough to difmifs his eunuchs, would not be 
 M 2 fo
 
 TRAGEDIES, 
 
 fo timid as to hefitate marrying a pretty Chrif- 
 tian, with whom he is violently enamoured, from 
 a fear of difpleafing his Muftis. 
 
 Befides he acquires an additional right to the 
 pofleffion of a conquered country, by an alliance 
 with the daughter of its former monarch. We can 
 only confider as a mere caprice in Lufignan, and 
 a proof of the embarrafiment of the poet, that 
 verfe on which, notwithftanding, the whole piece 
 hinges : 
 
 " O thou whom I dare not name, 
 " Swear to keep fo fatal a fee ret." 
 
 In fact, if Zara declares her name before Orof- 
 manes, the tragedy ceafes. Thus, at the end 
 of the fecond act, the audience is always per- 
 fectly eafy as to the fate of all the characters. 
 In the third act, the exhortations, more violent 
 than chriftianlike, or pathetic, of Nereftan to his 
 fifter, his cruelty in infilling that fhe fhould be 
 baptized previous to her marriage, ftill prefent 
 nothing terrible, and the more fo, as after his 
 declaration that he fhall return foon to fee that 
 ceremony performed, and by confequence, as 
 this obftacle cannot continue for any length of 
 time, we continually expect to fee Zara and the 
 other characters delivered from their ernbarrafT- 
 ment by a confeflion of her birth. 
 
 The
 
 TRAGEDIES. l$ 
 
 The piece does not then in reality begin, till 
 the fcene where (he refufes to comply with the 
 earneftnefs of the Sultan, and requires a delay. 
 But the part fhe acts in this is fo weak, (lie fails 
 fo. cruelly, and with an embarrafiment fo caufelefs, 
 fo ill juftified by anyapparent motive, and fo ill ex- 
 prefied even poetically, to the generous Orofmanes ; 
 that fiie excites our indignation rather than our at- 
 tachment; accordingly, we applaud the haughti- 
 nefs of the lover, who has recourfe to eaftern 
 manners, and orders " the doors of the feraglio 
 to be for ever fhut." 
 
 Kere the plot, the danger, and the conflict of 
 paflions begin, and confequently the interefl of 
 the fpectators , thus, in fact, the piece confifts 
 but of two acts, which are fuftained by Orof- 
 manes alone. Zara is continually indolent, 
 filent, inanimate, and confequently uninterefting ; 
 but further, Orofmanes is but Roxana meta- 
 morphofed, which detracts considerably, if not 
 from its impreflion on the theatre, at leaft from 
 its merit to the reader. 
 
 And again, around Roxana what action, what 
 pafiion, what a number of characters, all ftriking, 
 all diftinguiihed, and all worthy of the wifhes 
 and the admiration of the fpectator ! How great 
 is Achmet ! How pathetic is Atalida ! How noble 
 js Bajazet ! How are all their interefts united, 
 M 3 interwoven
 
 l66 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 interwoven together, if we may ufe the expref- 
 fion ; how do they exalt the character of the 
 Sultana without obfcuring it ! But in Zara we 
 fee but Orofmanes ; it is a print into which the 
 artift conveys but one figure of the grand picture 
 which he copied. 
 
 Laftly, Zara is very feebly written ; it is per- 
 haps, of all Mr. Voltaire's pieces, written in the 
 rnoft negligent ftyle, which is the more furprifing 
 becaufe although, if, as it is faid, he compofed 
 it in eighteen days, he was thirty years in cor- 
 recting it j and that from the very nature of the 
 fubject he ought to have made greater efforts to 
 approach the perfection of Racine in this, than in 
 any other performance. 
 
 But it will be afked, how did it fucceed at 
 firft ? How comes it ftill to maintain its ground ? 
 It is probable that its fuccefs has been owing to 
 the circumftance of an adtrefs appearing in the 
 character who was then in all the fplendor 
 of youth and beauty: the perfon and voice of 
 Mademoifelle Coffin gave birth to the illufion ; 
 a form and voice very different, as were thofe of 
 Le Kain, ferved to prolong it by varying its 
 object. 
 
 This actor, little indebted to nature, but 
 endowed with a powerful talent for performing 
 characters ftrongly marked, gave equal energy 
 
 CO
 
 TRAGEDIES. 167 
 
 to the part of Orofmanes as that of Zara had 
 received attra&ions from Mademoifelle Coffin. 
 At the end of twenty years, it has fared with 
 this fuccefs as with many others, the merit of 
 which is not recurred to when it is once eftabiifh- 
 ed, as we may inftance in the character of Rodo- 
 gune, which gives pleafure to none, and which 
 all, notwithftanding, afFed to admire.
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE'S 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 IT is to the Greeks that we are indebted for 
 Comedy as well as Tragedy ; this ingenious 
 people, when they created the names of Mel- 
 pomene and Thalia, affigned to each her feparate 
 department, and thefe were both equally licen- 
 tious. If the former imagined the only means 
 of forcing tears were by dreadful horrors, the 
 fecond fought to excite our laughter by the moft 
 cruel fatire. Thus the defamation of the living, 
 or the dead, was the fole refource of the dramatic 
 art in its infancy. 
 
 It fhould feem that with fo near an affinity to 
 each other, thefe two branches might have been 
 cultivated by the fame hand : what I have before 
 obferved of the compatibility of oppofite talents 
 uniting in the fame man, appears to me incapable 
 
 of
 
 I7O COMEDIES. 
 
 of contradiction : I could have fupported this 
 theory by many other examples taken from the 
 ancients, but, by a ftrange contradiction, thofe 
 two fpecies, the union of which feemed apparently 
 mofl eafy, are precifely fuch as never exifted 
 among them : the art of introducing characters 
 on a ftage, difcourfing in dialogue, "and of de- 
 picting, by their attitude and their expreffions, 
 the fecret emotions they feel, has ever remained 
 divided at Jlome and at Athens, into two diftinclr 
 departments. 
 
 In an age when warriors fludied eloquence, 
 when the moil profound philofophers and the 
 fevereft legiflators became the rivals of JEfop and 
 Anacreon, in the compofition of moral fables, 
 or licentious ballads j the author, who in a dialogue 
 entitled Tragedy, reprefented Phasdra inflamed 
 with a violent and miferable paflion, Thefeus at 
 once credulous and jealous, Hippolitus haughty 
 and unfeeling, never imagined it poflible that he 
 could have fuccefsfully delineated the fame picture 
 in a piece called Comedy : two words which had 
 no manner of relation to what they fignified. And 
 on the other hand, Aiiftophanes, Menander, 
 Plautus, or Terence, feemed to feel no induce- 
 ment to entwine the wreaths of Melpomene 
 with thole of Thalia. 
 
 Mpft
 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 Molt afluredly this fcrnple, or this timidity, is 
 not founded in the nature of things, or in any 
 inability of the poets. It is an inconfiftency, 
 whereof examples are not uncommon ; and for 
 which it is impoffible at the prefent, perhaps 
 at any time, to affign any fufficient reafon. 
 
 The Spaniards, as I faid before, confounded 
 thefe two fpecies of compofition, or rather they 
 were unacquainted with either of them. Their 
 pieces are as far from Sophocles or Terence as 
 from Ariftophanes and Euripides. They, not- 
 withftanding, adopted the general name of 
 Comedy for all kinds of dramatic dialogue, 
 whether humorous or pathetic, it was always the 
 Comedia famofa. 
 
 Our firft poets, as I have remarked, being no 
 other than their difciples, or rather their copyills, 
 gave no other title to their works, whatever was 
 the fubjecl of them, Oroondates and Ameftris, 
 as well as the Vifionaries or the Pedant, were 
 alike deemed comedies. Mad. de Sevigne never 
 gives any other name to the dramatic works of 
 Corneille than that of comedy, and he had then 
 produced all his good pieces : Ihe gives the like 
 title to thole of Racine, after Andromache, 
 Iphigenia, and Bajazet. The term of tragedy 
 even at prefent is unknown in Spain and Italy, 
 and it is of very recent date in France. 
 
 It
 
 172, COMEDIES. 
 
 It is no way furprifing then, that the modern 
 candidates for theatric fhrne fhoukl have retained 
 the privilege of pafling from one of thefe de- 
 partments to the other of them. The obfcene 
 Hauteroche was not deterred from writing a 
 tragedy, as bad indeed and as infipid as his 
 comedies, excepting only one, are filthy and dif- 
 gufting. The affected Marivaux has likewife 
 attempted the bufkin, in common with many 
 more : but generally fpeaking, few have gained 
 any applaufe from the attempt. 
 
 The Liar of Corneille has alone remained on 
 the theatre, and that is conficlered as a model. 
 Racine has written but one comedy ; which is ex- 
 tremely amufing : it is only to be lamented that 
 the eflence of it evaporates, as we may fay, in 
 the reprefentation, or cloys from the labour which 
 the actors give it. Mr. Voltaire has availed 
 himfelf of the like talent, but is it with equal 
 fuccefs ? 
 
 Doubtlefs we might have expected, that the 
 man of his age who was beft acquainted with plea- 
 fantry and even with fatire, who when he was fo 
 difpofed has pourtrayed the vices and follies of 
 his fellow-creatures with the greateft ftrength, 
 energy, and grace, in direct terms, would have 
 been equally fuccefsful in exhibiting them perfo- 
 nirled, as. we may fay j when the vivacity of action 
 
 was
 
 COMEDIES* I7J 
 
 \vas fuperadded to the livelinefs of ftyle ; and 
 this might have been with greater reafon expected 
 of Mr. Voltaire, as he devoted himfelf to this 
 labour at an age when his tafte had attained its 
 greateft perfection, when he was the moft per- 
 fect matter of ftyle and the choice of his fubject ; 
 when experience muft have completely initiated 
 him into the intricacies of fociety, which he 
 lafhed in the ftrongeft and moft pointed manner 
 in his other writings. Neverthelefs he was no 
 longer the fame, when defirous of affuming that 
 office in dialogue. 
 
 In his romances, in his tales, in his difcuffions, 
 apparently of the moft ferious nature, we meet 
 with fallies which excite burfts of laughter, or 
 fly ftrokes of wit, which afford a more refined, 
 though a lefs fenfible gratification ; but his 
 comedies are very far from pofTefTing either of 
 thefe excellencies. 
 
 It is true there are three which are flill retained 
 on the ftage, and which we fee exhibited with 
 pleafure, the Prodigal, Nanette, and the Scotch 
 Woman, but thefe are more properly affecting 
 romances than comedies. They have kept their 
 ground by thofe ferious paffages of philofophical, 
 moral, or fentimental matter with which they 
 abound. Euphemon, Eliza, Nanette, are far 
 from exciting gaiety : even Freeport, who in a 
 
 great
 
 174 COMEDIES. 
 
 great meafure decided the fate of the Scotch 
 Woman, is not lively, though poffeffed of dig- 
 nity : and Wafp is more horrid, bafe, and dif- 
 gufting, than comic. An immoderate defire of 
 revenge in the author, has caufed him to lay 
 afide that fcrnpulofity, politenefs, and candour, 
 which prevented him from fullying his tragedies 
 with fimilar characters. 
 
 In general, the few pleafantries hazarded by 
 Mr. Voltaire in all his pieces, which are entitled 
 comedies, are of a very inferior caft, more 
 nearly approaching to the forced burlefque of 
 Scarron, than the nature and gaiety of Moliere. 
 Even the Prodigal, M.Rondon,Fierenfat, are not 
 fo diftantfrom Don Japhet as may be fuppofed. 
 
 The falfe tafte which makes Don Japhet, and 
 whatever refembles it, infupportable, is an affected 
 fearch after ludicrous terms, an effort to fupply 
 by a pretended play of words the deficiency of 
 an author incapable of throwing pleafantry into 
 the fituation or the ideas ; and this is the more 
 difgufting in the Prodigal, as that piece is full 
 of pathetic traits excellently written, in which 
 grandeur is combined with the moil affecting 
 fimplicity. 
 
 It is ftill worfe in the other comedies of Mr. 
 Voltaire, when he is defirous of making his 
 fpeakers humorous. In fupport of this aflertion, it 
 
 would
 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 would be eafy to multiply extracts * which would 
 juftify me in the ftrange comparifon I have juft 
 made between him who, when he pleafed, was 
 the mod polifned and elegant wit, the moil exacl: 
 obferver of decency of the prefent century, and 
 the moft obfcene, infipid, and diigufting buffoon 
 of the beginning of the laft. 
 
 Again, one cannot recover from the aftonlfh- 
 ment into which \ve are thrown, at beholding a 
 writer of the mofc exquifite tafle, I repeat it, 
 who poffelTed in the greateft degree the ton of 
 good company, who even gave it to thofe of his 
 time ; he, who in all his other writings difcovered 
 the utmoft delicacy, grace, and eafe, who has 
 moft fuccefsfully, and with a delicacy peculiar 
 to himfelf, expofed in other writers the breaches 
 they committed againft decency and propriety, 
 miftake for theatrical humour that ftiffhcfs of 
 ftyle, that (hie pedantry, or thofe rebufes and 
 grots equivoques, too nearly bordering on puns, 
 fo juftly profcribed in all genteel circles, and 
 \vhich at the prefent day would be fcarcely 
 tolerated in the lower ranks of fociety. 
 
 Thefe, it will be faid, were the recreations of 
 a great man. Lelius and Scipio amufed them- 
 felves in making ducks and drakes ; true, but 
 
 * The author has in faft given feveral, but as they turn 
 chiefly on verbal alluiions, they cannot well be rendered in 
 toother language. 
 
 they
 
 17 COMEDIES. 
 
 they did not make the public witnefs to thefe 
 amufements of their leifure hours. 
 
 And what feems ftill more incredible, is that 
 Mr. Voltaire Ihould be fond of this low fluff, 
 he introduces it fometimes even into his profe, 
 and under his own name : let us confefs it at 
 once, and have done with it. When his bile 
 was once kindled, he indulged himfelf in this 
 contemptible ribaldry ; at the beft only worthy of* 
 Scarron or Rabelais, or rather of Father GaraiTe, 
 whom he has fo violently condemned. 
 
 When reproaching the decree of the Sorbonne 
 againft Bellifarius, he attributes it to a Bachelor 
 of Divinity, becaufe the word is commonly 
 enough ufed in fchools. He calls M. L'Abbe 
 Riballier, Ribaudier ; he fometimes makes of 
 Sabatier, Savatier, fometimes Sabctier ; of Gay an, 
 Coy oil) and all this he prints. Thefe allegories, 
 to ufe his own language towards Father Garaffe, 
 differ fomewhat from thofe of Virgil and Ovid, 
 and I cannot fee, whilft he indulged himfelf in 
 the ufe of them, how he could impute it as a 
 crime in the Jefuit to have called Theophilus a 
 calf, becaufe his family name was Veau. 
 
 Let us blufh at this weaknefs which 1 have 
 here mentioned, becaufe it is eftablifned beyond 
 all queftion by public documents, and rather 
 to have appeared to diffemble, than to force 
 
 it
 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 it into notice. Let us lament that Mr. Voltaire 
 either had not himfelf, or did not confult with 
 friends poffefled of the requifite delicacy, and 
 fufficiently tenacious of his reputation, to cau- 
 tion him againft fuch an abufe of his talents. 
 It were to be wifhed that there may be one day 
 found an editor of his works bold enough to 
 expunge thefe diftreffing blemifhes. I am even 
 of opinion, that in fupprefiing all his comedies, 
 except thofe which are ftill performed, the lofs 
 would be fcarcely perceptible. They pofTefs 
 neither in defign, or digreffion, any thing worthy 
 of regret. 
 
 The firft and the laft pieces of Corneille it i$ 
 true are always printed together with thofe of his 
 happieft moments, but the difparity is far lefs 
 apparent. This great man is often a prodigy of 
 genius, but never a model of tafte. For a con- 
 trary reafon it feems, we ought to fave Mr. Vol- 
 taire's enlightened readers the pain of fuch paf- 
 fages as are unworthy of him, and from thole 
 who are not fb we fhould remove the danger of 
 pafiing them over unperceived. 
 
 N ON
 
 O F 
 
 FUGITIVE, 
 
 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 HITHERTO I have adventured to criti- 
 cize, and dare believe that the impartial 
 reader will equally acquit me of unmerited cenfure 
 as ill founded applaufe; butjuftice now confifts in 
 admiration. If aught can redeem the inconceiv- 
 able weaknefs of Mr. Voltaire's comedies, it muft 
 doubtlefs be his fugitive pieces j a fpecies of writ- 
 ing in which he has no fuperior, and fcarcely any 
 equal. In the midft of labors, apparently the 
 moft foreign from fuch a purfuit, he cultivated this 
 airy kind of literature ; he enriched it, feemingly 
 without thinking of it, with an infinite variety of 
 pieces, all varied, and fparkling with wit, tafte, and 
 knowledge it was Phidias, who while at work 
 N $ op
 
 ISO FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 on the Olympian Jupiter, ftrewed the floor of 
 his work- (hop with fragments of ivory and gold. 
 
 Under this head I comprehend that multitude 
 of little pieces on every fubject, which flowed from 
 him without effort, and which feemed to coft him 
 no more than a madrigal fuch as tales wherein 
 variety and ornament are blended with gaiety ; 
 epiftles, fatires, and above all treatifes in verfe j 
 productions of his happieft moments of that 
 period when he laboured with the greateft care 
 when the apprehenfion of enemies, ever prone 
 to cenfure, preferved him from the negligence 
 into which confidence and habitual fuccefs after- 
 wards betrayed him ; in all thefe feveral kinds of 
 compofition, his name will ever be ranked amongft 
 the moft celebrated, and will often be regarded 
 as the firft. 
 
 Not that he has written as many fatires as 
 Boileau, or as many tales as La Fontaine j but 
 amongft thofe of the former, how few are there 
 really worthy of their author ? And to the tales 
 of the latter may we not fuccefsfully oppofe the 
 Poor Devil, and the Ruffian at Paris ? It will 
 be faid that the ftyle is different. Doubtlefs it 
 is ; if they were copies could they u be compared ? 
 
 The Poor Devil abounds too much in per- 
 
 fonalities, and they are too harfh -, this again is 
 
 granted : Grijftt is cruelly lampooned in it, and 
 
 ' ' he
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 he had never injured the author. I acknowledge 
 it I do not excufe the latter ; it is one of his 
 greateft defects but were Quinaltj Burfaut y or 
 Hainaut more criminal towards the modern 
 Juvenal? The queftion here refts; not on the 
 moral, but literary merit of thefe pieces. 
 
 With regard to epiftles, does not Mr. Voltaire, 
 who has inconteftably the advantage in point of 
 number, pofiefs it likewife in that of variety, 
 agreeablenefs, and perhaps of utility ? Under this 
 tide I include his feven treatifes on Moderation, 
 on the Nature of Man, &c. Has Boileau ever 
 written finer verfes than thefe ? 
 
 " Can Sylva's felf th* ceconomy explain, 
 Which works digeftion, and makes food fuftain j 
 How the bile through fo many channels flows I 
 How, by degrees, 'tis filtrated, and goes 
 To pour into my veins a purple tide, 
 By which both ftrength and fpirits are fupply'd ; 
 Which makes the pulfe of life inceflant beat. 
 And makes the brain intelligence's feat ?" 
 
 The author of the Lutrin congratulates him- 
 felf on having, as he faid in profe, happily 
 enough fatyrifed the Peruque. Would he not 
 with more juftice have applauded the preceding 
 defcription, had it been his own ? 
 
 Shall we find in any poet, or in any language, 
 
 many paffages fuperior to thofe which occur in 
 
 N 3 the
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 the Treatife on the Equality of Conditions among 
 Men? 
 
 Whilft, like Boileau, he treated moral and 
 iifeful fubjedts with dignity > Mr. Voltaire inter- 
 mingled philofophy and gaiety in his epiftles, 
 which Boileau did not j he likewife enriched them 
 by defcriptions of the manners of the world, 
 by mafterly and juft traits, worthy of Moliere ; 
 which redoubles my aftonifhment when I reflect 
 on his comedies. 
 
 For inftance, in his epiftle entitled the Life 
 of Paris and Verfailles, he introduces two women 
 vifiting each other. 
 
 ' Vifits her friend, in pomp and ftate, 
 Afcends, and then repents too late, 
 Embracing yawns, and plain is feen 
 In her conftrain'd behaviour, fpleen ; 
 She feems to beg for nonfenfe gay, 
 To make her languor pafs away ; 
 They interchange fome faint carefTes, 
 They talk of weather, plays, and drefles j 
 Of fermons, and of ribbons price, 
 And are exhaufted in a trice. 
 Now through neceffity grown dumb, 
 A tune they both begin to hum j 
 But Mr. Abbe enter'd foon, 
 Prieft, gallant, (harper, and buffoon ; 
 Endow'd with various talents rare, 
 Who for fome months was matter there, 
 A formal coxcomb enter'd too, 
 Pleas'd in the glafs himfelf to view j 
 
 I Both
 
 FUGITIVE P I E C E Si 183 
 
 Both pedants pleas'd, their jargon fuits 
 A captain enters^ both are mutesr" 
 
 How can we reconcile it, that he who had fo 
 happily caught thefe impreffions, who* was thus 
 able to exprefs them in foliloquy, when fpeaking 
 in the firft perfon, fhould be incapable of ani- 
 mating them in dialogue, of affignjng them a 
 language correfponding to their actions ? It is, 
 that generally fpeaking, on the theatre as in epic 
 poetry, all he knew, all he was capable of, was 
 to defign a figure, he was unable to give it 
 animation. 
 
 In his Epi files on Agricultures who can read 
 unmoved thofe verfes addrefTed to a petit maitre> 
 who thinks it impoflible to live any where but 
 amidft the buftle and pleafures of the world. 
 It were endlefs to point out paflages of this 
 nature ; and befides, the works where they are 
 to be met with, are too well known to render it 
 neceflary. 
 
 As to the art of narration, in the naivete of 
 his fables, and the fprightlinefs of his tales, 
 wherein confifts the principal merit of La Fon- 
 taine, he is far from being equal throughout ; but 
 in his choice paflages he is enchanting. Ce qui 
 plait aux dames Gertrude^ les trois Manieres., &c* 
 with a different kind of merit, muft they not be 
 allowed that, of affording infinite pleafure ? 
 
 N 4 I re-
 
 1 84 FUGIVIVE PIECES. 
 
 I remember having formerly heard Mr. Vol-* 
 taire reproached, with having taken his Fee Ur- 
 gulle from the Englifti Chaucer if I miftake 
 not j but has La Fontaine invented even one of 
 his fubjedts ? Is he not indebted to ./Efop, to 
 Phasdrus, &c. for the ground of his fables, and 
 for that of his tales to the Queen of Navarre, 
 to Boccace, and from that Canon from whom fo 
 little edifying is to be gained, who compiled the 
 Moyen de faruenir ? 
 
 Another criticifm, as ill founded as the laft, 
 is that which recurs to me on the Trois Manures : 
 this idea it is faid, is pillaged from the Daughters 
 of Mineus of La Fontaine. Which is faying, 
 that the poet of the i8th century has entered the 
 lifts againft him of the iyth; true but what da 
 they poflefs in common ? Nothing but having 
 each written a piece containing three ftories ; one 
 of them pathetic, another humorous, and a third 
 of a compofite nature but Raphael has painted 
 the Holy Family ; and Rubens the Jordans ; can 
 thefe be deemed plagiarifts, becaufe they have 
 both introduced Virgins attending on Jefus and 
 St. John? Orofmanes is really an enfeebled 
 copy, but the Trois Manieres, though twice de- 
 fcribed, are, notwithftanding, both originals. 
 
 If Mr. Voltaire be thus capable of maintain- 
 ing, without difadvantage, the comparifon between 
 4 thefe
 
 ruClTIVE PIECES. l8 
 
 theie two juftly celebrated poets, how great is, 
 his fuperiority when compared with Voiture, 
 Chapelle, Chaulieux, and Piron. He rifes fu- 
 perior to all in the number of his pieces, and 
 to each of them in eafe and fprightlinefs ; 
 he continually prefents us with ingenious fimilies, 
 and allufions at once poignant and inftrudlive : 
 we difcover in them the delicacy and lightncls 
 of the man of the world, united with the dignity 
 and eafe of the philolbpher ; and what, as I have 
 already obferved, is not always to be found in 
 his Tragedies or Henriade, the correctnefs of 
 expreflion keeps pace with that of thought. 
 
 The little which remains to us of Voiture is 
 buried in the multiplicity of infipidities ; with 
 which he abounds, and which have had as great 
 a run, and have equally contributed to his repu^ 
 tation with thole pieces which can bear the ordeal 
 of good tafte : it is the fame with de Chapelle. 
 
 I open Chaulieu, that Chaulieu Ib celebrated 
 by Voltaire himfelfj I do not find a fingle piece 
 fuftained throughout, not one copy of verfes where- 
 in the poet, either fatigued or carelefs, did not 
 appear to hold his readers in contempt, or teemed 
 to have forgotten that he wifhed to make, or 
 thought he was making verfes. One of his beft 
 cpiftles, is that on the death of the Marquis de 
 
 k
 
 186 FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 la Fare \ and in this we meet with many lines in 
 rhyme, which are not even tolerable profe. 
 
 I open alfo the collection of Piron's works, a 
 poet of reputation, efpecially for the lighter kind 
 of productions,, whofe name one dramatic work 
 alone has afiifted, or eftablifhed j but well known 
 for his epigrams arid convivial fallies, ilill more 
 than by his Metromania. See his manner of ad- 
 dreffing women- women to whom he owed re- 
 fpet and gratitude, in his madrigal addreflecl 
 to Mad. de Tencin, the Geofrin of her time. 
 
 It is well known that Ihe gave the literary men 
 who were ufed to meet at her houfe the name 
 of " her beafts j" a title fufficiently droll, and 
 expreflive of very little efteem on either fide. 
 To thefe beafts fhe was accuftomed every year 
 to make a prefent of a pair of velvet breeches.' 
 Piron one day fent her a ftraw-hat, accompanied 
 with this epigram, the point of which, if it may 
 be faid to poffefs any, confifts in the moft dif- 
 gufting groffneis : compare it with the madrigals 
 of Mr. Voltaire, and then form an opinion. 
 
 The only cenfure to which the latter is juflly 1 
 liable in thefe productions, is fomewhat too much 
 monotony in many of his fugitive pieces; too 1 
 ftrong an aptitude, as I have already faid, to beftow 
 praife, whether on the great, whom he feared, 
 or men of letters, whofe good opinion he wifhed 
 
 to
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES. I S? 
 
 to Conciliate; this fpirit reigns fo ftrongly through- 
 out thefe eulogiums, that they rarely feem fincere, 
 and ftill lefs often are they juft -, but what figni- 
 fies this to pofterity ? Who now intereft them- 
 felves in the enquiry whether Glycera was as 
 pretty, and Canidia as ugly as Horace pretends ? 
 And will the greater part of thofe, thus im- 
 mortalized by Mr. Voltaire, be better known 
 than Glycera and Canidia ? 
 
 PART
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE's 
 
 PROSE WQRKS.
 
 MR, VQLTAIRE'i 
 fRQSE WORICS, 
 
 THIS is the field in which Mr. Voltaire 
 might be truly faid to triumph; at lead, 
 the applaufe he gains or forces from his readers, 
 when addreffing them in a language divefted of 
 the pomp, the pretenfions, we may even fay the 
 embarraffments of poetry, is then much left 
 liable to exception. A purity of elocution, a 
 juftnefs of epithet, a profufion of ideas, perfpi- 
 cuity and energy of expreffion, neatnefs of ftyle, 
 and harmony of period, gaiety, dignity, all are 
 here found, united with an eafe, a facility, and 
 an art of familiarizing every fubjefl, in a manner 
 before him unparalleled. 
 
 I have heard it much regretted by fome en- 
 lightened men, whofe opinion I think it an ho- 
 por to adopt, thatj after producing Tancred, 
 
 he
 
 192 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 he had not abandoned poetry in general, and 
 efpecially that of the theatre, in order to devote 
 himftrlf wholly to hiftorical and philofophic profe, 
 retaining atmoft for his amufement but the lighter 
 fpecies of poetry, which, except in the mecha- 
 nical habit of rhyme, coft him no pains what- 
 ever. They contend, that this author would 
 have acquired more extenfive fame had he 
 adopted this idea, had he only increafed his 
 profaic works with an equal number of excellent 
 productions, as he has fwelled the lift of his 
 tragedies with feeble pieces, which, though 
 brought forth with lefs labor, reflect lefs credit 
 on his memory. 
 
 I fay, that this labor, to which he has given 
 too evident a preference, would have coft him 
 lefs : nothing is more certain. I ftiall not enter 
 here into a formal difquifition on the merits or 
 demerits of thefe two fpecies of compofition, 
 nor inveftigate deeply whether it be more labo- 
 rious for a writer to be fubjefted to the rules of 
 poetry j which, though they may fometimes 
 cramp his genius, more frequently fupport and aid 
 him in concealing his weaknefs -> than to form a 
 ftyle of his own, wherein, as he can have no 
 other guide than a juft tafte and a good ear, his 
 judges are the more rigid, as they are not to 
 jpe milled by a laboured harmony. -where fuc- 
 
 cefs
 
 PROSE WORKS* 193 
 
 cefs is not enhanced by having furmounted dif- 
 ficulty, nor a failure of it palliated in having 
 had it to oppofe. Perhaps it might not be. fb 
 difficult to prove as is generally imagined, that 
 the apparent freedom of the one ftyle is no more 
 compatible with moderate genius, than the real 
 fervitude of the other. 
 
 Eminent profe writers are at leaft as fcarce as 
 eminent poets. In Greece the latter title is be- 
 ftowed on Homer, Heiiod; Pindar, SimonideSj 
 Anacreon, Theocritus, yEfchyluS, Sophocles, 
 Euripides, Ariftophanes, Menander, Cratefepo- 
 lis, and feveral others. We find Herodotus, 
 Thucydides, Xenophon, Plato, Ariftotle, De- 
 mofthenes, and, in a later age, Pblybius and 
 Plutarch, are all who have been honored with 
 the former epithet. Again, in feveral of thefe, 
 it is the fubjec~t we admire, more than the ftyle i 
 they are judicious authors, rather thdn models 
 of fine writihg. 
 
 The age of Anguftus offers us Lucretius, 
 Terence, Plautus, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Ca- 
 tullus, Tibullus, Martial, Juvenal, Lucan, &c. 
 deemed, though with different degrees of merit, 
 the flower of Latin poetry ; in the profe of that 
 language we have but Titus Livy, Cicero, Sal- 
 liift, Tacitus, the two Plinys, and Seneca, which 
 O at
 
 194 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 at lead, in point of number, do not make an 
 equal balance. 
 
 Look alike into the literature of all nations 
 who have cultivated the fine arts, and have any 
 pretenfions to fame, whether in poetry or elo- 
 quence} we fhall find by the fame fingularity, 
 that thofe who have moft diftinguifhed themfelves 
 in that kind of compofition wherein a difplay of 
 genius feemed moft difficult, are in point of 
 number, at leaft equal, and oftentimes fuperior, 
 to fuch who have confined themfelves to one, 
 leemingly moft eafy. Appearances then muft 
 have been fallacious in this matter ; and it fhould 
 appear that the practice of one of thefe idioms 
 muft at leaft be fubjeft to as many difficulties as 
 the other. 
 
 Still further, may we not fay, that poetry is 
 in fome fort the infantine language of the hu- 
 man mind ? It is in verfe that it lifps its feeble 
 efforts, incapable of expreffing itfelf in profe, till 
 arrived at its full maturity and ftrength. Look 
 into the hiftory of the origin of all nations, of 
 every code of legiflation, and fyftem of philofo- 
 phy, you will find poets and verfes in the firft 
 dawnings of civilization. 
 
 Homer preceded Herodotus, and Orpheus, 
 
 Linus, and many other poets, had preceded 
 
 4 Homer.
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 Homer. Ennius wrote the annals of Rome in 
 hexameter verfe, before any one thought of di- 
 gefting them into the language of common in- 
 tercourfe."^ Mofes, the firft profe writer of his 
 country, has preferved in Canticles, hymns com- 
 pofed by himfelf, in a meafure of which he was 
 not the inventor. The Hebrews then had their 
 Orpheus alfo before their Herodotus. 
 
 Among ourfelves, did not our whole flock of 
 literature for a long time confift of rude ro- 
 mances, peices compofed of barbarous verfes> 
 but in meafure, and fubjec~t to rhythmical quan- 
 tity, and returning rhymes ? The ~newly difco- 
 vered favages, who could fcarcely be faid to 
 have any language or fociety, and no writing, 
 had, notwithftanding, their jugglers, conjurers^ 
 and poets. 
 
 May we not hence conclude, that poetry is 
 the expreffion moft natural to manj and confe- 
 quently the eafier ; and that a dignified, elegant, 
 and fublime profe, fuch as that of great writers 
 muft necefTarily be, is in reality the perfection of 
 language ; fince the latter cannot be acquired till 
 the former has attained its full maturity ? 
 
 Laftly, there is a third confideration, of no 
 
 lefs weight if the queftion were to be ferioufly 
 
 difcufled, which is, that among the moderns at 
 
 lead, all the diftinguifhed profe writers defirous 
 
 O2 of
 
 196 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 of becoming poets, have fucceeded in the at- 
 tempt; whereas it is but rarely that the beft 
 poets have, with labor, even been able to pro- 
 duce any tolerable profe. 
 
 This remark, it is true, will hold good with 
 refpect to the moderns only; among the an- 
 cients, by a continuance of the fame abfurdity 
 which I have already remarked feemed to have 
 entirely feparated the provinces of tragedy and 
 comedy, we do not find that poetry and profe 
 were ever cultivated by the fame hand : none of 
 thofe names I have enumerated are to be found 
 in both lifts. Hiftorians, fo little fcrupulous in 
 other points, in fuch like frauds, have never 
 dreamed of attributing any treatife in profe to 
 Scipio or Lelius, who were attached to verfe, 
 and were fufpected of having a fhare in Terence's 
 works. We have fome obfcene epigrams at- 
 tributed to the celebrated ufurper who founded 
 the empire of the Caefars ; but he has not left a 
 line of profe; there exifts not even a madrigal 
 attributed to the real Casfar, Livy, Salluft, Ta- 
 citus, or Cicero, to all thofe profe writers who 
 conftitute the glory of Roman eloquence. 
 
 But in our languages, which are formed from 
 a mixture of the barbarous idioms of the North 
 with thofe of Greece and Rome, it has been 
 otherwife. If Cervantes and Machiavel are not 
 
 at
 
 PROSE WORKS. 197 
 
 at the head of the poets of their refpeclive na- 
 tions, as they are models to them in profe writ- 
 ing, they have notwithftanding fucceeded on the 
 theatre, and confequently are no Grangers to this 
 divifion of poetical empire. Addifon, one of 
 the authors who has moft contributed to ennoble 
 the Knglifh profe, has likewife enriched the Lon- 
 don theatre with one of its beft pieces, and fe- 
 veral operas. Milton, the Homer of Great- 
 Britain, is one of its moft prolific profe writers, 
 if not one of its moft efteemed. 
 
 In France, all thofe celebrated romance wri- 
 ters, who were at firft deemed the honor of our 
 literature, and who at prefent feem, perhaps con- 
 trary to all reafon and jufiice, to be confidered 
 the difgrace of it, Calpremede, Gornberville, 
 Scuderi, Durier, Defmarets, Voiture, &c. have 
 with the greateft facility pafled from one depart- 
 ment to the other, and they began with making 
 rhymes } verfification and the drama were the 
 amufement of their youth ; it was referved for a 
 maturer age to develope a tafte and a talent for 
 profe. 
 
 Moliere, Hamilton, La Motte, Fontenelle, and 
 a thoufand others, have poffeffed this two-fold 
 faculty, and with the like fuccefs, but always in 
 fuch a way as to make it apparent, that profe was 
 the real and ferious empolyment of their talents, 
 O 3 an^
 
 198 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 and that the moft laboured poetical produ&ions 
 were an amufement to them. Is it not ftrange 
 that Corneille, Boileau, La Fontaine, J. B. 
 RoufTeau, fo fuperior each of them in the feve- 
 ral kinds of poetry to which they were attached, 
 fhould have funk even beneath mediocrity, when 
 defirous of making excurfions into her filler's 
 kingdom, reputed of fuch eafy accefs. 
 
 Racine is the only one, not, who as it is faid, 
 gathered the double palm before Mr. Vol- 
 taire, but who from lofty poetry could defcend 
 to profe with grace and eafe; the only one 
 whofe genius has preferved the fame excellence 
 in the labored decoration of the pretended lan- 
 guage of the gods, and the grand fimplicity of 
 the real language of man. 
 
 Is it not poffible to account for this fingular 
 fact, to affign fome caufe for the apparently 
 limited powers of the one, and the contracliftory 
 fecundity of the other ? I am about to hazard 
 a pofition, which, to the enthufiailic inexpe- 
 rience of youth, may appear a blafphemy, but 
 from which reflection will foon difperfe the fcandal, 
 and even juftify thofe aflertions, hazarded with- 
 out proof in this philofophic age, by men, with 
 whom, in other refpedls, I am no way folicitous 
 to hold a community of principles. 
 
 The
 
 PROSE WORKS. 199 
 
 The verification of every language is but a 
 habit. It is the idea which conftitutes poetry, 
 it is rule which makes verfes : the latter then is 
 mechanical, wherein practice alone is necefTary 
 to enfure fuccefs. A child, who was early ac- 
 cuftomed to exprefs himfelf in hexameter or 
 alexandrine verfes, whether inftrufled in French 
 or Latin, would find no more difficulty in fa- 
 Jhioning his ordinary language to this meafure, 
 than we find in uiing that which we have learnt 
 from our nurfes. 
 
 I remember having formerly been acquainted 
 v/ith a company of intelligent young people, 
 who had impofed this law on themfelves when 
 they met together ; and though their meetings 
 were but twice, and oftentimes but once a week, 
 and coniequently their habit of rhyming was but 
 ill kept up ; they had notwithftanding acquired 
 fuch a facility in the practice, that they often 
 made thirty or forty verfes fuccefllvely, and ex- 
 prefied whatever they had to fay in this manner. 
 Some of their lines, as may be fuppofed, were 
 moil execrable ; but there efcaped them often 
 very aftoniihing ones. 
 
 If any thing furprifes me in the extempore 
 fpeakers of Italy, it is, that they are fo rare. In 
 a richer, more flexible, and lefs confined lan- 
 guage than our own, I fhould conceive it pof- 
 O 4 fiblq
 
 COO PROSE WORKS. 
 
 fible, with fome little labor and practice, to 
 acquire an habitual meafure like rhyme, fo as 
 to be able to command it at the precife moment 
 without trouble or difficulty. 
 
 As to the poetry of compofition, that which 
 conlifts in grandeur of images and livelinefs of 
 defcription, it is quite another matter ; this is 
 what labor and habit never can give, and what 
 genius alone can befcow : but does this talent, 
 which forms what yve call a poet when expreffed 
 in methodical founds, modulated by rules and 
 according to certain received principles, differ 
 from that which manifefts itfelf in the fpeech of 
 an orator, by the fame founds differently modi- 
 fied ; or that which in the head of a philofopber, 
 or an hiftorian, difcovers itfelf in ideas rendered 
 fenfible through the means of the fame words, 
 arranged only with lefs art, and clothed in more 
 fimple ornaments ? I think not. 
 
 The orator may hazard a greater number of 
 images, he may difplay greater boldnefs than the 
 two laft, the poet may allow himfelf a dill wider 
 latitude, becaufe theflyle of each is different: it 
 is tafte that points out to them feverally, the de- 
 gree of embellifhment or force which Ihould ac- 
 company their ideas, and the various forms under 
 which they are to give birth to that enthufiafm, 
 that development of ideas, which is termed genius, 
 
 and
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 at?d which at bottom is abfolutely the fame 
 in all. 
 
 Thus moderate men, defirons only of taking 
 exercife, walk quietly along, without fatiguing 
 themfelves ; he who has urgent bufmefs on his 
 hands makes greater hafte, regardlefs of dif- 
 cpvering a ftronger agitation in his deport- 
 ment; a man impelled by violent paffion, or 
 actuated by powerful intereft, runs with ftill 
 lefs conduct, he rufhes onward, and exhaufts 
 his whole ftrength in the purfuit : all three make 
 a different ufe of their legs, though in all, it is 
 b.y the fame organ, and the like principle of 
 motion. 
 
 No\y, if as the faft proves, contrary to pro- 
 bability, and in fome fort contrary to reafon, 
 the one apparently the more difficult, is the eafier, 
 in this kind of mental labor; if the fonorous 
 fcafFolding with which a poet is furrounded, and 
 whereon he fupports himfelf, is in reality but. 
 the refult of habit, foreign from genius, and 
 better adapted to conceal a want of talents, than 
 to facilitate their birth ; ought we to be embar- 
 rafied to explain how thofe fuperior geniufes 
 amongft ourfelves, who at an early period have 
 attached themfelves to this habit, were after- 
 incapable of eftranging themfelves from 
 
 it,
 
 2O2 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 it, and feem to have funk beneath their own 
 level when defirous of defcending from it. 
 
 Take two children of unequal conftitutions, 
 conftrain the more robuft from daring to take 
 a flep without affiftance, compel him to uphold 
 himfelf in every motion by a fupport from which 
 he cannot efcape -, whilfl the other, permitted to 
 preferve his independence, (hall make a free ufe 
 of thofe refourccs with which nature has en- 
 dowed him : the firft, when he willies to detach 
 himfelf from his machinery, will never be able 
 to acquire the eafy unconftrained deportment of 
 the fecond, who on the other hand, from ca- 
 price or amufement, will foon have adopted the 
 fecret fhackles of the other. This is the reafon 
 why, and the manner in which, in our modern 
 idioms the talent of writing a fine profe, has 
 often been united with one for poetry, whilfl ex- 
 amples of this union in celebrated poets are fo 
 rare. 
 
 Amongft the ancients, another reafon may be 
 affigned, for the divifion conftantly maintained 
 between thefe two departments of literature. 
 Perhaps the mechanifm of their verfe, founded 
 on a different principle in their language, on 
 another conformity in their verfe, was a more 
 real and fenfible obftacle to thofe excurfions which 
 had united them. 
 
 In
 
 PROSE WORKS, 2O3 
 
 In Greek and Latin every word has not only 
 jts harmonic power, as we may fay, and the 
 time of its mufical duration determined by cer- 
 tain laws which cannot be infringed, but there 
 .re many words excluded from poetry by the 
 nature and the arrangement of the fyllables which 
 compofe them ; others again take a fenfe in 
 verfe which they have not in profe. The reader 
 accommodated himfelf to thefe flights, which 
 oftentimes became even beauties ; but the poet, 
 in quitting one of thefe diftriclis, with the re- 
 fources and limits of which he was thoroughly 
 acquainted, perhaps knew nothing of the other 
 but its barrennefs, without even, fufpecting its 
 fertility, from being unaccuftomed to it. 
 
 Our modern languages have neither this pro- 
 fody, this latitude, or this privation; there are 
 no words necefTarily excluded from our poetry 
 by the number and confirmation of the letters 
 and fyllables of which they are compofed. The 
 famous Effe videatur of Cicero, or its equiva- 
 lent, would in Italy, England, Spain or France, 
 be alike proper to a poet, and an orator , but in 
 neither of thefe idioms would it be allowable to 
 call, as Virgil has done, the noife a horfe makes 
 when running a quadrupedtal found ; nor, like 
 Homer, the fmile of a woman bathed in tears a 
 crying laugh. Neither Cicero nor Demofthenes, 
 
 when
 
 2O4 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 when fpeaking the fame language, would have 
 ventured on fuch pitfturefque expreffions, referved 
 alone amongft them, for that fpecies of literature 
 which has dared to adopt them. 
 
 In like manner the words Virgo, Puella, are 
 applied by Virgil to married women. He fays 
 of Pafiphae, already a mother., 
 
 " Ah virgo infelix quae te dementia cepit r" 
 Of Euridice, wife of Orpheus, 
 
 " Immanem ante pedes moritura puella 
 " Servantem ripas alta non vidit in herba." 
 
 If he fpeaks of Dido, who fufFers her hair to 
 play in the wind, he fays fhe had permitted her 
 head of hair to be Ipread in the air : 
 
 '.' Dederatque comas difFundere ven to." 
 
 The orators took other liberties, but thefe 
 were prohibited them. It is not furprifmg then, 
 that thefe kinds of compofition, wherein fuch 
 different modes of expreflion prevailed, and 
 where freedoms and reftraints were fo very dif- 
 fimilar, fhould never have been combined to- 
 gether. 
 
 This diftinclion exifts not amongft us. We 
 have no poetical language which differs from 
 
 that in common ufe, nor words which take a 
 
 
 different
 
 PROSE WORKS. 205 
 
 different fignification in verfe to what they do 
 in profe. The fine pafiages of Boffuet, Flechier 
 and Fenelon, of our celebrated or/ators, are poetry 
 to which nothing is wanting but rhyme -, and, 
 on the contrary, many paifages, even in our 
 good poets, are no otherwife diftinguifhable from 
 profe than by the return of the fame found at 
 the end of every couple of lines ; and I think no 
 other reafon can be given than what I have juft 
 affigned, for the neceffity under which Corneille, 
 Boilean, and others amongft us, found themfelves, 
 of being fubjected to this return in order to pre- 
 ferve their fuperiority. 
 
 However this be, no one has proved better 
 than Mr. Voltaire, that thefe pretended barriers 
 between the two parts of the fame art are eafily 
 broken down : as I obferved before, he has not 
 only treated of the greater part of profe in ge- 
 neral, but he has adventured in each particular 
 fpecies of it, in like manner as he has done in 
 every fort of poetry. In the review of his nu- 
 merous works, let us begin with his romances. 
 
 The romance in itfelf is a fort of ihade be- 
 tween poetry and profe ; it bears an affinity to 
 the one, by the fhare of imagination contained in 
 it, and to the other by its fimplicity of ftyle. 
 As to plan, it differs little from the epic poem, 
 except in the cataftrophe 3 but in its digre$ons 
 
 JJL
 
 2O6 P R 6 S E WORKS. 
 
 it approaches more nearly to hiftory. A ro- 
 mance is an imaginary hiftory, offered as fabu- 
 lous ; hiftory itfelf is but too often a web of 
 fables given for truths. In this, perhaps, con- 
 fifts the moft effential difference between thefe 
 two fpecies of narrative. In order to diftin- 
 guifh them, we muft be previoufly apprifed to 
 which they belong. 
 
 Put into the hands of one unacquainted with 
 books, the Anecdotes of the Court of Philip 
 Auguftus and the Memoire de FEtoile, he will 
 give equal credit to both ; he will fuppofe him- 
 felf, from one of thefe. books, made as well ac- 
 quainted with the affairs of France in the reign 
 of the father of Louis the Eighth, as he is with 
 the age of Henry the Fourth by the other. 
 
 But if mankind were willing, it would be pof- 
 fible to eftablifh between thefe two kinds of 
 writing a much more material difference in their 
 utility, and render them further diftinguinHable 
 by their effects. In the firft, the author being 
 the creator of events, may difpofe them in fuch 
 a manner, as to deduce from them a wholefome 
 leffon of morality j in the fecond, having to re- 
 cite but too often the enormities committed or 
 conceived by human perverfion, and fupported 
 by the caprice of fortune, or credited by that 
 malicious propenfity -which gives fuch a rapid 
 
 courfe
 
 PROSE WOKRS. 2O7 
 
 conrfe to calumny, he is unable to offer to his 
 virtuous readers any thing but motives for dif- 
 couragement and indignation. A good romance 
 ought to be a reprelentation of the punifhments 
 attending vice -, the moft authentic hiftory is 
 ieldom other, than a difplay of its triumphs. 
 
 It would not then be difficult to prove, that 
 the firft is infinitely preferable to the other, at 
 ieaft in point of moral utility. Were it pofiible 
 for authors and governments to concur together 
 for the public good, the romance fhould in an 
 efpecial manner be fet apart, to counterbalance, 
 by a defcription of the oppofite virtues, that of 
 thofe vices and enormities the fcandal of which 
 hiftory is doomed to perpetuate. But in every 
 age mankind have read more for amufement, 
 
 > 
 
 than infraction. The firft romance writers, 
 like the f.rft hiftorians, had no other object in 
 view than to pleafe. 
 
 The moft ancient productions of this nature 
 with which we are acquainted, are to be found 
 among the Greeks ', and even thefe are fuffi- 
 
 1 I do not here make mention of the hiflory of Job, re- 
 garded by a great number of critics as a romance: they hold 
 forth a moral, as falutary and fublime as the ftory in itfelf 
 is pathetic : but the place this work holds in holy writ will 
 not permit us to clafs it among the monuments of fimple 
 literature.
 
 ao8 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 ciently modern. Complicated and pathetic in. 
 cidents little allied to probability, and Hill lefs 
 to morality, conftitute the merit of Theagenes 
 and Cariclea, of Ifmenes and Ifmenias, both 
 attributed to bifhops, and of the fmall number 
 of this kind of compofition which have reached 
 us, in the language of Homer and Plato. 
 
 Among the Romans we perceive none; except 
 the licentious fatire of Petronius, and the no lefs 
 licentious and fantaftical metamorphofis of Apu- 
 lius, are to be reckoned fuch. The firft is ge- 
 nerally confidered an allegory, but ought rather 
 to be looked on as the offspring of an intempe- 
 rate raving. A low ground-work, infamous dia 
 greffions, fome fallies of wit, and a few happy 
 verfes, compofe the merit of this work : if it 
 poflefied any allufions they are loft to us -, but it 
 evidently held up no model of any kind. 
 
 As to the Golden Afs, it is probable that with^ 
 out the fable of Pfyche this amplification of a 
 filthy tale in Lucan would have made as little 
 noife as the original ; and even with this fupple- 
 ment, can its prefervation be deemed of any great 
 advantage to the Latin language, while fo many 
 precious relifts of it are loft ? 
 
 The enlightened ages of antiquity having held 
 this branch of literature in fmall eftimation, it 
 developed itfelf with fplendor in the midft of 
 
 barbarifm.-
 
 PROSE WORKS. 209 
 
 barbarifm. About the eleventh century, the 
 tafte for romances was again reftored, but under 
 a form wholly new. The marvellous of every 
 kind was pufhed to the extreme j heroifm and 
 magic acted extravagant parts in them j knights 
 and enchanters became gods rather than men j 
 it is hard to determine whether the prodigies af- 
 cribed to the latter, were more abfurd than the 
 atchievements of the former. 
 
 This tafte lafted a confiderable time : there 
 was even in this immenfe progeny of folly 
 two diftinct generations, that of Amadis, or the 
 Round Table, and of Charlemagne with his 
 twelve Peers. From theie two ftocks an in- 
 conceivable multitude of chimerical heroes have 
 arifen, in whofe hiftories notwithftanding we often 
 meet with intereft, pleafantry, and even traits of 
 genius which would do credit to modern pro- 
 ductions, the prevailing topics of all are great- 
 nefs of foul, generofity, delicacy, and intrepidity, 
 all carried, as I have remarked, to excefs, to- 
 gether with extravagant marks of refpect and 
 fubmiflion to the fair fex. 
 
 It is fingular enough that imagination fhould 
 thus aim at exalting human nature, precifely at 
 the period when it was more degraded than at 
 any other time. Afifuredly, whatever may be 
 laid, it was nothing lefs than the manners of the 
 P times
 
 2IO PROSE WORKS. 
 
 times which romance writers delineated in the'tf 
 works. It is true chat the age believed in for- 
 cery, but it was impoffible that it could give credit 
 either to the magnanimity of the knights, or the 
 virtue of their miftreffes. The firft could not 
 but be regarded as tyrants, in whom meannefs 
 and rapacity abounded, ftill more than pride and 
 magnificence. Rendered invulnerable from their 
 armor, whether engaged in the caufe of their 
 country or in private quarrel, they were much 
 more anxious to fecure themfelves, than to at- 
 tack their adverfaries ; and accordingly never 
 were battles lefs bloody than at that period. 
 
 In the fame age when fo many marvellous 
 feats were invented to the honor of prowefs, it 
 was that chivalry was moft unfortunate, the worft 
 conduced, and moft humiliated : it was after thofe 
 extravagant crufades, in which the flower of the 
 European nobility had, for two fucceflive centu- 
 ries, delivered themfelves up to be flaughtered 
 by the fcum of the Afiatic populace ; in which 
 our heroes had found means to be conftant- 
 ly beaten by bafe Egyptians and effeminate 
 Syrians, unaccuftomed to oppofe any other 
 enemy. 
 
 The chaftity of the women of thofe days kept 
 pace with the valor of the heroes. In thefe 
 pompous tales, female modefty is more frequently 
 
 com-
 
 PROSE WORKS. 211 
 
 compounded for than reverenced ; every other 
 record of the times prove that debauchery and 
 licentioufnefs were at leaft as prevalent then, as 
 in ages which are called more corrupt, but which 
 are only more polite ; they poffeffed at feaft no 
 more than a veil, which correfponded with the 
 decency of the latter in concealing its deformity. 
 The romances of chivalry are then, without ex- 
 ception, chimeras of the brain, and in no refped 
 portraits of the times. 
 
 This tafte prevailed 'till the revival of letters, 
 and was confined to France and Spain ; the Ita- 
 lians, among whom it does not appear to have 
 been till then adopted, now gave into it in their 
 turn with a fort of fury, but they caufed it to 
 aflfume a more agreeable drefs. They conceived 
 the idea of clothing it in verfe, and embellifh- 
 ing by new fictions thofe which the French and 
 Spaniards had already multiplied in a coarfe 
 profe. Pulci, Bayardo, Ariofto, and Taflb, dif- 
 tinguifhed themfelves in this new walk, and in- 
 finitely furpaffed their models. 
 
 What appears again extraordinary, is that the 
 Spaniards, with whofe genius thefe illufions feemed 
 mod congenial, and among whom they had in fact 
 abounded for feveral ages, became difgufted with 
 them precifely at the time that they appear to 
 have been adopted ^y the Italians The ingenious 
 F 2 Cervantes
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 Cervantes ufed the fame art to effect their over- 
 throw, to which they were indebted for their rife: 
 his Don Quixote pofleffed the double and very 
 uncommon merit of being at the fame time an 
 excellent parody and an interefting work in itfelf, 
 independent of the criticifm it contained. 
 
 The Amadis and the Giants were now fac- 
 ceeded in the Spaniih literature by fhorter tales, 
 brought nearer to ordinary life. The imagina- 
 tion difplayed in thefe was kfs extravagant and 
 wild i the antient Moorifh gallantry was blended 
 with a more rational heroifm. This was de- 
 nominated a novel ; and Cervantes, the deflroyer 
 of the ancient fpecies, deferves to be placed at 
 the head of the ne\v. 
 
 France had no part in this reformation ; the 
 fury of theological difputes, and the political 
 feuds which fucceeded them, feemed to abforb 
 the a&ive power of mens minds. Rabelais is 
 almoft the only author of thefe times we can 
 quote who gave a loofe to his imagination : but 
 what a ftyle of writing, and what an imagination 
 were his ! 
 
 I admire the good fortune of thofe who un- 
 derftand him, and can find delight in his works, 
 but I envy them not. All I think wonderful in 
 this ftrange jumble of obfcenity and erudition, 
 iolly and burlefque on every thing held facred, 
 
 is
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 is its fuccefs. Whilft wretches were throughout 
 all France committed to the flames for receiving 
 the facrament in both kinds, and with leavened 
 bread, who acknowledged the Bible for their 
 rule of faith ; at the fide of this very Bible was 
 placed a work, which, like it, was called the 
 Bock by way of eminence, containing a colle&ion 
 of difgufting obfceniries, in which the Old and 
 New Teftaments, the church, her minifters and 
 facraments, and more efpecially the eucharift, 
 that grand object of religious controverfy, was 
 turned into derilion with a freedom and grofihefs 
 fcarcely to be equalled in the fatires of Luther. 
 and Calvin. 
 
 When at length thefe commotions had fome- 
 what fubfided, and the minds of men, appeafed 
 by the latter years of the reign of Henry the 
 Fourth, had begun to benefit by ah intercourfe 
 with the Italians, and ftill more with the Spa- 
 niards, fb long their conquerors, a revolution 
 took place, equally important to the literature 
 of France, as that e2e<5r.ed by the piaftres of the 
 new world was to the circumftances of mankind. 
 The credit of this is afcribed to Cardinal Rich- 
 lieu, who mod afluredly in no way contributed 
 : : it v,as in embryo, and even ripening into 
 birth, long before his time. Neither Malherbe, 
 Durfe, Gombreville, or any of thofe whofe talents 
 P 3 fe
 
 214 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 he afterwards feemed to have in pay, had been 
 encouraged by him ; alinoft all thefe being born 
 with the age in which they lived, had already 
 cultivated and exercifed their genius before a 
 rninilrer appeared about the throne who feemed 
 to hold either them or their works in eflimation. 
 
 Befides, this minifter in his conduct difcovered 
 himfelf rather the enemy of tafte than its pa- 
 tron j he interefted himfelf in the Cid but to 
 oppofe it, to difcredit, to afflict and to diftrefs 
 the author ; he repuifed Mainard with harfhnefs. 
 The inflkution of the French Academy is rather 
 a proof of his defpotifm, than of an enlightened 
 tafte for letters. His only view in forming this 
 felect committee was to infure to himfelf pane- 
 gyric, not to perfect literature. Corneille was 
 not admitted till very late, after having expe- 
 rienced more than one refufal, in fpite of his 
 poetical renown. Boileau, La Fontaine, Ra- 
 cine, would probably have been excluded, had 
 providence fo long protracted his life and his 
 power, or, like Corneille, they muft have pur- 
 chafed their admiffion by their meannefs *. 
 
 * After experiencing two refufals, he found himfelf op- 
 pofed to a man called Balefdens, who would have gained 
 his point had he not had more modefty than the company. 
 See OR this fubjecl the ^.th vol. of thefe Annals, page 408. 
 
 What,
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 Whatever agent Louis the Thirteenth had 
 made choice of at the time when he took the 
 biihop of Lucon into his councils, all the genius 
 which preceded the age of Louis the Fourteenth 
 would have equally fhone forth j tafte and letters 
 would have been no way impeded in their pro- 
 greflion, which was not retarded by the indiffer- 
 ence of cardinal Mazarine, or accelerated by the 
 zeal of his predeceflbr. 
 
 However this be, the dawn of good tafle 
 which began to appear, .fecured Gombreville, 
 Calprenede, and Scuderi, from that outrageous 
 difregard to good fenfe which had given birth 
 to Amadis and Efplandian. They bid adieu to 
 fairies and witches ; their heroes were lefs mar- 
 vellous, their heroines more decent ; they feemed 
 nearer on a level with the reader, though the 
 grandeur of the one, and the virtue of the other, 
 were ftill far fnperior to human nature, and to 
 the ordinary intercourfe of life. 
 
 Perhaps it may be allowable to regret this age 
 of romancery, if we may hazard the term. In 
 my opinion, the authors of Cleopatra, Caflandra, 
 Cyrus, and Clelia, have been very unjuflly ac- 
 cufed of transforming the principal characters of 
 antiquity into people of ordinary rank. Nothing 
 is more ill founded than this criticifm. In thefe 
 productions love is ennobled, and always pre- 
 P 4 fents
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 fents itfelf under a refpectable form, valor, mag- 
 nanimity, delicacy, modefty, every virtue which 
 can adorn the two fexes are here defcribed, with 
 a fplendor which at once excites admiration and 
 attachment. 
 
 La Carte de Tendre, 1'Echo d'Horatius 
 Codes, les Enigmes de Brutus, de Lucrece, 
 may have furnifhed matter for epigrams , the 
 length of the works, and that of the metaphyfi- 
 cal diflertations they contain, may tire ; a certain 
 affectation of difplaying a genteel ftyle, of fhew- 
 ing a familiarity with the language of the court, 
 may difpleafe; but where is the mental labor 
 that is faultlefs ? Laftly, many of thefe ftains are 
 confined to Clelia, the Echo, the Carte Tendre, 
 and the Enigmas : we meet with nothing of this 
 kind in Pharamond or Cleopatra; and even 
 thofe three infipidities, fo cruelly expofed by 
 Boileau, do not offend in the pafiages where 
 they are placed, fuch is the addrefs with which 
 they are employed, fo fkilfully is their weajknefs 
 concealed from view, and fuch is the noblenefs, 
 grandeur, and heroifm of the remaining part. 
 
 What citizens are the father and mother of 
 Clelia, or Arons, or Amilcar ? Were that epi- 
 thet applicable to them becaufe the ground of 
 their adventures refemble the ordinary diftrefles 
 of life ? This is a further injuftice. What is it 
 j;hen, we may afk, which furniflies the fubjecl: 
 
 fpf
 
 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 for poems and tragedies, if it be not the effect 
 of paflions alike difcoverable in the Rue de St. 
 Denis, in the Strand, in the Calle del Sol, as 
 at Verfailles, St. James's, or St. Idelphonfo ? 
 
 This at leaft cannot be denied, that thefe ro- 
 mances, at the prefent day configned to oblivion, 
 or the perufal of fome amateurs or plagiarifts, 
 who have had recourfe to them for ideas which 
 their own barrennefs of invention could not fupply 
 them with, are prodigies of imagination, refource, 
 fecundity, and art, and, perhaps, the finefl mo- 
 dels it is pofiible to lay before mankind to dif- 
 pofe them to virtue. 
 
 Let it be obferved too, that thofe precepts of 
 courage and magnanimity which the authors in- 
 culcated through their heroes, were practifed 
 by themfelves. The men of genius of thofe 
 days diftinguifhed themfelves no lefs by their 
 courage, than their imagination. Calprenede, 
 when told that the mitred monarch of France 
 thought his verfes bafe, retorted this infult by a 
 fally which could never have efcaped a man of 
 doubtful valor. 
 
 The bravery of Cyrano was extended even to 
 rafrmefs ; a mod valuable anecdote is preferved 
 of him. Two of his friends were engaged in a 
 quarrel, forrounded by thirty men, who attacked 
 f:hem fword in hand; Cyrano perceives them 
 
 from
 
 21 8 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 from a window, rufhes on the aggrefibrs, dif- 
 perfes them, and carries off his friends in tri- 
 umph. No romance has fuppofed any adventure 
 fo incredible and fo fortunate. 
 
 The memory of Scudery, amongft us de- 
 voted to ridicule, ought in every virtuous and 
 enlightened mind to be confecrated to refpect. 
 He had dedicated to queen Chriftina his poem 
 of Alaric, wherein he had inferted an eulogium 
 on the count de la Gardie, then the favorite 
 minifter of that princefs j this is the cuftom of 
 poets in every age : but what follows is not the 
 cuftom of any. The minifter was difgraced; 
 Chriftina required Scudery to retrench his praifes 
 in a new edition of the poem ; fhe intimated to 
 him a prefent of ten thoufand livres Tournois of 
 that day, which were worth more than twenty 
 of the prefent. Scudery was not rich : he an- 
 fwered, cf that no reward fhould induce him to 
 " deftroy the altar at which he had facrificed." 
 Chriftina ought to have repaid this refufal bet- 
 ter than a compliance; fhe kept her money; 
 Ihe was a philofopher, and Scudery was not. 
 It fhould appear that fuch men ought to be par- 
 doned in drawing their heroes thus haughty and 
 generous. 
 
 When cuftom had introduced fatiety in this 
 new fpecies, and a change of tafte, the fruit ot 
 
 incon-
 
 PROSE WORKS. 219 
 
 inconftancy rather than of perfection, had brougV; 
 it into difrepute, Mad. de la Fayetts, or Segrais 
 under her name, and afterwards Mad. de Viile- 
 dieu, Mad. de Gomes, and a thoufand others, 
 difplayed another fpecies of compofition, the 
 merit of which was ftill due to the Spaniards : 
 I mean that of hiftorical novels. Thefe were 
 miniatures of thofe Colofiufes of which I have 
 been fpeaking. 
 
 They likewife took names known in hiftory, 
 to which they adapted fictions Ihorter, more pa- 
 thetic, and more fimilar to thofe which occur 
 daily, or of a different fort of fingularjty than 
 the grand martial achievements and exemplary 
 chaftity of Oroondates, Candace, &c. but ftill 
 thefe tales, which interefted the heart without 
 alarming modefty, were poflefled of delicacy, 
 imagination, and beauty. 
 
 This tafte prevailed till that vile inundation 
 of obfcenity which has poifoned literature, the 
 Sophas, Tanzai, Angola, &c. difgufting cari- 
 catures, wherein, to the difgrace of our age, its 
 manners are but too faithfully delineated, and 
 in which the romance, till then employed in 
 elevating the mind, melting the heart, or at lead 
 in furniihing matter for amufement, ferves only 
 to vilify human nature, and to prove, as well as 
 to perpetuate, its degeneracy. 
 
 Mr.
 
 22O PROSE WORKS. 
 
 Mr. Voltaire, who in his Pucelle but too 
 clofely followed the falhion of the times, has 
 guarded againft it in his romances ; he has open- 
 ed to himfelf a way abfolutely new. He has 
 neither taken the mad fublimity of Amadis, nor 
 the heroifm, too exalted for our comprehenfion, 
 of Oroondates, the pathetic Hmplicity of the 
 Princefs of Cleves, or the degrading burlefque 
 of the Mazulhim, &c. He has chalked out 
 to himfelf a path, in which an enlightened phi- 
 lofophy beams forth ; a criticifm almoft al- 
 ways ufeful, and, with fome few exceptions, a 
 chearful gaiety, in which every one may honor- 
 ably partake. 
 
 In the romances of his beft time, as in his 
 tragedies, the outline of each is varied > Zadig is 
 fbfr, agreeable, and creates a fmile in the mind. 
 Though feveral chapters are taken from Ariofto, 
 or the Chinefe Tales inferted at the end of Du 
 Halde's collection, or from the Arabian Nights 
 Entertainment j and though it contains no very 
 iplendid adventures, and that the intereft is 
 not lively, it is notwithstanding fo well written, 
 fo replete with wit, with truth, and fatisfactory 
 reprefentations, that it is read with a pleafure 
 always new. 
 
 Candidus offers the moft melancholy fubjecT: 
 Concealed under the moft humorous garb, with 
 
 that
 
 PROSE WORKS. 221 
 
 that laughing philofophy peculiar to Mr. Vol- 
 taire, and which I repeat it fhould ieem to have 
 given him an excellent comic genius, he turns 
 into complete ridicule the-fyftem of " whatever 
 " is, is right," maintained by fo many philofo- 
 phers, and caufes a thoufand burfts of laughter 
 in his readers, in placing before them in every 
 page, and with a mafterly pencil, the evils in- 
 feparable from fociety. 
 
 There is more imagination in this fecond ro- 
 mance than in Zadig; the fcene of the fix 
 kings dining together at Venice, is, in my opi- 
 nion, an eminent production of genius, as well 
 in itfelf as from the manner in which it is de- 
 fcribed, and the ferious reflections it has a ten- 
 dency to produce. Some few paflages excepted, 
 fuch as a certain genealogy, a grofihefs which 
 but ill agrees with the beauty of the remaining 
 part, Candidus feems to me the chef d'xuvre of 
 fterling ridicule, of elegance, and, what is of 
 more importance, of real philofophy, at leaft of 
 fuch as can be introduced into a tale. 
 
 L'Ingenu again is in another ftyle, and per- 
 haps the mofl perfed of the three. It is to 
 be regretted that fome friend of the author did 
 not perfuade him to expunge fome wretched 
 puns, or indecent buffooneries which difgrace 
 it. He prefents to us pathetic piclures, all 
 
 taken
 
 222 PROSE WORKS. 
 
 taken from common life and daily occurrences, 
 without even excepting the Baftile. 
 
 It may be remarked, that it is the only^one 
 of Mr. Voltaire's profe writings, as Tancred is 
 the fole tragedy, in which he has attempted to 
 paint a fcene really pathetic. The adventure of 
 Mad. de St. Ives, her illnefs and her death, force 
 tears from us. One would have been tempted 
 to believe that Mr. Voltaire was defirous in this 
 piece of entering the lifts againft the cataftrophe 
 of the new Heloife itfelf, imitated in the Eng- 
 lifh ClarifTa; but it is another ftyle -, it is even 
 fo different, that we cannot compare them : I 
 have already remarked, Mr. Voltaire did not 
 pofiefs this fpecies of excellence. 
 
 After thefe two romances, his Scarmentado, 
 his Micromegas, and his Memnon, will be al- 
 ways read with pleafure. Too ftrong perfonali- 
 ties and indecencies, too thinly veiled, detract 
 from his Candidus and feveral others, the pro- 
 duce of his old age, that is to fay, when years 
 and his great habit of writing rendered him lefs 
 difficult in his ftyle, and his great certainty of 
 being read made him lefs delicate in his ex- 
 prefiions. 
 
 O F
 
 F T H E 
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS 
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE.
 
 OF THE 
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS, 
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE, 
 
 AFTER thus traverfmg with fo much fuc- 
 cefs thofe departments of literature which 
 depend on the imagination, Mr. Voltaire ad- 
 ventured into that of hiftory, wherein this 
 faculty of the mind is oftentimes more dangerous 
 than ufeful. Is this attempt to be regarded in 
 him as a temerity ? Although on this head 
 there may be fome uncertainty in the fuffrages, 
 it appears that the opinion of the difmterefted 
 is fixed and unanimous, in confidering the hifto- 
 rical productions of Mr. Voltaire, as one of the 
 titles which beft juftify his fame. 
 
 Ct I fpeak
 
 226 HISTORICAL WORKS. 
 
 I fpeak not of the Hiftory of Charles the 
 Xllth, a piece worthy of the reception it has 
 met with j interefting, and finely written i but 
 wherein the fingularity of the events is more 
 remarkable than the ftyle. This work is written 
 with wifdom, dignity, and elegance, but not in 
 fuch a manner as to take from a rival the hope 
 of equaling it. 
 
 What feems to leave no room for competition, 
 what infures to Mr. Voltaire not only a dif* 
 tinguifhed, but fuperior rank to all hiftorians, 
 cither modern or even of antiquity j what gives 
 us authority to regard him as the creator of a 
 new fpecies in this department, ftill more than 
 in that of the theatre or of romance, is his Age 
 of Louis the XlVth. 
 
 This work, on its firft appearance, excited 
 univerfal admiration even envy herfelf was 
 ftruck dumb (he has fince recovered her fpeech, 
 but to charge the author with fome trifling in- 
 accuracies, many of which even, were the faults 
 of workmen and copyifts. But there is but one 
 concurring voice on the beauty of its frontifpiece, 
 on the portrait of the political ftate of Europe 
 which it exhibits at the commencement of this 
 celebrated reign ; a fort of portrait with which both 
 ancients and moderns were alike unacquainted, 
 
 and
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS. 
 
 which feemed even at its birth, to pofiefs 
 its full maturity of perfection. 
 
 The chapters on thofe ridiculous contefts of 
 the fronde y which would have entailed equal 
 mifery and contem on the kingdom, had not 
 forty fucceeding years of fplendor done away its 
 infamy, were received with little lefs avidity j and 
 in thofe too of which the arts, the government^ 
 of Louis the XI Vth or his views, are the fubject $ 
 his projects and meafures are at once delineated 
 with fo much art and dignity, that the very errors 
 of his adminiftration feem to confirm the refpect 
 his real qualities are calculated to infpire. 
 
 His abridged Narrative of Ecclefiaft cal Quar- 
 rels was received with equal gratification : of thofe 
 contefts but too much multiplied in an age 
 wherein the progrefs of letters ought to have 
 made them lefs frequent. Mankind had never 
 yet beheld an example of fuch clearnefs in the 
 expofition of the caufes whence theie diflentions 
 arofe, a like impartiality in the relation of facts, 
 fuch a grandeur pervading throughout a narrative : 
 -a dignity, accompanied with fo adroit a trifling, 
 as ferved but to develope truth, and almoft 
 to render reafoning fuperfluous. Did we poflefs 
 fuch a monument of Grecian or Roman anti- 
 quity, it would be reverenced amongft us even to 
 idolatry. 
 
 If
 
 228 HISTORICAL WORKS, 
 
 If the body of the hiftory, that is to fay, the 
 fummary of political events, has appeared fome- 
 what inferior, it is perhaps becaufe it is call into 
 a fhade by thofe brilliant pafiages which precede 
 and follow it ; and further, becaufe an abridge- 
 ment, with whatever (kill it be defigned, has 
 always fomething dry in itfelf ; hiftory, properly 
 fo called, is fupported by digrefljons, in a (till 
 greater degree than by reflections. 
 
 Criticifm has found in his Effay on Univerfal 
 Hiftory, a greater fund of refource and fupport. 
 It cannot be diflembled that this work is the 
 fruit of that emulation which Mr. Voltaire felt 
 to contend in every department of literature 
 againft thofe writers whofe names are enrolled in 
 the lifts of immortality. The famous Tre.itiie 
 of Boffuet on Univerfal Hiftory was the object 
 of his rivalfhip, perhaps of his jealoufy : hence 
 has refulted to literature a production of a nature 
 wholly different. Mr. Voltaire, in afpiring to 
 walk by the fide of Boffuet, has abfolutely run 
 counter to the plan chalked out by that eloquent 
 prelate. 
 
 Much lefs did he propofe to himfelf the fame 
 end, or rather it ihould feem, that as he has been 
 reproached, it was a direct contrary one he had 
 in view. Boffuet v/rote but to ih~w the relation 
 which every grand event of ancient hiftory had 
 
 with
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS. 
 
 with the eftablifhment of Chriftianity, and con- 
 fequendy to ftrengthen the refpecl due to that 
 religion. Mr. Voltaire, it muil be acknowledged, 
 fee*nsto have laborioufly fought to lay before us 
 in his Portrait of Modern Hiltory, all the greater 
 and lefs events belt calcuhred to do away that 
 refpect. Bofiuet leads ajl to faith, and Mr. 
 Voltaire all to infidelity. 
 
 I (hail liiortly give my opinion on that philo- 
 fophy v.'hicn tranfpires through almuft all his 
 works ; but befoie we pals on to this lubject, I 
 cannot forbear laying a word on one of the moft 
 unjuft criticilms this writer has experienced. 
 Five years after his death a work appeared, the 
 principal object of which was to abufe him, par- 
 ticularly on the fubject of his hiftorical pro- 
 ductions } he is in every page of it quoted as an 
 hiftorian, and never without infult. If we are 
 to credit Mr. 1'Abbe de Mably, " He has 
 " finiihed all his woiks, before he well knew 
 " what he was about to fay ; he deals out filli- 
 " neffes wirh emphafis : he cannot fee as far as 
 " his nofe ; he is the moft frivolous and enter- 
 Sf taining of all hiftorians; in his Charles the 
 " Xllth. he runs like a fool after a fool, his 
 " Univerfai Hiftory is but a pafquinade, &c. &c." 
 
 Thefe ftrange exprelfions difcover in the critic 
 a very blind prfj-.uiice, and a racfl unjufl anu
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS. 
 
 mofity. Not only Mr. Voltaire is neither frivolous 
 nor trifling in his hiftorical compofitions ; but 
 the reproach he moft juftly lies open to, is that 
 of being too ferious and too fentimental ; that 
 of exacting from his readers a too conftant atten- 
 tion, and of prefenting every moment deductions 
 which, to minds not familiarized with habits of 
 reflection, muft render it fatiguing to follow 
 him. 
 
 It is even a very finking fingularity, that the 
 man who is every where elfe fo light and gay, 
 Ihould be capable of fuch gravity and unre- 
 mitting labour. Far from being playful and 
 frivolous, he difcovers himfelf ferious even 
 to coldnefs, and auftere to drynefs. When he 
 allows himfelf any malignant allufions, the hu- 
 mour is in the things, or the arrangement of the 
 facts, and very rarely in the words themfelves. 
 
 The Abbe de Mably ought to have been the 
 laft who fhouid have hazarded this cenfure ; he, 
 who has attempted at humour, as far as he was 
 able, in a work with the nature of which it was ftill 
 lefs compatible ; who in a collection of dogma- 
 tical precepts, fays, " that Janfenifm would again 
 " kindle a civil flame at the beards of the phi- 
 ** lofophers and their difciples, if, &c." which, 
 to men of tafte, will not appear a very refined 
 (Iroke of humour^ who fomewhere elfe fays, 
 
 that
 
 HISTORICAL WORKS. 
 
 that " an hiftorian ought, in policy, to be fome- 
 " what more fkilful than his hero j" which will 
 appear rather an oddity than a jeft. 
 
 He further reproaches Mr. Voltaire with fome 
 voluntary fcepticifms, and is defirous that hif- 
 tory ftiould be in fome fort an epic poem. 
 
 PART
 
 PART THE THIRD. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 O F 
 
 MR. VOLTAIRE, 
 
 AND HIS 
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION.
 
 OF THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 O F 
 MR. VOLTAIRE, 
 
 AND HIS 
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 
 
 WE are at length arrived at that path, 
 which, of all thofe that ferved to con- 
 duct this furprifing man to fame, was the one 
 in which he feemed moft emulous of diftinguifh- 
 ing himfelf ; that, in which he delighted to walk 
 during his whole life, and to which, if we may 
 ufe the term, his excurfions into every other were 
 rendered fubfervient. Philofophy was his idol, 
 his paffion ; and by this term he underftood a ha- 
 tred to what he called prejudices, a boldnefs in 
 combating received opinions of every kind, but 
 more efpecially on matters of religion. 
 
 His manner of treating thefe important fub- 
 jefts, has, as I have obferved on the occafion of 
 
 one
 
 2j PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 one of his Epic Poems, gained him the fuf- 
 frages of the youthful part of his readers, ftill 
 more moderate in their encomiums than their 
 invecYives ; thofe of women, inconfiderate, and 
 too eafily feduced by what pleafes them, to be 
 capable of withftanding thofe Ion mots which 
 are fubftituted for arguments j thofe of the greater 
 part of men of the world, feldom well in- 
 formed, and ftill more rarely capable of reflec- 
 tion, and who always giving the falhion to, 
 or receiving it from the women, were natu- 
 rally led to unite with them in their efteem for 
 a man, who could make them laugh while dif- 
 cuffing the moft ferious fubjecls. 
 
 On the other hand, the devotees of both 
 fexes, ferious men, who regarded religion as the 
 fafeguard of manners and the public tranquility ; 
 the clergy, whofe office it is to inculcate the 
 duties of religion, and who naturally perfuade 
 themfelves it is their duty to defend it : have 
 conceived a reafonable horror againft a man 
 who openly declared himfelf its enemy. They 
 profcribed him as a public corruptor, who was 
 fo much the more dangerous, as his poifons 
 were, as they faid, adminiitred in the form of 
 remedies he pretended an ardent love of truth, 
 only to gain the more credit for his errors, 
 and further, becaufe whilft multiplying blaf-
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 
 
 phemies, he covered them with an appearance 
 fo fpecious, with a levity fo well adapted to fe- 
 duce, that he enfured almoft as many accom- 
 plices as readers. 
 
 Between thefe two decifions, fo different, he 
 who would wifh to form an impartial opinion, 
 muft be compelled to incline towards the more 
 fevere. The admiration he cannot refufe to the 
 talents of the writer, is di.tunifhed when he 
 enquires what good has been done by the phi- 
 lofopher. 
 
 Not but that in the latter character Mr. Vol- 
 taire has been of very great benefit to mankind. 
 Being of all men who have written die mod 
 univerfally read, who even to the higheft point 
 of perfection porTefled the art of expreffing his 
 ideas with perfpicuity, and of infinuating them 
 with art, he has made an infinite number cf 
 profelytes, and he ought to have his due tribute 
 of thanks, when his notions have been found to 
 conduce to the public welfare and the general 
 benefit of fociety. Of thefe he pofleffes many, 
 on literature, education, government, legiQa- 
 tion, and even on jurifprudence. 
 
 Though he did not immediately work a re- 
 formation, becaufe he did not pofTefs the requi- 
 fite power, he kindled that general fpirit, which 
 in time produces it, and therein effected a real 
 
 change.
 
 238 PHILOSOPHY AN* 
 
 change. Manners are become more poiiihedj 
 if not more pure, and the eyes of men are 
 more open to what may do them harm* De- 
 crees, which thirty years earlier would not have 
 excited the leaft alarm, have been annulled by 
 the voice of the people, which has compelled 
 their governors to yield to the claims of 
 reafon and juftice. Debates, partly political and 
 partly religious, which at the commencement 
 of the prefent century, and perhaps ftill later, 
 would have led to violence and perfecution^ 
 have excited no intereft whatever. The gene- 
 ral indifference has rendered them lefs acute, 
 and their effects lefs tedious and mifchievous ; 
 and perhaps, in the end> may in time wholly 
 prevent them, and thus fpare our children 
 from a fcourge which has afflicted and difgraced 
 their anceftors. 
 
 Juftice obliges us to acknowledge, that it is 
 in a great meafure to Mr. Voltaire we are in- 
 debted for thefe benefits. So far he is entitled 
 to claim the gratitude of his contemporaries and 
 of pofterity. I will even go further had he 
 confined himfelf, in treating on religion, to 
 fhew how far, under pretence of enforcing its 
 privileges, the fpirit of its founder has been de- 
 parted from to what a degree, paffion has fome- 
 times prevailed over morality if, in a mafterly 
 
 defcriptiori
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 439 
 
 defcription of the crimes produced by fanati- 
 cifm, the fcandals of fuperftirion, the meannefs 
 of avarice veiled under a venerable form, ad- 
 dreffing mankind he had faid, " Thefe horrors 
 " are no lefs oppofite to true religion than to 
 <c reafon " an idea fo well exprefied in Alzira, 
 
 c Our God is their's, my fon, but they infult him." 
 
 If evenhehadfometimes embellifhed thefe ferious 
 truths by the graces of his ftyle, and made ule 
 of his powers of ridicule to expofe the oppofite 
 errors j he had tlill merited the title of a bene- 
 factor to mankind. 
 
 Unfortunately, he has not confined himfelf 
 within thefe limits. His defign feems not to 
 have been to prune the tree, but to tear it up 
 by the roots. In his latter years efpecially, he 
 feems to have imbibed an anti-religious fanati- 
 cifm, more outrageous than that of which he 
 accufes the priefts, who were the object of 
 that by which he himfelf was actuated. Af- 
 furedly no enthufiaft f any feel, or of any 
 reformation, has allowed himfelf in fuch violent 
 and cruel invectives againft infidelity, as he has 
 multiplied out of number againft chriftianity. 
 His hatred of this religion was become an uni- 
 rerfal, a real mania, it took poffeffion of all his 
 
 4 faculties,
 
 24O PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 faculties, fpreading diforder through them, and 
 leading him often to offend equally againft the 
 laws of logic, as thofe of decency. I fhall 
 here quote but one inftance, drawn from his 
 drama, but from a piece wherein he was more 
 occupied by philofophy than poetry. 
 
 It is the chara-tler of Joad in Olympia, and 
 that of the pricfthood in general, whom he 
 ftrived to render odious : that factious, intriguing > 
 and defpotic fpirit, which he attributes to the 
 chriftian clergy, he wifhed to defcribe and vilify, 
 in delineating the character of a pontiff exempt 
 from all thefe vices. In order that we may not 
 miftake his intentions, he has taken care to ex- 
 plain them himfelf in the remarks which follow 
 the piece. 
 
 He there fays in direct terms, " By what right 
 " does Joad the prielt arm his Levites againft 
 " a queen to whom he has taken an oath of alle- 
 " glance? By what right does he caufe her to be 
 " murdered in her old age ? Was it for Joad to 
 " confpire againft, and kill her ? He was her 
 " fubject, and affuredly, confiflent with our 
 t( manners and laws, it was no more allowable 
 " in Joad to caufe his queen to be aflaflinated, 
 " than it would have been in an archbilhop of 
 " Canterbury to have put queen Elizabeth to 
 
 " death,
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 241 
 
 tc death, becaufe fhe had condemned Mary 
 " Stuart." 
 
 Certainly, the comparifon is as unjuft, as the 
 reafoning is incorrect. How does Joad become 
 the iubject of Athalia ? How is fhe his queen ? 
 She was an alien, an ufurper; fhe enjoyed the 
 throne, it is true, but fhe had paved her 
 way thither by the flaughter of all whofe birth 
 gave them a title to it. How is Mr. Voltaire 
 authorifed in faying that Joad had fworn alle- 
 giance to her ? If even from motives of policy 
 he had confented to pay her that homage, would 
 that alone have been fufficient to juftify us in 
 applying the terms of rebellion and afTatTination 
 to a revolution directed by him who recalled the 
 lawful heir to the crown, preferved through his 
 means ? 
 
 Let us fuppofe that Catharine of Medicis had 
 caufed Henry the Third to be murdered, and 
 had pofiefied herfelf of the crown of France, 
 as Athalia did that of Jerufalem ; that Henry 
 the Fourth at this epocha had been a child , that 
 an archbifliop of Paris had found means to con- 
 vey him out of the hands of thofe who by mur- 
 der and poifon confpired his death ; and that 
 when this prince came of age, he had prefented 
 him to the people; that a revolt had in confc- 
 quence taken place, wherein the ufurper was 
 R deflroyed :
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 deftroyed : could this prelate have been accufed 
 of confpiring againft, and affaffinating his fove- 
 
 reign ? 
 
 Examples of this fort of injuflice, and thefe 
 wanderings in Mr. Voltaire, are many in his 
 philofophical works. He fomewhere fays, 
 
 " I have done more in my time than Luther and Calvin." 
 
 This is true in every fenfe, but more efpecially 
 inafmuch as thofe celebrated reformers fought 
 only to repair the building; they did not pull it 
 down ; they lopped off thofe exuberances by 
 which, in their opinion, the purity of the Chrif- 
 tian do&rmes had been fullied : but they revered 
 the foundation of the ftru&ure ; and when even 
 the ties which united them with the Catholics 
 were torn afunder, they flill retained the gofpel 
 as the guide of their faith and conduct. But in 
 the reformation of Mr. Voltaire, what remains 
 to encourage the weak, to confole the wretched, 
 to curb the wicked, and to ferve as a fign of 
 union to all men ? 
 
 " Deifm, fays Mr. Voltaire, the idea of a God, 
 the difpenfer of future rewards and punifhments, 
 has been the religion of great geniufes in every 
 age : it was that of Julian, of Marcus Aurelius, 
 Cicero, Scipio, and others. Why, poffefling as 
 much underftanding as Cicero, (hould I hold 
 x the
 
 WORkS ON RELIGION. 243 
 
 the religion of my times in more refpect than 
 he did that of his ? His philofophic works are 
 complete courfes of incredulity, and they are 
 reprinted ad ujum De'phini. Why fhould I be 
 thought culpable for a conduct thus honorably 
 rewarded in him ? 
 
 " Your cenfure of my pretended bo'dnefs is 
 but a continuation of your inconfiftency. In at- 
 tacking your belief I cannot do more harm, than 
 he who declares aloud that he doubts of every 
 thino;; the toleration of every age towards his 
 fcepticifm, fufficiently proves this virtue to be 
 no way detrimental. Why not extend it then 
 to me ?" 
 
 This is nearly the fumrnary of what Mr. Vol-* 
 taire has urged in defence of his anti-chriftian 
 effjfions. I have long fince exprefied my fen- 
 timents on the fubjec~l- leaving the fyftem CO 
 thofe whofe province it is to inculcate, and to 
 defend it; I never confidered its doctrines but 
 in a political point of view* It is not in the 
 character of a miffionary, but a philofopher, that 
 I (hall reply to Mr. Voltaire in the following 
 terms : 
 
 Your idea of toleration is a fallacious one, 
 
 and you rely on the example of Cicero for your 
 
 fupport in it, with Htcle reafon; circumflances, 
 
 which alter every thing, are materially different 
 
 R 2 in
 
 44 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 in the eighteenth, from what thsy were in the 
 firft century of our aera. 
 
 i ft. In that orator's time, not only the body 
 of the people, but even the higher claries of the 
 citizens, did not read at all. The exceffive price 
 of books, and the difficulty of procuring them 
 even for money, rendered them an- objec~b of 
 luxury, and confequently an appendage to opu- 
 lence. Thus all the opinions debated in the 
 fchools, or in writings, reached thofe only who 
 had leifure and time to fpare in attending thefe 
 philofophical difcufilons, or men of fortune, 
 who amufed themfelves with them in their clofets, 
 which even at Rome fcarcely compofed, in that 
 age, one millionth part of the nation. 
 
 idly. Cicero treated thefe fubjects philofophi- 
 cally ; his ftyle was adapted to the gravity of his 
 matter. If he imitated Plato in the familiar 
 turn -of his dialogue, he kept him no lefs in 
 view, in the fe verity with which he avoided what- 
 ever had a tendency to ridicule. He allowed 
 himfelf no other embeliifhrnents than perfpicuity 
 and elegance : a further reafon to confirm us in 
 the opinion, that he fought for readers only in 
 a very confined order of fociety. 
 
 3dly. Whatever imprefiion the opinions of Ci- 
 cero 'might make on this fmall body of readers, 
 or even granting that their number was more 
 
 con-
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 245 
 
 confiderable, no material evil could flow from 
 it, fince paganifm, whofe divinities he queftion- 
 ed, had no dogmas. It confifted in ceremonies 
 and rites, indifferent enough in themfelves, and 
 in fupport of which it was no way to be appre- 
 hended that any one fhould become inflamed, 
 fmce the policy of the ft ate had ceafed to cbnfi- 
 der them among the principal engines of go- 
 vernment. 
 
 On the other hand, the very mythology whofe 
 chimeras he diverted of reverence, neither of-- 
 fered fuch precepts of wifdom or examples cf 
 virtue, as to caufe the philofcphy which brought 
 them into difrepute to be any way deemed dan- 
 gerous. Affuredly fuch principles of refined 
 morality, regulated by reafon and a love of the 
 public welfare, as are difplayed in the Offices, 
 &c. would bear to be put in competition as to 
 the benefits likely to accrue to fociety from the 
 effects of each, with the ftory of Mercury the 
 god of thieves, or that of Vulcan's nets. The 
 general order of fociety could fuftain no injury 
 by the contempt into which altars had fallen de- 
 dicated to a patron of robbers, or ferving as 
 examples of conjugal infidelity. 
 
 4thly. With regard to the indulgence in which 
 
 his philofophical reafonings are held at the pre- 
 
 Jent day, as to the ufe made of them without 
 
 R 3 fcruple
 
 246 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 fcruple and without alarm in our fchools, and 
 the little concern with which we behold them in 
 the hands of every defcription of readers, the inr 
 confiftency you point out in fuch a conduct will 
 not juflify you. Cuftom, the difference of our 
 idioms, the fide of an ancient, the veneration he 
 infpires, might all be urged in excufe for the 
 negligence of tutors and governments ; but, in 
 fad, they are not jufcly liable to any reproach on 
 this head. The truth of the divinities, and the 
 religion of the times in which he lived, are 
 the objects of the Roman orator's enquiry ; the 
 dreams of paganifm, which he treats as puerile 
 illufions, Thefe deities, and this fyflern, are 
 now no more. It is not to be apprehended thac 
 the reflections of a heathen philofopher on the 
 facred fowls, or the adventures of Jupiter, m\\ 
 caufe any doubts in the mind of a reader on the 
 myfteries of the Chrjftian religion. We may 
 fafely put them into the hands of a pupil, as 
 models of purity in a language he is fludying, 
 without being any way apprehenfive of their 
 making jmpreilions capable of changing his 
 belief. 
 
 But can you avail yourfclf of any of thefe 
 pleas ? Are the times the fame ? Does our fyf- 
 tem, our religious principles or our doctrines 
 refemble thofe fables which Cicero derided ? 
 
 Will
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 247 
 
 Will the fubject, the tendency, and the fpirit 
 of your works bear a comparifon with thofe of 
 Cicero in any of thefe refpecls? Yonr objec~b 
 in writing, efpecially on religion, was to be 
 read by men of all ages and conditions. The 
 numberlefs pleafantries with which your works 
 on this fubje<5t abound, could have no other end. 
 The very form of thefe pamphlets, always fhort, 
 and confequently eafily procured, convenient to 
 be read or retained, and moreover within the reach 
 of every inquifitive perfon, is an index which 
 reveals your fecret. It is then the multitude, 
 the body of the people, you were defirous of fe- 
 ducing, or, if you pleafe, of perfuading : now 
 what go6d end could you propofe to yourfelf or 
 to the world in doine; this ? 
 
 
 
 I gave you due praife for having held up the 
 quarrels of the Janfenifts to ridicule ; for ren- 
 dering odious the perfecution of the Proteftants 
 of the laft century : -doubtlefs, a pertinacity in 
 requiring of the Janfenifts a retraflion in itfelf 
 immaterial, was altogether as extravagant as their 
 obftinacy in refufing it; the expulfion of the 
 Proteftants, or at lead the conditions on which 
 alone they were allowed the right of breathing their 
 native air, was cruel. You did right in expofing 
 to the derifion or abhorrence of the public, thefe 
 two effecls of folly and defpotifm ; but is it the 
 R 4 fame
 
 24-8 v PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 fame with your infuking farcafms and endlefs 
 jokes a: the expence of whatever Chriftianity 
 holds up as facred to the people. 
 
 You are continually laying claim to the privi- 
 lege of toleration, for which I am no lefs an 
 advocate than yourfelf j but you make it to con- 
 fill: in rights which moil aflu redly could never 
 belong to it. Toleration extends no farther 
 than in leaving free from reftraint the opinions 
 and even the conduct of men, fo far as they do 
 not interfere with the public welfare ; in leaving 
 every one at liberty in matters that relate merely 
 to himfelf to act agreeably to his own confcience 
 and opinion j but not in permitting hiai to labor 
 at altering, or in allowing to affume a controul 
 over thofe of others. 
 
 Thus, whether you comply with the external 
 forms of religion or not, as long as you confine 
 yourfelf to a filent omifiion merely, I think that 
 the police has not even a right to take cognizance 
 of it. In refufing to yourfelf the advantage of 
 thefe falutary obfervances, you endanger your 
 own foul only; the magiftrate and the paftor 
 can do no more than exhort, and lament for 
 you ; whilft peaceably permitting you thus to 
 ettrange yourfelf from your religious duty, they 
 fulfil theirs, they are tolerant. 
 
 But
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 249 
 
 But if you render thefe ordinances ridiculous 
 to your neighbours ; if you infpire them with 
 contempt for the myfteries which are celebrated 
 in them, you then become a teacher ; you dif- 
 turb good order; you are then intolerant your- 
 felf, fince you endeavour to deftroy the faith of 
 thofe who paffed over your incredulity. From 
 that moment you are criminal, and, unlefs you 
 are reprefied, may do confiderable harm. 
 
 Were you to go about to infult a monarch 
 in his palace, to proclaim aloud that it is 
 folly to folicit favors of him, or to hold his 
 minifters in refpeft, to brave him in the pre- 
 fcnce of his courtiers where is the captain of 
 his guard, or the private fenny, where the mean- 
 neft of his officers, who would not haften to 
 avenge him ? What fpeclator, though more phi- 
 lofophic than Julian or Cicero, who would dare 
 to blame them ? And if, in the fervency of a 
 real or political zeal, they were to ufe you ill, 
 would you have any juft title to complain of 
 opprefiion and tyranny ? 
 
 You wifh to deftroy the priefthood you wifli 
 to have foldiers and magiftrates only but when 
 the fovcreign, hurried on by his paffions, (hall 
 have violated the laws ; when, like David, he 
 {hall have murdered the hufband to make his 
 wife a widow and to marry her when, like 
 
 Theodofius,
 
 25O PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 Theodofius, he fhall have profcribed and delivered 
 over a whole people to ilaughter, met together 
 to be entertained by your theatric talents is it 
 on the gentlemen of the long robe we are to 
 rely to arreft his arm, and compel him to de- 
 plore his ci ime ? or muft we refort to heroes like 
 Joab, to impofe a penance on him, and compel 
 him to commemorate his forrow by public acts 
 of contrition ? 
 
 It was an ecclefiaftic who was commifiioned 
 from God to fay to the father of Solomon, Thou 
 baft Jinned. When the Theffalonic maflacre was 
 perpetrated, we may fuppofe that the Roman 
 empire had within it numbers of virtuous lawyers 
 and General officers porTefled of generofity thefe 
 ferved, however, but as approvers and minifters 
 to the daftardly cruelty of the prince; had it 
 not been for the heroic courage of a prieft, it 
 had pailed unpunifhed. 
 
 What punilhment, fay yon, what reparation 
 for the murder of feven thoufand people, to be 
 obliged to abftain for fome months from going 
 to mafs ? Doubtlefs the crime was great, and 
 the chaftifement trifling. But had St. Ambrole 
 adopted a more rigorous one, you would have 
 accufed him of defpotifm and rebellion. It was 
 of lefs importance to expiate the fault already 
 committed, than to prevent the commiffion of a 
 
 new
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. &5 I 
 
 new one : the prince was to be punifhed, not 
 degraded ; the object was to confine him, with- 
 out enraging; him, to infure the lives of his fub- 
 
 CD O ' 
 
 jefts, without irritating the minds of their go- 
 vernor. The conduct of St. Ambrofe appears 
 to me a matter-piece of religious rigor, and po- 
 litical indulgence. 
 
 Let us be cautious of breaking down thefe 
 barriers, the only fecurity to miferable fubjects 
 againft thofe monfters who defcend to crouch 
 around the throne, but to acquire a right to devour 
 the people. It is certainly immaterial to the 
 public tranquility, whether twenty or an hundred 
 philofophers deliberate, concur, or perplex one 
 another, provided their fyftems, either true or 
 falfe, flop here : but it is not a matter of indif- 
 ference that their freethinking (hould extend to 
 the people, who ftand in need of guides, or to 
 their governors, for whom reftraint is needful ; 
 which reftraint can confift only in the com- 
 mands of a God, fuperior even to monarchy 
 themfelves. A God who fpeaks ; and minifters 
 who announce his will, appear then to be necef- 
 ary. Thefe will abufe their power chat may be 
 but would there not be ftill greater danger in 
 unbounded licence ? The only means of prevent- 
 ing this, is that of rendering the clergy virtuous, 
 and that the intereft of its members will prompt 
 
 them
 
 252 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 them to be. In an enlightened age, the efficacy 
 of their remonftrances depends more efpecially 
 on the refpect they infpire as a body of men -, a 
 temporizing prieft is, of all others, the bafeft 
 and moll defpicable of mankind. Had not St. 
 Ambrofe been a prelate of irreproachable cha- 
 racter, the courtiers would have derided his re- 
 fiftance, or he would not have dared to make 
 any. 
 
 Since then, except in an age of barbarifm, 
 the power of the clergy can never be held in 
 flich refpect as to become formidable, it will 
 never become dangerous, becaufe the veneration 
 of the people towards their paftors will be granted 
 them but in proportion as their conduct is con- 
 formable to the rules of that morality they teach ; 
 and religion in every nation enjoins them inte- 
 grity, and no lefs ftrictly prohibits them from in- 
 triguing. Is it by degrading that religion, that 
 they are to be infpired with the defire of doing 
 it honor by their lives ? 
 
 But what need, fay you, of myfteries, what 
 occafion for dogmas? Why this belief required 
 to abfurdities which are contrary to reafon, and 
 which we cannot even pretend to admit without 
 blufhing to have been capable of acknowledging 
 them? &c. 
 
 I always
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 253 
 
 I always leave to divines, to teachers who 
 are honored with this miniftry, the care of 
 juftifying the revelation, of eftablifhing its 
 truths ; but I afk you, in the name of that rea- 
 fon whofe rights you think you are defending, 
 what you find humiliating in its myfteries ? They 
 are incomprehenfible, as has been already ob- 
 ferved by writers more eloquent than myfelf : 
 but does it neceffarily follow that they are ab- 
 furd ? Is not every thing in nature myfterious to 
 you ; and is every thing therefore impoffible or 
 extravagant ? 
 
 For inftance, is not fight a myftery ? Can you 
 affign any reafon, why that ray of light which 
 is invifible when it is not reflected, acquires, 
 when thrown on any object, the faculty of ftrik- 
 ing your eye, and of irritating your nerves? 
 Can you conceive how it is not itfelf which is 
 lenfible of it, but the furface whence it is re- 
 flected, and whereof it has received the im- 
 preffion ? 
 
 This common miracle, this daily myftery, 
 you notwithftanding give credit toj you avail 
 yourfelf of it ; you conceive it no degradation 
 to enjoy the pleafure of a beautiful landfcape or 
 a grand view, although the mode in which the 
 immenfity of the objects which are made to pafs 
 over the optic nerves, is to you wholly incom- 
 prehenfible :
 
 prehenfible why then are you more captious on 
 the myfteries of religion ? 
 
 But faith does not depend on you ! Be it fb. 
 Silence, however, is within your power* once 
 again, what compels you to break it ? A man 
 born, blind would not be required to believe in 
 the prodigies of light j he is deficient in the or- 
 gan necefiary to enable him to form an idea of 
 it. Did he content himfelf with a filent denial 
 of the fact, others would reft fatisfied with la- 
 menting his infatuation ; did he even declare 
 aloud m his own chamber, that thefe are abfur- 
 dities, and that it indicates imbecility to admit 
 them j were he, in fupport of his fyftem, to 
 multiply pleafantries, and even witticifms, which 
 he might do with little effort indulgence would 
 ftill accompany our pity. 
 
 But were he to cry aloud in the ftreet, that 
 it argues a man to be a fool to have windows 
 in his houfe, and that the architects who con- 
 flict them are knaves ; if he threw ftones at, 
 and began to break them with his flick j if 
 at the alarm thus given, other blind men, and 
 even fuch as faw clearly, but were ill difpofed, 
 afiembled together, and all announced the; 
 difpofition together with the fymptoms of a 
 tumult, would it not be necefiary to run ? 
 
 Would
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 
 
 Would it not be allowable to ufe feverity to- 
 wards fuch a demagogue and his profelytes ? 
 
 Did the religious ceremonies of the prefent 
 day carry with them, like thofe of old, that fan- 
 guinary and fhocking appearance which filled 
 the temples j were your organs lacerated by 
 the howlings of victims, affailed by the flench 
 of the fat of burnt flefh or of blood, your aver- 
 fion might be excufable, although you could 
 not juftify it by the example of thofe great men, 
 to whom you refer as your predecefibrs and mo- 
 dels in revolting againft the religious fyftems 
 of their times. 
 
 The philofophic Julian not only did not dif- 
 pife or fly from thefe facrifices, but he afllfted 
 at and was perfonally engaged in them ; he 
 was himfelf the high prieft, and himfelf af- 
 forded an example to thofe butchering pontiffs, 
 of whom he was ambitious to be the head. 
 Scipio, when fummoned and accufed before the 
 Roman people, difdained making a defence, 
 but difdained not to go to give thanks to the 
 gods for thofe victories, which, in his opinion, 
 feemed fufficient for his apology : he haughtily 
 retired from the tribunal to which he was cited, 
 but it was to proftrate himfeif at the foot of the 
 altars, and to load them with vi&ims. Socra- 
 tes, when dying a martyr to deifm, ordered a 
 
 cock
 
 PHILOSOPHY AMD 
 
 cock to be lacriftced to Efculapius. His laft 
 words were an homage to the gods and to the 
 religion of his country. 
 
 Thus, were you born under a fyftem which 
 phyfically required the blood of animals, in or- 
 der to poiTefs the privilege of excufing your in- 
 ternal incredulity by the example of thefe cele- 
 brated men, it would be likewife nccefiary to 
 imitate them in their external conformity to efta- 
 blifhed rites and ceremonies: but Chriftianity 
 has purged its altars from this afflictive barba- 
 rity. It has fubftituted, in lieu of thefe mafiacres, 
 a peaceful offering, which is neither ofFenfive to the 
 fight or the understanding ; even phyfically con- 
 fidered it is an emblem of peace and union : re- 
 garding it in a political point of view, the fenti- 
 ments it excites, are concord, a love of mankind, 
 and gratitude towards the Almighty. Were this 
 fyftem diftinguiihed by no other advantage, it 
 would be fufRcient to merit the regard of a be- 
 nevolent philofopher ; and the real power, the 
 profundity of its principles, the impracticability 
 of tearing them up without endangering the 
 civil conftitutions with which they are now in- 
 corporated, are fo many decifive confiderations 
 which fhould, in a modern Confucius of really 
 benevolent fentiments, extinguifh the wilh to 
 deftroy it, were it even poffible. 
 
 And
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 257 
 
 And how many additional motives, even ad- 
 mitting this poffibility, would concur in im- 
 pofing filence on every true philofopher, on men 
 more emulous of confirming the peace and union 
 of fociety, than ambitious of the fad honor of 
 cftablifhing a reputation by breaking through 
 thofe ties which extend to, and encircle its va- 
 rious clafles ? 
 
 I mail not examine whether this boafted De- 
 ifm of the prefent day, be not in effect an A- 
 theifm, veiled under the (lender qualification of 
 the term : if this Divinity, without priefls and 
 minifters, fequeftered in the ideal heaven wherein 
 he is concealed, is a more efficient Being than 
 the fenfelefs and inactive Deity of Epicurus. 
 
 I mail not enquire whether this voluntary, fpi- 
 ritual, and fecret communion, this internal wor- 
 fhip tacitly offered up to a Deity without any fen- 
 fible influence, and folely pointed out by reafon, 
 is as firm and efficacious a check to thofe defires 
 and paflions which are contrary to the general 
 order of fociety, as that of a religion fupported 
 by the dignity of its ceremonies, the purity of 
 its moral precepts, the majefty of its dogmas, 
 and by the pomp even with which its minifters 
 are furrounded. I am willing to fuppofe it. 
 
 I am even willing to admit, that its afcen- 
 
 dancy will be the fame over all men, upon 
 
 S every
 
 258 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 every mind, and over all ranks of fociety : I 
 will fuppofe, that the cool difcuiTions of the phi- 
 lofopher founded on principles of reafon, and 
 demonstrating wide of the occaiion, the advant- 
 age or difadvantage to arife, whether from refiil- 
 ance or compliance, will have equal influence 
 on the mind with the power of the infpired Pon- 
 tiff", holding out rewards and punifhmenrs from 
 God himfelf, who continually repeating threats 
 and promifes, to be realized hereafter, excrcifes 
 a jurifdiction, fevere and formidable even at 
 prefent, from its clofe affinity with a future Irate 
 of retribution. All this I fuppofe : and doubt- 
 kfs it is doing no injuilice to philofophy, to 
 grant its power, arid effects to be equal to thofe 
 of religion. 
 
 Even in this cafe, between two different modes 
 of maintaining good order which fhall poilefs 
 equal efficacy, is not the preference due to that 
 v already eftablii"hed ? I am in pofleffion of a build- 
 ing, which allures me a efficient flicker to my 
 wants ; are you excufable in throwing it down, 
 merely becaufe you can fubftitutf another which 
 will poflefs the like advantages ? 
 
 Deifm is founded, fay you, on good order, a 
 love, of virtue, and fentiments of brotherly love 
 among mankind : which I grant. But has re- 
 ligion any other object ? Its minifters have 
 4 pafiions
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 259 
 
 paffions and frailties ! but will your philofophers 
 
 be exempt from them ? 
 The formalities of religion are irkfome j the 
 
 duties it enjoins are fatiguing j it requires a fub- 
 
 miffion grievous to be borne ; its priefts exact 
 not only a belief in their doctrines, but refpect 
 to themfelves. This is true but regarding it 
 with you, merely as a civil eflablifhment, a po- 
 litical inftitution formed to confolidate the edi- 
 fice of fociety, to enfure the general repofe of 
 all thofe who are afiembled together to enjoy the 
 benefits of mutual intercourfe; is not this form, 
 this duty, this fubmiffion, and this refpect, in- 
 difpenfably necefTary ? 
 
 Would you deny a fovereign the right of 
 having his guards, a magiftrate his lictors, 
 beadles, door-keepers ? &c. Do you confider 
 as an ufurpation on their part, the fubmiffion 
 which is {hewn them, and the veneration they 
 require ? Why then fuch acrimony were it even 
 more unjuft and humiliating, at the deference 
 fhewn to a mitre or a ftole, which you approve 
 when addrefied to a diadem or a blue, yellow* 
 or red ribbon ? 
 
 Nothing certainly can be lefs philofophic and 
 
 more childifh than this diftinction ; it would not 
 
 even be deemed pardonable in the populace, 
 
 among the ignorant and vulgar, who are guided 
 
 S 2 by
 
 l6o PHILOS.OPHY A N tt 
 
 by appearances alone, and who finding fomething 
 more ftriking in military evolutions, than in ec- 
 clefiaftical ceremonies, confent with lefs reluct- 
 ance to bend the knee to the haughty comman- 
 der of the former, than the peaceful director of 
 the latter. But is it poflible that enlightened 
 men, who boaft thernfelves fuperior to prejudice, 
 and who form their judgment of things by 
 their intrinfic worth , can thus become dupes to 
 their fenfes, and think it a degradation to prof- 
 trate thernfelves before one uniform, more than 
 another ? 
 
 You feel indignant at the deference you are 
 conftrained to ihew to a rector or a bifhop ; but 
 foon after you will find that irkfome which is 
 due to a fherifF, an alderman, a bailiff, a chan- 
 cellor, or a king : all thefe gradations of obe- 
 dience have an affinity with, and tend mutually 
 to the fupport of each other. Your philofophy 
 would be inconfiflent, if after having broken 
 one of thefe links, it were to be more fcrupu- 
 loufly bound by the other. Viewing them both 
 as mere human inftitutions, once again, they 
 muft pofiefs the fame force or the fame impo- 
 tence : it is the moft terrible diforder then in fact, 
 which your opinions have a tendency to intro- 
 duce- even without your wilhing it you are the 
 
 declared
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 
 
 declared enemy of fociety at large, whilft pro- 
 f effing yourfelf that of its tyrants only. 
 
 And what would be the refult, were I to trace 
 in the lower ranks the baleful effects of this fyf- 
 tern of independence, which you affert in the 
 name of humanity, and to maintain, as you fay, 
 the dignity of our fpecies ? I continue to queftion 
 in your reformation none of thofe benefits which 
 you attribute to it : I am willing to fuppofe that 
 Deifm, once admitted and univerfally believed,, 
 will conduce equally to the public good with 
 any other fyftem ; that a philofopher, from his 
 clofet, will warm the minds of men equally by 
 a good moral effay, as a preacher or rector by 
 his public difcourfes or private and verbal ex- 
 hortations; that a finner, or a man who is 
 tempted to become fo, will be recalled to his 
 duty as forcibly by the view of a Lyceum as 
 of a Church; that academies of virtue, like 
 thofe of language and phyfical inveftigation, 
 will be eftablifhed, and that thefe fine geniufes, 
 whilft elegantly debating on morality, will ope* 
 rate as fuccefsfully towards its fupport, as a nu- 
 merous and regular clergy now do, whofe prin- 
 cipal and even fole duty it is to fulfil this 
 office. 
 
 But a certain time muft neceffarily elapfe be- 
 tween the ancient fervitude of mens minds and 
 
 S 3 their
 
 262 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 their new independence. The only way of ar- 
 riving at that fublime and purified point your 
 philofophy aims at, muft be by bringing thefe 
 rites and habits of flavery into contempt. This 
 interval may perhaps be fafely pafied over by fome 
 minds more refined, better organized, or fecured 
 from the dangers of temptation by a competent 
 fortune, or a want of opportunity to do ill. 
 
 Thefe will not confider their duty as done 
 away, with thofe accefTary aids which had for- 
 merly accompanied the theory. Be it fo. But 
 the great body of mankind, whom you think it 
 efiential to enlighten, and whom it is certainly 
 of very great importance to reftrain j that body 
 of men who in every thing lie open to tempta- 
 tion, becaufe throughout life they are on every 
 fide bounded by neceffity -, that people to whom 
 every minute brings with it fome want, and 
 every ftep reminds them of fome conftraint ; will 
 the .like reflections and an equal 'difcretion at- 
 tend them ? When all men are become Philofo- 
 phers and Deifts, it will no longer be neceffary 
 for them to be Chriftians. I grant it : but in the 
 time of their education, in the interval fet apart 
 to free them from their old prejudices, and in- 
 fpire them with new lights, how will they act ? 
 
 Will they be capable of feparating the virtue 
 they are to love and to pradife, from that prin- 
 ciple
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 2J 
 
 ciple which inftilled it ? a principle which you 
 teach them to fiy from and dereft. Will they 
 be capable of confining to external forms merely, 
 that contempt which you recommend towards 
 the late objects of their adoration, and confider 
 themfelves dill bound by duty, when they are 
 no longer fo, by thofe vifible habits, intended 
 to enforce its obiervance ? 
 
 If you hefitate for a reply, every enlightened 
 man, even among your own partizans, many of 
 thofe whom you have amufed and perverted, will 
 they not make it for you ? See what pafies in 
 that fociety wherein you enjoy a triumph ap- 
 parently fo flattering, where you have in reality 
 formed a ferninary, not of difciples, but preachers, 
 as bold and as zealous as yourfelf * 
 
 Every thing is there appreciated, even' thing 
 difcuiTed, and every thing fubverted ; but what 
 is the confequence ? Afk the magiftrate in- 
 verted with the fevere duty of punifhing crimes, 
 and you will hear if he does not mourn to fee 
 the number of them increafe, in proportion as 
 the influence of that peaceful miniftry is weak- 
 ened, which was defcined to their prevention. 
 
 As to thofe crimes which the law cannot ftrike 
 
 at, becaufe they are either too fecret in their na-' 
 
 ture, or of a defcription for which there are no 
 
 S 4 punilh-
 
 364 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 punilhments provided $ with regard to thofe 
 which introduce diforder into families, by de- 
 ilroying thofe principles on which their felicity 
 depends j confult the general voice of mankind 
 to know whether Deifm or Religion is beft cal- 
 culated to reprefs them. Will you dare to af- 
 fert, that it is in philofophic families we are to 
 look for models of filial refpect, conjugal love, 
 fmcerity in friend Ihip, or fidelity among do- 
 meftics ? And were you difpofed to do fo, would 
 not your own confcience, your own experience, 
 fupprefs this falfhood even before your lips could 
 utter it ? 
 
 And were thefe melancholy effecls of a licen- 
 tioufnefs, decorated indeed with too many great 
 names, confined to the circle of thofe families 
 wherein it difcovers itfelf with moft impunity, the 
 real philofopher and friend to mankind might 
 reft content with a filent figh j but its influence 
 extends to every rank of fociety, and to men of 
 all underftandings. The footman, who, while 
 waiting at table, fees men entitled to the rank 
 of gentlemen, afTembled together to turn that 
 prelate into ridicule who teaches him to be 
 faithful, and inculcates that doctrine which alone 
 aflures him of the reward attending it j would 
 be weak indeed, if he did not foon think it ri- 
 diculous to perfift in his integrity. 
 
 If
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. 2.6$ 
 
 If a happy frame of mind, or the fear of the 
 gallows, prevent him from realizing in his con- 
 duct the confequence of this more than indif- 
 creet converfation, he will be the echo and pro- 
 pagator of it: as a man in health who has 
 touched one infected with the plague, may com- 
 municate the infection without being difeafed 
 himfelf. 
 
 This epidemic evil notwithftanding, fpreads 
 itfelf abroad ; it reaches to the workman fecluded 
 in his garret, and to the peafant dying with hun- 
 ger and defpair in his cottage ; they are alike 
 taught to compare their wants and miferies with 
 the value of thole fcruples which prolong them ; 
 they no longer go to hear the minifter who holds 
 out to them in his fermon the hope of being 
 one day compenfated j who at confeflion coun- 
 teracts the progrefs of temptation in order to 
 withdraw them from it. And what is the con- 
 fequence of this terrible emancipation ? Muft it 
 not either lead to crime or defpair under every 
 preffure of neceffity ? and does not the one al- 
 moft neceffarily produce the other ? 
 
 It is here more efpecially that we perceive 
 the prodigious difference between the arbitrary 
 fpeculationsof philofophy, and the real utility of re- 
 ligion j which uniting a fublime theory with cufto- 
 mary duties, at the fame time repreffes and con- 
 
 foles.
 
 266 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 foles. The former indeed, reccommends the 
 practice of truth, moderation, obedience to the 
 laws, and a regard to the property of others : 
 this is the language of reafon, or rather of inte- 
 reft ; policy alone is fufficient to inform us, that, 
 in order to exercife our own lights, we muft re- 
 fpect thofe of others : but in all this I perceive 
 only fecurities raifed in favor of opulence. What 
 return does philofophy offer to the wretch for 
 thofe fetters fhe lays upon him, when the pof- 
 fefiions of the rich are at hand ? 
 
 Does fhe enter his cottage through the filth 
 that furrounds and infects it ? Does fhe place 
 herfelf befide that bed of ibrrows, of the horrors 
 of which, the devouring malady which confurnes 
 him is oftentimes the leaft ? Does fhe offer in 
 the compaffionate vifitor who exhorts him, the 
 reprefentative of a juft God, about to indemnify 
 him in another life for his fufferings in this ? Does 
 Jhe enjoin on this eloquent, differtator the duty of 
 feconding the future hope he holds out in his 
 words, with an effectual prefent relief? 
 
 The philofopher who fhould fometimes fulfil 
 this duty of benevolence, would be confidered as 
 a prodigy of virtue. Religion impofes it on its 
 minifters as the commoneft of all their duties, and 
 a dai-ly function which they cannot hold thcmfelves 
 excufed from without being guihy of a crime, 
 
 a or
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION. l~] 
 
 nor defer without betraying their holy office. 
 They, in common with the philofopher, are 
 proreclors of the poflfeffions of the rich ; but, 
 beyond him, they confole the poor under the 
 privation of them. The latter, in every fenfe 
 degraded, reduced at every inflant to envy the 
 lot of the animals of whom it is his greateft hap- 
 pinefs to be the companion, and oftentimes 
 flave -, exercifes even in his mifery, a lore of em- 
 pire over his paftor : he feems no otherwife re- 
 lated to fociety than through thofe remonftrances 
 which juftify the hardfhip by which he is facri- 
 ficed to its general good. It is only when ex- 
 horted, to fee himfelf tamely deprived of every 
 right of humanity, that he is allowed to fufpecl: 
 himfelf a man. 
 
 Were even religion juftly chargeable with all 
 thofe evils with which you falfely accufe it j were 
 it true that in ibme unhappy times, and at cer- 
 tain confined intervals, (he had introduced dif- 
 order into fome periods in hifhory; would not 
 the fervices (he unceafingly renders to every clafs 
 of fociety, and which it is even her very effence 
 to beftow, have long fince more than expiated 
 them ? 
 
 Let us then ceafe to decry and to attack it . 
 were it true that we might flatter ourfelves with 
 being able to effect it's overthrow, it would be a 
 
 real
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND 
 
 real crime to attempt it. If its interpreters and 
 rninifters fometimes lofe fight of the object of 
 their duty and vocation, the philofopher may 
 take upon him to recal them to it ; but not by 
 proclaiming an infurre&ion againft them, or 
 by endeavours to render them odious and ri- 
 diculous: whatever are his private opinions, I 
 think he fhould ufe his talents and his fuperi* 
 ority of genius, to imprefs their feveral obliga- 
 tions and duties on every order of the (late, and 
 not to degrade, difcourage, or deftroy any one. 
 
 Addreffing himfelf to the clergy, he ought to 
 fay, " Be virtuous and indulgent, that you may 
 " be revered and ufeful : to the peopl> refpe6t 
 " the laws, which enfure your property j the 
 tc civil power, which protects them; and the 
 " religious one, which defends the firft from the 
 " invafions of the latter : and to kings, love and 
 " maintain religion j Ihew an example of the 
 " practice of it in your own conduit, becaufe 
 " even to yourfelf it is a fafer fecurity than 
 <c a thouiand regiments ; revere its rninifters, 
 <c whofe afcendancy over the people depends in 
 ct a degree on the countenance you (hew them ; 
 <e reftrain them if they wander, and they will 
 " never deviate from their duty if your favor is 
 " the fruit of a faithful performance of it ; fuffer 
 c not the principles of your faith to be difcuffed, 
 
 " they 
 9
 
 WORKS ON RELIGION, 
 
 " they are fixed ; permit them, not to be defended 
 " any more than attacked. Never perfecute 
 " thofe who having the misfortune not to believe 
 " in them, at leaft are prudent enough to fup- 
 " prefs their incredulity $ but punifh with feverity 
 " fuch as (hall dare to difplay it with licentiouf- 
 " nefs; reprefs them, not fo much to vindicate 
 <f the glory of God which thefe crimes cannot 
 " affect, as to preferve the civil order of fociety, 
 " which they have a tendency to difturb." 
 
 In holding fuch a language, a philofopher 
 worthy of the name, would become the mediator 
 between every eftabliihment ; he would be the 
 univerfal benefactor of mankind. 
 
 It is to be regretted that Mr. Voltaire did not 
 attend to this truth, or that too ardent an imagi- 
 nation prevented him from being fenfible of its 
 importance. A mind like his would have em- 
 belliihed, and given it additional force. Here 
 it poffefles but the plain and unadorned language 
 of reafon. I would afk pardon of his Ihade. at 
 the foot of his tomb, for the freedom of this re- 
 mark, if the juftice I have done him in other 
 refpefls, and a regard for the public good, did 
 not authorife its feverity. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 
 
 s 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 JAN 13a 
 
 199? 
 
 &* 
 
 I 

 
 %JQAW(l1ftV