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TO MADAM DE ***, ON THE MANNER OF LIVING AT PARIS AND VERSAILLES. - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

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*TO MADAM DE ***, ON THE MANNER OF LIVING AT PARIS AND VERSAILLES.* - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Author: Voltaire
Translator: William F. Fleming
Notes: Tobias Smollett

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

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TO MADAM DE ***, ON THE MANNER OF LIVING AT PARIS AND VERSAILLES.

Rosalia, to the world unknown,
Let us live for ourselves alone.
Friendship and blood’s endearing tie,
Shall all society supply;
So foolish, dangerous, vain’s mankind,
We in the world no joy can find,
In that whirlpool they call the world
Man’s through so many errors hurled,
That it can coxcombs please alone,
By whom it ne’er was rightly known.
Glycera, when her dinner’s o’er,
Goes out just as the day before;
Into her gorgeous chariot led,
She indolent reclines her head,
Embarrassed by the cumbrous pride
Of a vast hoop that fills each side;
Visits her friend in pomp and state,
Ascends, and then repents too late,
Embracing yawns, and plain is seen
In her constrained behavior spleen;
She seems to beg for nonsense gay,
To make her languor pass away.
They interchange some faint caresses,
They talk of weather, plays, and dresses,
Of sermons, and of ribbons’ price,
And are exhausted in a trice.
Now through necessity grown dumb,
A tune they both begin to hum;
But Mr. Abbé entered soon,
Priest, gallant, sharper, and buffoon,
Endowed with various talents rare,
Who for some months was master there,
A formal coxcomb entered too,
Pleased in the glass himself to view,
Both pedants please, their jargon suits;
A captain enters; both are mutes;
The captain to recite proceeds
The great exploits and hardy deeds
Which his brave men would have performed,
How they Placentia would have stormed,
And then achieved some wonderous feat,
Had they not chose to make retreat.
To Nice, to Var, to Digne he leads,
Not a soul listens, he proceeds.
Then Ifis enters with sad air,
Her time is wholly spent in prayer,
Yet Ifis’ leer is very sly,
A little Jansenist stands by,
St. Austin’s works and saintly pride,
Both equally his heart divide.
Other birds too of different feather
And different tastes tune up together,
Whence various notes so much confound
That slander’s voice is almost drowned.
Their jarring clack’s like winds that rend
The air, and with fierce winds contend.
A chasm of silence most profound
Succeeds to all this empty sound:
All rational converse they shun
And into idle nonsense run.
Oh, David, to their succor haste,
Nor suffer them their time to waste.
Oh, David, thy most powerful ace
Engages all the human race;
Soon as upon the table green
Thy various, magic cards are seen,
The noble, prelate, lawyer, cit,
Are roused and sharpened into wit,
Above all, women take delight
In black and red spots on the white,
All are amused by hopes of treasure,
Avarice assumes the shape of pleasure
From these exploits the wise and fair
To supper by consent repair;
The insipid joy of every guest
In dullest follies is expressed,
The machine man by wholesome food
And richest sauces is renewed.
The soul and blood new force acquire,
The stomach and the brain conspire.
Then their clacks run at a strange rate,
The son of law begins to prate,
All parties he alike assails,
He damns the war, at peace he rails.
A country noble quaffs champagne,
But must of misery complain,
Of misery by his country felt,
At which even hearts of stone might melt,
And though in luxury immersed
By taxes, says, the land’s oppressed.
Then the loquacious abbé tries
For histories true to pass off lies;
His tale cut short must soon give way
To arrant chit-chat of the day;
This, in its turn, is put to flight,
By conversation not more bright.
The jest insipid, double meaning
To obscenity and nonsense leaning,
The foolish laugh, the stupid pun,
Stale pleasantries which pass for fun,
Give this society polite,
The highest rapture and delight.
It’s thus you waste, oh men unwise,
That fleeting time which quickly flies?
Which still to fools will tedious seem,
Which men who think too transient deem.
What shall I do? Whereto shall I
Far from myself for refuge fly?
Man company requires, no doubt,
He’s restless with it, worse without;
Indolent sloth’s the greatest foe
That mortals ever knew below,
Tired of tranquillity at home
To court disgusted creatures roam.
At Paris babble loud prevails,
But artful silence at Versailles,
For real joy can ne’er reside
With men whose principle is pride.
Happy that man must be confessed,
Who’s with his master’s presence blessed.
O’er the empyrean Jove presides,
But from mankind his glory hides;
Heroes and demi-gods alone
Dare to approach the heavenly throne,
Must we amidst the crowds that press
Inferior deities address?
Gods who can good or ill bestow,
But ne’er love those by fate placed low,
Who on the top of fortune’s wheel,
By joys intoxicated reel,
Who amidst all their pomp and show,
No tenderness or feeling know?
Rise early, at their levee wait,
And dance attendance at their gate,
Three years neglected or abused,
At last you’re civilly refused.
No; haughty courts, the sage replies,
Suit not great souls that courts despise.
From treacherous courtiers haste away
And pleasures which, like them, betray.
Make public good your only care,
And you shall public honors share.
The public, what that monster dire,
Whose hundred tongues can never tire,
That fawns and bites, that courts neglects,
That breaks the statues it erects?
Still ready those who serve to spurn
It once profaned great Colbert’s urn,
That oft has vile reflections cast
Virtue and innocence to blast.
To envy merit still inclined
Faults it could in Armida find,
And has with greater pleasure seen
Vile plays than those of famed Racine.
It Athalie long despised
And wretched, ill-penned dramas prized.
Applause it foolishly bestows,
And undeserved indulgence shows.
But all its errors time repairs
At length applause true merit shares;
’Tis true, but oft the owner dies,
Ere to his worth men ope their eyes.
Posterity may to my name
Be just; I’d fain enjoy my fame.
When once a man is in the ground,
He hears not fame’s loud trumpet sound.
A nation to his merit just,
Reveres Pope’s, like a monarch’s, bust,
Dead he’s admired, but from his age
He bore fierce persecution’s rage.
Let’s lie concealed, and pass away
Calmly the evening of our day,
From malice and from envy’s rage
Let us preserve declining age.
Friendship, chief bliss of human race,
My dwelling with thy presence grace,
May I for friendship live alone,
Friendship to wicked men unknown.
Distant from bigotry, whence flow
Terrors in death, life’s piercing woe.

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