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Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow TO PRESIDENT HÉNAULT, AUTHOR OF AN EXCELLENT WORK UPON THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. - 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 PRESIDENT HÉNAULT, AUTHOR OF AN EXCELLENT WORK UPON THE HISTORY OF FRANCE. - 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).

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

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TO PRESIDENT HÉNAULT, AUTHOR OF AN EXCELLENT WORK UPON THE HISTORY OF FRANCE.

  • Goddess who dost make blessed the earth,
  • Health, who to temperance owest thy birth,
  • Who pleasures to the wife dispense,
  • Whose joys are governed by good sense,
  • Who dost with gilded rays adorn
  • Our youth, of life the brilliant morn;
  • And oft dost cheer life’s gloomy close
  • With calm content and soft repose;
  • Oh, health-dispensing goddess, now
  • Listen propitious to my vow;
  • By thy kind star conduct to rest
  • A mortal worthy to be blessed.
  • All other gods unite to shed
  • Their blessings upon Hénault’s head.
  • Will you, who hold the place of all,
  • Alone prove deaf to Hénault’s call?
  • To sweet society once more,
  • And to his noble feats restore
  • Hénault, whose happy vein of wit
  • Can every taste and genius hit.
  • To him your needful succor lend,
  • For him time’s rapid course suspend;
  • So well he knows time to employ,
  • So well divides ’twixt care and joy.
  • Women, enchanted by his ease,
  • Have thought he only knew to please;
  • Men, who the depth of science sound,
  • Have ever thought him most profound;
  • The god of jollity and mirth
  • Thinks him the merriest soul on earth.
  • Immortal as his works, may he
  • Live late posterity to see,
  • Live long as all the kings, his pen
  • So well brings to the view of men,
  • Whose characters so well he draws,
  • Their deeds relates, explains their laws.
  • Since he so many ways has shone,
  • Restore his stomach to its tone.
  • Of every talent he’s possessed,
  • With every virtue glows his breast;
  • The art to please is all his own,
  • The art to enjoy to him is known;
  • All this, however, is a jest,
  • If he’s unable to digest.
  • I wonder not that Desfontaines,
  • Who tires all mortals with his strain,
  • Should in his garret midst his lumber
  • Of dusty books have easy slumber,
  • That he should still be in good case,
  • Though void of virtue and of grace.
  • Aglaia or Sylvia ne’er invite
  • Pedants who without genius write,
  • Whose heaped citations readers tire
  • Whose writings dulness’ fumes inspire;
  • His company all mortals cloys,
  • He is reduced to herd with boys.
  • Alas! to geniuses alone.
  • These indigestions cursed are known.

After this hymn to the goddess of health, which I have made with the utmost sincerity of friendship, permit me, sir, to add to it mentally a short Gloria Patri. I have as much occasion for it as you, but I am more solicitous about your welfare than my own. May the goddess of health first shower down her favors upon you; drink the waters of Plombières cheerfully, and return with all speed to Cirey before the Austrian hussars enter Lorraine. Such folks give no waters to drink but those of the river Styx. Do not forget that amongst the multitude of your well-wishers there are two here who desire that you should stop awhile in your journey for their sakes.