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• The Works of Voltaire
• The Dramatic Works of Voltaire Vol. X— Part I
• ZaÏre
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• An Epistle Dedicatory to Mr. Falkener, an English Merchant, Since Ambassador At Constantinople, With the Tragedy of Zaïre.
• A Second Letter to Mr. Falkener, Then Ambassador to Constantinople.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• CÆsar.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• The Prodigal
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Preface to Mariamne.
• Preface to Orestes.
• Preface to Catiline.
• Preface to MÉrope.
• Preface to the Prodigal.
• Preface to Nanine.
• 1 Preface to Socrates.
• Note On Mahomet.
• Preface to Julius CÆsar.
• Voltaire the Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems Vol. X— Part Ii
• Author’s Preface to the Lisbon Earthquake.
• The Lisbon Earthquake. *
• Preface to the Poem On the Law of Nature.
• The Law of Nature.
• The Temple of Taste. *
• The Temple of Friendship.
• Thoughts On the Newtonian Philosophy, Addressed to the Marchioness Du ChÂtelet.
• On the Death of Adrienne Lecouvreur, a Celebrated Actress.
• To the King of Prussia On His Accession to the Throne.
• From Love to Friendship.
• The Worldling. *
• On Calumny.
• The King of Prussia to M. Voltaire.
• The Answer.
• On the English Genius.
• What Pleases the Ladies.
• The Education of a Prince.
• The Education of a Daughter.
• The Three Manners.
• Thelema and Macareus.
• Azolan.
• The Origin of Trades.
• The Battle of Fontenoy.
• The Man of the World. *
• The Padlock. *
• In Camp Before Philippsburg, July 3, 1734.
• Answer to a Lady, Or a Person Who Wrote to Voltaire As Such. *
• Envy.
• The Nature of Virtue.
• To the King of Prussia.
• To M. De Fontenelle.
• To Count Algarotti At the Court of Saxony.
• To Cardinal Quirini.
• To Her Royal Highness, the Princess of ***.
• To M. De Cideville.
• To ****.
• Epistle XIII. *
• To the Duke of Richelieu, Marshal of France, In Whose Honor the Senate of Genoa Had Just Before Caused a Statue to Be Erected. *
• To Madam De ***, On the Manner of Living At Paris and Versailles.
• To the Prince of Vendôme.
• To Madam De Gondoin, Afterward Countess of Toulouse, On the Danger She Had Been Exposed to In Passing the Loire In 1719.
• To the Duke Delafeuillade.
• To Marshal Villars. *
• To Monsieur Genonville.
• To the Countess of Fontaine-martel. *
• Written From PlombiÉres to M. Pallu, Intendant of Lyons.
• The Nature of Pleasure.
• The Utility of Sciences to Princes. to the Prince Royal of Prussia, Since King of Prussia.
• Epistle In Answer to a Letter, With Which, Upon His Accession to the Throne, the King of Prussia Honored the Author.
• Epistle to the King, Presented to His Majesty At the Camp Before Freiburg.
• On the Death of the Emperor Charles.
• To the Queen of Hungary.
• Inscribed to the Gentlemen of the Academy of Sciences, Who Sailed to the Polar Circle and the Equator, In Order to Ascertain the Figure of the Earth.
• To M. De Gervasi, the Physician. *
• The Requisites to Happiness.
• To a Lady, Very Well Known to the Whole Town.
• Fanaticism. *
• On Peace Concluded In 1736.
• To AbbÉ Chaulieu. *
• Answer to the Foregoing.
• To President HÉnault, Author of an Excellent Work Upon the History of France.
• Canto of an Epic Poem. *
• Epistle On the Newtonian Philosophy. * to the Marchioness of ChÂtelet.

I was at Lille in 1741, where M. de Voltaire came to pass a few days; there was then the best company of actors in the town that had even been in Provence, who presented this piece to the satisfaction of a very numerous audience. The governor and the intendant were several times present at the performance. A tragedy written in so new a taste, and on so delicate a subject, treated with such judgment and discretion, induced many prelates to have it acted in a private house by the same persons. Their opinion confirmed that of the public. The author was at the same time so happy as to get his manuscript presented to one of the first men in the church, and indeed in all Europe,1 who supported the weight of public affairs with firmness, and judged concerning works of genius with true taste, at an age when few men have, and still fewer preserve their wit and delicacy. He decided that the piece was written with all proper decorum and circumspection, and that it was impossible to handle with more prudence so dangerous a subject; but that with regard to the poetry, there were many things in it that wanted correction; these the author, to my knowledge, afterward retouched with the greatest care. This was also the opinion of another eminent personage of equal rank, and of equal abilities.

At length this excellent performance, which had been licenced according to form in many other places, was exhibited at Paris on August 9, 1742: a whole box was filled with the principal magistrates of the city; the ministers were also present, and all were of the same opinion as the excellent judges above mentioned. There were, however, some persons at the first representation who disapproved of it: whether it was that in the hurry of the action they did not sufficiently attend to the gradual process of it, or that they were little versed in stage matters,1 they seemed shocked at Mahomet’s ordering a man to commit murder, and making use of his religion to stir up an innocent youth, the instrument of his crimes, to an assassination. These gentlemen, struck with the horror of the action, did not sufficiently consider, that this murder is represented in the tragedy as the most atrocious of all crimes, and that indeed it was morally impossible it should be otherwise. The truth was, they saw indeed but one side, the usual method which men take to deceive themselves. And as they considered that side only, it was no wonder they should take offence, which a little more attention would easily have removed: but in the first heat of their zeal they cried out that it was a dangerous performance, and fit only to produce Ravaillacs and Jacques Cléments. A most extraordinary piece of criticism which these gentlemen no doubt are by this time heartily ashamed of. This would in effect be to affirm that Hermione teaches us to assassinate kings, Electra to kill our mothers, Cleopatra and Medea to slay our own children: that Harpagon makes misers, the Gamester gamesters, and Tartuffe hypocrites. The censure of Mahomet would carry with it even more injustice than this, because the iniquity of that false prophet is represented in a light more odious and detestable than any of the vices or follies satirized in those performances. The tragedy was written directly in opposition to the Ravaillacs and Jacques Cléments, insomuch that, as a person of excellent judgment lately observed, if “Mahomet” had been written in the time of Henry III. and Henry IV. it might have saved both their lives. Would one think it possible that the author of “La Henriade” would ever have met with such a reproach, he who has so often in that poem, and in other parts of his works, lifted up his voice, not only against such crimes, but against all those pernicious maxims which are the causes of them? The more I read that writer’s works, the more have I always found the love of public good their distinguishing characteristic: every part of them inspires horror and detestation of rebellion, persecution, and fanaticism.

He soon perceived that a formidable party was raised against him; some of the most violent among them got the ear of a few great men, who not having seen the piece themselves believed everything that these gentlemen thought proper to report concerning it. The celebrated Molière, the glory of France, was once in nearly the same condition, when his “Tartuffe” was first exhibited; he had immediate recourse to Louis the Great, who knew and loved him. The authority of that monarch soon put an end to the sinister and malevolent misrepresentations of “Tartuffe;” but times are changed; that protection which is given to arts in their infant state cannot be expected to continue after those arts have been cultivated for a length of time: besides one man may not have interest to obtain that which another has procured with ease; hence some instruments must be set to work, some discussions made, some new examinations passed through, before anything can be done in his favor. The author therefore thought it most advisable to withdraw his piece, after the third representation, in hopes that time would get the better of prejudice, which must inevitably happen among a people so sensible and judicious as our own.1 It was stated in the public papers, that the tragedy of “Mahomet” had been stopped by order of the government, which was an absolute falsehood; no such order was ever given; and the first men in the kingdom, who had seen this tragedy, unanimously concurred in their admiration of it. Some persons having hastily transcribed a few scenes from the actors’ parts, two or three imperfect editions crept into the world; it is easy to see how much they differ from the true work which I have here given. Prefixed to this tragedy are several interesting pieces; one of the most curious among them, in my opinion, is a letter written by the author to his majesty, the King of Prussia, on his return through Holland, after a visit to him. In papers of this kind, which were not originally designed for the public, one sees the real sentiments of men: I flatter myself they will afford the same pleasure to every true philosopher which they gave me in the perusal.

EPISTLE ON THE NEWTONIAN PHILOSOPHY.*

TO THE MARCHIONESS OF CHÂTELET.

• Immortal Emily, most powerful mind,
• Pallas of France, and glory of thy kind;
• Surpassing age, even in the bloom of youth,
• The pupil, friend, of Newton and of truth;
• Thy fires transpierce me, and thy charms control;
• I feel the force, the brightness of thy soul!
• To thee attracted, I renounce the bays
• Sought on the stage, while yet I lived on praise,
• My wit, corrected, roves not as before,
• Of vain applause idolatrous no more!
• Let earth-born Rufus with resentment rave,
• And drag his senseless fury to the grave.
• In rhyme still straining coldly to enclose
• Some trivial thoughts that would depreciate prose,
• That harmless thunder let him hurl at me,
• Which first his rage for others might decree.
• To blast my fame let pedant Zoilus seek,
• And spread unmeaning malice once a week;
• With me their envy withers in the bud;
• I see no tracks imprinted in the mud.
• Philosophy, all charming, powerful queen,
• Lifts the wise mind above corroding spleen.
• Happy on high where Newton now remains,
• Knows he on earth if enmity yet reigns?
• Not more than he my enemies I know,
• While truth august invites me from below.
• Already see she opes the gate of day!
• The lists I enter, and pursue my way!
• The massy whirlpools heaving still for place,
• Heaped without rule, and moving without space,
• Those learned phantoms vanish from my sight,
• And day comes on me with her genuine light!
• That vast expanse, of being the abode,
• Space that contains the immensity of God,
• Sees in her breast this bounded system move,
• Of planets, worlds beneath us and above,
• Whose whole extent so wondrous to our sense,
• Is but a point, an atom in the immense.
• God speaks, and chaos at His voice subsides,
• In various orbs the mighty mass divides;
• At once they gravitate, they strive to fall,
• One centre seeking which attracts them all.
• That soul of nature, that all moving spring,
• Lay long concealed, an unregarded thing;
• Till Newton’s compass moving through the space
• Measures all nature, and discovers place.
• The famous laws of motion are surveyed,
• Drawn back the veil, the heavens are all displayed.
• His learned hand unfolds the glittering robe
• That clothes yon lucid, animated globe,
• Which guides the seasons and which rules the day,
• Mine eyes distinguish each emitted ray.
• With purple, azure, emerald and rose,
• The immortal tissue of his habit glows.
• Each emanation in pure substance bears
• The various colors that all nature wears;
• Those blended tints illuminate our eyes,
• Give life to matter, fill the expanded skies.
• Eternal powers, who, near the King of kings,
• Burn with His fires, and cover with your wings
• His throne; O say! when viewing Newton’s plan,
• Were you not jealous of that wondrous man?
• The sea, too, hears him! with stupendous dance
• I see the humid element advance!
• Towards heaven it rises; heaven attracts it high:
• But central power, more potent, as more nigh,
• Each effort stops: the sea recoils; it roars;
• Sinks in its bed, and rolls against the shores.
• Ye comets, dreaded like the bolts of Jove,
• In vast ellipses regularly move!
• Cease with your motions mortals to affright:
• Remount, descend near the great orb of light:
• Elance your fires; fly, and as each appears,
• Restore the vigor of exhausted spheres.
• Thou, sister of the sun, who in the skies,
• Of dazzled sages mocked the feeble eyes;
• Newton has marked the limits of thy race,
• March on, illumine night, we know thy place.
• Earth, change thy form; let the great law of matter
• Depress thy poles, and heighten the equator.
• Avoid, thou pole, that fixed to sight appears,
• The frozen chariot of the northern bears;
• Embrace in each of thy immense careers,
• Almost three hundred centuries of years.*
• How beautiful these objects! how the mind
• Flies to those truths enlightened and refined!
• Yes, in the breast of God, it may rejoice,
• And, far from matter, hear the Eternal’s voice.
• Thou whom that voice familiarly invites,
• Say, even in youth, the season of delights,
• How hast thou dared, in spite of custom’s force,
• To move so boldly through so vast a course?
• To follow Newton in that boundless road,
• Where nature’s lost, and everything but God?
• Pursuing thee I venture to advance,
• And bring home truth, that wanderer, to France.
• While Algarotti,* sure to please and teach,
• Conducts the stranger to the Latian beach,
• With native flowers adorns the beauteous maid,
• And Tiber wonders at such worth displayed;
• I grasp the compass, and the outlines trace,
• And with coarse crayons imitate her face.
• The immortal fair all simple, noble, grand,
• Should I attempt it, my unskilful hand,
• To her, as thee, no lustre could impart,
• Above all praise, and far above my art.

[1 ] Cardinal Fleury.

[1 ] The true state of the case was that Abbé Desfontaines and some others as malicious as himself, decried the tragedy of “Mahomet,” as a wicked and scandalous performance: the affair made so much noise that the prime minister, Cardinal Fleury, who had long before read and approved of it, was obliged to advise the author to withdraw it.

[1 ] What the editor foresaw in 1742 did actually come to pass in 1751, when this tragedy was presented with universal applause. Cabal and persecution gave way to the voice of the public, and perhaps the more readily as many by this time began to feel some remorse at having forced a man to quit his country, who had labored so successfully for the honor of it.

[* ] This Epistle was prefixed to the “Elements of Newton’s Philosophy,” published by M. de Voltaire, in 1738 and 1741.

[* ] The period of the procession of the equinoxes, which is finished in twenty-six thousand nine hundred and twenty years.

[* ] M. Algarotti, a young Venetian, was then printing at Venice a treatise on light, in which he explains attraction. M. de Voltaire was the first in France that explained the discoveries of the great Newton.