I fhall not need to advise you what to do, and what ufe to make of this time of your vifitation; I have reafon to believe, that you have been careful in the time of your health, to prepare for this evil day, and have been converfant in thofe books which give the best directions to this purpofe, and have not, as so many do, put off the great work of your life to the end of it; and then you have nothing now to do, but as well as you can, under your prefent weakness and pains, to renew your repentance, for all the errors and mifcarriages of your life, and carneftly to beg God's pardon and forgiveness of them, for his fake, who is the propitiation for our fins; to comfort yourself in the goodness and promises of God, and the hopes of that happiness you are ready to enter into; and in the mean time, to exercife faith and patience for a little while, and be of good courage, fince you fee land; the ftorm you are in will be quickly over, and then it will be as if it never had been, or rather the remembrance of it will be a pleasure.

life, what o bear, in orry, could we be d we not be willmore, in order to at eternal life which lie, hath promifed? ., is fond of life, and apt ering after a longer conti; and yet a long life, with urdens and infirmities of it, is efirable; it is but the fame thing gain, or worse, so many more days ghts, fummers and winters; a repeon of the fame pleafures, but with lefs leafure and relifh every day; a return of the fame, or greater, pains and trouble, but with lefs patience and ftrength to bear them.

I do not use to write fuch long letters; but I do heartily compaffionate your cafe, and should be glad if I could fuggeft any thing that might help to mitigate your trouble, and make that sharp and rough way, through which you are to pafs into a better world, a little more fmooth and eafy. I pray to God to fit us both for that great change, which we muft once undergo; and, if we be but in any good meafure fit for it, fooner or later makes no great difference. I commend you to the Father of Mercies, and God of confolation, befeeching him to increase your faith and patience, and to ftand by you in your last and great conflict; and that, when you walk through the valley of the fhadow of death, you may fear no evil; and when your heart fails, and your strength fails, you may find him the ftrength of your heart, and your portion for ever. Farewel, my good friend; and while we are here, let us pray for one another, that we may have a joyful meeting in another world. I reft, Sir, your truly affectionate friend and fervant.

Thefe, and the like confiderations, I ufe to entertain myself withal, and not only with contentment, but comfort, though with great inequality of temper, at feveral times, and with much mixture of human frailty, which will always ftick to us while we are in this world. How ever, by thefe kind of thoughts, death becomes more familiar to us, and we fhall be able by degrees to bring our minds close up to it, without ftartling at it. The greateft tenderness I find in my felf is with regard to fome near relations, especially the dear and conftant companion of my life, which, I must confefs, doth very fenfibly touch me; but when I confider, and fo I hope will they alfo, that this feparation will be but for a little while, and that though I shall leave them in a bad world, yet under the care and protection of a good God, who can be more and better to them than all other relations, and will certainly be fo to them that love him, and hope in his mercy.

I

AM now taking my final adieu of this world, in certain hopes of meeting you in the next. I carry to my grave my affection and gratitude to you. I leave you with the fincereft concern for your own happiness, and the welfare of your family. May my prayers be anfwered when I am fleeping in the duft. May the angels of God conduct you in the paths of immortal pleasure.

I would collect the powers of my foul, and afk bleffings for you with all the holy violence of prayer. God Almighty, the God of your pious ancestors, who has been your dwelling-place for many geneations, bless you. It is but a fhort fpace I have to measure :-my fhadows are lengthening, and my fun declining: that goodness which has hitherto conducted me, will not fail me in the lait concluding act of life: that name which I have made my glory and my boast, shall then be my ftrength and my falvation.

To meet death with a becoming fortitude, is a part above the powers of nature, and which I can perform by no power or holinefs of my own; for oh!

in my best estate, I am altogether vanity, -a wretched, helpless finner; but in the merits and perfect righteoufnefs of God my Saviour, I hope to appear juftified at the fupreme tribunal, where I muft fhortly ftand to be judged.

of

perfon I would chufe to truft may po bly engage in the caufe himself. Whe you are about is quite out of the way of the following reflection, which I ar led to make by knowing that feveral weak pens are at work upon Boling. broke. I own I have my fears on this head, that more harm may be done than good. Lord Bolingbroke, as you july obferve, is obfcured in a cloud of unin telligible metaphyfics, in many parts his works is dark and obfcure, and de fultory throughout; has no confim fyftem; is moft tiresomely long; his michievous tenets, fome of them abid (as the denial of final caufes, &c.), and the poifon of his book fo diluted, that cannot, I think, do much hurt. Bat injudicious writers fet themfelves to etract the effence of it, and draw all fire (an ignis fatuus as it lies) to a focus, the remedy fhould be very ftrong, and the operator an able chymit, t prevent its doing mifchief. This work fhould not be truited to bunglers.

Befides, the people in danger from Lord Bolingbroke's writings, are the loose and the wits, who will never it down to read grave and folid answers. Irony and joke in the literary way, at the only means to deal with him, and one cannot help withing, that the age who produced Lord Bolingbroke had produced fuch an antagonist wit as Mr. Bayle was who could render him ridiculous whit he confuted him. Dr. Warburton, ye fee, attempts this; and, if he had more delicacy, it would be with mat fuccefs. However, there are many ex cellent things in his fecond letter, and

LETTER XCVII.

upon the moral nature of the DeityHere your plan will coincide with him: and, though I know your heart and you talents, you will not be offended, if I fay, that you will combat the better, for

I

Ejq.

Croydon-House, Dear Sir, October 16, 1754. SHALL be very glad to fee the work of your fummer's meditation, and, if you delire it, will fubmit it to a friend's perufal; though I had rather be excufed doing that, for the reafon which you fuggeft, it being very likely that the

am, dear Sir, &c.

* In his "View of Lord Bolingbroke's Phis"fophy."

LETTER XCVIII.

that this error fhall be corrected; and I am very forry I was not apprized of it fooner, that I might have corrected it in

My Lord,

HAVE read the ingenious Dialogues of the Dead. I find that I am an "exile, and guilty of fome excelles in "writing." I am obliged (and perhaps for the honour of my country) to fay I am no exile, becaufe I have not committed the exceffes the author of the Dialogues imputes to me.

No body raifed his voice higher than mine in favour of the rights of mankind; yet I have not exceeded even in that virtue.

I am not fettled in Switzerland, as he believes. I live in my own lands in France. Retreat is becoming to old age, and more becoming in one's own poffeffions. If I enjoy a little country house near Geneva, my manors and my catles are in Burgundy; and if my king has been pleased to confirm the privileges of my lands, which are free from all tributes, I am the more addicted to my king.

If I was an exile, I had not obtained from my court many a passport for English noblemen.

The fervice I rendered to them entitles me to the justice I expect from the noble

author.

vant,

just published under my infpection in London. To do you justice is a duty I owe to truth and myself; and you have a much better title to it than from the paports you fay you have procured for Englifh noblemen: you are entitled to it, Sir, by the high fentiments of respect I have for you, which are not paid to the privileges, you tell me, your king has confirmed to your lands, but to the noble talents God has given you, and the fuperior rank you hold in the republic of letters. The favours done you by your fovereign, are an honour to him, but add little luftre to the name of Voltaire.

I entirely agree with you" that God is the father of all mankind;" and fhould think it blafphemy to confine his goodness to a fect; nor do I believe that any of his creatures are good in his fight, if they do not extend their benevolence to all his creation. Thefe opinions I rejoice to fee in your works, and shall be very happy to be convinced that the liberty of your thoughts and your pen, upon fubjects of philofophy and religion, never exceeded the bounds of this generous principle, which is authorised by revelation, as much as by reafon; or that you difapprove, in your hours of fober reflection, any irregular fallies of fancy, which cannot be justified, though they may be excufed, by the vivacity and fire of a great genius. I have the honour to be, Sir, &c.

LETTER XCIX.

Mr. P at B—, to Mr. W— at L-. July 20, 1753.

You are furprifed, Sir, and fo is all

Europe, at M. Voltaire's difgrace with the King of Pruffia. No body can yet comprehend, how it hath been poffible to exafperate a philofophic king againft his first favourite, to whom, during fixteen years, he hath behaved rather like a faithful friend than a gracious Prince. All the world knows that his Majefty, charmed with the lyre of this new Orpheus, never ceafed his applica

tions

tions to draw him to his court, that he might be more intimately acquainted with his mufe, which hath fo much cortributed to refine his tafte and to make him an author; a character of which he is as jealous as he is of that of a king. M. Voltaire had refcived not to quit his native country, but he could not refift the preffing inftances of his Prutian Majefty, which were too honourable to him to be difregarded. He therefore left Paris and went to Berlin, in the fummer of the year 1750. The King of Pruffia immediately loaded him with his favours. Not content with affigning him a large penfion, he alfo honoured him with the key of chamberlain, and his Order of Merit. For two years together M. Voltaire continued in high favour with his Majefty, and thought himself well eltablished, when he began to perceive fome marks of jealoufy in a man whom he had before reckoned amongt his friends, and who had obtained the King's protection by the great noife he had caused to be made about his northern expedition; and when he faw the high opinion that had been conceived of his merit was upon the decline, and that he was unable to keep it up by any other extraordinary performances, endeavoured to fecure the continuance of the royal favour by craft and artifice. This was M. Maupertuis, prefident of the academy of Berlin. It is well known to the literary world how he hath ftrained to obtain the character of a great man, and an inventor, by a piece which he hath published under the title of Letters. The learned, and amongst the rest M. Voltaire, found fo many abfurdities in thefe letters, that he could not forbear writing a fatire on the occafion. This fatire was upon the point of being published at Potsdam, under the title of, The Diatriba of Dr. Akakia, when M. Maupertuis, being apprized of it by one of his creatures, obtained the King's orders for fuppreffing the work. It is probable that this fuppreffion was only defigned by his Majefty to reconcile the two compatriot courtiers, but M. Maupertuis looked upon it as a mark of his fuperiority in the esteem of his matter, and, relying upon this, he took the liberty to tell the King a thoufand lies to ruin the credit and repu

tation of M. Voltaire.-A manufcript copy of The Diatriba of Dr. Akakia, having fallen into the hands of a bookfeller in Holland, it foon appeared in print, to the great fatisfaction of the public. M. Maupertuis was enraged at this, and the more fo, as M. Voltaire, in this fatire, had taken part with M. Koenig, counfellor and library-keeper to his mot ferene highness the Prince Stadtholder at the Hague, who with the ftrongest arguments had attacked his principle of the leait action, the dispate concerning which is well known to al the learned in Europe. M. Maupertuis immediately, with all the aggravating circumstances he could think of, reprefented this to his Majetty as an offence against the royal authority. It was neceffary to make the King confider it is this light, in order to raife his indignation to the highest pitch. It was in vain that M. Voltaire protefted, and even made oath, that he did all he could to prevent the impreffion (and of this I myfelf was an eye-witnefs). He was condemned: the Diatriba of Dr. Akakia was, by the King's order, burnt at Berlin, by the hands of the common execu tioner, and the King caufed the tranfaction to be publifhed in the gazettes of Berlin.

The first step which M. Voltaire took after this fcene, was to return the King his key of chamberlain and his Order of Merit, and to beg leave to retire. The King immediately fent back the key and the crofs, accompanied with a very cour teous letter, wherein he intimated, that it would be very agreeable to him, if M. Voltaire would continue to refide at his court, and accept his penfion. Out of refpect to his Majefty, M. Voltaire retained the key and the crois, but perfit ed in defiring his difmiflion. To this requeft he could get no answer. M. Maupertuis continued his intrigues, and even obtained the King's leave to compromife his academical difpute with M. Koenig. The King published a letter, wherein he thought proper to relate all the injurious things concerning Meff. Voltaire and Koenig, that M. Maupertuis had prefumed to tell him one night, after the opera was ended, when his Majefty went in his domino to M. Maupertuis's house,

and

and converfed with him fome hours in his bed-chamber.

The public in general declared for M. Voltaire and M. Koenig; but notwith= ftanding this, M. Maupertuis found means to binder truth from approaching the throne. M. Voltaire was difgraced, and yet could not obtain his difmiffion, nor even permiffion to go to the waters for the recovery of his health. It was even prohibited, throughout the Marquifate of Brandenburgh, to furnish M. Voltaire with horfes, or to fuffer him to pafs. At length, however, I know not how, he obtained permiffion to go to the baths of Plombieres, and he took his leave of the King at Potfdam, to which place he promised to return in the month of October. But his enemy, who threatened to go to Leipfic to affaffinate him, hath played his part fo well, that M. Voltaire hath been difgraced afresh, as you will fee by the letters herewith fent. Thefe letters, as well as that of the King of Pruffia, which I fend on account of the relation it has to the others, are very authentic. I have the honour to be, &c.

FTER having dispatched the laft letter I wrote you, I had the honour to receive your's of the 3d of this month: and as in that letter I have given you all the eclairciffement you demanded concerning M. Voltaire's affair, I will con

acquittance, and leave given him in the King's name to depart whenever he pleafed. After a few days he fet out for Wifhaden: but he was stopped by the guard at the gates of the city, and M. de Freytag fhewed him a new order of the King of Pruffia, to arrest him; but this order was not figned by the King himself. He was, however, carried back under the guard of four foldiers and a fubaltern officer, to the houfe of a merchant called Schmidt. There M. Voltaire was very ill treated by the refident, who kept him very clofe, allowed his pocket to be fearched, and eighty louis d'ors, found therein, to be taken from him. He was then conducted to an inn, together with his niece and fecretary, under the guard of a foldier; and to affront him the more, the fecretary was obliged to pafs the first night in the fame chamber with M. Voltaire's niece; M. Voltaire himself being fhut up in another chamber with the guard. The day before yesterday he was released, and it is faid that the order to arrest him at the gate was fent to the refident by one of his enemies, who had the temerity to make use of the King's name. Time muft inform us of the confequences of this affair. M. Voltaire will yet go to fome of the baths, but to which of them is not known. Thus I have told you all I know concerning this affair. I had it from the mouth of a

perfon to whom M. Voltaire himself related it. I am on all occafions at your fervice, and have the honour to be, &c.

LETTER CI.

M. de Freytag, the King of Pruffia's refident in this city, immediately after M. Voltaire's arrival here, redemanded of nim the cross of the Order of Merit, the key of chamberlain, and alfo a fmall cafket, wherein, it is faid, is a manufcript in the King's own hand. M. Voltaire immediately delivered the two first, and gave his parole, that the cafket, which he had fent forward with his baggage to Strafburgh, should be produced in eight days, and at the fame time difpatched one of his domeftics to Strafburgh to fetch it. It was accordingly brought back, and M. Voltaire having delivered it to M. de Freytag, had an

I

to M. Voltaire.

August 23, 1750.

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