Letters

In order to prove, illustrious Abbé, how much you were in the wrong to quit me, and for how short a time I can exist without you, I hereby give notice that I am to set out to-morrow for Paris in quest of you. For since your departure I feel such an irksomeness diffused over my mind, as makes me to think I am incapacitated either for enjoying myself, or doing any thing with satisfaction to myself.

- Montesquieu to the Abbé and Count de Guasco, at Paris, 1749

The thing about reading 18th-century texts

is that I now lisp in my mind's voice.

I can't help giggling quietly to myself and thinking of Pratchett when I read things like these, which do not improve my concentration:

Will their fentiments, which are debafed from the love of liberty, from zeal for the honour and profperity of their country, and from a defire of honeft fame, to an abfolute unconcernednefs for all thefe, to an abject fubmiffion, and to a rapacious eagernefs after wealth that may fate their avarice, and exceed the profufion of their luxury; will thefe, I fay again, be fo eafily, or fo foon elevated? In a word, will the Britifh fpirit, that fpirit which has preferved liberty hitherto in one corner of the world at leaft, be fo eafily or fo foon reinfufed into the Britifh nation? I think not.

and

The minifter preaches corruption aloud and conftantly, like an impudent miffionary of vice: and fome there are who not only infinuate, but teach the fame occafionally. I fay fome; becaufe I am as far from thinking, that all thofe who join with him, as that any of thofe who oppofe him, wait only to be more authorized, that they may propagate it with greater fuccefs, and apply it to their own ufe, in their turn.

- From a lovely crinkled old copy of Bolingbroke's "The idea of a patriot king", 1738

Voltaire does Othello

This is Iago giving Othello proof of Cassio's perfidy:

[Cassio] said in his sleep, ‘Dear Desdemona, let us be careful, let us hide our loves.’ In speaking, he took me [Iago] by the hand, he patted me, he cried, ‘Oh, charming creature!’ he kissed me with transport, as if he had by the roots torn up kisses planted upon my lips, he put his [1] thighs upon my legs, he sighed, he breathed short, he kissed me, he cried out, ‘Cursed fate which has given you to the Moor!’

Translator's note:
[1] Wrongly translated.

- From "Plan of 'The Orphan'", Philosophical Letters

More Hamlet!

Just cos it's funny. To me anyway.

Hamlet then having deferred the murder of Claudius, in order to damn him, comes to confer with his mother; and notwithstanding his madness, overwhelms her with such bitter reproaches of her crime, as pierce her to the very heart. The old chamberlain, Polonius, is apprehensive of his carrying matters too far; he cries out for help behind the hanging; Hamlet takes it for granted that it was the king who had hid himself there, to listen to their conversation. “Ah mother,” cries he, “there is a great rat behind the hangings.” He thereupon draws his sword, runs to the rat, and kills the good man Polonius. “Ah my son, what are you about?” cries the queen. “Mother,” returns Hamlet, “it is the king that I have slain!” “It is a wicked action to kill a king;" [1] “Almost as wicked, my good mother, as to kill a king and lie with his brother.” This conversation lasts a long time; and Hamlet, as he goes out, walks upon the dead body of the old chamberlain, and is ready to fall down.[2]

The translator's footnotes:
[1] This passage is manifestly translated wrong.
[2] This circumstance is entirely of the invention of M. de Voltaire; not contented with depreciating Shakespeare, he even misrepresents him.


Voltaire continues:

The good lord chamberlain was an old fool, and is represented as such, as has already been seen; his daughter Ophelia, who, no doubt, resembled him in this respect, becomes raving mad when she is informed of her father’s death: she runs upon the stage with flowers and straw upon her head, sings ballads, and then goes and drowns herself. Thus there are three mad people in the play, the chamberlain, and Hamlet, without reckoning the other buffoons who play their parts.

- From Voltaire, "Plan of the Tragedy of Hamlet", Philosophical Letters (1733)

More Hamlet

From Voltaire's summary of the plot of Hamlet:

[Hamlet] declares that he has an inclination to quit Denmark, and go to school to Wittenberg. “Dear Hamlet,” says the queen, “do not go to school to Wittenberg; stay with us.” Hamlet answers that he will endeavor to obey her. Claudius is charmed at the answer; and orders that all of his court should go and drink, while the cannons were fired off; though gunpowder was not then invented.

- From "Plan of the Tragedy of Hamlet", Philosophical Letters (1733)

translation

Voltaire translates Hamlet's soliloquy:

Demeure, il faut choisir, & passer à l’instant
De la vie à la mort, ou de l’être au néant.
Dieux justes, s’il en est, éclairez mon courage.
Faut–il vieillir courbé sous la main qui m’outrage,
Supporter, ou finir mon malheur & mon sort?
Qui suis–je? Que m’arrête? Et qu’est–ce que la mort?
C’est la fin de nos maux, c’est mon unique asile;
Après de longs transports, c’est un sommeil tranquille.
On s’endort, & tout meurt; mais un affreux réveil
Doit succéder peut–être aux douceurs du sommeil.
On nous menace, on dit, que cette courte vie
De tourmens éternels est aussitôt suivie.
O mort!
O mort! moment fatal! affreuse éternité!
Tout coeur à ton seul nom se glace épouvanté.
Eh! qui pourrait sans toi supporter cette vie?
De nos Prêtres menteurs bénir l’hypocrisie?
D’une indigne maîtresse encenser les erreurs?
Ramper sous un Ministre, adorer ses hauteurs?
Et montrer les langueurs de son ame abattue,
A des amis ingrats, qui détournent la vue?
La mort serait trop douce en ses extrémités.
Mais le scrupule parle, & nous crie, Arrêtez.
Il défend à nos mains cet heureux homicide,
Et d’un Héros guerrier, fait un Chrétien timide.

From "English Tragedy", in Philosophical Letters (1733)