P.S.—­I was in town last week, and found Mr. Chute still confined.  He had a return in his shoulder, but I think it more rheumatism than gout.

VOLTAIRE’S CRITICISMS ON SHAKESPEARE—­PARNELL’S “HERMIT."

TO MONSIEUR DE VOLTAIRE.

STRAWBERRY HILL, July 27, 1768.

One can never, Sir, be sorry to have been in the wrong, when one’s errors are pointed out to one in so obliging and masterly a manner.  Whatever opinion I may have of Shakspeare, I should think him to blame, if he could have seen the letter you have done me the honour to write to me, and yet not conform to the rules you have there laid down.  When he lived, there had not been a Voltaire both to give laws to the stage, and to show on what good sense those laws were founded.  Your art, Sir, goes still farther:  for you have supported your arguments, without having recourse to the best authority, your own Works.  It was my interest perhaps to defend barbarism and irregularity.  A great genius is in the right, on the contrary, to show that when correctness, nay, when perfection is demanded, he can still shine, and be himself, whatever fetters are imposed on him.  But I will say no more on this head; for I am neither so unpolished as to tell you to your face how much I admire you, nor, though I have taken the liberty to vindicate Shakspeare against your criticisms, am I vain enough to think myself an adversary worthy of you.  I am much more proud of receiving laws from you, than of contesting them.  It was bold in me to dispute with you even before I had the honour of your acquaintance; it would be ungrateful now when you have not only taken notice of me, but forgiven me.  The admirable letter you have been so good as to send me, is a proof that you are one of those truly great and rare men who know at once how to conquer and to pardon.

I have made all the inquiry I could into the story of M. de Jumonville; and though your and our accounts disagree, I own I do not think, Sir, that the strongest evidence is in our favour.  I am told we allow he was killed by a party of our men, going to the Ohio.  Your countrymen say he was going with a flag of truce.  The commanding officer of our party said M. de Jumonville was going with hostile intentions; and that very hostile orders were found after his death in his pocket.  Unless that officer had proved that he had previous intelligence of those orders, I doubt he will not be justified by finding them afterwards; for I am not at all disposed to believe that he had the foreknowledge of your hermit,[1] who pitched the old woman’s nephew into the river, because “ce jeune homme auroit assassine sa tante dans un an.”

I am grieved that such disputes should ever subsist between two nations who have everything in themselves to create happiness, and who may find enough in each other to love and admire.  It is your benevolence, Sir, and your zeal for softening the manners of mankind; it is the doctrine of peace and amity which you preach, that have raised my esteem for you even more than the brightness of your genius.  France may claim you in the latter light, but all nations have a right to call you their countryman du cote du coeur.  It is on the strength of that connection that I beg you, Sir, to accept the homage of, Sir, your most obedient humble servant.[2]