This dissertation has been 62—2153 microfilmed exactly as received

MITCHELL, Robert Edward, 1927- THE GENESIS, SOURCES, COMPOSITION, AND RECEPTION OF VOLTAIRE1S MAHOMET.

The Ohio State University, Ph.D., 19G1 Language and Literature, modern

University Microfilms. Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan Copyright by

Robert Edvard I'itchell

1962 THE GENESIS, SOURCES, COMPOSITION, AND

RECEPTION OF VOLTAIRE'S MAHOMET

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

ty

Robert Edward Mitchell, B. A., B. S. in Educ, M. A.

*****

The Ohio State University 1961

Approved by

//Adviser Department of Romance Languages TO MY FATHER PREFACE

Of Voltaire's many writings for the theater, Mahomet is one which, during the eighteenth century, enjoyed great prestige.

Repeatedly in the criticism of the period the student finds some reference to the "sublime" tragedy. Many writers, among them such recognized authorities as Grimm and La Harpe, considered it on an equal footing with the works of R'icine and Corneille. If this judgment has been altered today, the eminence of Mwhomet during its own time is established.

The play i3 also interesting in that it constituted the author's first overt attack on the forces of religious intolerance to be presented on the stage of the conservative Comedie-Frangaise.

In the struggle of Voltaire to gain a performance for his tragedy in that theater, in the eventual suppression of the play* and in the continuing effort of the poet to establish his work onoe more in the repertory, there lies a story which casts much light on the devel­ oping climate of ideas during the middle of the eighteenth century.

Our purpose in this study has been to review the history of

Mahomet from its genesis through the period of composition to its reception when it was performed in Paris in 1712, and its final establishment as one of the classic productions of French tragedy.

iii iv

We have attempted to relate the work to the evolution of Voltaire's general philosophical ideas* It is in fact to a great extent the culmination of a trend of thought which began with his earliest published works* Finally, we have examined the play itself as a work of literature, to discover what merits it may still possesu today. For, although circumstances have prevented Mahomet from maintaining its place on the stage, and although the high praise it received from the contemporary critics was no doubt exaggerated, we believe that the neglect which has been its fate is unjust,

A word of explanation as to usage in this paper is necessary,

I have quoted all sources exactly, respecting spelling and punc­ tuation. In the case of citations from the edition of the Voltaire correspondence in process of publication by Theodore Besterman, some variations may be noticed. These are due to Mr. Besterman's having occasionally been forced to print later versions of letters in which the language has been modernized. In the various spellings of the name of the founder of Islam, I have adhered to the following rule: in quotations, I give the spelling of the author; when speaking of the historical figure I employ the English "Mohammed"; and In referring to Voltaire's character, I write simply "Mahomet", without italics.

I wish to thank many members of the Ohio State University staff for their help in the preparation of this dissertation. The University libraiy has been cooperative in arranging for miorofilms of material not otherwise available there. Professor James Doolittle has offered much encouragement and many valuable suggestions during the writing of ny stun/. The patient guidance of ny adviser, Professor George

R. Havens, can be appreciated only by those students who have studied under his direction. I must also express my debt of gratitude to the late Professor Robert E. Rockvood, who died in 1953, after more than forty years of service to the Ohio State University, and in whose classes I was first introduced to the study of French literature. TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapters Pages

INTRODUCTION...... 1

I - MAHOMET IN THE EVOLUTION OF VOLTAIRE'S DRAMATIC PRACTICE ...... 5

II - THE LITERARY MERIT OF M A HCKET...... 13

III - THE THEMES OF FANATICISM AND THE IMPOSTOR IN THE WORKS OF VOLTAIRE BEFORE M A H O M E T ...... 3A

IV - THE HISTORICAL SOURCES OF M A H O M E T ...... 69

V - THE LITERARY MODELS OF M A H O M E T ...... Ill

VI - LA NOUE'S MAHOMET II AND THE GENESIS OF VOLTAIRE'S MAHOMET ...... 137

VII - THE WORK OF COMPOSITION...... 1A5

VIII - THE PERFORMANCE AND PUBLICATION OF MAHOMET .... 172

IT - MAHOMET AND ITS CRITICS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY . 191

CONCLUSION...... 216

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 221

AUTOBIOGRAPHY...... 227

vi INTRODUCTION

Voltaire'a Mahomet will probably never be performed again on

the professional stage. Because of its unsympathetic, distorted portrayal of the founder of Islam, the tragedy which Voltaire considered

the best of his dramatic works is no doubt doomed to relative oblivion.

It is ironic that the philosopher's ideas of tolerance, developing, and

spreading ever more widely in the century and a half since his death

serve as the greatest barrier to the popular acceptance of one of the

productions which, in itself, constituted a noteworthy attack in his war

against fanaticism. In our world, more closely bound by transportation

and communication than that of the eighteenth century, we can no longer

afford the luxury of misinterpreting the religion of even the most

obscure region. And the great growth of the Moslem states In Africa

renders even leas likely the reappearance of this tragedy.

And yet Mahonu^ la of significance to the student of eighteenth

century literature. It is widely recognized as being, with jjfalre and

Merope. amor? Voltaire's most successful efforts in the theater The

controversy which attended its first performance was an important

indication of the problems which faced those writers who were attempting

to spread within France the new ideas of freedom of thought and expression.

Finally, it represents a significant change in the dramatic practice of Voltaire, who must be considered as the leading writer of classic tragedy of his nation, after Racine and Corneille. A study of this work, of the circumstances which brought it into existence, its sources, and composition, and the reception it received offers therefore points of interest.

Four highly developed studies of Mahomet must serve as the point of departure for any person who wishes to begin research on the subject. The first of these is the thesis which Henri Lion devoted to Voltaire's tragedies.^" Lion, In the section devoted to Mahomet, outlined the historical background of the work, and indicated its importance in the increasingly moralistic nature of the poet's dramatic writing. He also summarized the sources which have been indicated by critics who have written on Mahomet. At the beginning of this century,

Gustave Larroumet published an analysis of Mahomet which is basically unfriendly, but which does much to establish many of the characteristics 2 of the tragedy, such as its lack of originality. Despite what amounts to a strong parti pris against Voltaire the dramatist, Larroumet recog­ nized clearly the flashes of genius which illuminate the work. The

latest study of M^hnmat is found in the two-volume work French Tragedy 3 in the Tlffip of Louis XV and of Voltaire by Henry Carrington Lancaster.

■Sienri Lion, Lea Tragedies et les theories dramatiaues de Voltaire. Paris, Hachette, 1895, p. 125 ff.

2"Le vrai Mahomet," and "Voltaire. . . Son Mahomet." in "Le theatre frangais au XVIIIe siecle," Revue des cours et des conferences. VIII2, pp. 600, 633.

^Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1950, I, 203 ff. In his authoritative treatment of Frenoh neo—classic drama, Lancaster summarized the present state of knowledge of this tragedy as well as of all the rest of Voltaire's dramatic writing. Finally, the reader who would approach Voltaire1 s Mahomet should know the study included try Rene Pomeau in his Relif-ion de Volt»3re.^ Besides bringing some new light to the question of the sources of the tragedy, and revealing its connection with Voltaire's hostility towards the Jansenlsts, Pomeau gives an appreciation of the work which, while largely unfavorable, still sets off the importance of Mahomet in Voltaire1s writings for the stage. The critic feels that Voltaire, by exagerating Mahomet's evil­ ness, prevents the character from achieving that spontaneous existence of the truly great literary creation. He sees in the subplot of Seide r and Pfiimlre only ”1 ’imbroglio use des enfants perdus et retrouves."

Nevertheless, Pomeau considers Mahomet the 11 anti-Voltaire," a signif­ icant figure which sums up an ideology which was the complete antithesis of that of the poet, who had dedicated himself to the cult of human friendship and love.

While 1 of the studies mentioned above are excellent, they are of necessity less than complete. In each case, Mfthnnwt, is discussed as only one among the many works of Voltaire. Further, the publication by Mr. Theodore Besterman of his new edition of Voltaire's correspondence has brought to light much information on sources, composition, and

^Paris, Librairie Nizet, 1956, pp. 145-153.

5Ibid., p. 150 . performance which was not available to previous students of the problem.

It is the purpose of this thesis to bring together in one study facts which are at present scattered throughout the literature, and also to attempt to amplify, and in some cases to correct, the statements of previous scholars. CHAPTER I

MAHOMET IK THE EVOLUTION OF VOLTAIRE'S DRAMATIC PRACTICE

MahnmRt was not so much a complete break with Voltaire’s previous dramatic practice, as it was a step in an evolution which had begun with the production of his first tragedy, CE dipe. in 1718. Two tendencies were already apparent in that youthful production* From the point of view of dramatic writing, the young Voltaire was straining to free himself from the conventions of the theater in the second decade of the century. He rebelled above all against the demands for galanterie. which, in his opinion, had spoiled the efforts of even the greatest of his predecessors. Voltaire's motives in this effort are not entirely clear. He may have been working under the puristic influence of the Jesuit fathers, especially the p&re Toumemine, who had helped to form his literary taste. Certainly his position against

the introduction of love interest, suitable or not, was in line with

that of other students of the classics active at that time, one of

whom was Mme Dacier, the translator of Homer's H i Ad. Perhaps

personal considerations were also operative in the intellectual stand he took. The young poet, despite his experience in the contemporary

salons, was possibly aware that there were depths of passion which he

5 could never hope to plumb, and was therefore reluctant to follow in a

path where he could not hope to axcell. Whatever the reasons, he

added the subplot involving love only at the insistence of the actors,

and throughout his career, he would continue advocating the poet's right to omit the gallant, where it detracted from the effectiveness

of his writing.

The second element of CEdipe which would continue to develop during the writer's career was what might be called the didactic. In

this first production, the poet had a point ox’ view which he wished

to express, A member of the Temple, already something of a free

thinker, Voltaire gave vent to his antipathy towards the church in

biting verses that did much to contribute to the success of his tragedy.

However, in CEdice. these attacks are scattered, and are actually

extraneous; they have no relationship to the plot or the characters.

Still they represent the beginning of Voltaire's use of the theater

as yet another platform in his campaign against established authoriiy.

As he became bolder, and as his convictions deepened, ne would increase

the amount of didactic material in his dramas.

During his stay in England, the poet became aware of the

existence of a theater completely different from that he had known in

France, He road Shakespeare, attended productions of his plays, and

although his appreciation of the English genius was limited by his

classical training, the Frenchman did recognize certain merits in the

English tragedies. He apparently was impressed by the amount of

physical action in the performance* he saw in England, and believed 7 this would serve as a corrective to the rather static nature of French tragedy. While still in England, he began composing his Brutus, at first in English, and when he presented this tragedy in Paris in 1730, it represented a step in the direction of greater freedom in theatrical writing.^" His La Mort de Cesar, produced privately at the Hotel de

Sassenage in 1733, and at the College d'Harcourt in 1735, continued his exploration of the possibilities of reform opened up to him by his acquaintance with English stage practices. He reduced the amount of love interest in the tragedy, following here the example of his model,

Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. A new interest in splendor of performance was indicated by the fact that Voltaire called for the senators to wear togas. The experimental nature of this production is indicated by the fact that it was not performed at the Comedie fr*m^«ls« until 2 1743, some ten years after its original presentation.

It was, however, with. Zaire, presented in 1732, that Voltaire regained the triumph he had won with his first tragedy, CEdine.

Accepting the conventions which demanded love interest, Voltaire managed to outdo his rivals at the expression of tendresse. But still, he attempted at least to work a variation on the standard theme. Using perhaps Shakespeare’s Othello as his model, he introduced in Orosmane, a character swayed by fierce, barbaric passion. Nor was he satisfied simply to modify the treatment of love. In the characters of Zaire

•^Lancaster, French Tragedy in the Time of Louis XV and Voltaire. I, 124.

2 Ibid.. I, 135. 3 and Lusignan, he presented pathetic elements which were based on conflicts of religion rather than of passion. Zaire can justly be considered an edifying tragedy. The sturdy faith of Lusignan ("Mon

Dieu, j'ai combattu quarante ans pour ta gloirel"), the moving portrayal of the young Zaire, who i3 torn by her love for Orosmane and her loyalty to her ancestors' religion, were calculated to win the approval of the audiences who had come to demand more and more this type of pathos. But there is another dimension of the meaning

contrasting the character of Orosmane, rash, fierce, jealous, but capable of generosity and understanding, with that of the Christian, Nerestan, whose uncompromising enemity to the pagans causes the final catastrophe, Voltaire seemed to ask the question:

Which of these is the better man? And the audience must have responded, as he expected, in favor of the Moslem. Furthermore, several verses express a relativistic concept of religion which is in conflict with the characters themselves. Zaire represents an effort on Voltaire1s part, to reconcile his faith in humanity with

Christian!ty. The effort was a failure, but it led to his most successful tragedy.

In connection with Zaire, we must observe two other facts, which are interrelated. Perhaps because of his historical studies,

Voltaire had become interested in the expression of rooeurs on the stage. This was not completely an innovation. Already in Corneille's tragedies there was some concern for faithfulness in the representation of the customs of the peoples treated. Horace might well have served as Voltaire's model in this effort. In that play, Corneille had attempted consciously to render exactly the conflicts which sprang from the customs of the Romans at a specific point of their history.

Racine, although less interested in the exterior fact3 of his tragedies, had in Ba.1 azet given the example of choosing a new, more exotic setting for the drama.

For Voltaire, the presentation of moeurs. which will dominate his production from this point, is connected closely with the idea of spectacle. It is interesting to note that he conceives of his tragedy in terms of the contrast between the turbans of the Turks and the symbols of the Christians. His approach is almost that of the plastic artist who seeks in the setting of the play the visual images which will most impress the audience. It is in this attention to setting, to costumes, to physical action that Voltaire is most truly original. Whether his reform is an improvement on classical tragedy seems to us an idle question. Voltaire recognized the fact that

Racine and Corneille had developed as completely as possible the inward penetration of motives, passions, obsessions. Perhaps realizing his own limitations, and tho3e of his century, he turned hi3 attention to the exterior, the peripheral, and in so doing, he pointed the way for the" development of romantic drama.

With Alzire. produced at the Cornedie fran^alse ih 1736, he continued in the path he had opened with Z*TreT Again we have the exotic setting (this time, the Inca empire of Peru), and the attempt, which is not truly successful, of presenting the customs of different 10 people3 . Voltaire has been accused of a lack of originality in his dramatic writing. Certainly we must admit that the central situation of Alzire is not far removed from that of Z a X r e . or indeed from that of the later Mahomet. Again we see the conflict springing from the confrontation of two cultures, this time, between those of the Incas and of the Catholic conquistadores. Again, we have the contrast between the inflexible religious faith which leads to the tragic denouement, and the more human qualities of Alvarez, Gusman's father, who insists that the Christian virtue of mercy is more important than the acceptance of dogma* Voltaire perhaps tended to rewrite himself because of a basic lack of originality. But he did so also because his dramatic production stemmed not from Racine's fascination with the workings of the human soul, nor from Corneille's wider, humanistic interest in the Interplay between the individual and his society, but from a basic concern with the evils of his own country. His choice of themes, characters, plots was naturally limited by the fundamental philosophical position which gave form and substance to all that he wrote.

To summarize thi3 evolution which we find in the tragedies that preceded Mahomet, we may say that Voltaire's theater had developed in the direction of the picturesque, in the area of performance, the presentation of customs and manners, usually more exotic than those which had been treated in the seventeenth century. In general Voltaire had rebelled at times against such conventions as g^lnnterie. but had been forced to conform with the practice of his time, and in Zaire. LI had triumphed by outdoing his rivals in this area* Finally, his work had moved in the direction of the edifying, using religious matters at first as a source of the pathetique which was so much admired in the first three decades of the century* Eut in all of his tragedies, we find a bolder attempt at moralising, in which Voltaire expressed ideas which were not immediately acceptable to the majority of his contemporaries. In (Edipe. hi3 attacks on prie3t3 and on superstition were the quick flashes of a verse buried in a long tirade. In Zaire and Alzire. his meaning lay hidden in contrasts of character, which he did not care to develop. Voltaire remained sure that the sophis­ ticated part of his audience would senae immediately the fact that the Moslem Orosmane was a better human being than Nerestan, that the

Incas of Alzire. if not the noble savages which would soon become fashionable, were at least to be preferred to the cruel, inhuman

Spaniards. And, for the time being, he was content to leave his meaning at this level.

When the poet began the composition of Mahomet, he was at the height of his dramatic powers. Behind him lay the triumphs which had won him acclaim as the heir to the place left empty by the death of

Corneille and Racine. Having served his apprenticeship in the theater, having assimilated that part of English dramaturgy which he felt he could use, he was ready to move on to another step in his career.

The direction of that step was determined, to a certain extent, by the nature of the life he was leading at the time. His basic skepticism concerning the dogmas of the church, and the mandates of 12 the state had been increased by his own experience with persecution, both upon his exile in 1726, and after the publication of the Lett re 3 philosonhl nues. His correspondence with Frederick, the Prince Royal of Prussia, had given him a chance to play the role of Socrates, encouraging the future ruler’s accepouuce of the new ideas circulating in Europe, and at the same time undergoing the influence of his friend’s enthusiasm. Fore and more, Voltaire was beginning to recognize the enemy which he was to continue to attack throughout hi3 life, the ninfameff which he would set out to destroy.

Einboldened perhaps by his increasing reputation, by the relative security of life at Cirey, Voltaire decided to state his position more openly. But we must note that even in Mahomet, there is still a subterfuge, which would protect the poet from too violent a retaliation. In choosing Mohammed to bear the brunt of his attack on fanaticism, Voltaire avoided the necessity of open warfare with his enemies. It was not too subtle a subterfuge, at that; only the most naive, such as the clergymen of Lille, where the tragedy was performed in 1741, would miss the real mark. But it was the kind of evasion which Montesquieu had used in the Lettres pera^nes. and which Voltaire himself had employed (not as successfully) in 1733 with his Lettre3 philosophi guesf where the satire on French institutions must be constantly inferred from his praise of the English. But in the days of haphazard censorship, of occasional open cooperation between the censors and the authors, such an evasion w^s enough to gain Voltaire a hearing, and a hearing in Paris, at the Coaedle franqaise. The game here was indeed worth the candle* CHAPTER II

THE LITERARY MERIT OF MAHOMET

If Mahomet were simply an oeuvre de combat, the task of

criticism would be simplified. We would have only to examine how

skillfully Voltaire marshalled his attack on his target. It is, however, also a serious artistic attempt, and we must therefore

attempt to decide how successfully Voltaire carried out what were

the major efforts of his dramatic theories.

As we have seen, Voltaire believed that one of his innovations

on the French stage wa3 the serious presentation of foreign manners.

This interest continued in Mahomet. He chose as his subject the

establishment of a religion. Most critics, among them, Lancaster,

tend to diminish the value of this part of the tragedy.^ Certainly,

we must admit that Voltaire did not develop fully the material

available to him. Local color, for instance, is limited to an

occasional place name. But in his treatment of Zopire, Voltaire did

make an honest attempt to present the customs of Arabia before the

advent of Islam. His portrayal of Zopire1s polytheism, his worship

of the stars as the symbols of divinity, is generally accurate and

^French Tragedy in the Tima of Louis XV and Voltaire. 1, 207-208.

13 u interesting. It is also cleverly done from the technical point of view, for rather than depending on long recitations of ideas, Voltaire has incorporated these views in the speeches of the character. When

Zopire asks of Palmire:

Ainsi de Mahomet vous regrettez les fers, Ce tumulte des camps, ces horreurs des deserts, Cette patrie errante, au trouble abandonnee? (I, 2)

we are in the presence of a historical reality. Mohammed had been

banished from the city of Mecca, and had been forced to take refuge

among the uncivilized tribes of nomads. Palmire's answer paint3 a

surprisingly sympathetic picture of the life of the women in Mohammed's

campi

Mahomet a forme mes premiers sentiments, Et ses femmes en paix guidaient mes faibles ans; Lear demeure est un temple o^i ces femmes sacrees Levant au ciel des mains de leur maltre adorees.

Finally, a part of the fourth act takes place in the temple "of the

false gods of Zopire," and once again we see Voltaire's wish to portray

visually, through the stage settings a part of the customs he desired

to present. o Larroumet has best stated why this presentation of moeurs is

unsatisfactory, especially to modern readers. Starting from his desire

to attack Mohammed as an example of the impostor who uses religion to

further his own end3 , Voltaire could not possibly do justice to the

^"Mahomet de Voltaire," in "Le Theatre frangais au XVIIIe slecle," Revue des cours et des conferences. VIII2, 633 ff. 15 picture of manners which he also included in his tragedy. We do not accept Larroumet'a implication that Voltaire had not done sufficient research on hia subject. Rather, we shall attempt to demonstrate later that the poet, knowingly, used the commonly accepted version of

Mohammed's character in order to create the work of art which he needed. The fact remains that Larroumet'a criticism is basically sound, and that Voltaire failed to capitalize completely on the possibilities of his subject.

In the area of style, the achievement of Voltaire's Mahomet is somewhat more difficult to assess. We must first remember not to look to him for either originality or major accomplishment in this area.

He was a student of Racine and Corneille. Remembering hundreds of their verses by heart, he often imitated them not wisely but too well.

But Mahcmat does illustrate an attempt on Voltaire's part to free himself from the usage of his time, and in this way, is parallel to his efforts to increase the action and settings of the classical tragedy.

The pattern of French tragic writing had always been towards the natural, at least since the time of Corneille. That writer did include in his plays speeches that were sententious, or pompous, but which, when compared to the poetic language of Shakespeare, for example, seem restrained. With Racine, the height of restraint and control was reached. To the foreigner, Racine's poetry Is difficult to appreciate so much decs it depend on subtle changes of rhythm, among other things.

French usage here shifted almost continually in the eighteenth century. The tendency seems to have been towards greater naturalness, 16 towards even less use of imagery, of poetic language. In a related area, Voltaire himself encouraged his actors to keep their delivery as close as possible to nature. In like manner, Koudart de la Mothe attempted to suppress rhyme, and began an attack on poetry itself.

Voltaire himself fluctuated in his practice. Like most of the poets of the period, he recognized the distinctions between styles - the epic, the tragic, the comic. He agreed that mixing the styles, using expressions in a tragedy, for example, which were more suitable to an epic, was a sin against the rules. But, perhaps because of his exposure to the tragedies of Shakespeare and Dryden, he was aware that here too French poetry was accepting a restraint that occasionally hindered its accomplishment. In an important letter to

La Noue, written during the composition of his own Mahomet. (Besterman,

EC, 72-73), Voltaire discussed the problem in some detail.

He complimented his fellou poet on his courage in using expressions which attempt to render the more figurative language of the characters he had staged in his Mahomet II. Voltaire admitted that such writing might be criticized, but he insisted or the poet's freedom to adopt, when necessary, the epic style in tragedy. How else could one present the barbaric majesty of the conqueror Mahomet II?

The importance of this letter Is that it was written during the actual composition of Voltaire's tragedy, Mahomet. It is le3S a general comment on style (as Trusten Wheeler Russell seems to under- stand it ), than the reflection of the work of composition which

^Voltaire. Dryden. and Heroic Tragedy. New York, Columbia University Press, 1946, p. 134 ff* 17

Voltaire was eacperiencing at that moment. Despite the many denigrating remarks which the poet was to make about his principal character, he recognized the majesty, the power of Mohammed's personality; and the importance of the issues Involved, and he desired the freedom to express these elements, much as Shakespeare had been able to do in his

Juliufl Caesar. We might advance another suggestion here. Lion has written:

...II n'y a rien de remarquable dans cette tragedie en ce qui concerns le langage des personnages et la peinture de moeurs exotiques.^

Might not the case be that Voltaire, realizing first, the eloquence characteristic of the Semitic languages, and second, the ability of

Mohammed as an orator, attempted by using elevated style to reproduce

these traits? Such an effort must be made with discretion. The task

of the poet, considering the many restrictions placed upon him by

the practice of his day, was to find expressions which would be

acceptable to the French audience, but which would convey something

of the flavor of the language of the people in the tragedy. When

Mahomet says (Act II, scene 5): 11 Je fais trembler la Kecque, et je

regne a Medine," he uses language which is characteristic of the French

theater. It might, with the change of the names of the cities, be

used in any number of tragedies or settings. At the same time, it is

a fitting expression of the conqueror's character. Another speech,

from the same scene, is somewhat different:

^Tragedies et theories dramatlques de Voltaire, p. L42. 18

Que t'ont produit tes dieux? quel bien t'ont-ils pu faire? Quels laurlers vols-tu croitre au pied de leurs autels?

Although the word "lauriers*1 might be more suitable in its connotatiions in a play with a classical setting, there is a vigor in the expression, a force of image which suggests that Voltaire might be imitating, still with discretion, the speech of Mohammed as it is found in the

Koran.

We notice the same phenomenon in some of the speeches of

Zopire, such as his statement:

Avant qu'un tel noeud nous rassemble, les enfers et les cieux seront unis ensemble.

is close to the heated imagery of the Bible and the Koran, Voltaire's two possible models for Semitic style, and also to the language of some

of Shakespeare's tragic poetry. Tame as they may seem to us today,

they were daring efforts for an eighteenth-century French poet. We

must agree, then, with Russell in his statement that Voltaire's poetry

reached an elevation of expression with Mahomet which he rarely equalled 5 afterwards. But we must also insist that the elevation was called

for by the circumstances and the characters of his tragedy, and that

Voltaire was making an honest attempt to find a language suitable to

the material he wished to present on stage.

In this effort, Voltaire was deliberately going against the

current. We have mentioned Houriart do la Mothe's basically anti-poetic

^Russell, op. cit.. p. 134. doctrine. Although La Mothe was ridiculed in his own time, he had perhaps seized better than any one else the drift of his century.

With the introduction of the comedle serieuse and larmovante. other writers used the subject matter of the tragedy to a new form. The drame. developped by Diderot, and more successfully practiced by

Sedaine, attempted to treat tragic subjects in a bourgeois setting,

and in prose. Criticism in the last half of the century came to

prefer more natural language and the expression of character and

emotion in action rather than in words (through, for example, the

tableaux which Diderot introduced into his plays)# The trend, Which

Voltaire obstinately refused to follow, was towards prose drama,

which would come to dominate the French stage in the nineteenth

century. His attempts to achieve an elevated style, as we shall see

in our study of the tragedy's fortunes in the eighteenth century, would

attract uJ much hostile comment as praise. But in this effort, in

the emphasis on stage settings, in the introduction into the tragedy

of historical material, Voltaire helped point the way toward the

Romantic tragedies of Hugo, and this is no small achievement.

It is, in our opinion, in the interplay between characters

and theme that the true artistic merit of Voltaire's Mahomet is found.

Although conceived in the narrowly rationalistic manner of his time,

the subject is a serious one; and in its treatment, Voltaire excelled

even his previous masterpiece, Zaire. Voltaire started from the

juxtaposition of two forces: humanity and fanaticism. From this point,

he created the characters who were to embody the meaning of his.work. 20

Voltaire's characterisation is perhaps open to criticism. As in his tales, he tends to draw a character in a few broad strokes, rather than in the detail with which Racine presented his gallery of human types. This method has left the poet open to the accusation of caricature. And it is true that through the scenes of his tragedies there wanders a troupe of personalities impressive only in their similarity to one another. Palmlre is distressingly like Zaire end

Alzire, Zopire recalls too much the earlier Lusignan. Even the character of Mahomet, in spite of his villainy, is not entirely dif­ ferent from that of Orosmane.

This fact is possibly due to the poet's limitations. Among these limitations was the technique which we have just mentioned.

One always has the impression in reading a tragedy by Voltaire, that the characters have been created aprfes coup, and that they are no more than symbols of general ideas which the poet wishes to present. For this reason, his characters sometimes give the impression of being no more than marionettes. Another weakness of Voltaire as a writer of tragedies heightens this feeling. The problem of plotting, of imagining an action which would set the characters in relief was always difficult for him. Racine's Phedre seems to spring naturally from the interaction of personality and events. Given Ph&dre, as she is presented from the first act, and the characters who surround her, each of the steps of the tragedy are logical and necessary, and lead to the inevitable catastrophe. Voltaire was not so successful in constructing his plots. He was forced to introduce more peripheral 21 action and at times to force his characterisation in order to lead to the dramatic conclusion he had in mind*

Of the characters in Mahomet, three are secondary. These are

Pal mire, Omar, and Seide. Palmire is the typical heroine of Voltaire's theater, gentle, tender, pathetic. Her role serves to set off, by contrast, the villainy which constitutes the major theme of the tragedy.

The part of Omar is much greater than that of the usual

of neo-classical tragedy. It is he who presents Mahomet's petition to Zopire in the first act. His opinion sways Mahomet to choose Seide as the assasin of Zopire (II, 6 ). And It is Omar who carries out the murder of Seide in prison.

The reason for the highly developed role of Omar Is, we believe, a historical one. Omar, one of Mohammed's early enemies, was converted to Islam, and became one of its most effective partisans.

Voltaire could not reduce his role to that of the usual confidant*

Further, the role offered the poet an opportunity to explore a problem which had been raised by Bayle: why should those close to Mohammed, who must be aware of his imposture, continue to follow him as leader and prophet?^1

Voltaire's answer to this question is to be found In his analysis of Omar's motivation. The most apparent motive of Omar is present in almost every speech he makes: the personal desire for

^Pierre Bayle, pi r»tp nnn^ re hlstoricue et critique. nouvelle edition, Paris, Desoer, X (1820),95* 22 conquest, power and glory. Omar is the soldier who ia driven by the desire to establish an empire. But there is another element which is somewhat more subtle. The Moslem chief is also under the spell of the

Prophet. Less vulnerable than Seide to the Imposture of his leader, he is still captivated by Mahomet's personality. Thus, in his interview with Zopire Omar cries:

Les mortels sont egaux; ce n'est point la nalssance, C'est leur serule vertu qui fait leur difference. II est de ces esprits favorises des cieux, Qui sont tout par eux-memes, et rien par l e u r s aleux. (I, 4)

In the same scene, Omar speaks frankly of his conversion. At first, he says, he was the enemy of Mahomet, but he was won over, not by the truth of the Prophet's doctrine, but by the power of his genius:

Quand mes yeux eclaires du feu de son genie, Le virent s1elever dans sa course infinie, Eloquent, intrepide, admirable en tout lieu, Agir, parler, punlr, ou pardonner en dieuj J'associai ma vie a ses travaux immensea: Des trones, des autels, en sont les recompenses.

It is true that Omar acts from self-interest. When he says to Zopire,

"Viens regner avec nous, si tu crains de servir," hespeaks the language of the conqueror. But there remains the fact of his loyalty to Mahomet, which seem3 to be based on his admiration for his leader's greatness:

Le peuple, aveugle et faible, est ne pour les grands homines.

7 It will be remembered that at the time of composition of Mahomet, Voltaire was busy with the editing of Frederick's Anti- Maohlavel (cf. Desnoiresterres, Voltaire au Chateau de Girev. Paris, Didier, 1868, p. 273 ff.) Might not the thoughts stimulated by this activity have found their reflection in this element of Voltaire's tragedy? 23

Seide serves as a pendant to Omar. In the latter we have the earlier convert who, remaining loyal, has lost the enthusiasm of his belief. In Seide we have the youth who has never known any other law than that of Mahomet, and who believes blindly in the Prophet. Perhaps more than Mahomet, Seide is the hero of the tragedy. We shall see later, in our discussion of the play's slow development, that at one time Voltaire even thought of naming the tragedy, Seide. The young

Moslem represents in the tragedy the many cases of men who, through religious belief, committed the w~r3t crimes. He stands for the

Ravaillacs, the Clenent3, for all of the tools used by stronger men to carry out their own purposes.

The scene between Seide and Mahomet (III, 6), is one of the most effective in the entire tragedy* Throughout Mahomet is the dominant character, ordering his follower to murder the old man who has given him hospitality and kindness. When Seide ventures a question

("Da luil quoii mon bras..."), his moment of hesitation is quickly crushed:

Temeraire, On devient sacrilege alorc qu'on delibere.

Won over by Mahomet's eloquence, and by the promise of receiving

Palmire as his wife, Seide accepts the duty of killing his benefactor*

Then Voltaire presents the central situation of his tragedy, the

spectacle of a brother and sister who, unaware of their relationship,

love one another and murder their own father. Throughout these scenes,

Seide continually hesitates, partly because of his affection and respect 2U for Zopire, but also because of a vague feeling which puzzles him: in the scene between Zopire and Seide (III, 8), both men are troubled by a feeling of relationship which they cannot understand. Zopire, more and more interested in the young man, asks him:

Quel es-tu? de quel sang les dieux t'ont—ils fait naitre?

And Seide's answer is both significant and moving:

Je n'ai point de parents, seigneur, je n'ai qu'un maltre.

Mr. Clifton Cherpak has demonstrated that in this use of the cri du sang Voltaire did ranch more than repeat the conventional theme of classic tragedy. Here the call of the blood symbolizes the bonds of humanity from which Seide has been alienated: nJe n'ai point de parents..." It stands for the natural morality Voltaire wished to contrast with the dehumanized religious dogma which permits the fanatic to commit acts he would otherwise abhor. The merit of the character­ ization of Seide lies in the conflict of these two forces.

Despite the interest in the characters we have discussed, the

center of the stage in Mahomet i3 occupied by the figures of Zopire

and of the prophet, and the fundamental meaning of the tragedy is

embodied in the conflict between these two personalities. Both stand

out as representatives of two antagonistic philosophies, and although

they thus lose some of the humanity of great dramatic characterization,

they also gain a power and a stature which can only be described as

heroic.

ferhe Call of the Blood in French Classical Tragedy. Baltimore, Johns Hopkins Press, 1958, pp. 110-115. Notice also in this scene how Voltaire, through the repetition of the word sang in different senses raises it to the level of a poetic image. 25

Zopire belongs to a type vhich Voltaire loved to create. He is much like Lusignan, old, sturdy, faithful to his religion. Like

Alvarez in Alzire. he prefers humanity to dogma, and is constantly the symbol of the values which Voltaire wishes to contrast with the hypocrisy of his protagonist.

There is enough of contradiction in the character of Zopire to prevent our considering him a stock creation. In the first act of the tragedy, there is even the possibility of his developing into

a villain. His intransigeance towards Mahomet, apparently, is the

only barrier to peace. He speaks with a pride which is Cornelian:

Qui? mol, baisser les yeux devant ses faux prodiges, Moi, da ce fanatique encenser les prestigesI L'honorer dans la Mecque apr^s I 1avoir bannii

At this point, the spectator is unable to tell whether Zopire*s wrath

is justified, or whether it is motivated only by his personal feelings

toward Mahomet, who has killed Zopire*s wife and children. In the same

scene, after Phanor counsels the old man that in his slave, Palmlre,

he has a prize which can win the Prophet* s favor, the depth of the

characterization begins to appear. Zopire Is sickened by the idea of

giving his beautiful captive to the impostor; too old for love himself,

he is nevertheless aware of the girl's beauty:

Ce n'est pas qu'a mon age, aux bornes de ma vie, Je porte a Mahomet une honteuse envie; Ce coeur triste et fletri, que les ans ont glace, Ne peut sentir les feux d'un desir insense.

An inexplicable force seems to draw him to this girl, and makes the

idea of U3ing her as a bribe horrible to him. 26

Unable to win Palmira over from her loyalty to her former master, Zopire receives the embassy of Omar with the same haughty spirit which has marked his character in the preceding scenes of the first act.

He withstands flattery, threats, promises of advantage. For him

Mahomet is no more than what he had been before his exile, nde chameaux un grossler conducteur," He recognizes Mahomet's native worth, but feels it has been corrupted by his ambition: "S'il etait vertueux, c'est un heros peut-etre." Zopire sees through the promises of peace, and at the end of the act i3 determined to "DelivTer d'un tyran ma patris et le monde."

The confrontation of the Sherif and Mahomet takes place in the fifth scene of the second act, Zopire accuses the Prophet of sowing crimes and civil discord, of using the truce only to further his own plans, Mahomet speaks of his ambition to bring Arabia to the status of the once powerful empires of Egypt azxl Greece, but the old man is only disgusted by his enemy's pretensions of changing the face of the world. When Mahomet attempts to win the Sherif by revealing to him that his children still live, and that he can recover them by helping the Prophet, Zopire's answer is that of the idealist who overcomes his natural emotions only with effort:

Mahomet, je suis pere, et je porte un coeur tendre, Apres quinze ans d 1 ennuis, retrouver me3 enfants, Les revoir, et mourir dans leurs embrassement3 , C'est le premier des fcdens pour mon ame attendrie: Mala s’il faut a ton culte asservir ma pa trie, Ou de ma propre "lain les immoler tous deux; Connais-moi, Mahomet, mon choix n'est pas douteux. 27

In his interviews with Seide, Zopire reveals more of his virtues. He is generous, extending hospitality and protection to the young man who is only a hostage in the town. His wisdom is expressed in rather sententious fashion, and the characterisation suffers some­ what from the fact that Zopire acts more as Voltaire1s instrument for the expression of his own ideas rather than as a human being,

Zopire defends tolerance and recognizes the merits on the side of his enemies. He agrees that Seide is bound to Mahomet by the ties of gratitude, and only regrets that it was the Prophet who should have been the young man's benefactor. Only Omar's arrival prevents the older man from winning Seide over completely.

The murder of the Sherif dominates the entire fourth act of the tragedy. In the fourth scene of this act, we see Zopire praying at the idol of his false gods. As he implores for a chance to find his children again, we see Seide and Palmire preparing themselves to murder the man who, unknown to them, is their father. Like those of the elder Crebillon, Voltaire's Immediate predecessor, the scene sins in the direction of theatricality. The dramatic irony is too forced, too artificial to make any lasting effect, aih the poet comes close to the sentimental and the melodramatic. But the character of Zopire approaches, despite these handicaps, a tragic level. The poet has been wise enough to temper his language somewhat, using a simplicity of diction which is affecting:

Le ciel voulut meler, dan3 les maux qu'il m'envoie, Le comble des horreurs au comble de la joie. Je benis mon destin; je meurs, mais vous vivez. 28

It is on this note of selfless love that Zopire leaves the stage. He goes off to save from the barbarity of Mahomet

Mes deux enfants que j1alme, et qui m'otent la vie.

It was on the character of Mahomet that Voltaire lavished his greatest care, developing, polishing, rewriting, weighing carefully each speech and each action. Paradoxically, in the sense of the eighteenth century, Mahomet was not the interesting role; he does not win the audience's sympathy. He cannot be called either hero or protagonist, since such an interpretation would distort the poet13 intent. And yet he looms large in every scene, and is constantly present either physically, or in the thoughts of the persons on stage, now at the center of attention, now lurking in the background to over­ hear the conversation and use it to his advantage. He lives, in a way, of his own life and energy, unlike the pale figures of Seide and

Palmire, more so even than the somewhat stereotyped Zopire. A distor­ tion of the historical Prophet, a 3atire pushed to such an extreme that it borders on caricature, dangerously close, as every great figure of drama is, to the obscure line which in the eighteenth century divided the comic from the tragic, Mahomet nevertheless stands as Voltaire's most successful creation for the stage.

Voltaire probably followed Moliere's Tartuffe in his late introduction of his central figure. Mahomet’s entrance on stage is delayed until the second act, and we see him first through the opinions of those who know him. We hear Zopire declare him to be a fraud, an impostor, a hypocrite. The innocent Palmire recites her adoration of 29 the man whom ahe identifies with God. Omar presents his master as a man of genius and destiny, ordained to create a new order in the world, and rising above distinctions of class.

The first speech of Mahomet is written in the heroic vein.

He is the man who "acts, speaks, punishes and pardons as a god":

Invincibles soutiens de mon pouvoir supreme, Noble et sublime Ali, Morad, Hercide, Armon, Retouraez vers ce peuple, in3truisez-le en mon nom; Promettez, menacezj que la verite r⪈ Qu’on adore mon dieu, mais surtout qu'on le craigne.

He rebukes Seide for having anticipated his commands:

Qui fait plus qu’il ne doit ne sait point me servir.

And he intimidates Palmire, by telling her that he can read her heart.

But once alone with Omar, he reveals to his most faithful

follower his secret nature. And as his language in public reveals

the vastness of his designs, hi3 conversation with Omar testifies to

an evil which is just as heroic in its proportions. Mahomet may seek

to deceive the universe, but he doe3 not hide his own motives from

himself. He is in Mecca only to profit from the superstition that a

king would be received in that city. He tells Omar that Seide and

Palmire are his greatest enemies, partly because they are the children

of Zopire, partly because they are in love, and he thus finds his one

reward, his own love for the slave girl, blocked. He reveals to his

comrade the secret contradictions of his character:

Tu sais assez quel sentiment vainqueur Parrai mes pas3ion3 r&gne au fond de mon coeur. Charge du soin du monde, environne d'alarnes, Je porte l'encensoir, et le sceptre, et les armes: Ma vie est un combat, et ma frugalite : 3 0 Asservit la nature a mon austerite: J'al bannl loin de moi cette ligueur traltresse Qui nourrit des humains la brutale mollesse: Dans des sables brulants, sur des rochers deserts, Je supports avec toi l'inclemence des airs: L 1amour seul me console; 11 est ma recompense, L'objet de mes travaux, l'idole que j'encense, Le dieu de Mahomet,..

Perhaps modem critics have insisted too much on the distortions of this role. The portrait of Mahomet here is the one which Voltaire found in the histories of his time. And he was wise enough to recognise here the makings of a great dramatic character. The admirable combined with the base, courage wedded to lust, these mutually contra­ dictory traits are the center of Voltaire's Mahomet, Although lacking the qualities of a hero, his character is drawn on the heroic scale, somewhat like Satan, in Milton's Paradise Lost. The fallen angel in

Milton's epic was led by pride to revolt against the divinity. Mahomet, governed by ambition, has banished human tenderness and has sought to bring nature under the sway of his austerity. The love which is his god is too selfish, too Inhuman to serve as any type of salvation.

In the meeting with Zopire, Mahomet reveals the vast plans which he has conceived. His speeches constantly strike the epic note:

Si j'avals \ repondre a d'autres qu'a Zopire, Je ne ferais parler que le dieu qui m'inspire; Le glaive et 1'Alcoran, dans mes sanglantes mains, Imposeraient silence au reste des humains.

But this bombastic expression is somehow fitting in the character of

Mahomet, who was known in his own time for his ability to persuade the

people. Voltaire's Prophet Is an orator who uses language as a weapon.

After the pompous beginning, he changes tone cunningly: 31

Mais je te parle en hamme, et sane rien deguisar; Je me sens assez grand pour ne pas t'abuser. Vois quel est Mahomet: nous sommes seals; ecoute...

He sketches his plan to bring Arabia to the power once held by the

Egyptians and the Greeks, and when Zopire challenges him to say by what right he pretends to change the world, he answers:

Le droit qu'un esprit vaste, et ferme en ses desseins, A sur 1'esprit grossier des vulgalres humains.

Unable to convince Zopire to join his party, learning of the

Sherif1s plan to execute him, Mahomet accepts the suggestion that he must kill Zopire, and that Seide is the best choice to carry out the task. He decides to act on the basis of his hatred for Seide, his desire to avenge the son killed by Zopire. And we learn what are the

true gods of Mahomet when he tells Omar:

Allons, consultons bien mon interet, ma haine, L'amour, l'indigne amour, qui malgre moi m'entrains, Et la religion, a qui tout est soumis, Et la necessite, par qui tout est permis. (XI, 6) In Act III, Voltaire continued the development of the traits

we have discussed. The interview with Palmire (III, 3), shows Mahomet's mastery of psychology in dominating his followers* He chooses Seide

for the murder of Zopire on the basis of fatality:

...il est ne pour le crime: Qu'il en 3oit 1'instrument, qu'il en soit la victims. Ma vengeance, mes feux, ma loi, ma surete, L'Irrevocable arret de la fatalite, Tout le veut.... (Ill, 5) The scene with Seide again demonstrates Mahomet’s cunning.

In Act IV, Mahomet*3 rebellion against nature is brought again 32 to the fore. He asks Omar to hide from Palmire the secret of her birth, because

On n ’a point de parents alors qu'on les ignore. Les cris du sang, sa force, et 3es impressions, Des coeurs toujours trompes sont les illusions. La nature a mes yeux n'est rien que 1'habitude...

At this point, the parallel with the role Zopire becomes evident.

The two men are moving on the same line, but in opposite directions,

Zopire towards a faith in the gods, in the bonds of humanity, Mahomet towards the dehumanized goals of his ambition.

The final act of the tragedy brings to the stage Mahomet's triumph and his destruction. He dominates the action completely.

Palmire and Seide are aware of his imposture, but are impotent to bring him to justice. Seide1a death by poison serves as the "faux miracle" through which Mahomet re-establishes his power over the people.

Zopire, his greatest enemy, is dead. Palmire, to use the phrase that suggests itself, is in his power. But Palmire commits suicide, the escape of the weak:

Je meurs. Je cesse de te voir, imposteur execrable. Je me flatte, en mourant, qu'un Dieu plus equitable Reserve un avenir pour les coeurs innocents. Tu dois regner; le monde est fait pour les tyrans.

And Mahomet, at the very moment of his victory, is made aware that the

moral universe which he had attempted to ignore exists:

II est done des remordsl o fureurl c justicel Mes forfaits dans mon coeur ont done mis mon supplicel

In some twenty lines, with tremendous economy, Voltaire succeeded in

expressing the shame, the horror, which serve as Mahomet's punishment. 33

Unable to deceive himself as he has deceived the world, he can only appeal to Omar to hide his weakness.

Je dois regir en dieu 1'univers prevenu; Mon empire est detruit si l'homme e3t reconnu.

How successful is Mahomet as a tragedy? In our discussion of

the work's merits, we have attempted to point out some of its serious

shortcomings. Voltaire's taste was to a large extent the standard of

his time, but in practice, it sometimes betrayed him. Too often he

is less tragic than sentimental, cr melodramatic. His feeling for his

characters falls far short of that of Racine, or of Corneille.

Nevertheless, in the central figure Voltaire was able to create

a character of surprising diversity, considering the limitations of

practice of his time. More important, in Mahomet he conceived a type

of philosophical tragedy which was certainly rare in France before.

Too often critics have described this play as a pl^ce de combat; it

is that, but it is also much more. Beyond the topical attacks on

intolerance, there lies a conviction that natural law exists, that

humanity does have, in Its instincts and in its social ties, a guide for

its behavior. This is a serious theme, and one which Voltaire expressed

convincingly. Here lies, perhaps, the tragedy's appeal, which won the

attention of his own nation, and which led the great Goethe to trans­

late the play. Mahomet points the way, not only to the romantic drama

of Hugo, but also to the philosophical tragedy developed by Schiller. CHAPTER III

THE THEMES OF FANATICISM AND THE IMPOSTOR IN

THE WORKS OF VOLTAIRE BEFORE MAHOMET

One of the characteristics of Voltaire's literary production is the continuity of his chief preoccupations over a period of a half century of activity. He constantly reworked ideas and materials, using in a later tragedy scenes which had first appeared in the unsuc­ cessful Eriphyle. and recasting the schema of his Scarmentado into the form of his masterpiece, Candida. Mahomet is no exception to this general practice. Although we shall attempt to date its genesis as

1739, we must remember that the themes of the tragedy had appeared earlier in Voltaire’s works. This is not surprising. Mahomet is a gripping work of art because it contains many of the major concerns which were at the center of Voltaire's thought. The picture of the dangers of intolerance and of fanaticism, the towering figure of

Mahomet, the impostor who has set out to deceive the universe, the

contrasting figure of Zopire, who represents man governed by natural morality, and Seide, who allows his natural instincts to be perverted

by self-interest and supernatural beliefs are convincing because of

Voltaire's interest in the problems involved.

3A 35

Voltaire's awareness of intolerance is easily understood when one recalls the situation which existed in France during his youth.

The late days of the reign of Louis XIV had been marked with increasing demands for religious conformity. The Edict of Nantes in 1685 had exiled those Protestants who were unwilling to accept the domination of the Catholic Church. The tone of the Court, which served as a model of behavior for the capital and the rest of the nation, grew progressively more somber and austere. Intellectually, Voltaire became aware early in his life of the bad effects of these changes on

the life of the nation.

Another factor, much closer personally to the future author

of Zaire and Mahomet, affected his attitude towards matters of religion.

The young Arouet was reared in a family of Parisian bourgeois who had

adopted the. teachings of Jansenism. Although this sect had been

badly hurt by the publication of the Bull Unigenitus and by the destruc­

tion of Port-Royal in the early year3 of the eighteenth century, it

remained an active influence on the lives of the French, and especially

on those closely related to the law. Rene Pomeau has distinguished

three types of Jansenism which existed in those years, "le jansenisme

ascetique des Solitaires... le jansenisme extravagant des convulsion-

naires... et ce qu'on pourrait appeler le jansenisme bourgeois..."

Although Voltaire grew up in the atmosphere of the last-mentionned

form, he undoubtedly resented its dulling and saddening effect on his

•*-La Religion de Voltaire. Paris, Nizet, 1956, p. 26 . 36

life. His relationships with his elder brother Armand were embittered by Armand's belief in this stern faith. As we shall see in our discussion, the poet would never miss an apportunity to attack the

practices of the Jansenists. Because of his temperament, because of

his education by the more human Jesuits, because of his exposure to

the free thought of Parisian noble society, Voltaire could never

accept a religion which emphasized austerity, sacrifice, and gloom.

As K. Pomeau says:

C'est a lui [le Jansenisme^ qu'il en a quand 11 s'en prend a ce qu'il appelle "le faux zele", "la super­ stition", "le fanatiame."^

Thus Voltaire's war against intolerance began early, and in

order to situate Mahomet in the development of the poet's treatment

of the problem, we must pass in review some of his earlier works which

expressed the same preoccupation.

All students of Voltaire are aware that from the beginning of

his career he had cast his barbs at the tyranny of priests. His first

important dramatic production, OS dine. which appeared at the Comedie-

Frangaise in 1718 was marked by isolated verses which embodied an

astonishing libertinism:

Nos pretres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense, Notre credulite fait toute leur s c i e n c e . 3

Already, Voltaire had taken the path of anti-religious propaganda which

2Ibid., p. 27.

3i!oland, II, 93. 37 would constitute a major part of the "didactic" element of his works.

The culmination of these attacks on intolerance and fanaticism in this early period of his productivity was undoubtedly the Henriade. The choice of Henri IV as hero of his epic was in itself an indication of the poet's intentions. La Harpe has pointed out:

C'est dans la Henriade qu'il declara a la tyrannie, aux prejuges, au fanatisme, cette haine inexorable, cette guerre genereuse qui n 'admit jamais ni traite, ni treve, et qui n'a eu de terme qua celui de sa vie.4-

In this poem, neglected today but considered in its time the only great epic France had produced, Voltaire drew a picture of fanaticism, of the results of this vice, and of the effects of two impostors which are 3tikingly similar to the later tragedy, Mahomet.

In one of the allegorical developments of the Henriade. the poet described fanaticism as an

Enfant denature de la Religion, Anne pour la defendre, il cherche a la detruire, Et regu dans son sein, l'embrasse at la decnire.-'1

This description, however, has a significance much more than that of mere allegory, for it insists on the unnatural quality of fanaticism,

and of the excesses to which it leads. The same theme runs through

the speeches of Henri when he is explaining to the English queen,

Elisabeth, the state of affairs in his homeland. First, he sees evil

on the side of both Protestants and Catholics, and second, the effects

of fanaticism, which are alway3 the same.

^Quoted by Georges Ascoli, "Voltaire," Revue des cours et conferences. ZXV^, 130

Poland, VIII, 135. 38

J'ai vu des deux cotes la f our be et la fureur; Et si la perfidie est fille de l'erreur, Si dans les differends ou l 1Europe se plonge, La trahison, le meurtre est le sceau du mensonge, L'un et 1'autre parti, cruel egalement, ^ Ainsi que dans le crime est dans 1'aveuglement.

In this passage we have a balance, a parallelism which, I believe, is more important than a mere literary device. "Fourbe" is one face of fanaticism; ''fureur" is the dher. The parallel continues with

"perfidie” balanced by "erreur," "crime” by "aveuglement". This procedure is more than mere rhetoric; it is the form which expresses best Voltaire's conviction that fanaticism is a mixture of trickery

and belief, of cold calculation and faith. On the one hand we have

"ces chefs ambitieux" who "couvrant leurs interets de l'interet des

deux" lead their people into the trap of inhuman action. On the

ether hand, we have the people themselves, of whom Henri says to

Elisabeth:

Vous connaissez le peuple, et savez ce qu'il ose Quand du ciel outrage pensant venger la cause* Les yeux ceints du bandeau de la religion....

In this long dialogue, the leaders of the people, who profit from their

followers' blindness to further their private ends, are the counter­

parts of Mahomet; the people, slaughtering one another to avenge the

heavens, prefigure Seide. The terms which Henri uses to condemn

fanaticism might well describe the actions of Mahomet himself:

Poland, VIII, 66 .

7Ibld.. 67

8Ibid. 39

Et perisse a jamais l'affreuse politique, Qui pretend sur les coeurs un pouvoir despotique, Qui veut, le fer en main, convertir les mortels, Qui du sang heretique arrose les autels Et, suivant un faux zele, ou l'interet, pour guides, Ne sert un Dieu de paix que par des homicides19

The parallels here to the later tragedy are too interesting not to mention. Certainly Mahomet’s sin in Voltaire's eyes is that he used his genius, the force of his character to reign over the hearts of his converts* Historically, Mohammed was the conqueror who preached his creed "le fer en main"; this similarity suggests that Voltaire chose the Prophet as the subject of a tragedy because of his own preconceived interest in such a figure. When we remember that Zopire is murdered before an altar, the verse "Qui du sang heretique arrose les autels" takes on greater significance. Finally Seide, who kills his bene­ factor, is certainly guided by "un faux zele ou l'interet." Many critics have mentioned how much Voltaire was given to rewriting his own work, using again and again the same material. This, however, may well serve to show that the poet did not necessarily rewrite because of lack of invention. Rather he seems to have been dominated by certain images, perhaps those he had gathered from his conversations with persohs who had seer, the events of the previous century, and these images - a father slain by his son, a brother killing his brother because of religious differences - were so vivid that they returned time and time again in his writings.

There are two characters in the Henriade whom we might consider

^Ibid. 40 as previous incarnations of the impostor who serves as the hero of

Mahomet, They are Mayenne, "la premiere figure de I1imposteur, and Pope Sixtus. In many ways they resemble Voltaire's conception of the Prophet.

Mayenne, chief of the League, is the political leader who knows how to use the weakness of his followers to his advantage.

II salt combien le peuple, avec soumission, Confond le fanatisme et la religion, II connait ce grand art, aux princes necessaires, De nourrir la faiblesse et l'erreur du vulgaire.

The portrait of this political leader is of the same heroic dimensions as that of Mahomet:

Mayenne a, je l'avoue, un courage heroTque; II salt, par une heureuse et sage politique, Reunir sous ses lois mille esprits differents, Ennemis de leur maatre, esclaves des tyrans: II connait leurs talents, il sait en faire usage; Souvent du malheur il tire un avantage. ^

Mayenne is the Renaissance ideal of the Prince, the leader with courage and energy, who is intelligent in combining circumstances for his own advantage. Two scenes in Mahomet portray the same qualities. Upon his first appearance (II, 3) the Prophet addresses his chief disci­ ples:

Invincibles soutiens de mon pouvoir supreme, Noble et sublime Ali, Korad, Hercide, Anmon, Retournez vers ce peuple, instruisez-le en mon nom.

■^Pomeau, La Religion de Voltaire, p. 106.

n Koland, VIII, 121.

^Poland, VIII, loo. a

And in the final act, we remember that Mahomet acts with the cleverness of the opportunist to turn misfortune into profit.

As with Mahomet, there is something lacking in Mayenne. He is intelligent, but egoistic. He uses people for his own purposes. He sacrifices natural, altruistic virtues to his ambition, and in so doing, lo3es his humanity.

If Mayenne is the precursor of Mahomet, the political chief,

Pope Sixtus in the Henriade. plays the role of the religious leader.

The portrait of this prince of the Church is more satirical than that of Mayenne. Sixtus, the poet writes, can be considered a great king if to be worthy of that title "il suffit d'etre faux, austere, et redoute.” (Moland, VIII, 11A). He has won his position by "quinze ans d*artifices." Hiding both virtues and vices, he has spread the corruption of hi3 political desires throughout the Vatican:

Sous le puissant abri de son bras despotique, Au fond du Vatican regnait la Politique, Fille de l'interet et de 1'Ambition, Dont naquirent la Frauds et la Seduction.

Le Kensonge subtil qui conduit ses discours, De la Verite meme ompruntant le secours, Du sceau du Dieu vivant empreint ses impostures...

Sixtus is an important character for the purposes of this

study, for he forms a link between Mahomet and Tartuffe, Moliere's

great comic creation of the impostor. In Voltaire's epic, the

characterization keeps some of its comic element. It is bitter comedy

to speak of the pope as a man who "sut cacher quinze ans ses vertus et

13Ibjd.. p. 115. 3es vices,” but it is comedy nevertheless. The juxtaposition in this

portrait of the adjectives ’’faux" and "austere” call to mind Moliere's hypocrite, who in his first words spoken on the stage, instructs his

servant to put away his penitential hairshirt ana discipline.

Voltaire's satire, in the Henriade. reaches heights of audacity when

he describes "le Mensonge subtil" which "du sceau du Dieu vivant

empreint ses impostures." Here he has caught the harsh truth which

forms a sinister undercurrent in Koli^re's play. In the tragedy, we

will witness yet another transformation in his treatment of this

material. The poet will omit the satire in an attempt to examine

seriously the consequences of imposture and fanaticism. Mahomet,

like Tartuffe, is a "faux devot”; but Voltaire views his imposture

from the tragic angle. Nevertheless, the line of development from

Tartuffe, through Sixtus, to Mahomet exists, and it was Voltaire him­

self who described his hero as "Tartuffe, les armes a la main."

The final character of the Henriade which we must study is

that of Jacques Clement, the assasin. V.:e shall see that in this

figure, Voltaire mixed the reactions of pity and horror which such a

man must inspire, and that his Clement is strikingly similar to the

later creation Seide.

Clement Is not an impostor, like Mayerne or Sixtus. He is

not a creator of evil, but the victim of it. First, as Voltaire

conceived the man, he has been perverted by his life as a monk.

Living without the natural contacts of mankind (just as Seide was

reared without parents), he is more susceptible to the taint of 43 fanaticism. Second, he is further deceived by a dream which confirms his own decision to murder his king. Guise, the leader of the nobles, who had been killed at Henri Ill's orders, appears to the monk in his vision:

Cours, vole, et que ta main, dans le sang consnere, Delivrant les Frangais de leur indigne roi, Venge Paris, et Rome, et 1 ’uni vers, et moi.-^+

In exactly the 3ame way, Seide, at the moment of decision, takes refuge in a world of hallucination and signs:

Marchons. Ne vois-tu pas dans ces demeures sombres Ces traits de sang, ce spectre, et ces errantes ombres?

Du prophete de DIeu la voix se fait entendre... ^

Seide, obsessed by the orders of the man he considers the Prophet of

God, and Clement, caught up in the grand abstractions of "Paris, Rome,

1'univers", are both seduced into forgetting the essential nature of

the actions they are planning.

The dream of Clement continues with Guise absolving the monk

of any guilt:

Mais du nom d'assasin ne prends aucun effroi; Ce qui fut crime pour lui sera vertu dans toi. Tout devient legitime a qui venge l'Eglise: ^ Le meurtre est juste alor3, et le ciel 1 1 autorise...

Here the vision serves as the mouthpiece of fanaticism. Clement, like

Seide, is contemplating an unnatural crime: the former plans to kill

^Roland, VIII, 137.

15Ibld.. IV, 149.

l6Ibld.. VIII, 137. u hia king, the latter, although unknowingly, his father. Both men, however, are less guilty, in Voltaire's opinion, than those who deceived them. In the case of Clement, the deception is carried out through the agency of a dream. This vision is taken both as a psychological phenomenon caused by the monk's unnatural life, and as an example of the small faith Voltaire would place in supernatural visitation. Seide is seduced by Mahomet, who works both on his credulity and on his desire to marry Pal mire. The attitude of the poet towards the two murderers is one of pity mixed with horror.

Speaking of Clement, he writes:

Aveuglement terrible, affreuse illusion! Digne a la fois d'horreur et de compassion, Et de la mort du roi moins cocpable peut-etre Que ces laches docteurs, ennemis de leur maitre, Dont la voix, repandant un funeste poison, D'un faible solitaire egare la raison!

Here the villains are the doctors of the Gorbonne who spread the poison of fanaticism; in Mahomet it is the Prophet who must bear the guilt of leading an innocent man to a horrible crime. But in both cases,

Voltaire indicts all those who use religious beliefs to further their own purposes.

In Its preaching of tolerance, in the characters of Mayennc and Pope 3ixtu3, the impostors, and of Clement, the misguided fanatic, the Henriade stands as a orecursor of Mahomet. Already, in 1723, the major themes of the later tragedy had found their expression, this

17Moland, VIII, L'*A. 4-5 time in epic form. The problems involved had been recognized to a large extent, and the poet might have been writing of Mahomet, when he penned the lines:

Le fanatique aveugle et le chretien sincere Ont porte trop souvent le meme caractere: Ils ont meme courage, ils ont m&aes desirs. Le crime a ses heros, l ’erreur a ees martyrs: Du vrai zele et du faux vains juges que nous sommes! 3 Souvent des scelerats ressemblent aux grands hommes.

Voltaire continued to treat the subject of religious belief in the Epltre a Uranie whose exact date of composition is difficult to establish. Professor Ira 0. V/ade in his study of the poem has produced evidence to support the claim of Jean-daptiste Rousseau that the epistle wa3 first circulated during Voltaire's journey to Holland 19 with Mme de Ruppelmonde in 1722. This early version, which Rousseau knew under the title of Bpltre a Julie, was probably even more daring in it3 spirit of libertinism-than the reworking which has come down to us. It represented an attempt on the part of the young pnilosopher- poet to reconcile the epicurean point of view which he 3hared with the members of the Temple and the longings for immortality which are 0n coimon to all men.- It serves as another revelation of the author1s concept of true religion, and of its opposite, fanaticism.

The epistle begins with a statement of tho purpose of the poem.

l8Moland, VIII, 139.

^ MThe 1 Epltre a Uranie*n, Publications of the Modern Language Association. XLVII (1932), 1073.

20Ibid., p. 1074 fT. 46

Urania (supposedly Mme de Ruppelmonde, hi3 companion on the trip to

Holland) ha3 told the poet of her own doubts on the question of religion, and has asked him to reveal to her his vieV3.

Tu veux done, belle Uranie, Qu'erige par ton ordre en Lucrece nouveau, Devant toi, d'une main hardie, Aux superstitions j’arrache le bandeau; Que j'exp 0 3 e a tes^yeux le dangereux tableau Des mensonges sacres dont la terre est remplie...

The attitude that Voltaire has chosen is obviously that of the free thinker, who wishes to combat the superstitions which have filled the earth. For him the revelations of the Bible can only be described as

"mensonges sacres."

The poet proceeds to disclaim any intention of blasphemy'; instead he desires to enter "d'un pas respectueux,"

Les profondeurs du sanctuaire 22 Du Dieu qu'on nous annonce et qu'on cache a nos yeux.

There follows an antithesis between the God Voltaire would believe in, and the one presented by conventional religion. Where the poet would seek in the divinity a benevolent father, the church shows him a hate­ ful tyrant. The God of the Bible, and especially of the Old Testament,

is capable of irrational acts which we would disapprove in a human

being (Moland, IX, 359):

II crea des humains a lui-meme semblables, Afin de les mieux ravilir; II nous donna des coeurs coupables, Pour avoir droit de nous punir;

21Moland, IX, 358-359.

22Ibid.. p. 359. II nou3 fit aimer le plaisir, Pour nous mieux tourmenter par des maux effroyables. This concept of a despotic divinity which the young poet rejected, and which he was to continue attacking during his lifetime, is the Janscnist 23 God. Professor Vade has shown that in the period during which the ideas of this epistle were beginning to take form in Voltaire'3 mind, he had read many works on theology, especially the poem on Grace by Louis Racine. These readings, added to the family background which we have already discussed, probably increased the violence of his reaction to this conception of God. Opposed to it is the gentler epicurean belief, expressed in the verse, "il nous fit aimer le plaisir" this recognition of pleasure as one of the instinctual guides towards good will remain as one of the foundations of Voltaire's religious

creed. The epistle continues with an attack on the Jews. Voltaire expresses mock bewilderment at the idea that the divinity, the creator of the universe, should suffer himself to be bom into "un peuple obscur, imbecile, volage," "l'eternel mepris des autres nations."

(Moland, IX, 360 ) The offensive anti-Semiticism of the passage hides the poet's real purpose. For tho Christian apologist, the testimony

of the Hebrew prophets had always been a strong argument In favor of their religion. Here Voltaire casts doubt on such testimony. He

insists, as he did later in his Biblical criticism, on the obscurity of the Jews historically. The apparent anti-Semitism of the epistle

2>Jade, op. cit.. p. 1076. 48 is only one arm of Voltaire's attack on Christian orthodoxy, end on the Old Testament.

Voltaire scorns the paradoxical picture of the Savior, leading a human life, laboring as a carpenter, preaching to an unknown tribe, and then allowing himself to suffer "le dernier supplies." But an even greater paradox is to follow. This God who sacrifices himself to save his creation, man, dies without achieving his aim (Poland, IX,

360):

Quoll Dieu voulut mourir pour le salut de tous, Et son trepas est inutile 1

Cancelling his earlier clemency, the Savior rises to the Heavens only to wipe out his deed.

Ayant verse son sang pour expier no3 crimes, II nous punit de ceux que nous n'avons point faitsl

This concept of God is clearly that of Jansenists, a despot who punishes man for defects which are part of his nature, and even for those of his ancestors. A greater argument enters the poet's mind. How can we believe, he asks, that the many people who through an accident of birth are ignorant of the Christ are eternally doomed? He develops here an Idea which was to serve as the center of the tragedy Alaire:

Ameriqae, vastes contrees, Peuples que Dieu fit naltre aux portes du soleil, Vous, nations hyperborees, Que l’erreur entretient dans un si long sommeil, Serea-vous pour jamais a sa fureur livrees Pour n'avoir pas su qu'autrefois, Dans un autre hemisphere, au fond de la Syrie^ Le fils d ’un charpentier, enfante par Marie, Fenie par Cephas, expira sur la croix?24

^Molund, IX, 360-361. 49 This is the concept of God which, in Voltaire's opinion, is announced fcy the Church* To contrast with it he paints the Christ standing triumphant against death, proclaimed by "la voix des oracles." This Christ is not only a fitting incarnation of God; he serves as an example of humanity as well.

Ses examples sont saint3 , sa morale est divine; II console en secret les coeurs qu'il illumine; Dans les plus grands malheurs il leur offre un appui; Et si sur 1'imposture il fonde sa doctrine, C'est un bonheur encore d'etre trompe par lui.

Some might accuse Voltaire of having added this side of his epistle

to escape at least partially the accusation of atheism. He seems, however, to have been sincere in this statement of his half-skeptical

acceptance of Christ as a teacher. Voltaire, the rationalist, found

it difficult to accept the divinity of Christ, as he did the voices

of Jeanne d'Arc and the mission of Mohammed. But at least he prefered

this human figure who consoles in secret to the cruel God of the Jansenists, who could only punish. In this early document, we find in embryo the ideas of humanity which Voltaire was to develop in his

later works, at the expense of religious dogma. In 1732 Voltaire changed direction as a writer and thinker. Before that time he had been best known as the author of satires and light society verse, and as the creator of two works of imagination, CEdipe. arri the Henriade. Although both of these productions had been

characterized by sharp expressions of the new philosophy, Voltaire's

^ I b i d . , p. 3wl. reputation was much more that of the literary man than that of the philosopher. The experience with Rohan-Chabot, the exile to England, and his increased contact with the free thought of that nation served to deepen his concern with problems upon which he had touched only lightly before. Moreover, his studies of history were becoming more profound. These interests had already guided his choice of the subject of the Henriade; now they found expression in his Hlstoire de

Charles XII. Further, his stay at Cirey, beginning in 1733, in "the company of the intellectual Mmo du Chatelet allowed him more time for reflection. In the preceding year, 3732, he wrote a small Ode sur le

Fanatisme which stands as an intermediate point between the ideas the poet has expressed in his epic and in the Enltre a Uranie and his treatment of the problem in Mahomet.

The ode is dedicated to Mme du Chatelet, the Mivine Emilie", who represented for Voltaire the virtues of study and reflection.

Emilie, the poet writes, knows God from her acquaintance with philo­

sophy. Her religion is sound and true. She has avoided the tempta­

tions of atheism, but also, he says,

Tu sers la justice eternelle, Sans l'acrete de ce faux zfele , De tant de devots malfaisants.

In his description of fanaticism, Voltaire returns to the

allegory of the Henriade: although born of religion, it serves to drive

men away from true worship (inland, VIII, 128):

26Moland, VIII, 127. 51 Ce Fanatisme sacrilege Est sorti du sein de3 autels; II les profane, il les as3iege, II en ecarte les mortels. The poet attacks fanaticism by refuting one of Its favorite arguments. He states that the atheist can be a man of virtue, and cites as examples Spinoza and Des Barreaux. The atheist excites Voltaire's pity rather than his hatred; he Is like a man "who

nierait 1 *utile existence De l'astre qui brille a mes yeux. Here Voltaire's argument for the existence of God is one of usefulness* A divinity is necessary for our own comfort. More than once Voltaire was to say, as he did In the Epitre a l1auteur des trois imposteurs. that if God did not exist, man must invent him* While the atheist, in the poet’s view, may be a virtuous citizen, the fanatic has nothing to recommend him. His fault is not the negative one of being ignorant of the existence of God; it is the more serious evil of perverting the concept of the divinity (Moland,

VIII, 128): Grand Dieul c'est un moindre blaspheme, Et moins digne de ton courroux, Que de te croire impitoysble, De nos malheurs insatiable, Jaloux, injuste corame nous. The fanatic corrupts religion and ...dans sa piete profonde, Sa rage immolerait le monde, A son Dieu, qu’il ne connatt pas.

27Ibid., p. 128. 52 Unaware of the true nature of the God he worships, the fanatic re­ fashions the divinity in his own image, making Him cruel and unjust because man is cruel and unjust. This fault has led to various abuses of religion. The Inquisition, the poet tells us, forced Galileo to abjure a theory which later science established as the truth. The same blind faith had caused the Catholics to commit the atrocities of the Saint-Barthelemy (loc. cit.): Le fr^re est teint du sang du frere, Le fils assassine son pere, La femme egorge son epoux; Leurs br^s sont armea par des pretres... Man, Voltaire says, blinded by superstition, sacrifices not only truth, but also humanity. He warns the Jesuits and Jansenists not to re­ awaken these dangerous passions by their disputes. To the doctrinaire priest3 he points out an example of true religion, the bishop and commandant of Marseilles who during the plague aided their subjects at the risk of their own lives. For the poet, the truly religious person is not he who observes ritual, but the one who aids his fellow man (Moland, VIII, 4.30): Pour-, ihstruire la race humaine Faut-il perdre l'humanite? Faut-il le flambeau de la Haine Pour nous montrer la Verite? Un ignorant, qui de son fr^re Soulage en secret la misere, Est mon exemple de docteur; Et 1*esprit hautain qui dispute, ^ui condamne, qui persecute, K'est qu'un detestable imposteur.

^Cf. Mahomet. I, 1, MLes flambeaux de la haine entre nous allumes.11 53

With this conclusion, the Ode sur le Fanatisme looks backward to the

"docteurs de Sorbonne” ■whom Voltaire had accused in the Henriade of being guilty of the death of Henri IV, and ahead towards Mahomet, the greatest of the impostors, who committed the sin of sacrificing his humanity to his ambition.

Alzire. the tragedy which Voltaire began in 1733* introduced a new emphasis in his treatment of religion. The Henriade had painted the repulsive nature of fanaticism, and the excesses to which it leads, and this attitude had dominated the goitre a Uranie and the

Ode sur le Fanatisme. In Alzire Voltaire attempted what amounted to an apology for true Christianity. If the character of Gusman tends to dominate the scenes in which he appears, that of his father,

Alvarez, is equally important. The 3on represents the Catholic grandee, motivated by his belief; his father represents a gentler faith, and is a predecessor of the figures of Lusignan, in and Zopire, in Mahomet.

Basically the theme of Alzire might be stated thus: the truly religious man is superior both to the fanatic, and to man living in

the natural state. The abuses of religion are due to the substitu­

tion of ritual for meaning, the emptying of religious belief of human values which give it life. This argument appears in the Discours

prellminaire:

La religion d'un barbare consiste a offrir a ses dieux le 3ang de ses ennemis. Un chretien mal instruit o'est souvent guere plus juste. Etre fidele a quelques pratiques inutiles, et infidele aux vrais devoirs de l'homme, faire 54

certaines prieres, et garder ses vices, jeuner mais hair; cabaler, persecuter, voile la religion.29

Alzire. like many of Voltaire’s tragedies, consists of the confrontation of two antithetical qualities. The contrasting elements of the tragedy might be called ” justice” and ’’mercy’1 (clemence). both basic to the Christian faith. Gusman embodies the first of these qualities, Alvarez, the second. In his zeal to be "just” Gusman falls into the sin of fanaticism and joins the characters and the other idealists of the Henriade. In his acts of Christian pity, Alvarez shows himself to be the spiritual kinsman of Voltaire’s hero, Henri IV.

Gusman's vices are those of his time and environment. He is a Spanish grandee, and Is guilty of the "haughtiness, pride, cruelty, and blind devotion to the Christian faith which have become part of our conception of that character. This trait is immediately apparent upon his entrance. He addresses his father:

Mais le reste du monde, esclave de la crainte, A besoin qu’on I ’opprime, et sert avec contrainte. Les dieux mem.es adores dans ces climats affreux, ^ S'ils ne sont teints de sang, n ’obtiennent point de voeux."'

This is the position of the conqueror. Disdainful of the religion of those he oppresses, Gusman governs only by fear. He goes farther.

To gain the conversion of the Americans, he f^els it legitimate to threaten trier, with death (Moland, III, 3 & 9 ) :

Ainsi le vent la loi; quitter I'idolatrie Est un titre en ces lieux pour meriter In vie;

2

30 Ibid.. 387. 55

A la religion gagnons-les a ce prix: Commandons aux coeurs memes, et forgone les esprits. De la nece33ite le pouvoir invincible Traine aux pieds de l'autel un courage inflexible. Je veux que ces mortels, esclaves de mes lois, Tremblent sous un seul Dieu comme sous un seul roi.

The philosophy of Gusman is not much different from that of the members of the League in the Henriade. nor from that of Mahomet.

One God, one king - these are the goals of Voltaire’s fanatics, and to obtain them, they are not afraid of resorting to the worst cru­ elties.

The reply of Alvarez is full of the common sense and humanity which, for the poet, represent the true nature of religion (Koland,

III, 3^9):

Mais les coeurs opprimes ne sont jamais soumis. J'en ai gagne plus d'un, je n'ai force personne. Et le vrai Dieu, mon fils, est un Dieu qui pardonne.

With this speech, the theme of pardon, of clemency, is introduced into the tragedy. Alvarez himself owes his life to an Indian chief who spared him when he was a captive. He begs his son to grant mercy to some Aztec prisoners who have been condemned to death. His attempt to marry- Gusman to Alzire seems almost an effort to humanize his son through his love for the Aztec princess.

Zamore, the Indien chief who has been captured byr Gusman, recognizes the difference between the older conquistador and the younger. He 3ays bo Alvarez (Koland, III, 399):

Mon pere, ahi si jamais ta nation cruelle Avait de tes vertus montre quelque etinceile, Crois-moi,* cet univers aujourd'hui desole t Au-devant de leur joug sans peine aurait vole. 56

Mais autant que ton ame est bienf aisante et pure, Autant leur cruaute fait frer.ir la nature...

Voltaire thus brought into Alzire one of the ^ -redoxes of history: that men who professed to love a kind God mould commit acts that cause Nature to shudder. But Zamore, the savage, is not immune to the contagion of fanaticism. If Gusman is passionately Christian, the Indian is equally zealous in the defense of his own religion.

He is perhaps superior to the Spaniard in that he is not blind to

the human problems involved. Ke remembers his debt of gratitude to

Alvarez, and the fact that Alzire, whom he loves, is bound to Gusman,

and to the Christian faith. Nevertheless, the tragic denouement of

the play is brought about by the conflict between the unyielding

fanaticism of Gusman etna Zamore.

When Zamore and Gusman meet and recognize one another, the

haughtiness of the Spaniard’s character is again revealed. He refuses

to answer Zamore1s accusations (Noland, III, All):

Repondre a ce rebelle, et daigner ro'avilir Jusqu'a le refuter, quand je le dois punirl

Again, when he learns that the Aztecs have formed a band which is

attacking the city, this disdain for his subjects appears. He addresses

his soldiers (Koland, III, A16):

Dans la poudre a 1'instant vous les verrez rentrer. Heros de la Castille, enfants de la victoire, Ce monde est fait pour vous; vous l'etes pour la gloire; Eux pour porter vos fers, vous craindre, et vous servir.

Thus the character of Gusman retains this trait of proud refusal to

accept defeat which reminds us of Zopire's description of Mahomet: 57

"S'il etait vertueux, c'est un heros peut^etre."

The Spaniards defeat the Aztecs and Gusman retains his power over his subjects. Alvarez appeals to his 3on to remember the demands of humanity. "Soyez homme et chretien," he says to the victorious conquistador. For Voltaire, humanity was a first 3tep to being

Christian.

Gusman is not unaffected by his father's appeal. He vacil­ lates, he recognizes the worth of Alvarez' arguments, and he is

3wayed by the force of the older man's convictions. But his unbending nature cannot accept the idea of forgiving Zamore; nor can he tolerate the fact that the Aztec, his inferior, is loved by Alzire (ioland,

III, A19):

Aimer, me repentir, etre reduit encore A l'horreur d'envier le destin de Zamore, D'un de ces vils mortels en Europe ignores, Qu'a peine du nom d'homme on aurait honores...

Although believing in a God who preached the brotherhood of man,

Gusman denies his kinship to the Indians he has come to conquer. The other side of this question, which we have seen was also raised in the Epitre Jj. Uranie. is expressed through the speech of Alzire in which she appeals to the God she has adopted:

Ne serais-tu le Dieu que d'un autre univers? Les seuls Europeans 3ont-ils nes pour te plaire? Fs-tu tyran d'un monde, et de 1 'autre le pere? Les vainqueurs, les vaincus, tous ces faibles humains, Sont tous egalenent l'ouvrage de tea mains.31

31Poland, III, A2S. These seemingly naive questions of a savage are Voltaire's attack on the fanatics of Europe who, in attempting to convert other men, had often lost the qualities of human beings.

The tragedy moves towards its close. Zamore hasattacked

Gusman in the presence of Alvarez, the father of the Spaniard, and the benefactor of the Indian. The council has condemned both Zamore and Alzire to death. Nothing, apparently, can prevent even greater bloodshed. Suddenly Gusman is carried onto the stage. He has been converted to his father's beliefs, and pardons both of the Aztecs

(Koland, III, A34-):

J'ai fait, jusqu'au moment qui me plonge au cercueil, Gemir l'humanite du poids de mon orgueil. Le ciel venge la terre: il est juste, et ma vie, Ne peut payer le sang dont ma main s'est rougie. Le bonheur m'aveugla, la mort m'a detrompe.

There i3 little of the supernatural in this conversion. Gusman has been enlightened by his own approaching death, by introspection, and by the example of his father; in other words, by human experience.

At any rate, in dying, he confesses the victory of his father's ideals

Songez que ma clemence a surpctsse mes crimes. Instruisez l'Amerique; a^prenez %. ses rois Que les chretiens sont nes pour leur donner des lois. Des Dieux que nous servons, connais la difference: Les tiens t'ont commande le meurtre et la vengeance; Et le mien, quand ton bras vient de m'assassiner, M'ordonne de te plaindre et de te p&rdonner*32

And this effort of Gusman in overcoming his own aeal lead3 Zamore to

confess the superiority of true religious insight over the highest

32Moland, III, A3A. 59 attainments of natural man:

Ahl la loi qui t'oblige a cet effort supreme, Je commence a le croire, est la loi d'un Dieu meme. J'ai connu 1'amitie, la constance, la foi, Mais tant de grandeur d'ame est au-dessus de moi.-^

Alzire represents an important step in the evolution of

Voltaire's treatment of fanaticism. Heretofore, his expressions concerning the matter in his tragedies were limited to isolated verses which are best characterized as skeptical. In Alzire. the entire tragedy turns on the question of what constitutes true religious belief.

Second, perhaps because of the traditionally conservative nature of the stage, the treatment of fanaticism in Alzire is less an attack than an effort to distinguish the negative effects of religion from the positive. It was easy for Voltaire to circulate his poems to an audience which shared his opinions; It was far more difficult to gain a hearing for such opinions at the Gomedie^Frangaise. Added to this consideration, the fact that the audiences of the middle of the century wanted the pathetique elements and a moral lesson they could accept, explains the approach the poet used in his tragedy. This view of Christianity, a surprisingly positive one, was also found in j£glre. Finally, in the characters of Zamore and Gusman are seen the manifestations of a zeal which in Its excesses causes men to forget their common humanity. Gusman especially, like Mahomet, has caused mankind to "gemir sous le poids de mon orgueil." He can expiate thi3

33Ibid.. p. 435. Note that this entire scene is strongly influenced ty Corneille's treatment of conversion in Polyeucte. 60 sin only by his death, Alvarez, on the other hand, Is one of the finest examples of Voltaire's theater of "cette hnmanite qui doit etre le premier car act ere d'un etre pensant."^

After the success of ZaTre in 1732, Voltaire became Increas­ ingly aware of the forces which were attempting to stifle his efforts to disseminate In France the ideas of Locke and Newton. With the suppression and condemnation of the Lettres nhllosonhtnuea in 1734> and with the attacks on his enemies among the clerics growing in bitterness, a note of somberness came into his writings which is different in tone from the lighter ironies of his earlier productions.

This new development found its expression in the Dlscours en vers sur l'homme.

Towards the end of February 1737, the author of 7m Tra returned from a short stay in Holland to the estate at Cirey. There, he continued his studies of chemistry and physics, and generally followed the advice of Mne du Chatelet in favor of discretion. He was wise to do so, for already his enemies were circulating the rumor that he had gone to Holland to preach atheism, and that, after his

having argued in favor of that philosophy against Monsieur Gravesande,

he h«d been asked to leave the University of Leyden.35 The attacks

of bigots, however, could not entirely silence Voltaire. He continued

his speculations on ethics and religion, and the works engendered by

these speculations leaked out, as usual, in the form of manuscripts

Poland, III, 379.

^Georges Aseoli, Voltaire; poemes phllosophiques. Paris, Centre de Documentation Universitaire [n. d^J, p. 62. 61 circulated to a few chosen friends. On April 3, 1737, Voltaire wrote to Dueloss

Tout le monde me parle d 1enltre sur le bonheur qu'on m'attribue et que je n'al point lue. Si vous savez , ce que e'est, vous me ferez plaisir de m'en instruire.-^5

Despite the poet's protests, he was indeed the author of this epistle.

In a letter to Frederick, Prince Royal of Prussia, written in October

1737, Voltaire quoted a line which appears in the Seconde Epitre. and when he sent copies to Frederick in January 1738, he stated that

the two epistles were Mle commencement d'une espfece de systeme de morale que j'avais commence il y a un an."3^ Ascoli writes, on the basis of this, and other evidence,

Que conclure de tout ceci, qu'au debut de 1737 Voltaire a commence a ecrire les poemes qui constitueront les premiers des Discours sur 1 1homme. qu'il en a fait voir au moins un a c^uelques amis, et que ceux-ci sans doute lui ayant donne le conseil de ne les point faire courir pour le moment, il les a gardes pour lui et n'a point continue pour le moment a en ecrire.3®

VJe can thus date these discourses as belonging generally to the period

immediately preceding the composition of Mahomet.

The earlier title of the Discours en vers sur 1 1homme indicates

perhaps better the general area with which Voltaire was concerned in

composing the poems. He had first called them Epltres sur le bonheur.

and this title indicates that the poet was continuing to explore the

^ I b l d .. p. 6 3 .

^ I b i d ., p. 6 1 .

38 Ibid. theme of human happiness, a problem which had already attracted his attention in such poems a3 le Mondaln. In general the Discours are a more serious work than that short poem. In le Mondain. Voltaire had been content to shoot quick darts of satire at the myths of a

Golden Age, while defending with much jovial wit the advantages of his own time. The Discours are more a work of reflection and serious­ ness. They contain humor, and even some mordant satire, but the dominant effect is different. This is perhaps because Voltaire’s experience since the publication of the Lettres philosophiques had revealed to him the dangers of the growing tendencies towards an enforced conformity of thought. In one of the epistles,3*2 Voltaire complains that in France only a doctor in the University can dare discuss matters of philosophy which are more or less commonly accepted in England. Therefore, there are two aspects of the Dlscours which demand attention. The first is an attack on censorship and fanaticism, which finds its target chiefly in the Jansenist party.

The second is an attempt on Voltaire's part to establish a secular system of ethics, emphasizir, the human relationships which form the bonds between individual men. Both of these areas have importance for the purpose of our study.

Hie attack on Jansenism, which as we have seen has been one of the constants in Voltaire's attitude towards religion, bursts forth with violent resentment in the fifth epitre. The poet begins:

Sur la nature de 1'homme. Koland, IX, 415-120* Jusqu'a quand verrons-nous ce reveur fanatique Fermer le ciel au monde, et d'un ton despotlque Damnant le genre humain, qu'il pretend convertir, Nous precher la vertu pour la faire hair?

The "reveur fanatique" whom Voltaire attacks here is undoubtedly

Pascal, a writer the poet had already dealt with in his Lettre sur

Pascal, appended to the Lettres anglaises. Voltaire compares the spokesman for the Jansenists to Timon, the famous misanthropist* The chief argument he has against the ideas of these religious reformers, is that they are capable of believing only in a cruel God, motivated, as they are, by anger. Voltaire compares thi3 "reveur fanatique" to the hated minister of a tyrant, and insists that for himself he seeks

"un roi plus doux, et de plus doux ministres."

He continues to make more precise hi3 dispute with the Jan­ senists. They have attacked the instincts and pleasure as corrupt, and in doing so, have painted Nature as evil. Voltaire cannot accept a theology which elevates the spiritual at the expense of the natural.

Instead, he 3ees instinctual pleasure as serving to the reproduction and continuation of the human rac-j. he rejects equally the Jansenists' attack on self-intere3t:

Chez de sombres devots 1 1 amour-propre est damne; C'est l'ennemi de 1'homme, aux enfers il est ne. Vous vous trompez, ingrats, c'est un don de Dieu meme, Tout amour vient du ciel; Dieu nous cherit, il s'aime; Nous nous aimons dans nous, dans nqebiens, dans nee fils, Dans no3 concitoyens, surtout dans nos a m i s . ,.41

4Qsur la nature du plaisir, Mo land, IX, ii09. 64

As usual, Voltaire is interested in the social, utility of the passion he examine3 . Like Alexander Pope, whose Essay on Man Voltaire knew and admired with some qualifications, the poet sees self-love as the motive force which drives the universe. God loves himself, and in so doing, loves man, his creature. We humans love ourselves, and then by extension learn to love other objects. Gelf interest binds us to our property (a typical concern of Voltaire), to our children, and finally to our friends, which the poet conceives of as the highest form of love, since it is the least based on our own interest. But altruism can only be a development derived from the passion of self- love, a passion which the Jansenists have chosen to condemn. In this epitre. as in Mahomet. Voltaire condemns theological abstractions which have lost their connection with the realities of human experience.

What then of the religious man who retires from society to worship God? Voltaire at first expresses his admiration for such a person:

J1admire et ne plains point un coeur maitre de soi, Qui, tenant ses desirs enchaines sous 3a loi, S'arrache au genre humain pour Dieu qui nous fit nattre.*^

But the poet does not approve the hermit who, having chosen his own lot, criticizes the lives of others:

Mais que, fier de ses croix, vain de ses abstinences, Et surtout en secret lasse de ses souffrances, II condamne dans nous tout ce qu'il a quitte,

^ I b i d . . p. 411. 65

L'hjonen, le non de pere, et la societej On voit de cet orgueil la vanite profonde; C'est moins l'ami de Dieu que l'ennemi du monde.

The connection between the impostor who serves as the principal character of Mahomet and the Jansenists in France becomes clearer.

Mahomet, like the hypocrite Voltaire paints in the Dlscours. takes pride in his abstinence, in his abandoning of human bonds. But secretly he regrets the pleasures he has lost, and becoming the

"enemy of the ■world," seeks to make up for his own sacrifice by destroying the lives of Seide and Zopire.

The satire against religious ascetism grows increasingly

bitter. Voltaire rejects violently the teachings of Jansenius as

tending to destroy the very nature of man:

Des stoTques nouveaux le ridicule maitre Pretend m'oter a moi, me priver de mon etre: Dieu, si nous l'en croyons, serait servi par nous Ainsi qu'en son serail un musuLman jaloux, Qui n'admdt pres de lui que ces monstres d'Asie Que le fer a prives de la source de la v i e . ^

The credo of this enitre is summed up in two lines from the poem:

II faut que l'on soit homme avant d'etre chretien. Je suis homme, et d'un Dieu je cheris la clemence.'*'1

^Loc. clt.

^ -Loc. cit.

^•^Moland, IX, A09. Ascoli points out that the verse originally read "afin d'etre chretien," (Voltaire: poeraes philosophlques. p. 137). The later reading "avant que" is more daring, but both express the Idea that humanity must precede Christianity. That this Is close to the mould of Voltaire'3 thought, is shown by a similar expression in Alzire. Alvarez' telling his son to be ''homme et chretien." 66

The themes of fanaticism and the impostor are less integral parts of the seventh discourse, Sur la vraie vertu. first published in 1742, but written earlier. Here the poet attempts to build a concept of morality which might eliminate the dogmatism of conven­ tional religion. Looking for a guide in this attempt, the poet finally bases his argument on u paraphrase of Christ's teaching:

"Aimez Dieu, main aimez les mortels." For our author, religious belief can be made concrete only by interest in one's fellowmam.

The solitaire, by withdrawing from human society, and the convul-

slonnaire. by adopting a belief which is repugnant to reason nullify

the worth of their convictions. In a striking passage the poet

satirizes such people:

Oii vas-tu loin de moi, fanatique indocile? Pour^uoi ce teint jauni, ces regards effares, Ces elans convulsifa, et ces pas egares? Contre un si^cle indevot plein d'une sainte rage Tu cours chez ta beate a son cinquieme etage...

These fanatics, In Voltaire's opinion, sin against common sense.

Their manners, their convulsions, their frightened glances are evidence

of the Ills which come from accepting a religion based on the super­

natural. Voltaire prefers to the miraculous, a belief which is best

expressed in a word coined by the Aboe de Taint Pierre - "bienfai-

sauce": Les miracles sont bons; mais soulager son frere, Mais tirer son ami du sein de la mis^re,

^3ur la vraie vertu, Moland, IX, 422. 67

Kais a ses ennemis pardonner leurs vertus, ,7 C'est un plus grand miracle, et qui ne se fait plus.

It is this beneficence which Voltaire opposes to fanatic belief as the source of a new morality. That he practiced it as well as advocated it is shown by the aid he extended again and again to his friends and proteges, like Thierot, Desfontaines, Linant, and many othdrs, and by his unselfish efforts later in his career to aid victims of persecution.

Voltaire's concern with the effects of intolerance was one of the most constant elements in his literary production. From the brief remarks strewn through QSdipe. to the more developped treat­ ment in the Henriade. his handling of thi3 material changed with his own experience of persecution and with the insights gained during his exile in England. In the early Epxtre a Uranie and in the Ode sur le Fanatisme. the poet expressed his hostility towards conventional religion* In Alzire. he chose, perhaps because of the demands of a public theatrical performance, to emphasize his portrayal of the positive side of religious beliefs, but he nevertheless continued, in his portrait of Gusman, his almost obsessive interest in the figure of the fanatic. By 1737, angered by the treatment he had received upon publishing the Lettres anglalse3 and by repeated persecution at the hands of the bigots, Voltaire reflected on the entire question of religion, fanaticism, and morality, and these thoughts were the basis for the Discours en vers sur 1 1homme. In their satire on the

^7 Ibid.. p. 123 convulsionnaires and the hypocrite, in their insistence on a morality based on human values rather than on dogma, the Dlscours show that

Voltaire had reached the point where he must attack openly and vigorously the forces which he felt were attempting to hold back progress. The stage had been set for the composition of Mahomet. CHAPTER IV

THE HISTORICAL SOURCES OF MAHOMET

Voltaire, in a quite different sense than Rousseau, vas

"l'homne de ses lectures.n An avid reader, he accumulated a large library vhich contained volumes on such different subjects as philo­ sophy, history, religion, poetry and drama, and he referred to these works constantly during his career. He read not only widely tut thoroughly. Much of the standard repertory of the French stage he had memorized, especially the works of Racine and Corneille. It is not always easy to trace accurately the sources of his works*

For Mahomet, the problem is even more complicated. This production must be approached from the point of view of both history and of tragedy. We shall see later that in writing the play Voltaire made no pretense of composing a serious historical study. He was more interested in using the commonly accepted conception of

Mohammed as the starting point for an exposition of the effects of fanaticism on character. Even so, we must ask ourselves, where he got his information on the historical figure of the religious leader, and how faithfully he followed his sources in his portrait. Our first concern will be to attempt to answer this question. Then we shall proceed to study the literary influences on the tragedy to

69 70 determine whether the poet is more indebted to the models of previous

French authors or to Shakespeare, whose work he had come to know and to admire during his exile in England.

Voltaire's interest in Mohammed wa3 probably developed during the years at Girey when he was already at work on his universal history, which he was preparing for Mme du Chatelet. We know, however, that he had been interested in the subject at an even earlier period of his life. In 1725 hi3 friend Thieriot spent the summer at la

Riviere-Bourdet with a circle of acquaintances. This group had set out to accomplish a serious study of history, and their interest had evidently turned to Mohammed, for in August, the young poet wrote to

Thieriot:

Mandez moy comment vous vous en trouvez, et si Mahomet est en train d'aller.^-

Although Voltaire was not able to attend the sessions at la Riviere-

Bourdet, we can safely assume that he was kept up to date on their

study; and, in view of his passion for history, we may even be led to

believe that he had himself suggested this subject. It is certain

that the ideas of the tragedy, those of fanaticism, intolerance,

imposture, were already present in the poet's mind at this period.

A letter written the following year, 1726, by a police spy, imputed

the following sentiments to Voltaire:

...l'Ancion Testament, selon lui, n'est qu'un tissu de contes et de fables, les apotres etaient de bonnes gens

^Besterman, Voltaire1 s Correspondence, I, 325; Molard, XXXIII, 146. 71

idiots, simples et orndulea, et l©s poren dn L'Rglino, Mnlnt Bernard nurtout, nuqunl fl en voufc In plug, n 1©talent quo doa cJmrlnteno nt den aubornoiiro.

Already, In thlo accusation, there Is apparent the attl tud© towards revealed religion which the j»oot expressed Inter In his trngody.

The picture of the nTxintl.no nn "do bonnoa gnns Idiots, simples et crodulos", nnd the rofnmnon to the church fathers mm "nh/ir 1 /1 tuns" recall the troutmont of the followers 0 T Mahomet in the tragedy.

Ascoll, speaking of the problem of Influences on Voltaire13 general

ideas in connection with the conception of tolerance expressed in the ilenriado. reached the following conclusion*

II oerait bion difficile de dire X qui Voltaire emprunta coo ideas our la tolerance. Aucune concordance d 1argu­ mentation ovi d 1 expression n 1 invito X los rapprochor do cel.les do Boyle qul fut lo mattro do tant d'eopritn liboraux. Au rostn, au tempo do Voltaire, con ideas etaient deja dovonueo coimnuneo ot 1 * etude hiatoriqu© a laquolle il o ’etait livre pour composer son poXme epiqua, en l ’amonant X conaldoror I03 horreuro d'une guerre de religion, avait davelopp© la tendance antifanatiquc qui etait la sienna.-'

In the sane manner wo can say timt his attack on fanatic ism arid

superstition in Mahomet stemmed from the tradition of the gqprjt fort

of the Into 17th and early lBth centuries. VJithout necessarily

recalling the details of their arguments, Voltaire undoubtedly was

writing within the tradition of his great 3k.eptica"l predecessors, of

Bayle who had attacked superstition in the Penaeeo dlvorscs sur la

ComXte. of I'antenallo, who, in the Hiptoire des oracleg. had held up

2 quo ted by Rene Pomeau, 1^ Religion de Voltaire. p. RO.

^Georges Ascoll, Voltaire. Rcvuc dea coirrs et djQd conferences. XXV2 , p. 131 . 72 to the mirror of satire the beliefs of the ancients and, by extension, of his own contemporaries. This tradition of incredulity, of refusal to accept dogma blindly, had reached Voltaire primarily through his reading of the works themselves, but the ideas were strengthened undoubtedly by his conversations with libertines, especially those of the Temple. In the suppers of that society great audacity must have reigned, ideas were discussed freely, and the young poet, seeking both approbation and acceptance on the part of men whose ideas he already shared, was probably encouraged along the lines he would continue to explore in his later work. An interesting insight into the Influence of this circle is provided by M. Rene Porneau,^ who discusses a passage of the Dialogue aur la musiaue des anciena of the

Abbe de Chateauneuf. The abbe mentioned the use of music to free the Lacedomonians from a plague. Theagene, one of the characters of the dialogue, states: "il y a toute apparence qu'on fit honneur a la Religion de cette guerison miraculeuse..•K But the author continued to give the following explanation of the apparent miracle:

... le ministre d*Apollon arrivant & point nomme avec ses hymnes et sa lyre, lorsque le mal etalt sur sea fins, la superstition,

The situation in this dialogue is strikingly reminiscent of the final c o u p de theatre of Mahomet, in which the religious leader, having poisoned Seide, takes advantage of his knowledge to impress

APameau, op. cit.. p. 32. Fomeau mentions the date of publi­ cation as 1725.

^Loc. cit. 73 his superstitious followers with the danger of threatening M m . We do not wish to state definitely that Voltaire either knew this passage by the Abbe de Chateauneuf, or that he used it consciously in composing his tragedy. It does bear out the fact, however, that the attitude towards religion expressed in the tragedy was a commonplace wmrmg the free thinkers of the 18th century, and that possibly Voltaire came into contact with this current of thought in the Temple, to which he was introduced, we might add, by the same Chaateauneuf.

Just as it would be impossible to trace the exact Influences on the general ideas of Mahomet, it would be very difficult to identify positively the sources the author used for his biographical informs- tion. It Is important to remember, first of all, that Voltaire does not pretend to write in Mahomet a historical work. His purpose Is to compose a tragedy in which the effects of superstition intol­ erance would be studied. To some extent he might use local color, details on customs which would intrigue his audience, but his interest in accuracy would hardly go further than this point. In fact, since the tragedy also had propagandists purpose, the author might well be expected to omit from his portrait of Mohanmed any traits likely to evoke sympathy. We know, for example, that in his historical and philosophical writings, Voltaire was aware of the injustice done to the Mohammedans by Christian writers. He stated, in the Dictlonnair^ philosophiaue:

Je hais tant la calomnie que je ne veux pas meme qu'on impute des sottises aux Turcs quoique je les deteste comme tyrans des femmes et ennemis des arts.^

Again, in the same article, he warned his readers: Je vous le dis encore, ignorants imbeciles, a qui d'autres ignorants ont fait accroire que la religion mahometane est voluptueuse et sensuelle, il n'en est rien; on vous a trompes sur ce point, comme sur tant d1autres.7 This position of Voltaire the historian towards Mohammed is summed up thus in another article:

Nous ne pre tendons point le justifier ni sur son ignorance, ni sur son imposture; mais nous ne gouvon3 le condamner sur sa doctrine d'un seul Dieu.

At times, the french author has what amounts almost to admiration for the prophet:

Mahomet eut pour ennemis, non seulement les poe'bes de la Mecque, mais surtout les docteurs. Ceux-ci soulevferent contre lui les magistrat3, qui donnerent decret de prise de corps contre lui, comme dument atteint et convaincu d ’avoir dit qu'il fallait adorer Dieu, et non pas les etoiles. Ge fut, comme on sait, la source de sa grandeur."'

It is interesting to note that this passage recounts the same episode as that of the tragedy, that Is, Mohammed's conquest of his

nativo Mecca. However, there has been a definite shift in Inter­ pretation on the author's part. In the tragedy, Mahomet is portrayed as a kind of heroic Tartuffe, a hypocrite who, to further his ambition consciously and deliberately claims to have received divine revelation

/I /oltrire, "Mahometans", Dictionnaire philosonhic.ue, Moland, XX, 21. 7Ibid.. XX, 20. Alcoran, ou plutot le Koran," Dictionnaire nhilosophicue. Moland, XVII, 101.

9 lbid.. p. 1C2. He asks his lieutenant to help him "deceive the world." In the article, Mohammed is pictured as a religious reformer who, because of his belief in a single god has attracted the hatred and enmity of the "docteurs," much as Voltaire’s own deism had won him enemies among the Catholic theologians of the Sorbonne and of the Jesuit party. Are we tc assume that since the composition of the play, either through his research, or through a deepening of his religious belief, that the author had gained new sympathy for the Moslem leader?

This may be partly true; but there are other valid explanations for the change in attitude. Me must not forget, first of all, that in writing Mahomet, the poet attempted to attack the fanaticism of

Christianity under the figure of the Moslem prophet.^ It is there­ fore as a propagandist that Voltaire distorted the historical image of Mohammed. Second, despite his ability as a historian, Voltaire had his blind spots. Any person who claimed divine inspiration was

open to his skeptical attacks. He had rejected so firmly the super­ natural explanations of former age3, that ho could only misunderstand

figures such as Mohammed, Jesus, and even Jeanne d'Arc. Third, there

are elements in Mohammedanism itself which must have irritated the

eighteenth-century advocate of reason. Me have quoted above his

hatred of the Turks because of their contempt for women and the arts.

^ I n support of this statement, we can point out that Voltaire used the same technique in the dialogue "Mecessaire," where he substituted Mohammedanism for Christianity in the argument that men could have lived moral lives before the revelation of divine will. Cf. Moland, XX, 117-120. 76

In this article on the Koran. Voltaire cited a passage from Mohamned which epitomized the fanaticism he had attached in the tragedy,

Mahomet:

Ce livre the Koran n1adnet point le doute, il est la direction des justes qui croient aux profondeurs de la foi, qui observent les temps de la priere, qui repandent en aumones ce que nous avons daigne leur donner, qui 3Qnt convaincus de la revelation, descendue jusqu'a toi./T*3 We see, then, that the major element criticized in Mahomet, the

fanaticism of its founder, was a historical reality, that it was

expressed in the Koran, and that at least this part of Voltaire's

tragedy is not false. There i3 still another explanation of the distortion of

Mohammed's character in Voltaire's tragedy. On April 3, 1739, he

wrote to La Noue concerning the letter's Mahomet II. He warned that

the author had based his plot not on fact, but on a legend created

by a monk named Bandelli. The idea that Mohammed II had wed a

Christian slave named Irene was merely a fable which existed only in

the minds of Christian historians. But, Voltaire continued:

Vous avez suivi le preiuge re^u et un prejuge suffit pour un peintre et pour un poete. Ou en seraient Virgile et Homere si on les avait chicannes stir les faits? Une faussete qui produit au theatre une belle situation est preferable en ce cas a toute3 les archives de 1'Univers... Je serois bien a plaindre si je perdois le goust de ces bautez parce que j'etudie un peu d'histoire et de phisique.12

^Moland, X/II, 99, italics mine.

•^aesteman, Correspofadence. IX, 73; Moland, XXXV, 2A0-2M1* 77

This passage is of capital significance. It was ’written during the period of composition of Mahomet, and although Voltaire made his comment In connection with La Koue’s tragedy, one senses that he was actually discussing the problems that had arisen in his own work.

He was aware of his own double role as a student of history and as

a creative artist, and he chose the latter as more important: r,une

faussete qui produit au theatre une belle situation est preferable

en ce cas a toutes les archives de l 1univers." He argued for the

freedom of the dramatist to use a "prejuge regu" in creating the

fiction which would serve as the basis of this play. It was this

concern which determined the manner in which Voltaire drew on his

sources. 'Ve should be mistaken, therefore, to criticize him for

either lack of originality or of faithfulness to historical truth in

his portrait of Mohammed. It sufficed for his purpose as propagandist

and artist to chose in the commonly accepted picture the traits of

lasciviousness, fanaticism, and ambition which might best achieve

the result he desired.

It is obvious to anyone familiar with the literature of the

eighteenth century french philosorhes that the article which Pierre

Bayle devoted to Mohammed in M s Dictionnaire historique et critique

in 1697 would naturally be familiar to Voltaire. The reputation and

authority of this great Protestant historian was too great for us to

insist further upon it here; the author of the Siecle de Louis XIV

had paid his respects to his predecessor by calling his Dictionnaire 78 1 ^ "le premier ouvrage...ou l'on puisse apprendre a raisormer." We can, therefore, assume, with Lion, that Voltaire was acquainted with the article "Mahomet" in the Dictionnaire. and proceed to examine that article and to determine the extent to which it influenced Voltaire's treatment of his subject.

The first similarity which we remark between the narration of the life of Mohammed in Bayle and the attitude taken by the French poet in 1741 is that both men use their subject as a means of attack­ ing the intolerance and fanaticism of their contemporaries. The ensemble of Bayle's study - the article itself, the rem&rcjues, and cross-references - constitute a skillful assault on two positions of orthodox Catholics. First, Bayle repetes the arguments of theo­ logians that the rapid extent of Christianity, its triumph over the superstitions of antiquity, and its conquest of Europe, favor the belief that it was of divine inspiration. If such an argument is valid, Bayle says, then the Mohammedans have even a stronger position in the debate than the Christians, for their conquests spread over a wider area, and in an even shorter period. Here Bayle obviously attempts to refute also the Catholic belief that Protestantism was no more than a sect which had separated from the Mother Church, and that its teachings deserved no respect.

The second attack, which is related to the first, is against

the orthodox interpretation of Christ's words, Contralns-les d 1entrer.

13i;oland, XIV, 546. 79 a subject which the historian-philosopher had already treated at length in his Coimnentalre philosophiaue. The idea was suggested by

Bayle1s statement that the success of Mohammed's religious beliefs lay with the force of his armies rather than the worth of his idea3.

Here the parallel with the use of soldiers in France to stamp out

heresy entered the historian's exposition:

•..Interrogez les dragons de France qui servirent a ce metier, l 1an 1685. Ils vous repondront qu'ils se font forts de faire signer 1 'Alcoran a toute la terre, pourvu qu'on leur donne le temps de faire valoir la maxime, figffipglle intrare. contrains-les q'^trgr.1^

Bayle is using a double-edged sword, just as Voltaire did in his

tragedy. Cn the one hand, he diminishes the accomplishments of Islam,

by laying them to the account of military power; but with the same

argument, he points out the tyranny exercised in France after the

Edict of Nantes, the worthlessness of acquiescence gained by the use

of force.

Along with these two major lines of dispute, we must point

out another skeptical development, not in the article itself, but In

articles to which it refers. At one point Bayle sends his reader

to his study on Des Marets de Saint Sorlin, which appears in the same

volume as the article on Mahomet. In this way, the curious reader,

the one who wishes to "learn how to reason," as Voltaire put it, is

led to draw the connection between the fanaticism of Mohammed and

that which existed in seventeenth-century France. Bayle seemingly

-^■Pierre Bayle, Dictionnaire historique et critioue. Paris, Desoer, 1820, "Mahomet," Remarque (H), X, 6 6 . 80 delighted in exposing the pretentions of the author of les Yision- naires. his participation in the mystical movement of the period, his belief that he was destined to conquer the Moslems and establish the supremacy of the French Catholic monarch. Further, Des Marets, according to Bayle, was not only "fanatic” but also an impostor. A further reference to the article on Korin leads the reader to the recital of Des K-arets1 duping of the religious fanatic who believed himself the reincarnation of the Christ, and who, through the efforts of Des Marets, was burned at the stake.^ In this way, Bayle connected his story of fanaticism to contemporary life in France, and established the relationship which Voltaire would use when he attacked, in the beliefs of the prophet, the religious intolerance of his own day.

In addition to this similarity of purpose, we find that Bayle1s interpretation of Mohammed's character is the same as that of Voltaire.

This .historian documents the sensuality, the lust which would be one of the principal traits of Voltaire*3 protagonist.^ On the question of ■ iohammed* s motives, the historian is more complete than the drama — tist, but arrives at the same conclusions. This completeness is due, undoubtedly, to the difference in function of the two writers -

Bayle is, first of all, a historian, Voltaire, in Kahomet writes rather as a creative poet. The problem, which Bayle recognizes, i.3

15'*Jean De3 Marets,” and "Morin, Simon", X, pp. 236-243, and 547-551. ^Bayle, Dictionnaire. "Kahomet, ” Remarque (E), X, 59, (R), 74, and passim. 81 how to explain the effectiveness of Mohammed as a religiou3 reformer.

Was the man sincere in his beliefs, or did he deliberately set about

to deceive his followers? Bayle1s answers to these questions are an illustration of his skill as a dialectician and of the difficulty

of following his peculiar method. We may summarize his chief points

as follows:

1« Some writers have suggested that Mohammed’s religious beliefs

were the result of insanity, and he quotes Voetius to this effect:

Non video cur hoc neeandum sit (epilepsias, et maniacis delirii3 aut enthusiasmis diabolici3 Muhammedi adfuisse energema si vitam et actiones ejus intueamur..

Voltaire, in his tragedy, does not mention this explanation.

2. Other Christians have supposed that Mohammed was successful

in establishing his religion because he was the instrument of the

devil, was used for the purpose of punishing the schismatic church,

and because he actually believed his own teachings. Here Bayle takes

flight into a long argument on whether the devil can deceive men

(he concludes that he can), whether the devil would permit a false

prophet to arise to further split a church which he, the devil, had

actually inspired (Bayle concludes that this is not impossible).

More interesting from our point of view is a remark of Bayle1s in

this respect concerning the sincerity of Mohammed:

....II est manifesto qu'un homme qui croit biefa faire, sera toujours plus actif et plus empresse qu'un homme qui croit

Ibid.. Remarque (K), X, 63. 82

mal faire. II faut done dire que le demon, se conduisant avec une extreme habilete dans I 1execution de sea projets, n'a point oublie la roue la plus necessaire a sa machine..., e'est-a-dire qu'il a seduit ce faux prophete... 1 *Alcoran e3t l'ouvrage d'un fanatique; tout y sent le desordre et la confusion; e'est un chaos de pensees mal accordantes. Un trompeur aurait mieux range ses doctrines; un comedien aurait eu plus de justesse.

It is important to notice here, that the only way Bayle could see

Mohammed as being sincere was to blame his teachings on diabolical seduction. Bayle doe3 not seem to be aware of the possibility that

Mohammed wa3 sincere and that his teachings might deserve more respect.

We must also point out that Bayle's use of the term fanatic is slightly different from Voltaire's. For Bayle, the sign of fanaticism is "le desordra et la confusion... un chaos de pensees mal accor­ dantes. The word in this article has almost the connotation of insanity. It Is connected usually with "enthousiasme", which is equally irrational and with Mohammed's affliction, epilepsy. For

Bayle, the fanatic is deluded, but sincere. For Voltaire, the fanatic may be also combined with the impostor.

3. Bayle, having stated these two explanations given by previous historians, rejects them both. The success of Mohammed's mission is due neither to supernatural intervention (either by God or the devil),

-^Ibid.. p. 62 .

^The distinction is made throughout the articlep Bayle explains Mohammed's visions as an attempt to hide from his wife the fact that he was subject to "le mal caduc" (X, 5A), and after recounting how Mohammed had attempted to justify hi3 behavior with a slave girl by alleging a divine revelation, the author judges: "Voila comme cet imposteur comnengait par taire le crime et finissait par le convertir en lol generale. Cela ne sent pas le fanatisme." (Remarque (T), X, 76, italics mine). 83 nor to its author1a worth, tut to two facts; the strength of the

armies which spread Islam, and the willingness of humanity to be deceived. He writes:

II ne faut pas chercher ailleurs la cause de sea progre3; nous l'avons ici toute entiere.,. II y a bien de l'apparence que si Mahomet exit prevu qu'il aurait de si bonnes troupes, a sa devotion, et si destinies a vaincre, il n'aurait pas pris tant de peines & former de3 revelations, et a se donner des airs divots dans ses ecrits...20

The historian a3ks these questions:

...j'aime mieux croire, comme 1'on fait communement, que Mahomet a Ite un imposteur; car, outre ce que je dirai ailleurs, see mani&res insinuantes, et son adresse a s'acquerir des amis, tamoignent qu'il ne se servait de la religion que comme d'un expedient de s'agrandir... TJn vrai fanatique eut-il jamais un tel caractere? Entend-il si bien son monde? Un homme qui aurait cru pendant quel

The passqge is of great interest to us, for it shows that Bayle's

portrait of Mohanmed wa3 to a large extent the one used by Voltaire.

The historian points out further that his interpretation is that

commonly accepted. We have already seen that Voltaire also, in his

letter to La Noue, insisted on the right of the tragic poet to use

a "prljuge" as the basis for his fiction. There is, of course, a

dissimilarity in the two treatments. As we have mentioned, Bayle

makes a distinction between the fanatic and the impostor; with

Voltaire, this distinction no longer exists. But save for this

detail, the two are In accord in their portrayal of the major traits

^ I b i d ., Remarque (*0, X, 66

21lbld., Remarque (K), 83- 84 of Mohanmed.

It is interesting to notice that Bayle twice mentions the name of Zaid, the historical figure who inspired, the character

Seide. He quotes Schultetus:

Ilia ver£> Chadiga circum cur3itare, mariturn suura ceu prophetam depraedicare, in eundemque errorern alias gentiles suas pertrahere, pari etiam raunere fungente servo Zeido, aliisque, quos auro corruperat Mohammed.^

In this first appearance of the name, Zaid is a servant of Mohammed and among the earliest -whom the prophet had "corrupted.” The similarity to the situation of Seide, who in the tragedy is Mohammed's slave and whom the leader forces to act by playing upon his love and his credulity, is obvious. The second mention of the name occurs when Bayle tells how the prophet had wed the wife of Zaid, and how, when the servant caused a scandal:

Le faux prophete, pour cesser le scandale, fit semblant d'avoir envie de restituer ce qu'il avait pris; mais, comme ce n'etait pas sa pensee, il trouva bientot le moyen de s'en dispenser. II feignit que Dieu l 1avait censure de cette resolution, et lui avait ordonne de girder sa dixieme femme, sans avoir la complaisance de deferer au scandale humain.,.23

Although the parallel here is not accurate, we have an example of

Mohammed's hypocrisy connected with a sexual adventure. In 3ayle's

article, the prophet has stolen a servant's wife. In the play, he uses Seide’s love for a slave to manipulate him, and at the same time,

^ I b i d .. Remarque (E), pp. 5S-59.

^Ibid., Remarque (l), p. 77. 85 he covets the slave girl herself. The second anecdote was commonly known, and Voltaire might have found it anywhere. The appearance of the two stories in this short article, and the way that they supply most of the elements of Voltaire's subplot, suggest that they may have inspired the entire episode of Seide, the deceived follower.

The claim .that Boulainvillierii' Vie de Mahomed should be

considered the major source used by Voltaire in the composition of 2 / p r his tragedy has been most recently advanced by Brumfit, Tobin,^ of) and Pomeau. Mr. Tobin points out in his article that there are

details in the play which are not found in other sources. Among these are the character of Seide, the portrayal of Omar, and certain

expressions, traces of which Mr. Tobin believes can be found in the speeches Voltaire wrote for Kahomet. This recent critic rules out

completely the influence of the Englishman Prideaux: It has bean felt that the Life of Mahomet by Prideux [sic] played a part in the construction of the tragedy. However, there is no need for this assumption. For, as cited above, Voltaire admits the knowledge of Boulainvilliers' work, and as an examination of the texts involved will demonstrate that it was BoulainviUier3j, not Prideaux, that he actually consulted. ^

^Voltaire Historian. London, 1953, p. 39. ^5"The Sources of Voltaire's Kahomet.n French Review. XXXIV {February 196l), 372-378,

^Religion de Voltaire, p. 147.

^ T o b i n , op. cit.. p. 373. 86

Despite this unanimity of critical opinion, it would be well to examine this question, partly to determine to what extent Voltaire actually followed the material he found in Boulainvilliers' biography of the Prophet, and also to attempt to add some further indications of influence which have previously escaped attention. That the poet knew, and to some extent admired, the writings

of 3oulainvilliers is not open to debate. The study by Professors Havens and Torrey on the books contained in Voltaire's library proves

that the Vie de Mahomet was in his possession, although it is impos-

sible to establish at what date he purchased it. 28 Moreover, Voltaire had included the aristocrat in his list of writers of the Siecle de

Louis XXV with the remark: ...le plus savant gentilhomme du royaume dans l'histoire, et le plus capable d'ecrire celle de France, s'il n'avait pas ete trop systematique... Ses ecrlts, au1il faut lire avec precaution, sont profonds et utiles.^ Voltaire's attitude towards the gentlman historian who wrote for his own pleasure, and for the instruction of his family and close friends, was obviously a mixture of admiration and distrust, the latter due mainly to the author's excessive "system." This would naturally tend to arouse the distrust of the author of the Philosophe ignorant.

Boulainvilliers1 biography of Mohammed is a curious work, one of the few studies printed during the eighteenth century which were

^ Catalog of Voltaire* s Library at Femey. in Studies on the Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, edited by 'Theodore Besterman, Geneve, Institut et Musee Voltaire, IX, pp. 54 and 115.

^Moland, XIV, 45. Italics mine. 87 favorable to the Prophet. The author confessed that he did not read

Arabic, and had to rely on secondary sources for his information. Despite this fact, he wrote the book entirely in a conscious imitation of the eloquence, the sublime. of the religious leader's language.^30 In this attempt, he might well have served to encourage Voltaire's own efforts in his tragedy to find an expression suited to the speech of his characters. Boulainvilliers attempted also to correct the commonly accepted view of Mohammed as an impostor. He did this by' clarifying the original meaning of the word prophet: [le don de prophetie^J consiste proprement dans une mission extraordinaire, pour annoncer aux homnes des veritez ancien- nes qu’ils ne connoissent plus, & ^u'ils negligent, (auquel sens ils tiennent que Mahomed a ete & sera le dernier des Prophetes)...31 VJith this interpretation, Eoulainvilliers defended the leader from accusations of deceit; since Mohammed understood a prophet to be only a man who attempted to enunciate forgotten truths, there was no impos­ ture involved. Murther, the historian insisted on the fact that Mohammed never claimed to be able to work miracle 3.-^ Voltaire himself described succinLly Boulainvilliers' aim:

ne crois pas avoir besoin de justifier non style, &. les termes que j'emprunte des livres Arabes. Un pareil Ouvrage... doit au-moins essayer de plaire par la singularite de3 expressions." Boulainvilliers, La Vie de Mahomed. seconde edition, a Amsterdam, chez Pierre Humbert, 1731, p. 269.

^Ibid.. p. 202.

32 ibid .. p . 14.3. 88

II* le Comte de Boulainvilliers ecrivit il y a quelques annees la vie de ce faux prophete. II essaya de le faire passer pour un grand homne que la providence avoit choisi pour punir les ^hretiens, et pour changer la face d'une partie du monde.-^

It is evident from the words Voltaire used in this letter that he did not accept completely Boulainvilliers' defense of the Prophet, and he certainly did not choose to follow this interpretation in his tragedy. Again in the Remarques sur l1Sssai sur les moeurs, (Moland,

XXIV, 556) Voltaire would refute Boulainvilliers' claim that God had permitted Mohammed to punish the Christians who had abused the use of idols and had created religious controversy.

Despite this generally skeptical reaction to Boulainvilliers' work, there were some points of similarity which indicate that it served as a model for the author of Mahomet. It Is not impossible that the reflections on the character of the Arabs suggested Voltaire's treatment of his principal character. Speaking of the difficult existence of this nomadic people, Boulainvilliers wrote:

...je veux parler de cette durete de coeur qu'on leur attribue: suite necessaire de leur temperament, & de la vie solitaire ovi ils sont accoutumes des leur plus tendre jeunesse,^ This trait suggests the abstinence of which Voltaire's Mahomet boasts

(II, A), and the harnh life of the desert which Zopire describes in his talk with Palmira (I, 2). The picture of Mahomet's use of fear

•^^Besterman, X, 3A5; Moland, XXXV, 5M .

^Boulainvilliers, Vie de Mahomed, p. 4A« 89 as a weapon in the spreading of his creed might also have been sug­ gested by a passage in Boulainvilliers1 work: ... le moyen le plus convenanble a un Peuple nouveau, tel que les Arabes,.. etoit de faire marcher la terreur & la crainte devant eux, sous I1idee d'une Nation feroce qui ne connoissoit ni misericorde ni pitie,,.. Ils vouloient conquerir, assujettir, & persuader, ^ Finally, the obedience which Mahomet demands of Seide in Voltaire's tragedy also found its place in Boulainvilliers' reflections on the

character of the Arabs: ... toute leur oeconomie etant fondee sur une obeissance aveugle & precise, qui doit etre soutenue par la croyance d'un Destin inevitable, on ne sauroit douter qu'ils n'ayent regarde l1usage de la pitie comme le plus grand obstacle qui se put rencontrer.a 1*exactitude de la Discipline civile & religieuse.^ It is exactly this blind obedience which Mahomet demands of Seide

(II, 3): Qui fait plus qu'il ne doit ne salt point me servir. J'obeis a raon dieu; vous, sachez m'obeir. And the dilemma of Seide when he learns that it is Zopire that he must kill, is that presented by Boulainvilliers* pity, for the Moslem,

could only be considered as an obstacle to discipline. The work by Boulainvilliers may also have served as a source

for some of the characters of the tragedy. Abu Sophian, who was the

model for Zopire, does not appear in Bayle's article in the Diction­

naire philosophique. but is treated episodically in the Vie de Mahomed.

3^Ibid., p . 4.5.

3^*Ibid.. p. 48. Italics mine. 90

He is described as the "destructeur impitoyable de la famille du Prophete,"37 a view which Voltaire adapted to his plot by having Zopire kill one of Mahomet's sons. Boulainvilliers also informs us Abu Sophian married one of his daughters to Mohammed for political reasons;3^ this might well have suggested the subplot of Palmire.

A hidden source in Boulainvilliers1 biography, and one which we can advance only hypothetically, is found in the first section, in which the author describes the geography of Arabia. He mentions the region of Palmyre, un de ces Cantons heureux qui se rencontrent dans les Deserts, & dans lesquels il a plu & la Nature de faire couler des eaux... Leur effet est toujours de fertiliser le terrein; qui etant empli de sels, n'a besoin que d'etre amolli par quelque humidite qui fournisse la nourritufe des plantes... C'est la tout l'art des Labou- reurs: preparer la terre par une culture qui la rende facile a etre penetree; & lui donner des sels qui puissent attirer l1humidite temperee qui nourrit les moissons... en lui distribuant un aliment proportionne Sr conversible en la substance de la semence qui a ete confiee a la terre.39 Might not this passage be the source not only of the name of Palmire, but also of the character herself? Remembering that Voltaire read with the imagination of a poet, might he not have seen in this

37Ibid.. p. 205.

^ Ibid.. pp. A21-.422. But notice that this belongs to the third part of the Vie de Mahomed, which was not written by Boulain­ villiers. The unidentified writer who finished the work quotes "Ganier" as a source of his information (p. 378). Therefore, though Voltaire may have found some of his information in this section, it cannot legitimately be credited to Boulainvilliers.

39Ibid., pp. 137-138. 91 description of a land more humid, and more susceptible of cultivation, the suggestion of the slave girl who needs only the friendship of

Zopire and the love of Seide to develop her latent humanity? The treatment of Seide in the Vie de Mahomed indicates the manner in which Voltaire used his sources. Boulainvilliers, like Bayle, tells the story of ZeTd, Mohammed's second proselyte and mentions the episode of Mohammed's forcing his follower to divorce his wife so that the Prophet might marry her, an event which un­ doubtedly suggested the hypocrisy of Mahomet in his relationship to Seide and Palmire. But Boulainvilliers described Seide as the "cousin gennain" of the Prophet, and insisted that his title of "servant" referred to his position as Mohammed's minister.^ Here

Voltaire preferred to follow the commonly accepted notion of Seide's being a slave captured from the city of Mecca. Similarly, Voltaire chose to ignore Boulainvilliers' description of the religious leader as a man of native worth. He might have b^en influenced by the passage which described the change in Mohanmed in the thirteenth year of his mission, when the prophet

[supposa2 des ordres positifs de la part de Dieu, d'exterminer tous ceux qui ne croiroient point en lui, ou qui ne se sou^iiettroient pas a son obeissance.*^ But again, this belongs to the third section of the Vie de Mahomed

which was not written by Boulainvilliers.

4°Ibid.. pp. 296-297.

4d-Ibid., pp. 390-391. 92 There is, however, one passage in Boulainvilliers1 biography which might well be considered a major source of the tragedy. In describing the conversion of Abu-Beker, the author drew a striking picture of Mohammed's native eloquence. He summarized how the religious leader told his father-in-law of the low state to which Arabia had fallen, and of the corruption of the Jews, who had aban­ doned the teachings of their forefathers. At that point, the Prophet began to speak as if possessed by the spirit of Abraham. There follows an analysis in which Boulainvilliers mingled admirably the elements of sincerity, discretion and self-possession on the part of Mohammed: Ce discours, naturellement susceptible de vehemence & de traits, fut pousse aussi loin que Mahomed le jugea conve— nable a son auditeur: puis, avec une modestie adroitement menagee, il fei^nit de craindre d'en avoir trop dit, & de B*etre laisse emporter par son zele; quoiaue sans regret d'avoir alnsi declare ses sentimena a un Beau-pere de la sagesse & de 1*amour duquel II etoit assure. U vit toutefois l'effet de son discours, & il eut la joye de s'en pouvoir applaudir; ayant remarque que pendant qu4il dura, les larmes coulerent des yeux du personnage qui l'ecoutoit.^ Boulainvilliers presents the Prophet as an orator, eloquent, but aware of the reaction of his audience, "feigning" to be afraid to continue,

outwardly eager to convince, but Inwardly applauding his own success. This is the man Voltaire would also picture, arguing with Zopire, manipulating Seide, playing on the emotions of his followers, and always in control of himself. It is aview he might well have found

in this passage of boulainvilliers1 Vie de Mahomed.

43Ibid.. pp. 300-301. 93 The Traite des trois imposteurs attracted wide attention in

the eighteenth century. Circulated in manuscript as early as 1706, or 1719, according to different testimony, it was printed in 1719, with a second edition in 1721.^ Widely attributed to Boulainvilliers,^ the Trait£ gained ad’ed interest by borrowing its title from an

apochryphal work, be Tribus Inrpostoribus. which had bee: written ac­ cording to legend by the Gnperor Frederick II in the thirteenth century. In its daring attack on revealed religion, the Traite jus­

tified the notoriety which it had won. We cannot give a definite answer to the question of whether Voltaire knew the Traite before undertaking the composition of K&homet. It is difficult to believe that the young writer, admitted to the libertine circle of the Temple, and an avid collector of secretly distributed manuscripts, would be unaware of such a well-known pro­ duction. However, the earliest mention of the Traite we have been

able to find in the works of Voltaire occurs in a portion of the Annales de 11 Empire. which according to Beuchot’s avertlssement was

.a 0. Wade, The Clandestine Organization and the Diffusion of Philosophic Ideas in France from 1700 to 1750. Princeton University Press, 1938, p. 125. ^H/ade seems to accept Boulainvilliers as the author of the Traite. believing that it was adapted from his Esprit de Spinoza, with the new title added by an anonymous hand. Norman Torrey in his article n Boulainvilliers: the Kan and the ^'ask,*1 Travaux sur Voltaire et le dlx-huitieme aiecle. Geneve, Institut et Musee Voltaire, 1955, I, 159- 173, rejects the attribution on the grounds of stylistic dissimilar­ ities with works which are recognized as Boulainvilliers*. 94- printed in 1753. ^ Voltaire limited himself in this passage to recounting the rumor of the suppressed Latin work, a rumon which he believed wa3 caused by a remark of Pope Gregory IX, enemy of the emperor. lie continued by mentioning that "nous avons, depuis peu,

t f. quelque3 mauvaises brochures sur le name sujet." Sixteen years later, in 1768, Voltaire was to reply to an imitation of the Traite with hi3 Bp^tre a 11 auteur du Trai be de3 trois impostears. in a note to which he described the work as "un tres mauvais ouvrage, plein d'un atheisme grossier, sans esprit, et sans philosophie." However since he was undoubtedly attacking the imitation published in 1768 which is mentioned by Uade,^ the remarks should not be applied to the earlier version we wish to discuss.

whether or not Voltaire knew the Traite before the composition of his tragedy, the work s h o u l d not be considered as a direct source of any of the Information in it. The Traite is basically an attack on believers in a revealed religion of any kind, and the section on

Mohammed is the least extensive of allj the author gives much more attention to voae3 and Christ. Rather, if the Traite had any influ­ ence on Mahomet it was to 3Uggest to Voltaire the use of the Prophet as the symbol of the religious fanatic. Certainly, the entire Traite is embued with a biting 3atiric tone which is not alien to Voltaire's

Poland, XIII, 138. Cf. also 3enge3co, I, 336-337.

^Moland, XIII, 351.

^Wade, op. cit.. p. 136. 95 own writings or* the subject. .-.'hen the anonymous author writes of the supernatural inspiration of the Bible, he is definitely the prede­ cessor of Voltaire:

Les Juifs, 8c les Chretiens aiment mieux consulter ce grimoire que d1ecouter la Loi naturelle que Dieu, c'est-a-dire la Nature en tant qu'elle est le principe de toutes choses, a ecrit dans le coeur des hommes.**® The author of _le Kondain. who had satirized in that poem the etat de nature. would scarcely have accepted the identification of Nature with God. But he would have sympathisized with the writer's reaction to the Christians who preferred the "grimoire" of revealed religion to the voice of natural law. This indeed is one of the major themes of

Mahomet. The Traite abounds with expressions which suggest both the style and the attitudes of our poet. Nhen its author writes, "Les

Ignorans, c'est-a-dire, la plupart de3 hommes,"4-9 we remember the similar contempt for the masses on the part of Mahomet, especially when he tells Zooire that he will speak to him with more frankness than he would with most men. The same attitude is shown in another passage of the Traite:

^Traite des trois imposteurs. a Amsterdam, 1776, pp. 23-2/+. Although this edition is posterior to the tragedy, the section headings correspond to those of the manuscript given by Wade, The Clandestine Organization in France. and it seems safe to assume that it is an accurate reproduction of the earlier version. ^ Traite de3 trots imposteurs. p. 28. 96

il £MahometJ prit corane lui Q-toYseJ le titre de Prophete & d1 envoy e de Dieu^ conme lul tl fit des miracles, & sut mettre a profit les passions du Peuple.^ It is in the same way that Voltaire's Mahomet uses his false miracle to influence the crowd against Seide and Palmire. Indeed, the passage is doubly interesting, for it also speaks of Mohammed as a worker of miracles, and thus demonstrates that Voltaire was not far from the accepted opinion of his time in attributing such a claim to

Mohammed. The author of the Traite also followed the prejudices of his period in his description of the Prophet's qualities as a leader: Mahomet n'etoit pas un honrne qui parut propre a fonder un Empire; il n'excelloit ni en Politique ni en Fhilo- sophie; il ne savoit ni lire ni ecrire. II avoit meme si peu de fermete qu1il eut souvent abandorme son entreprise, s'il n'eut ete force a soutenir la gageure par l'adresse d'un de ses sectateurs*^

The character created by Voltaire is, in the same way, the camel driver who lacks formal training, but who make3 up for it by a natural shrewdness and eloquence. But even though Voltaire chose to present a more talented Prophet than the one described by the Traite. the trait of vacillation which marks his Mahomet, and his dependency on

Omar, might both have been borrowed from the passage we have quoted.

Despite these parallels, and despite the fact that Voltaire,

who was accutely aware of the circulation of clandestine manuscripts,

might well have know the Traite. we are ’unable to state definitely

5°Ibid.. p. 67.

^ Ibid.. p. 68. 97 that it is a source of Mahomet. Nevertheless the importance of this work should not be neglected. As Mr. bade has stated: ...from a legendary De Tribus Impostoribus there arose in the early years of the century the practice of attacking the three chief founders of religion. In this attack, Judaism, Mohammedanism, and Christianity were placed on a basis of rigid equality and a crude method of comparative religion was introduced. By a logical process, the criticism of the founder of any one of these religions ^ was considered applicable to the founders of all religions. This was the path which the Traite helped to open, and which Voltaire chose to follow in his Mahomet. '' """ & As in the case of the Traite. it is difficult to determine when Voltaire became acquainted with the work of Gagnier, the professor of Oriental Languages at Oxford, who brought out his Vie de Mahomet in 1732. Lion felt it unlikely that the poet was acquainted with

CO Gagnier1s biography.It is certain, however, that Voltaire had a copy of the work in his library, although it is impossible to decide C / at what date he obtained it. ^ wade has pointed out that Voltaire withdrew a copy of Gagnier’s study from the Bibliotheque loyale in

1717, along with Boulainvilliers' Vie de Mahomed 55 but this is much later than the period of composition of Mahomet. and probably Indicated

52yade, op. cit.. pp. 139-110. ^^Tragedies et Theories dramatiques de Voltaire. p. 110.

5^+Havens and Torrey, The Catalog of Voltaire1 s Library at Ferne.V. p. 158, N° 1229. Cf. p. 51. 55ira 0. bade, In Search of a New Voltaire. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, new series, XLVIII, part 1, 1958, p. 68. 98 research "the author was doing for his historical productions. Pomeau would see in Gagnier the source of the entire Seide episode, since the Orientalist gives the story of the youth's refusal to leave his master when his parents come to claim him. 56

Gagnier's work, written to refute the excessive praise which

Boulainvilliers had accorded Mohammed, and to "laisser au Lecteur cry equitable, d'en porter tel jugement qu'il lui plaira," would have offered to Voltaire the advantage of a longer and more intensive treatment of the historical figure of Mohammed. In many details, Gagnier agrees with the picture of the Prophet which Voltaire himself was to draw, but often there is also the possibility of the poet's having utilized other sources. Thus, Gagnier identifies Zald as

"Esclave de I1Apotre de Dieu. qui l'avoit achete" (I, 111), contra­ dicting Boulainvilliers in this regard, but following Bayle and others.

Gagnier also reports the marriage of Mohammed to Omm-IIaleba, daughter of Abu—Sophian (II, 67—70), and recounts a scene in which the old enemy of Kohauaed Is rejected by his daughter, who prefers the Prophet to her family loyalties. This is suggestive of the treatment of Falmire in Voltaire’s tragedy. When Mohaiuned planned to break the truce and to approach the city of Mecca secretly, he was betrayed according to Gagnier, by a letter sent to the Meccans by a servant,

Hateb (II, 109). In Voltaire's Mahomet, the deception of the Prophet

^La Religion de Voltaire, p. 147.

57Jean Gagnier, La Vie de Mahomet, a Amsterdam, 1732, I, xlii. 99 is revealed by a letter aent by one of his followers to Zopire.

Finally, the interview between Mohammed and Abu—Sophian, as reported by Gagnier, has some of the same vigor as the talk between Zopire and

Mahomet in the tragedy. Mohammed asks his old rival:

He bien, Abu-Sophian, n'est-il pas terns que vous sachiez qu'il n'y a point de Dieu, que Dieu. II LA^aa—S°ptid.ajaQ repondit: Oul, je le sgai certainement. Le Prophete lui dit encore: N'est-il pas terns que vous sachiez aussi, que je suis l'Apotre de Dieu? II repondit: Quant a cet Article, pardonnez—moi si je vous parle franchement, j'ai ete jusqu'a present d 1 un sentiment tout aontraire.5®

Despite the fact that there is no concrete evidence to prove that Voltaire had consulted Gagnier before composing Mahomet, the similarities we have just mentioned seem to confirm Pameau's

conclusion that the work was one of the sources utilized by Voltaire for the background of his tragedy.

Two English works must be mentioned before we end our discussion of the sources of Voltaire's tragedy. The first of these was the biography by the scholar Humphrey Prideaux. His work was a partisan

one, setting forth the commonly accepted notion that Mohammed was no

more than a charlatan, who used every means at hi3 disposal to further

his own ambitions. Perhaps because of thi3 contentious spirit,

Prideaux1 biography was widely read in both England and France; it

appeared in a French version published in Amsterdam in 1695, and

another done in Paris In 1697. The work was cited by all later

students of the subject, including Bayle in his article in the

^Ibld., II, 118. 100

Dictlonnaire historlgue et critique* Lion writes as if there were no doubts that Voltaire were acquainted with this book, and that he used it as a principal source. 59 This opinion is no longer shared by most modern critics, who would agree with Tobin in refusing to accept Prideaux as a source until it is proved that Voltaire knew the work.^® I have been unable to find any mention cf Prideaux in the works of Voltaire and, although other books by that writer appear in the catalog of the poet's library at Ferney, the Life of Mahomet is not mentioned. Prideaux1 work does contain some similarities to the treatment of Kohammed in Voltaire's tragedy. The English historian's descrip­ tion of the Prophet coincides with Voltaire's protagonist: il avait un esprit vif & penetrant, facile Sc d'une souplesse a s'accomoder sans peine h toutes sortes de genie... et tous les talens necessaires aux vues que son ambition luy inspira. 1 As with Voltaire's Mahomet, the Prophet’s two driving passions were, according to Prideaux, "1'ambition & I1amour des femmes." (p. 221) Prideaux paints the religious leader as licentious, and as taking advantage of the diversity of opinions to establish a new religion, one which gained many of its followers by promising them sensual gratification (p. 17 ff.) much as Voltaire's Mahomet won Seide's

59Lion, op. cit.. p. 52.

^Tobin, op. cit.. p. 373. ^La Vie de 1' Impostcur Mahomet, a Pari3, chez Jean Musier, 1699, p. 219. 101 obedience by the reward of Palmire as his wife. Prideaux' description of Abu-Sophian as "l'Ennemi jure de Mahomet,... ayant la principals autorite dans la Ville..." Cp. 74) suggests Voltaire's portrayal of Zopire as sherlf. The English author includes the truce with the Meccans, and Mohammed's adoption of the title of king (pp. 179- 184.), which again is similar to the situation in the first act of

Voltaire's tragedy, when Zopire refuses to accept the new-found glory of his enemy. Finally, in Prideaux' biography, Abu-3ophian is converted to Islam to save his life; but this dissimilarity is not significant, since we know that Voltaire reserved to himself the right to change

the facts of history to suit his dramatic purposes. There are then several points on which the treatment of

Prideaux seerr.s to find an echo in Mahomet. Piowever, it must be remembered that Prideaux' work was no more than the best expression of traditional beliefs concerning the Prophet. Voltaire did not need

to know the Englishman's biography to conceive of Mohammed as licen­ tious or as a charlatan. These altitudes were common to the writings

of Christian historians. Cince there is no proof that Voltaire had

read Prideaux, and since There is no episode in the churciman* s work and in .Mahomet which Voltaire could not have found in other sources, it would seem wise to accept Tobin's view mentioned above, and to

remain doubtful of the influence of Prideaux on the tragedy.

Until George Sale published his translation of the Koran In

1734, the only corselets version of the work had been that of i'u Iyer,

published; in 1649, and generally con idered p. poor effort. Sale, a 102 solicitor admitted to the Inner Temple in 1720, had become interested in oriental studies, and had pursued them over a period of about sixteen years. He collaborated on the preparation of an Arabic New

Testament, after having perfected himself in that language, and the appearance of his Koran was a milestone in the study of Kohammedanism in the West.62

V/e can date accurately Voltaire's acquaintance with Sale's

■work. In August 1738 he wrote to his friend Thieriot: II y a un diable d 1Anglais qui a fait une tres belle traduction du saint Alcoran, precedee d'une preface beaucoup plus belle que tous les Alcorans du monde. K. Turner devrait vous dire quel est cet honnete Chretien—la: il m'o fait l'honneur de m 1envoyer son oeuvre... ^ It is certain then that Voltaire had seen a copy of Sale's Koran in 1738, some months before he begun the composition of his tragedy, and that he was especially impressed with the Englishman's preface. The tone of admiration of this letter is ’found in all later references to the work. In Le Siecle de Louis XIV, Voltaire wrote: L'histoire de Kahomet, et dec temps qui le precedent, etait ignoree des Turcs, et a ete developpee par 1'Anglais Gale, qui a voyage si ut-ilement en Arable. ^

In this passage, his praise is sorprisingly enthusiastic. To say that

62See the article on Sale in the Dictionary of National Biography. XVII, 668-670. 6 ^Ko 1 and , XXXIV, 5 56 .

64lbid.. XIV, 561. 103 the history of fVohammed was unknown to the Turks is an obvious exaggeration; and in crediting Sale with a trip to Arabia, Voltaire committed an error, since that writer’s biographers assure us that he never left his native land. 65 A more measured estimation of

Sale's ideas is found in the Remaroues de I1 Easai sur les moeurs:

Le savant traducteur de 1*Alcoran tombe un peu dens le faible que tout traducteur a pour son auteur; il ne s'eloigne pas de croire que Mahomet fut un fanatique de bonne foi... Bien des gens ne croiront pas qu'il y ait eu beaucoup de bonne foi dans un honme qui dit avoir regu les feuilles de son livre par l'ange Gabriel... mais j'avoue qu'il est possible qu'un homme rempli d 1enthousiasme et de grands desseins ait imagine en songe qu'il etait transporte de la Mecque a Jerusalem.,.; De telles fantaisies entreat dans la composition de la nature humaine.^°

Here Voltaire'3 skepticism is tempered by his apparently sincere respect for the "savant traducteur”; and although we may be sure that he is among the "many' people” who will never be able to believe that Mohammed acted in good faith, his concession that a man "rempli d’enthousiasme et de grands desseins" might be the victim of self- delusion is an important one. Vie may conclude then that Voltaire knew Sale's work ana respected it, and that he first became acquainted with it in 1738, just before the conception of his Mahomet.

To estimate the influence of Sale's work on Voltaire's tragedy, we shall first present the English translator's interpretation of

Mohammed's character. Then we shall observe now some of the details

65cf. article on Gale, Dictionary of National Biography. supra.

Poland, XXIV. 557-558. of Sale’s study might have suggested to the French poet his treatment of the subject. Sale belongs to the school of biographers who, following the lead of Bayle's article, attempted to study the religious leader with more fairness than in the past. In dedicating his translation to John Lord Carteret, he wrote: He [^Mohammed} has given a new system of religion, which has had still greater success then the arms of his followers, and to establish this religion made use of imposture; and on this account it is supposed that he must of necessiry have been a most abandoned villain, and his memory is become infamous. But as Mohammed gave his Arabs the best religion he could, as well as the best laws, preferable, at least, to those of the ancient pagan lawgivers, I confess that I cannot see why he deserves not equal respect, tho' not with Moses or Jesus Christ, whose laws came really from heaven, yet with Minos or Kuma. notwithstanding the distinction of a learned writer, who seems to think it a greater crime to make use of an imposture to set up a new religion, founded on the acknowledgment of one true God, and to destroy idolatry, than to use the same means to gain reception to rules and regulations for the more orderly practice of heathenism already established.

Sale's position is a finely balanced one. He accepts the inter­ pretation of imposture, unlike Boulainvilliers, but attempts to justify Mohammed on the basis of his wish to establish a new religion his estimation of the Prophet as a lawgiver equal to -linos or Numa was rejected by Voltaire. And yet the phrase is echoed in Omar’s

speech in Mahomet (I, 5): Chez les Cretois Minos, Numa dans 1'Italie, A des peuples san3 moeurs, et sans culte, et 3ans rois Donnerent aisement d'insuffisantes lois.

^Geo rge Sale, The Koran, London, 1731, p- A ff. 105

Sale was extremely careful in attempting to analyse the motives behind Mohammed's actions. In his Preliminary Discourse, we read:

Whether Qthis desire to establish a new religion3 was the effect of enthusiasm, or only a design to raise himself to the supreme government of his country, I will not pretend to determine.... His first views perhaps were not so interested... His original design of bringing the pagan Arabs to the knowledge of the true GOD was certainly noble, and highly to be commended..

Again, with a nice feeling for the effects of cultural influences, the English historian corrected the commonly accepted view of

' lohatnmed:

...for an Arab who had been educated in Paganism, and had but a very imperfect knowledge of his duty, he was a man of at least tolerable morals, and not such a monster of wickedness as he is usually represented. And indded, it is scarce possible to conceive, that a wretch of 30 pro­ fligate a character should ever have succeeded in an enterprise of this nature; a little hypocrisy and saving of appearances, at least, must have been absolutely necessary.69

The first part of Dale’s argument Voltaire preferred to overlook. In his portrayal of Mohamned, there Is no room for the

"man of at least tolerable morals.” But the ’’hypocrisy and saving of appearances" do find their expression in the tragedy. Ilahomet attempts to hide the fact that he is governed by ambition from all but Omar, his closest follower; and when he speaks to Zopire (II, 5) he allows the mask to fall from his face only because he fools that

^Ibia .. p. 39.

^ Ibid . . p. h i. 106 his power protects him:

Si j'avais a repondre a d'autres qu'a Zopire, Je ne ferais parler que le dieu qui m'inspire.

Mais je te parle en home, et sans rien deguiser; Je me sens assez grand pour ne pas t1abuser. Vois quel est Kahomet: nous sonimes seulsj ecoute... Srle gave, in his Preliminary Discourse, a portrait of Mohammed which is interesting in the effects it had on Voltaire's treatment of the Prophet: He had indisputedly a very piercing and sagacious wit, and was thoroughly versed in all arts of insinu­ ation. The eastern historians describe him to have been a man of an excellent judgment, and a happy memory; and these natural parts were improved by a great experi­ ence and knowledge of men, and the observations he had made in his travels. They say he was. a person of few words, of an equal and chearful [sic] temper, pleasant and familiar in conversation, of inoffensive behaviour towards his friends, and of great condescension towards his inferiors. To all which were joined a comely agreeable person, and a polite address; accomplishments of no small service in preventing those in his favour, whom he attempted to persuade. Voltaire chose also to emphasise the "arts of insinuation" which Sale reported Mohammed as having mastered, ’..'e must remember that Mahomet had gained the respect and loyalty of both Seide and Palmire, and that although his behavior towards them: is somewhat domineering, it was made up of a combination of authority and the "great condescension" mentioned by Sale. Further, the many protestations of Voltaire's Mahomet that he will speak truly to Zopire and Omar recall Sale's

70Moland, IV, 12V.

7^3ale, op. cit.. pp. il-42. 107 description of the Prophet as "pleasant and familiar in conversation."

While Voltaire used with reservations the interpretation the material he found in Sale’s work, some of his background information seems to have been borrowed almost bodily from the Englishman's

Preliminary Discourse. Sale gives the following account of Mohammed's

visit to Mecca: In a few years by the success of his arms (notwith­ standing he sometimes came off by the worst) he considerably raised his credit and power. In the fifth year of the Hejra he set out with 14.00 men to visit the temple of Mecca, not with any intent of committing hostilities, but in a peaceable manner. However when he came to al Hodeibiya. which is situate partly within and partly without the sacred territory, the Koreish sent to let him know that they would not permit to enter Mecca, unless he forded his wayj whereupon ne called his troops about him, and they all took a solemn oath of fealty or homage to him, ano he resolved to attack the c:y...'^ As Mr. Tobih points out, Voltaire changed the historical fact in giving the period of exile as fifteen years, against the authority 7 o of Sale, and of most other writers on the subject.The reason for

this use of poetic license is immediately apparent. Since Seide and Palmire are the children of Zopire, abducted some time after Mahomet's departure from Mecca, the poot was forced to change the facts, in order to account for their age at the time of the tragedy. But other

details are respected. Mahomet's triumphal entry into his native city

in the play7 suggests a parallel with the first sentence we have quoted, fhe motive for his visit is not the same in the two works, Voltaire

72Ibid., pp. 52-53. 7^Tobin, op. cit., p. 37A. loe preferring to ascribe the desire for conquest to the Prophet, while

Sale 3peaks of his wish to visit the temple. However Voltaire's protagonist does maintain the pose of coming "not with any intent of committing hostilities." The solemn oath of fealty which Salementions is represented in the tragedy, by the oath exacted from Seide by Cmar:

Omar veut a I1instant par un semen t terrible, M'attacher de plus pres r ce martre invincible. ^

Thus a strong case can be made for believing this passage serves as a major source for the plot of Mahomet.

Finally Tale also supplied Voltaire much of the information he used on the religion of the Meccans, represented in the tragedy by Zopire. In the Preliminary Discourse, Sale wro.te:

They [[the Sabians^ do not only believe in one GCD, but produce many strong arguments for his unity; tho' they also pay adoration to the 3tars, or the angels and intelligences which they suppose reside in them and govern the world, under the supreme deity...

Zopire's invocation to his rods, v;hile not illustrating the mono­ theism of the Sabians, still expresses well the adoration of the stare as the symbols of divinity: Soleil, cacre flambeau, qui dans votre carriere. Image dc ces dieux, nous pretes lour lur.iere...' J Another section of Tale's Discourse is interesting from this point of vievj. He reported:

7^folanu, IV, 131.

pp. cix.., p. 1A.

76folar.u, IV, 113. 109

“ie Koreish. in particular, were infected with Zendicism. an error supposed to have very near affinity with that of the Gadducees among the Jews, and, perhaps, not greatly different from Deism; for there were several of that tribe, even before the time of kohanned, who worshipped one god, and were free from idolatry, and vet embraced none of the other religions of the country.

:'here is no doubt that in the tragedy Zopire serves as a foil to

Mahomet, contrasting with the hypocrisy of th ■ i’rophet. I .ight this not have been suggested by bale's comparison of t,he religion of the

Zendists to Deism, a parallel which would naturally have awakened Voltaire's sympathy? One fact staids in the way of such an inter­

pretation: the Zendists worshipped one god, and whenever Zopire

speaks of ^ ’ e divinity, he uses the plural, dicux. But when he cries

after recognising Palmire and Seide as his children, "0 nies filsi

o naturei o raes dieuxl"^® we feel that his polytheism is more a

realization of the forces of God in nature, and that he represents

a genuine human worship which Voltaire has always set in opposition

no matter what name it beers, to the fanaticism represented by

Mahomet.^ In this way, Sale may have suggested one of the major

themes of the tragedy. Voltaire* s use of sources cannot, in the light of our study,

dates as far as 172 when his friend Thieriot planned to undertake

77,o al e , Hii cut., p . 21.

Zssai‘sur les os n1adora . ].e reveraient a Divinite , j- j. * ) • 110 a biography of the Prophet. Jndcubtedly in boo intervening years, the author of the Essal sur les moeurs continued his reading on the founder of Islam. V.'hen, in 1737, he began to think of composing a tragedy on the subject, he was certainly far miliar with the best—inown works in the area. He would most likely have begun his documentation with Beyle1s

Liictionnaire historique et critique. the starting; point of n a r y of the historical researches o f the period. fhe 7ie de ' lahoned by cor te de

Boulainvilliers, while expressing an admiration for Mohammed which

Voltaire hardly shared, provided some of the background Information the poet used for his portrayal of the customs of his characters, and for the

traits of Insinuation and of eloquence of the Prophet himself. Gagnier1s

Vie de iiahomet served to correct the overly enthusiastic attitude of

Boulainvilliers, and supplied still more; details, perhaps suggesting the

treatment of the Beide-laliuire subplot, fho recent translation of the

Koran by the Englishman George Gale undoubtedly hod been read by the poet

before he begun his tragedy, ano was probably the source of such details

as the religion cf Zopire.

Voltaire in using th*' material he found scattered in such dif­

ferent works took advantage of '.Is frocoor. as a creative artist, shifting

details of the story, charging the interpretation of Vohammed, perhaps

at the risk o:‘ distorting historical reality, in order to prodoce his

tragedy, .-.s a vjork. of art, and as an oeuvre d e combat. hah one t represent

the sacrifice of one level of truth in the atter.pt to reach a different

level. Its major character may fell short of the actual Mohammed, but

it is the emoodIrene of the tyi e cf the iiypooritc are it jcrvcs the

purpose of combat tin • fanatic ‘ sm, s j.ch /olta.i r* saw as .-lorhaps the

greatest enemy >. f human progress. CHAPTER V

THE LITERARY MODELS OF MAHOMET

In the preceding chapter, we examined those historical works which Voltaire used as the source of his information in writing his tragedy, Mahomet. It is now necessary to determine to what extent he borrowed ideas, characters, themes, and even expressions from other productions of a literary nature, not necessarily related to the

subject matter he treated in his play* The natural difficulty of

establishing with certainty in many cases the sources which a writer

has employed, and the fact that such an approach to a work implies

interest in external circumstances rather than in the creation itself

have often rendered the study of sources unpopular. But with Voltaire

the approach is valid, both because of the literary practices of his

day, and because of his limitations as a writer of tragedies. The

eighteenth century was a period in which the poet was encouraged to

seek, in the models of antiquity and in those of his own age, the

standards that would serve as his guide. Voltaire had before him the

example of Racine, who had found in the writings of Greek poets the

subject matter of his great tragedies* Thus imitation was a recognized

technique of literary creation. And to the achievements of classical

111 112 antiquity had been added those of the preceding century, so that, as Gustave Lanson has put it, "Anx modules anciens se sont substitues des nod&Les nationaux...le respect qu'on a pour eux impose 1*imita—

tion.''^-

To this more general consideration we must add another which

stems from Voltaire's very character as a dramatic poet* As we have

mentioned in our chapter on the merits of Mahomet as a work of curt,

Voltaire was not strong in the invention of plot or incident. This may surprise one who thinks of the remarkable flow of movement of his

contes. but we niiat remember that tragedy, for the eighteenth century,

was a more serious undertaking than the simple tale, and demanded

more of Its author than a weak linking of incidents* In his stories,

Voltaire had freedom to improvise events* Candida might well happen

to meet Pangloss on the streets of Amsterdam, the chief of the Jesuits

in Paraguay might be revealed as Cunegonde's long-lost brother, and

the reader would be amused, without criticizing too harshly the Im­

portance of chance in these developments* But on the stage, and

especially in tragedy, more was demanded of the author. Necessity

end logic must govern each new incident, even each entrance and exit*

The rules of dramatic writing seem to have dried up, to some extent,

Voltaire's imagination. Therefore, because of the demands of his

medium, the poet was forced to depend on the works of his contem­

poraries and his predecessors to furnish him both subject matter and

treatment.

■Mfoltalre. Paris, Hachette, 1906, p. 85. 113

In our discussion of the models which Voltaire imitated, we ahwll concentrate on three areas: contemporary productions which may have influenced the composition of Mahomet: the writings of earlier poets, especially Crebillon pare, and Racine, and finally the works of Shakespeare and The Londop Merchant of Hilo, both of which Voltaire was acquainted with* We attempt to decide to what extent the poet used these literary models, from this we shall be able to define more accurately his originality*

While we have indicated that Voltaire was not unlikely to take his subject matter where he found it, we must also admit that he had the misfortune to live in a century when men made it a hobby to

search for plagiarism* Probably no other poet of any stature was

accused as often of borrowing verses from other writers than Voltaire.

Villaret retails the story that several lines of ^hnmnt were sup­

posedly stolen from La Motte's Inee de Castro and Piron's Gustave

Wasa. *nd that one passage of the play was a commentary on some lines o of Jean-Baptiste Rousseau* The last accusation must especially have

caused Voltaire much anger if he saw it. The lines in question are

those of Omar's speech:

Ne sais-tu pas encore, homme faible et superbe, Que 1*insects insensible enseveli sous 1'herbs Et l'aigle imperieux qui plane au haut du d e l Rentrent dans le neant aux yeux de I'Eternel? (Koland, IV, 113-H A )

^Lettre | V*** sur sa tracedie de Mahomet. Paris, 1742, pp. 13-15. 114

According to Villaret, these lines were only the "oonmentalre louchen on Rousseau's first ode, based on Psalm IIV:

Celul de-rant qui le superbe, Enfle d'une ralne splendour, Parolt plus bos dans sa grandeur Que l'lnseote cache sous l'herbe: Qui bravant du mechant le faste oouronne, Honors la vertu du juste I n f o r t u n e * 3

The similarity between the two passages cannot be denied. But Voltaire has treated here a oomnonplace, and certainly the phrase " Insec te cache sous l'herbe,” appears time and again In the literature of the period* Finally, even If Voltaire's lines were based on those of

Rousseau, we must notice also the more vivid Imagery, and language which give them Individuality. Too often In the eighteenth century,

Voltaire's critics found his sources, without pausing to remark how the poet often transformed them*

Of the fact that Voltaire borrowed material from his contempo­ rary writers of tragedy, there can be little doubt. He knew well what was happening in the theatrical world of his day, and was

Influenced in many ways by the practices of other authors. Thus,

when In January, 1740, Gresset presented his ffiouArri III at the

Coinedie—Frangalse, Voltaire was in the actual period of revising his

Mahomet. Lancaster notes that Gresset sent Voltaire a copy of his

play, and that our poet praised particularly the murder scene, the

first in which a killing actually was represented on the French tragic

3CEuvres de Rousseau, nouvelle edition, a Londres, 17 d 3» I, 2. 115 stage. A few days after bis Initial letter of March 28, Voltaire found that the tragedy had "an English manner that did not displease him.**^ The importance of this is that Voltaire was at work on his own tragedy, in which the horrifying scene of Zopire1s assassination at the hands of his son constituted the strongest part, and that

Gresset* s success in showing an actual murder on stage strengthened the possibility of Voltaire1 a being also allowed to present his equally shocking material directly in actiofa. Here, we have a case not so much of influence as of Gresset*s serving to confirm Voltaire in the path he had already chosen to explore •

Another Important work of the immediately contemporary theater was that of Mahomet XI of La Noue, performed at the Comedie-Frangaise in February 1739* Because of the significance of this play in the conception of Mahomet, we have chosen to discuss it separately. It is our opinion that La Noue' a work almost certainly suggested to

Voltaire the possibility of treating the subject of Mahomet, and that he found in it the challenge of a character who could not possibly awake the sympathy of the audience. Further, our study of the corre­ spondence with La Noue, during the months of composition, indicates the writer-player continued to offer suggestions to Voltaire on the treatment of his tragedy. Was there any further influence than this?

Voltaire might have found in the Visir of La Noue, the enemy of

Mahomet II, a model for his false prophet. Actually no more than the

^French Tragedy in the Times of Louis XV and Voltaire. I, 260. 116 slave of Mahomet, the Visir uses deceit and pretense to win out over him. Thus In Act I, scene 1, he speaks to Achmet, his confidant:

Est-11 quelque rampart oonstruit par la puissance Que ne detruise enfin l'audace et la prudence? Toi, qui depuls long-tems des nalheureux ohretiens Par mes ordres secrets adoucis les liens, De mes consells prudents as-tu su faire usage?^

The emphasis on secrecy and prudence in this passage illustrates the fact that the Visir is, much like Voltaire's Mahomet, the hypocrite who veils his acts behind false words. This trait is even more strongly stated In the same scene:

Du voile de la feinte entourons nos projets;. La prudence peut aeule assurer leurs eucces.

And again, the Visir* s mastery of the techniques of manipulation appears in Act 111, scene 2t n Va, je te conduirai plus loin que tu no penses...

The similarity is even more apparent in Act 1, scene 1, when the Visir contemplates his project of using Theodore, leader of the imprisoned

Greeks, as a weapon against Mahomet II:

Blentot en zele ardent mon courroux deguise Frapperait sans obstacle un sultan meprise.

Et moi-meme guidant le bras de Theodore, Je saural le plonger dans un sang que j1 abhorre.

Here there are two major parallels with Voltaire's work. Ilrst, the

^In Petltot. Repertoire du Theatre Ffranyols. Paris, chez Perlet, 1803.

6Ibld.. p. 412*

7Ibld.* p. A58.

8Ibid.. p. A17. 117

Visir will disguise his anger as "sele ardent." Mahomet is of course the tragedy of a leader who uses the religious fervor of his followers to further his own ambition and desires. And just as the Visir plans to use Theodore as the instrument of his vengeance, Mahomet uses Selde

to strike at Zopire. Even the wording of the final line we have quoted, "Je saural ig plonger dans un sang que 11abhorre." is remi­ niscent of the expressions of Voltaire's work. One fact, however, makes us hesitate to assign Mahnw^-fc II a major place as a source for

Voltaire's Mfjjiomgi. There is the possibility that both writers,

working from a deep knowledge of Racine's theater, arrived at the

same point by imitating the work of their predecessor. But the fact

that Voltaire had read La Nona's tragedy inmed lately before beginning

the composition of Mahomet is strongly suggestive that he might have

been influenced by it.

The case of Creblllon's influence on Mahomet is somewhat different.

An implied corollary of the doctrine of imitation Is the idea that one

should surpass his model.The Quarrel of the Ancients and the Moderns

near the beginning of the century centered on the question of whether

Racine and Corneille, and the other authors of the time had excelled

their predecessors. For Vftltaire the question was answered in favor

of the French poets. He believed that the politeness and the regular­

ity of the theater of his country were superior to the unpolished

achievements of the Greeks. And thus, while he might adopt Racine

as a standard for excellence in tragedy, he was also aware of the

possibility of his going even further than his masters. The fact 118 that hi3 debut at the Comedle~Frangai.se was with GSdlpe. a subject already treated by the great Corneille la an example of this respect­ ful rivalry. In the same way, he spoke of CrebiUon as Ml' auteur... dont les ouvrages m'ont inspire les premiers le desir d'entrer quelque temps dans la meme carriers, sans e3perance de 1'atteindre.

The modesty of this design came to an end in 174.3, when the elderly

censor prevented a performance of Mort de Cesar.Voltaire

decided to fight openly to displace his predecessor from the stage

of the Comedie-Franjaiae, and with Semlramia (1748) began a series

of tragedies on themes already treated by Crebillon.But that this

latent rivalry had existed before the open break over Mort de Cesar

in 1743 is indicated by the story that CrebiUon had been influenced

to deny approval to because "on lui avait persuade que

etait le rival d 1 A t r e e . To what extent was this belief true?

CrebiUon's Atree is similar to Voltaire's tragedy in both

tone subject. It is a story of incest and of parricide, and the

chief effect is one of horror. Atree, plans to punish his brother

Thyeste by using Thyeste's son to k U l him. Thus the subplot of the

children who are ignorant of the existence of their father is present

in the two works.

^Moland, XXXII, 459-460.

^°Idon, Tragedies et theories dramatiaues de Voltaire, p. 170.

^ -Ibid.. p. 193 ff.

^Avertissement to Kehl edition, printed , in Moland, IV, 95. 119

The character of Atree Is also reminiscent In many respects of both Mahomet and Zoplre. He la a bitter man, unwilling to

forgive, bent on vengeance. The energy of his speeches in the first

scene recalls Zoplre* s intransigent refusal to accept Mahomet, whom he has known when he was nothing but a camel driver. The character

of Zoplre has more nuances; he is softened by a deeper humanity. But

the Initial impact of the two is the same. As for Mahomet, it will

be remembered that a part of his motivation is the desire for venge­

ance on Zoplre, who has murdered his son.

The use of the symbol of blood is also strikingly similar in

the two tragedies. In Act I, Euristh^ne says to Atreet

AhI seigneur, si le sang qul vous unit tous deux N'est plus qu'un titre vain pour ce rol malheureux*.•

The theme recurs in a speech of Atree:

Ne m 1oppose done plus un sang que je detestej Ma raison m* abandonee an aeul no* de Thyeste:

Dans les flots de son sang je voudrals le plonger.^

Here we have a characteristic shift of meaning, blood taken first as

a symbol of the human bond which should unite the two men, and secondly

as the representation of a violent ac& of murder. It recalls strongly

Voltaire's similar procedure in Mahomet.

In the treatment of the son who is to carry out the act of

parricide, CrebiUon also seems to have anticipated Voltaire. Atree

^CEuvres de CrebiUon. & Paris, Renouard, 1818, I, 136.

U Ibid.. p. 137. 120 has reared his nephew Plisth&ne with the idea of using him to oarry out the murder of Thyeate. He expresses hi3 design thus:

Oui, Je veux que oe fruit d'un amour odieux Signals quelque Jour ma fureur en ces lleux.

In much the same way, Mahomet contemplates the use of Seide and Palmlre to win vengeance* He has caused the young man and woman to fall In love, and has brought them to Zoplre, for

Le d e l voulut lei rassemhler tons les crimes, Je veux... (Moland, IV, 123)

La Harpe attempted to prove that Voltaire's Mahomet does not plan In advance the murder of Zoplre, and that therefore he is less guilty than the protagonist of Crebillon's tragedy.^ But the lines we have quoted would tend to indicate that, before Omar suggests the Idea of

Seide1 s serving as the assassin, Mahomet's mind has already glimpsed

the possibility of involving Zopire's children in parricide as well

as incest.

The character of Pllsth&ne bears several resemblances to Seide.

He is first of all a young man of virtue, and listens to Atree only

through the loyalty he has for his supposed father. Like Seide, he

is completely bound to the will of Atree, who asks him:

Jurez-moi qu'& mes lols votre main asservie Vengera mes affronts &u gre de men envie. '

15Ibid.. p. U 0 .

l6hycee og Qourg lltterature flSgjL9BRg si m k a £ B S .> A Paris, chez Deterville, 1818, H , 3^7.

l7QEuvres de Crebillon. I, 143. 121

This oath ia similar to the one extracted from Seide by Mahomet, and

Atree's proud reaction to Plisthene1 a hesitation htrongly resemhles

that of Mahomet:

J'entrevois dans votre ame interdite De secrets sentiments dont la mienne s'irrite. Etouffea des regrets desormals superflus. Partez, obeiseez, et ne repliquez plus.1®

This is almost exactly the spirit of Mahomet's

Temeraire. On devient sacrilege alors qu'on delibore.

Just as Seide reacts in horror, Plisthene cannot accept the idea that

Atree should wish to murder his own brother. He appeals to the older

man, again using the ties of blood as his argument:

Songez-vous bien quel noeud roue unit l'un et 1'autre? En repandant son sang, je repandrois le votre. Ah! seigneur1 est-ce ainai que 1*on surprend ma foi? ^

Finally, in the following acts, the same recognition occurs between

the young man and his unknown father. When the moment of recognition

comes Thyeste cries:

Ah! mon fils! La nature en mon coeur eclaircit ce mystore: ^ Thyeste t'aimait trop pour n'etre point ton p&re.

And Plisthene, realizing the horror of the situation he has been

involved in unknowingly, speaks words which might have served as the

framework of Voltaire's plot:

^ I b l d . . p. 144.

^ L o c . cit.

^°Ibjd.. p. 183. 122

Tout aemblait reserver, dans un jour si funeste*.. Ma main an parricide, et non coeur \ 1'inoeate.

The similarities between the two plays are too great to leave any doubt* It seems apparent that Voltaire found In CrebiUon, not only the subject matter, but the theme of the or! du sang. The earlier poet had been content to leave the final crime unaccomplished.

His successor pushed the Idea further, having Seide carry out the murder of his father before discovering the truth. Voltaire's

greatest originality, however, consisted In taking the or! du sang

theme, which is stiU at the level of convention In CrebiUon's tragedy,

and endowing It with broader philosophical meanings, raising it almost

to the level of a moral principle. Still, his debt to the author of

Atree oust be acknowledged.

Of the productions of the seventeenth century, Voltaire utilised

mainly two sources, the Tartuffe of Molifere, and several tragedies of

Racine. His debt to the comedy which attempted to expose the evils

of hypocrisy Is clear; in fact, Mahomet was often described by its

author as "Tartuffe, les armes It la main." The character is the same,

that of a dishonest wtn who takes advantage of the religious beliefs

of others to further his own personal ends. Even the manner In which

Mahomet is introduced, first In the dialogue between Zoplre and his

fior^dAnt. and then between Zoplre and Omar recalls the way that

Moll&re created Interest in his major character by having the members

of the household give their opinions of him before his appeargnoe.

2 1 Loc. cit* Two major changes were of course necessary for Voltaire* Because he envisioned the problem of fanaticism as deeply serious, he carried the evil of his Mahomet beyond that of Tartuffe. The latter manip­ ulates human lives, Interferes with marriages and behaves In a

generally despicable manner, but the harm he does is relatively

Innocuous, Mahomet's plots Involve the encouragement of an Incestuous love, and the abetting of & murder. Second, because of the rigid distinction between comedy and tragedy, Voltaire had to be careful never to allow his protagonist to cross the border into the laughable*

This was of special concern to the poet In the handling of the love

Interest, Should Mahomet ever become gal ant in his passion for

Palmlre, he would resemble too much the seemingly austere Tartuffe,

who protested to a younger woman that he was no angel* Tartuffe, then,

was the starting point of the figure of Mahomet, but the poet was

anxious to deepen the villainy he portrayed, and to avoid any lessening

of the tragic tone*

Racine, of course, served as the tragic world in which many of

the writers of the following century found their subject matter and

characters* More than Corneille, he was for Voltaire the model of

the Ideal tragic artist, end it was natural that the author of hornet

should seek in the work of his predecessor the materials of his plays*

This Imitation was not always conscious. Voltaire had committed to

memory many lines of Racine's poetry, and they recur constantly In

his works. The accomplishment of Racine was so great, and Voltaire^

knowledge of his work so deep, that tragedies such as Phfedre. 124

and BaJazet formed the model which the younger man could not avoid in his writing.

One characteristic of Racine's tragedies particularly made them

the ideal source for some aspects of Mahomet. There is a deviousness

in many of the people the seventeenth-century poet chose to write

about which was suggestive to Voltaire in his attempt to describe the

deceit of Mahomet, the impostor. Thus CEnone in Phfrdre. although her motives are only to save the life of her mistress, conceives the plan

of accusing Hippolyte of being in love with his step-mother. In this

way, the initial idea of both Mahomet, and of his equally clever

confidant. Omar, might have come to Voltaire on reading the scenes in

which appear Marcisse, Acomat, and Burrhus. Acomat, in Baiazet. is

a benign Influence. Re attempts to aid the young man who has been

imprisoned in the palace by the Sultan. But Acomat’ a actions stem

from self-interest. It is to protect himself from the Sultan's

vengeance that he seeks to aid Bajazet. And his plan to have the young

prisoner win the support of the Sultan's favorite by gaining her

affection is at the same moral level as Mahomet's using Palmire to

induce Seide to murder Zoplre. Burrhus, one of Neron's tutors in the

tragedy R H is another of Racine's characters who seeks to

serve virtue by trickery. He constantly pleads with the emperor's

mother to gain her son's loyalty by hiding her true feelings towards

him. Narcisse, on the other hand, is the conf^d*ftfc who deliberately

corrupts his master in order to better his own position. He encourages

Neron to continue with the plot of murdering Britannicus, after the 125 emperor been convinced by Burrhus that the idea was unwise. Like

Omar, he also supplies and administers the poison which kills the unsuspecting victim. In these characters Voltaire may well have found his models for the deceit which serves as the foundation of his tragedy*

The character of Acomat is undoubtedly the souroe of one of

the most moving elements of Voltaire's Iflafaoqet. An old man, he has been offered the hand of Atallde as a reward for his services, and

explaining to his confidant that love does not enter into his actions,

he say st

Voudrais-tu qu' it mon age Je flsse de 1'amour le vll apprentissage? Qu1 un coeur qu'ont endure! la fatigue et les ans Solvit d'un vain plaisir les oonseils imprudents.

This is the same position in which the elderly Zoplre finds himself,

when he attempts to explain why he does not wish to surrender Palmlre

to the Prophet*

Ce n'est pas qu'& mon age, aux bornes de ma vie, Je port© a Mahomet une honteuse envie; Ce coeur trlste et fletri, que les ans ont glace, Ne peut sentlr les feux d'un deslr insense.

The passage illustrates how Voltaire found some of hia most striking

effects by embroidering on themec suggested by the tragedies of Racine.

In this case, he has borrowed even the language.

^Racine, CEuvres. nouvelle edition, edited by Paul Mesnard, Paris, Eachette, 1885, II, 502.

Poland, IV, 109. 126

Ir.hlgpnig must also have Influenced Mahomet. In this vork concerning the young daughter of Agamemnon who was to he sacrificed to win good weather for the trip to Troy, Voltaire would have found a theme and subject matter very similar to those which he wished to use.

The crj du sang receives a treatment much like that in Mahomet.

Agamemnon must sacrifice his daugher, at the order of the priest,

Calchas; he must Ignore the bonds of affeotion because of the demands of the Gods. His position is close to that of Seide, even though the latter is asked to kill his father unknowingly. Further, the symbol of blood recurs in Racine*s tragedy much as it does in Voltaire's.

It appears at the level of reality, since the sacrifice will entail the spilling of Iphigenie' s blood. Again, it is used to symbolize the natural loyalty of Agamemnon for his daughter. Finally, it has also an almost ritualistic meaning. Like CrebiUon* s Atree. it illustrates an earlier use of Voltaire's theme, which must have been known to him before he wrote Mahomet.

In Racine's Voltaire found another eubjetft similar to that of Mahomet. The plot deals with the efforts of Joad, priest of the Temple, to restore Joas to the throne usurped by Athalie. In

Racine's tragedy’* the motives of the priest are unquestionable; be acts at the inspiration of his God, and there is no roam for doubt as to his sincerity. But what must have been the young Voltaire' s reaction when he first read the scene in which Joad traps Athalie in

the Temple through trickery, and then sends her unfeelingly to her 127 death at the hands of the crowd?2^ The author of the Lettrea phllo- unnhlfniftfl. who preached during his entire life the doctrine of tolerance, could never accept the belief that men had the right, even though divinely guided, to commit inhumane acts* The editors of Voltaire's works have cited the phrase "ma main saintement homicide," which appears twice in Mahomet, as a borrowing from Atha.1 le. Anex ami nation of the passage from which it is taken throws furtherlight on the indebtedness of Voltaire to this tragedy. Joad, speaking to the

Levi tea, the guardians of the Temple, exhorts them to battle for their king:

He descends*—vous pas de ces fameux levites Qui lorsqu'au Dieu du Nil le volage Israel Rendit dans le desert un culte criminel, De leurs plus chars parents saintement homicides, Consaertoent leurs mains dans le sang des perfides, Et par ce noble exploit vous acquirent 1' honneur D'etre seuls employee aux autels du Seigneur?2^

The ancestors of these Levites were guilty, in Voltaire's eyes of the same crime which Seide commits in Mahomet. More faithful to religious practice than to their natural affections, they had won the honor of

serving in the Temple by attacking their dearest relatives. They obeyed blindly, and by their faith were led into atrocities* For

Racine, they and Joad are heroic; for Voltaire, they are inhuman.

24a s Lancaster points out, Voltaire wrote that if he had a man such as Joad in his kingdom, he would imprison him (pp. cit.. I, 20A.).

25Racine, CEuvres. Ill, 680* 128

Thus, Voltaire in Mahomet reacts in a negative way to the tragedy of

i£* uBing the subject matter in the work, but adapting it to his own beliefs. This is one example of the freedom he found even within the limits of imitation.

The question of Shakespeare's influence on the dramatic writings of Voltaire has been debated since the eighteenth century. We know the Frenchman's attitude toward the English poet, unfavorable in the later years of his life when he came to recognise the threat which

Shakespeare constituted to the classic tragedy, was almost always a mixture of approval and of criticism. In his discussion of the works of Shakespeare in the Lettres Philosoph l q - Voltaire had recognized the merits of the RngllAh tragic poet, while also taking into account what could only be considered as weaknesses. He wrote:

Shakespeare, qui passalt pour le Corneille des Anglais, fleurissolt & peu pres dans le terns de Lopez de Vega; 11 orea le theatre; 11 avait un genie pleln de foroe & de fecondite, de natural & de sublime, & sans la moindre coxmaissance des regies.2”

Despite this irregularity which Voltaire could only consider as barbarous, he saw that in the tragedies Shakespeare had written

...de si belles scenes, des morceaux si grands & si terribles... qua ces pieces ont toujours ete jouees avec un grand suoo&s.*'

This is the element which Voltaire found in Shakespeare, and which he

^Lettres philosoph y - edited by Gustave Lanson, Paris, Soclete nouvelle de librairie et d 1edition, II, 79.

2?Ioc. cit. 129 attempted to imitate. He realised that the great tragic poets of

France, limited fay the h ^ n « M p r fA|. had created works which were touching, but which were static* In the theatricality of the English poet, In his use of action, and of material which sometimes crossed the limits of good taste, Voltaire found a new material which he attempted to add to his own works, in the effort to carry the French theater beyond the point reached fay Corneille and Racine.

The most notable argument in favor of the imitation of the first of these writers fay Voltaire was advanced in the early years of this century fay Lounsbury. Working from the fact that the Frenchman had become acquainted with the tragedies of the British poet during his exile in England, and that he had admittedly imitated him in his

Brutus La Mort de Cesar. Lounsbury attempted to extend the actual borrowings of Voltaire to Shakespeare* Thus, in ,2s £E£» Lounsbury saw an Imitation of Othello, which had been already recognised moreover by such French critics as ViUemain. In SemirflmU, Lounsbury found the echo of Hamlet, because Voltaire introduced a ghost. Concerning

M*hornet. Lounsbury stated that the scene of Zoplre1 s death is a "direct

imitation of Shakespeare."^ He saw in the assassination of the aherlf.

an effort to reproduce the effect of the murder of Duncan in Macbeth.

The appearance of Lady Macbeth, he wrote, "led Voltaire to make

Palmira an associate in the murder." The conversation between husband

^Shakespeare and Voltaire. New York, Scribner's, 1902, 121. 130 and wife, just before the commission of the crime, suggested the conversation between the lovers."^ And then the critic continued to blame Voltaire for having failed to match the model he had chosen to Imitate*

Lounsbury's interpretation has been almost unanimously rejected by more recent scholars, Including Lancaster.^ Certainly, Lounsbury overstated his case; if Lady Macbeth is present, and if the crime of regicide is closely related to that of parricide, a fact which

Lounsbury does not mention, there are far too many dissimilarities to argue against this dogmatic stand. Lady Macbeth, for example, is nothing like Palmire. The French heroine is young and lnnooent,

Shakespeare's is hard, and determined. Lady Macbeth is almost the moving forde behind the act of her husband. Seide kills his father when he misunderstands the murmured, "Je fremls* of his beloved.

The murder of Duncan takes place In a room in the oastle, in the presence of sleeping servants; Zoplre is killed at prayer, away from any possible witness. Macbeth hides his crime; Seide, horrified, is anxious to confess his.

And yet there are similarities which may have been obscrured by Lounsbury's limiting his argument to only one point, the presence of Lady Macbeth. The crime of the Scottish lord is symbolised by blood, and the repetition of this word may have helped to suggest to

29lbid.. p. 122.

3°French Tragedy in the Times of Louis IV and Voltaire. I, 201. 131

Voltaire the use of the crl du sane theme. The reader will remember

Macbeth's exclamation when he comes from Duncan's chamber (II, 1)i

What hands are here? h&l they pluck out my ayesl Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from ray hand?

Again, there is in Voltaire's scene a hallucinatory quality which is not conmon in the French theater. Seide, on his way to kill Zopire, hears the voice of Mahomet, ordering him to continue; the altar at which Zopire is praying shakes. After the crime is committed, he oannot see Palmlre because of his feelings of guilt. Might not these touches, which add much to the effect of the scene have been the result of Voltaire's having read Shakespeare's tragedy, especially

the sleepwalking scene of the heroine, and the famous, "Is this a dagger" soliloquy of Macbeth himself?

Another fault in Lounsbury's method, in our opinion, is the

effort to find a one—to—on® relationship between the works of Shakespeare

and Voltaire* ^t is much more likely that the French poet, having

read the works of Shakespeare, would use the material as it came to his mind* Thus it is certain that Voltaire imitated, to some extent,

the tragedy of QthAlJn in his Zaire. But is it not also possible that

he borrowed some of the traits of I««o, in fashioning the character

of his Prophet? The scene in which Iago plays upon the feelings of

Rodrigo, for example, suggests those in which Mahomet tries to win

Zopire to his cause. Iago's constant emphasis on friendship calls to

mind the way Mahomet speaks frankly to both Zoplre and Omar. In our

opinion, it is possible that, In this case, Voltaire combined the 132 models of his character which he had found In the theater of Racine

and Moli&re with the figure of Iago in an attempt to broaden the many

aspects of his protagonist.

The possibility that the scene of Zoplre1 a murder might hare

been Imitated from the London Merchant (1731) of Llllo was advanced

by the editors of the Kehl edition. Lounsbury, on this question was

more skeptical of English Influence:

So far as I have observed, much more attention has been called to an imputed imitation of 1.1110*8 1 London Merchant1 in which George Barnwell murders his unole, but sees him casting an eye of love upon him while breathing his last. The dying words of Zopire to his son by whose hand he lias fallen, the blessing he gives, may have been suggested by this Incident. But it could easily have originated independently.31

This statement expresses the attitude of most students of Voltaire's

theater. An examination of the soene in the London Merchant reveals,

however, other similarities than the one mentioned by Lounsbury. Just as

Zopire*s murder takes place before an altar in the open, Barnwell kills

his uncle on "A walk at some distance from a Country Seat."32 There

is in Llllo the same quality of hallucination found in the scene in

Magomet. Barnwell says to himself, "Since I set forth on this accursed

design, whe'er I tread, me thinks, the solid earth tembles beneath

my feel." (I, 190) The young Englishman's crime is motivated by his

mistress, Millwood, who will not accept him without money. He accuses

^Lounsbury, op. cit.. p. 124-.

32Llllo»a Dramatic Works. London, 1810, I, 190* 133 her In his thoughts: "She has got such firm possession of ny heart, wnH governs them with such despotic sway; Aye, there's the cause of all sy sin end sorrow,.." Seide also finds In his beloved the spur

to action. When he asks her If he should kill Zopire to win her,

she answers, "Je fremls," and he replies:

Je t'entends; son arret est parti de ta bouche.

Barnwell's uncle, like Zoplre, Is at "private meditation.* When he is struck by the dagger, he cries, "Ohl I am slainl All gracious heaven regard the prayer of thy dying servant. Bless, with thy

choicest blessings, ny dearest nephew; forgive ny murderer," (I, 192)

Barnwell cries to his uncle, "Lift up your dying eyes, and view your

nephew in your murderer - C do not look tenderly upon me... By heaven,

he weeps in pity for ny woes. Tears, - tears for blood..." (I, 192)

In the scene we have sunmarlzed there is not one similarity

but several. The movement is almost the same. Barnwell oomes on

stage as if from a distance. Seide, unlike most French practice,

actually walks on the stage, as if approaching his goal. His repeated

"Marchons" is an Indication of this bit of stage business. There is

similarity of scene also in a secluded part of the country, where an

elderly mwn is at prayer. Millwood, it is true, is not present

physically, like Palmire, but her presence is felt, and helps to

determine the action. The tone of hallucination is the same, and is

markedly different from what Voltaire would have found in his French

models. This highly nervous, excited atmosphere is expressed in The

T.fvnffaii Merchant, by the broken train of thought of the hero which is 134 illustrated In our quotations. In muoh the same way, Seide's thoughts are rambling, incoherent, so that when Collier was to write his parody 33 of Mahomet, he would mock the changes of style in the passage. This comparison leads us to believe that the editors of the Kehi edition were correct in citing The London Merchant as one of the sources of

Voltaire's Mahomet_

Lacking in originality and creative powers as a dramatist, encouraged by the doctrine of imitation which led the writers of the eighteenth century to fashion their works after those of the great period of the late seventeenth century, Voltaire put to use many sources in the composition of his jjg^oiget. At tiass, as in the case of La Nous's Mahomet II and Greseat's M o m a i III, the influence was limited to the suggestion of subject matter, or to confirming the poet in his decision to bring onto the stage of the Comedie-Frangaise material which might have been considered too shocking before him.

In other cases, the Influence is more significant. There is no doubt

that Moli^re's Tartuffe. for example, presented the poet with the idea

of bringing to the tragedy the character of the hypocrite, deepened

and made more serious by the changing nature of the religious climate

of France. With CrebiUon there seems to have been a deliberate

attempt to utilise the material of a predecessor, perhaps with the idea

of surpassing the achievement of his ri ml. And with Racine, we come

to the original creator of the types, the themes, and the treatment

^Collier, Thomet. ou le Brouillamini, A Londres, 1755, 38-39. 135 which Voltaire, along with the majority of his contemporaries, utilised

In the f&brleatlon of their dramatic works.

The question of the influence of English authors, especially of Shakespeare and of Llllo, is more delloate. The general opinion of critics on this subject is that there is no need to seek foreign sources, when Voltaire might have found his subject matter at home.

We have attempted to show that there is a difference in tone in some scenes of Mahomet« above all In that of the murder of Zopire, which suggests that Voltaire might have been writing under the effect of his reminiscences of Shakespeare; and we have attempted to bring out the many similarities between this scene and the one in which Llllo1 s hero kills his uncle. While it is possible that the two authors may have arrived independently at the same result, we think the weight

of evidence Indicates actual imitation on the part of Voltaire.

Our study of the literary models of tends to reduce

our estimate of Voltaire's originality. He constructed his tragedy

partly through borrowlhg from the works of his predecessors. Many

of the themes, characters and even lines can be found to stem from

the works of Racine. Much of the plot material and the tone of

horror are due to the influence of CrebiUon. However, in following

the suggestions he found In the English theater, Voltaire added some

freedom of dramatic practice, placing new emphasis on action and on

decor. In terms of dramaturgy, his chief merit is not originality,

but his success in attempting to wed the tradition of the classic

French stage with the new manner he had learned from his English models. And in his attempt to use his tragedy to express an important truth, the idea of tolerance, Voltaire indeed v&s a pioneer in what must be considered a new type of theatrical writing. CHAPTER VI

LA NOUE'S MAHOMET I£ AND THE GIWESIS OF

VOLTAIRE'S MAHOMET

If the study of the genesis of the work of any author Is & delicate one, It Is especially so in the case of Voltaire. The French poet—philosopher was not the type of man whose life can be neatly divided into distinct sections of productivity. His ideas changed during his career, but it is extremely difficult to state that some

particular concern appeared suddenly at any specific period. We have

already shown that the preoccupations which led to his composing

Mahomet had already found expression in la Henrlade. and that the

author had continued his treatment of those problems in several im­

portant works over a period of more than fifteen years. Another fact

also complicates the study of the conception of any of his works.

During his maturity Voltaire was constantly busy revising his writings,

preparing them for the collected editions which he supervised quite

carefully. For this reason, the ideas, contents, and even the form

of previous works remained always fresh in his mind and continued to

Influence his writings.

In spite of the difficulty of such a study, it is interesting

137 138 to attempt to date, as closely as possible, the original Inspiration of Mfthopfft. We shall do this by using the information available In the correspondence (Desnoiresterres1 excellent biography is of little help In this respect), and by examining the opinions of various students of Voltaire’s dramatic writings*

In the Avis & Wtf to the tragedy, Voltaire made the following statement concerning the work*

Je sais tr&s certainement qu1elle fut composes par 1'auteur en 1736, et que des lore 11 en envoys une oople au prince royal*

This would seem to be definite enough, but students of Voltaire are aware that the poet was often inexact as to dates. Lion gives as the first mention of Mahomet in the correspondence a letter of February 6,

1 7 3 9 e n d Croule thinks that it was conceived "dans le temps oil La

Noue, auteur et aoteur, jouisaait du suaofes de son Mahomet II. *3

Lancaster also ignores the date advanced in the Avis, but places the conception of the play in 1738.^ There is then disagreement among

the authorities on the exact date of the tragedy's genesis. Perhaps

a close examination of this period will permit us to establish that date*

^Moland, CE uvrea de Voltaire. IV, 97. Mol and identifies Voltaire as the author of this Azia.

2Henri Lion, ^es Tragedies et les theories dramatiaues £& Voituire. Paris, Hachette, 1895, p. 125.

^L. Croule, £g Vie et les oeuvres de Voltaire. Paris, Champion, 1899, I, 151.

^Henry Carrington Lancaster, French Tragedy in the Time of Voltaire And Louis XV. Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1950, II, 203* 139

In the last months of 1733, Voltaire vas once agiln suffering from the bitter attacks of his enemies. He had been the object of persecution when the unauthorised edition of his Lettree p M 1 npnphiques appeared in 1734* Again, when £e Mond«^ vas published, the poet became frightened at the possibility of retaliation on the part of

the authorities, and even felt it vise to take flight. In December

1738 the jealous Deafontaines, whom Voltaire had befriended, published

the Vp^ i ft - The hostile critic spared nothing in his anonymous

onslaught. He recalled the beating Voltaire had received early iu

his career. He made vague accusations of immorality. But, more dangerously, he revived the suspicions that Voltaire had written the

Ep*tre & j&aais*

The ingratitude of Deafontaines vas cruel enough. Voltaire

might well grow angry at the thought that he had earlier rescued the

awn from Bioetre. Even more disappointing vas the behavior of Voltaire's

friend Thieriot. A letter vas published which seemed to oast doubt

on some of the accusations Voltaire had made against Desfontaines,

and this letter bore Thieriot*s signature. During the month of

Deoember, Voltaire and Mme du Chatelet attempted to persuade Thieriot

to meet his responsibilities toward his friend, but the latter, never

outstanding for moral courage, continued to avoid facing up to what

he had done. The record of these disappointments, and of their effect

on the poet appears in a letter he wrote to the actress Jeanne

Prangoise Quinault on about March 26, 1739* 140

ZuUjgg a ete falte au milieu dee mouvements oil 11a [}iia enemies] a 1 out force, et it travers cent lettres a ecrire par semalne. La douleur d'etre aooable par ceux qui devaient me defendxe a*eat tournee en sentiments tragiquea..

Onder the pressure of this episode of persecution, bigotry, and unnatural ingratitude, it vas not unusual that the poet should begin to seek artistic expression for his feelings* Cn February 9,

1739, he wrote to his friend D'Argentals "J'ai quelque chose de bean dans la tete; a&is j'ai be so in de tranqullllte et mss ennemls me l'otent.*^ Two events contributed to the flowering of this new idea* His quarrel with Deafontaines vas settled, not entirely to his liking, but bringing to an end the necessity of pursuing the matter further. Towards the end of the month he began hearing rumors

of a new tragedy which was exciting much comment In Paris. He wrote 7 in a note to Thieriot on February 28: "Qu'es-oe Mahomet? Quid novi?"

The play he spoke of vas obviously not his own; it vas the Mahomet II

of La Nous, \hich had been performed at the Comedle-Frangaise on

February 23, 1739.

It is interesting, and perhaps significant, that La Noue's

tragedy should be mentioned in the correspondence before Voltaire's

Mahomet. The fate of the two tragedies was to be curiously linked

over the following years. La Noue at the time of the debut of his

^Besteman, IX, 59; Mo land, XXXV, 227,

^Besterman, IX, 343; Moland, XXXV, 163.

7Besterman, VIII, 418; Moland, XXXV, 199. HI only tragedy, vas 38 years old. He had become an actor In the pro­ vincial theaters of Lyons, Strasbourg and Rouen, and it vas perhaps

In the last-named town that he had met Cldevllle, Voltaire’s frequent correspondent. Later he considered taking a troupe of French aotors to Berlin, perhaps through the intercession of Voltaire himself. In

1741 he gay* the first performance of Mahomet in Lille, and when he became an actor at the Ccmedie-Franjaise, partly as a result of his performing Voltaire's tragedy in the province, he created the role of Seide.®

Certainly Voltaire folloved the success of the nev play with great interest. On March 7 he vrote to Cldevllle:

Bahrassez pour aoy mon confrere la Noue. On dit quo aa ■ pi&ce est exeellente; j'y prends part de tout mon coeur et par cette raison, qua la pifcoe est bonne, et par cette autre raison si persuasive pour mcy, que vous a liras lfauteur. Si vous pouview 1'engager & l'envoyer 2l l'abbe Moussinot, cloltre at Mery, par le coche, je l'auroia au bout de sept jours. Si la pllce ne vous etoit dediee, je voudrois qu'elle put l'etre k madame du Chastelet. Cela uroit nous lier avec mr de la Noue quand nous habiterons rParis.9 Voltaire, of course, folloved the appearance of all nev plays espe­ cially those which were successful. His request that the tragedy be sent to him, his obvious eagerness to read it, might be explained as his usual interest in such matters, although ve might point out that his most frequent orders for books from Paris during this period are

for scientific or philosophical works. Another bit of evidence on

^Lancaster, o p . clt.. I, 18.

^Besterman, IX, 15; Moland, XXXV, 202-203. U 2 this point is added by a passage from a letter to Mile Quinault, written on March 7:

Thalle, qui gouvemez Melpomene, parmi les . les Warvick. et les Almetde. ee quo vous s&vez trouvera-t-il sa place? Vous en aviez vu 11 ebauche; je I 1 envoie avsc quelques coups de pinceau, qui sont le fruit de vos judioieux oonseils; 11 m'est venu de si terriblement beaux sujets dans la tite, c|ue j'ai peur de ne plus rlen fairs qua des pieces de theatre•10

The reference to "ce que vous saves” is one of those seemingly im­ penetrable expressions >&lch crop up in correspondences between persons tiio have many hidden meanings based on conversations and earlier letters. It probably refers, however, to 2fi3J££» copies of which Voltaire had sent to the actress. More important to us, is

Voltaire's mention of having so many new dramatic Ideas that he is afraid he will produce only plays. This concurs with the "quelque chose de beau1* he speaks of in his letter to D'Argental on February 9*

But in the letter to Mile Quinault, we have the new ideas connected with La Nous's tragedy M»hmnet II. for he is obviously thinking of

that play when he asks if his Zul imm will find a place among "les

Mahometa. les Warvick. les Alraeirie— ” Is there a hidden joke here?

Is Voltaire purposely teasing his friend, knowing that his own Mahomet

is beginning to take shape? The tone of his letter supports this

interpretation. There is, certainly, one fact that indicates this

may be true* A n three tragedies mentioned are plural, but only

^homet is written with an "a". Although this is a small detail, it

iOBesterman, IX, 17; Moland, XXXV, 205. U 3 may mean that In Voltaire's mind at this time there are really two

tragedies, that of La Noue, and his own.

At any rate, it is during this month of March that the tragedy begins to take form. On March 26, Voltaire could write to Mile

Quinaultj

Vous oraignez, mademoiselle, que je n'aie pas 1'esprit assez llbre pour corriger Zulimei Saohez que J'al ete si iapatiente de ne point recevoir vos critiques, que j'al commence une autre tragedie dans 1 1intervalle; saohez qu'll y a quatre actes d'eb&uches.^-

This new tragedy could only be Mahomet. We are confirmed in this

opinion by a letter addressed to D'Argental on April 2:

L 1 auteur de Mahomet II m'a envoy6 sa piece, elle eat plelne de vers etlncelants, le sujet etait blen difficile X tralter. Que dirlez vous si |e vous envoyals bientot Mahomet premier? Paresseux que vous etes, j'al plus tot fait une tragedie que vous n'avez critique Zulime.^

Here again we have Voltaire's tragedy linked with that of La Noue.

We see, then, that Mahomet was nearing completion in its first draft

by April 2. The composition of the play would continue; Voltaire

would correct his work, plead for advice from his friends, Improve,

refine during several months. But at this point we can say that the

tragedy was conoeived in the month of February 1739. At first it

was a vague idea, "quelque chose de beau"; then, through the per­

formance of La Nous's Vfafinmwt II. it began to take shape as the story

of the Impostor, a story through which Voltaire might attack once

^■Besterman, IX, 60; Moland, XXXV, 227.

•^Besterman, H, 6A; Moland, XXXV, 231. again h±3 enemies. If we are correct in dating the play’s conception as of February 1739 > then La Noue13 tragedy must be credited with suggesting the subject matter of Voltaire's Mahomet. It would have been too coincidental for the two men to have been working separately on such closely related subjects. We have discussed the direct influence of La Noue’s tragedy in our chapter on the literary models of Mahomet, CHAPTER Til

THE WORK OF COMPOSITION

As ve bare seen In the preceding chapter, the writing of ff^hapa-^ began In the year 1739, after the presentation of La Noue's

Mahomet II in Paris* The actual period of composition continued over the next three years, during the poet's many travels, his trips to

Flanders, his first meeting with Frederick, his trip to Berlin*

Despite the diatraotions of his preparation of the - and his constant difficulties with the authorities in France, he went on correcting, rewriting, sending off new leyons of this favorite child which was to cost him so much effort and disappointment. The story of this period has been told already by Desnoiresterres,^ and

Lion, but it merits our attention also because it demonstrates the method Wiich Voltaire followed and the problems he faced in bringing to the stage what he considered his most worthy production. Further,

some corrections of detail can be made in the story, since the publi­ cation of Mr.Besterman's monumental edition of the correspondence.

^Desnoiresterres, VoltAira at la sooiete franyatse du dix- huitieme si&ole. Paris, Didier, 1868, II, 267 ff.

^Henri Lion, Tragedies at theories dramatiques de Voltaire, p. 125 ff. U 6

We shall, therefore, using Desnoiresterres1 fundamental study as our guide, and, referring to the letters as they appear in the Besterman edition, attempt to reconstruct this difficult moment in Voltaire's life.

In the spring of 1739, the quiet years spent at Cirey came to a close. Mme de Grafigny, after a rather frightening confrontation with Voltaire and Mme du Chatelet, hurriedly took her departure from

the household.3 The distasteful dispute with the Abbe Desfontalnes was in settlement, not entirely to the satisfaction of the philosopher,

but at least without a serious loss of face. In the meantime, a law

suit in Flanders, concerning a property owned by a cousin of M. du

Chatelet and promising to aid financially Voltaire's impoverished

hosts, caused the poet and his mistress to consider a trip to Brussels.^

Despite the state of his health, *&ich as usual, was the object of

some concern, Voltaire undertook this journey, one that was to extend

over a period of several months. He and Mme du Chatelet would return

later to Cirey} but the life of study, of thought, of relative security

which that house had offered him was to some extent over.

Probably Voltaire's chief occupation at this point of his life

was the presentation of 2ul inte. His friends in Paris had read the

tragedy, had made their usual suggestions for revisions, and were

anxious to bring this work to the stage. But a curious conflict arose.

^Desnoiresterres, on. cit.. p. 2A5.

4-Ibid.. p. 255. H 7

The poet himself gradually lost Interest in the "creme fouettee"^ of

Zullme. and Mahomet became the center of his attention. It vas, in his opinion, his best work. And the years 1739 to 1741 were to a large extent the drama, sometimes pathetic, sometimes oomic, of his attempt to convince his friends that this tragedy should be presented on the state of the Comedie.

It might be veil to say here a few words of the correspondents whom he addressed most often during this period. There was first of all the comte d'Argental and his wife, the "anges gardiens" of Voltaire, who through their influential connections were able to smooth from his path many of the difficulties involved in winning the acceptance of the play by the actors. There was also M. de Pont-de-Veyle, who apparently served mainly to aid in mailing the manuscripts seoretly, but who also offered some suggestions on the tragedy itself. The

Abbe ttmsslnot, canon of Saint-Merry, who had come to serve as Voltaire1 s financial representative in Paris,^ offered an address which would naturally be above the suspicion of any persons who were curious about opening packages. The Marquis d 1Argenaon, always rather friendly towards Voltaire, was treated with more circumspection; his connection with the government was of great advantage to Voltaire, but he was not let in on the secret of Mahomet as openly as the others. Finally, in

Paris, there was Mile Quinault, that famous actress who had made her

5Besterman, U , 229; Moland, XXXV, 324.

^Desnoiresterres, o p . clt.. pp. 121-122. 1AB debut at the Comedie In 1718, the same year In which Voltaire had presented (Edipe* Perhaps more influential than any others of the members of the troupe, she had been credited with inspiring Plron, her lover, to write les Pile ingrate, and had suggested to La Chanssee

the subject of his epoch-making Preluge £ mode.^ She had supervised

the production of Voltaire's ~Rnf«Tit proditrue, and served as his spokes­

man among the actors of the Comedie. Most important, she could be

trusted*

We have insisted on the secrecy Involved in Voltaire's

preparation of his tragedy. No reader of the poet's correspondence

can be unaware of his often frantic efforts to keep his plans from his

enemies. One can easily understand this wish in relation to Mahomet*

The tragedy itself could only be considered controversial. Although

he had used the figure of Mohammed to serve as his target, only the

most naive could be expected to be taken in by this stratagem* There

was no possible error; Voltaire was launching his attack against the

forces of intolerance, and he wished to present this work on the stage

of the Comedie—Frangalse* His friends might well attempt to dissuade

him from this action, and if he showed his hand too early, the effect

of his stroke might be parried* But there were other reasons for his

secrecy. His polemic against Desfontalnes, his long rivalry with the

poet Jean—Baptiste Rousseau, his position as the leading tragic poet

of the period, all of these factors increased his vulnerability to

*7 / 'Georges Bengesco, Comediennes de Voltaire. Paris, Perrin, 1912, pp. 74-S2. H 9 attack. He could expect such attacks from all sides - from jealous rivals, from the cabale dea devots. from the government himself. It was not an idle drama that the author of was playing.

His first step then was to interest the Paris group in Mahomet.

The tone of the letters he wrote during 1739 on this subject was cajoling; the poet appeared humble, ready to make any correction to win the support of his "anges gardiens," and of his Thalie. In April of that year he reproached d'Argental for not having sent his remarks on £ £ * & • (Besterman, U , 108; Moland, XXXV, 258) In June, Mme du

Chatelet entered the battle, telling ‘d'Argental that Voltaire had begun to rework Mahomet, undoubtedly using suggestions sent by his friend, but reminding the count that he should remember Zullme.

*elle feroit a merveille dans les cirConstances presentes." (Besterman,

IX, 1 4 6 $ Moland, XXXV, 281) She referred without doubt to a possible performance of that tragedy in the sunmer off-season of the Comedie.

On June 4 t Voltaire wrote to d'Argenson an interesting letter which contained many evidences of the direction in which his mind was turning. He asked if D'Argenson had received the odes on superstition and on ingratitude, and the voyage of the academicians. He warned

111 Argenson:

...je vous en prie, n ’allea pas preferer une deolamation vague d ’une centaine de vers, & une tragedie dans laquelle il faut oreer, conduire, intriguer et denouer une action interessantet ouvragea d'autant plus difficiles que les sujets sent plus rares, et qu'll demand© une plus grande 150

connaissance du coeur bumain. II eat vrai que pulaque oe spectacle eat represents et vu par des homes et dea feomes, 11 faut abaolument de 1 1 amour.8

Not once haa be mentioned to D’Argenaon that he ia at work on Mahomet. but we can reconstruct from these lines his activity at the tine* He was in the act of plotting, of inventing the details of the tragedy.

The "quelque chose de beau* which he had mentioned some months before hed grown to th~ stage where it needed the bones and flesh of dramatic incident. A nd a problem with which Voltaire was familiar had again cropped up. For years, in fact, from the production of K d ^ p e . he had struggled against the necessity of including a love interest in his tragedies. In 2a Mort de Cesar, which was experimental and not designed for public performance, he had succeeded in suppressing completely this part of his intrigue. In Zaire, by imitating the passionate, furious love of Shakespeare's pthal^p.he had attempted to reform French practice by a least eliminating gallantry. Now he has discovered, that even in his ”11 faut absolument de

1 1 amour."

This letter of June 4 continues with even greater interest:

II y a trois mo is que 1' auteur de Mahomet second m ’ envoy a son manuscrit: je trouve

Once again the figure of La Noue appears in connection with the

composition of Mahomet. Voltaire has just spoken of the difficulty

8Besterman, IX, 149; Molard, XXXV, 282-283.

^Besterman, IX, 150; Moland, XXXV, 284.. 151 of finding subject a for a tragedy* Almost Imnediately afterwards he mentions having read Mpjhonwt. II. When he speaks of La Noue' s feat

in drawing a work from *un terrain si aride et si ingrat,1* we can only deduce that he is aware of having accepted the challenge offered by La Noue, and that the ground he is at present working is even more barren.

A letter addressed to Helvetiua on July 6 bears witness to

further progress in Voltaire's thinking of his tragedy. The two

ohiloaonhes had met some time in the spring of 1739,^° and at that

meeting Voltaire had read to his young admirer an ebauche of the

tragedy. In this letter, he suggested that it might be wise to have

Mahnmat presented anonymously at the Comedie-Frangaise*

J'aurais grande envie de savolr comnent une piece d'un genre si nouveau et si hasarde reussirait ches nos galants franjais.H

In fact, one might deduce from this letter that in the back of Voltaire’s

mind, this plan for producing anonymously had been developing

for some time. Evidently he and Helvetiua had discussed the problem

in their earlier meeting, for he continued in the letter just quoted

to suggest that a friend of Helvetiua might read the tragedy to the

l^It is difficult to date exactly this meeting. A letter of March 1A invited Helvetiua to Cirey (Besterman, IX, 39; Moland, XXXV, 220), and the invitation was repeated about March 20 (Besterman, IX, 51-52; Moland, XXXV, 223). On April 29, Voltaire wrote affectionately to Helvetiua, and the tone of the letter suggests that the two had met. (Besterman, IX, 117; Moland, XXXV, 265-266). On May 2, Voltaire wrote to his frierxi in English, saying that he hoped to see him in Chalons. We must conclude that the meeting where Helvetiua heard the reading of the draft of took place sometime between March 20 and the end of May, either at Cirey or Chalons.

HBesterman, IX, H9-150; Moland, XXXV, 299. 152 actors of the Comedie. In this way,Voltaire would not be immediately identified as the author.

To what extent did Voltaire attempt to have hie tragedy pro­ duced independently of his friends, the D ’Argentals and Mile Quinault?

He could hardly have hoped to carry through the plan he outlined to

Helvetiua without the knowledge of his "anges gardiena." The moment that such manuscript was presented to the troupe, Mile Quinault would know of it, end would recognize It as the work her friend had been compso Log for some months. Despite this difficulty, one cannot help but feel that Voltaire was contemplating a sort of encircling action.

His partisans In Paris, out of timidity, or from a basic lack of trust in the merits of Mahomet, were delaying his project, and Voltaire seemed at this time to be preparing another possible means of bringing the play to Paris.

We must not believe, however, that the tragedy was actually ready to be staged. Voltaire wrote to Helvetius, in the letter cited,

"J’ai fini ce Mahomet dont je vous ai lu l'ebauche.'’ His task of composition, despite his optimistic statement, was far from completed.

Wavering between enthusiasm and discouragement, the poet often an­ nounced to his correspondents that a work was ready to be staged, only to return It to the metier for further corrections. Such was the case with ]4g£omgt.

There was another quarter interested in the progress of his tragedy. Frederick, Voltaire’s royal disciple, had also to be kept up to date. The prince had already received some version of the play, 153 for on August 9» 1739, he addressed a letter to Voltaire, contnenting that he could not judge "la charpente de la piice, faute de la connaltre." But he complimented the poet on the versification, and

the "portraits et caraot&res qui font fortune aux ouvrages d*esprit."

(Besterman, IX, 215; Moland, XXXV, 313). On August 12, before Voltaire had received this letter, he announced to Frederick that he had sent

the second act, and ended with the tactless remark, "j e aouhaite que

les Musulmans reussissent aupres de votre altesse royale, comae ils

le font sur la Moldavia." (Besterman, IX, 217; Moland, XXXV, 314).

By September, 1739, Voltaire was able to send Frederick two

aots of his tragedy. In his letter, he emphasised the attack on

fanaticism. He comnented on his portrayal of Seidet

Le malheureux Said qui croit servir dieu en egorgeant son p&re n'est point un portrait ohimarique. Les Jean Chatel, les Clements, les Ravaillacs e talent dans ee cas, et ce qu'il y a de plus horrible, c'est qu'ils etolent tous dans la bonne foy.^

Frederick acknowledged the receipt of the two acts on November 10,

1739. Interestingly enough, he spoke of the tragedy as Zopire.

(Besterman, IX, 250; Moland, XXXV, 338). Was Voltaire considering

such a change of title, or did Frederick use this only to indicate

a shift in treatment from the earlier version? Although we shall

see later that the poet did consider presenting the tragedy under

the title of Seide because news of his new work had circulated in Paris,

we cannot make any definite statement on this point. At any rate, the

^Besterman, IX, 238; Moland, XXXV, 331. 154 prince mentioned moat strongly his reaction to the play's pathetic elements; he almost wept at the scenes between Zopire and Seide, and

Seide »nd Palmira. Re found the scene in which Mahomet "feint de condemnor 1* notion de Seide" worthy of praise* He felt that Zopire's entrance "pour mourir en r&gle" was weak, and that the "fond de theatre ouvert et ferae sentait un peu la machine*" However, be praised the characters, the portrayal of moeurs. and of passions, and even conceded that Zopire's entrance, although lacking in naturalness, was "une tache qu'on pourrait passer sur le corps d'une beaute parfaite*" (Besterman, IX, 250; Moland, XXXV, 338).

About November 1, 1739, Voltaire wrote that the fifth act would have been sent to Frederick, had it been transcribed. The first acts

been reworked. Besides the correction of "certains vers laches

et decousus," there was one important change:

(Votre al tease} verra 1 'amour paternal et le secret de la naissance des enfants de Zopire jouer un role plus grand et blen plus interessant; Zopire pr&s a etre assasine par ses enfanta memos, n*adresse au ciel ses pri&res que pour eux, et il est frappe de la main de son fils, tandis qu'il prie les dieux de lui faire connaltre ce fils m&n©*l3

Here Voltaire was caught up in the details of plotting which both

fascinated plagued him. He had given new emphasis to the roles

of Zopire and Seide. It is also interesting to note the manner in

which he visualized the scene. His resume is an indication of the

which he helped to popularize in the eighteenth century*

^Besterman, IX, 266; Moland, XXXV, 345* 155

In this letter he returned to another aspect of the tragedy which he knew would Interest Frederick equally. He asked if he had succeeded in capturing the "horreur que doivent inspirer les Ravaillao, lea

Polthot, les Clement, les Felton, les Salc&de, les Aod, j'al pense dire les Judith?" And, while suggesting that be dedicated to the Prince, he described the work as "la premiere tragedie ok

1'on alt attaque la superstition.* (Besterman, IX, 266-267; Moland,

XXXV, 345).

Having followed Voltaire's efforts to keep Frederick informed on his progress, we must now return to his communications with his friends In Paris. As we have seen, by September, 1739, Voltaire believed that he was almost ready to bring his tragedy to the Cornedle-

Frangaise. In a letter to Mile Quinault which Mr* Besterman dates about September 5, the poet took up again his efforts to winthe support of the influential actress. Mile Quinault was anxiousto present Zul^n^, and insisted on ignoring the merits of Mahomet, which

Voltaire considered "peut-etre ce que j'ai fait de moins mal." She had complained of the many tragedies of horror which were appearing; this was an argument for which Voltaire had his rebuttal prepared*

Vous cralgnez les horreurs. Eh bienl chef aimable de mon conseil, pourquoi dormer de suite Atree. CEdlne. et Mahomet. N'avez vous pas des Berenices ££ &££ Z a i r e s ? 1^

Whatever the decision of his adorable Thalie. Voltaire sends the manuscript of Mahomet, warning her not to leave it in the hands of

•^■Besterman, IX, 230* Moland, XXXV, 324-325. 156

Mlnet, prompter of the company, who °ne manque jamais de faire des copies, et de les vendre aux comedians de campe^ne." And he closes the matter by stating formally s

Je crols que vous pourrle* lire toujours ce Mahomet & vos camarades; et en attendant, je vous prometa de le bien retoucher.

In the fall of 1739, Voltaire and Mme du Chatelet had returned from Brussels, and, after a short stay in Paris, they vent on their way to Cirey* But no sooner had the author of the Lettrea flngi set his foot on his native soli, than nev difficulties began to arise.

The government looked vlth suspicion on an edition of the Recue 11 de places fugitives, which was being prepared for publication by Prault fils. The Bifecle de Louis h»a especially attracted unfavorable interest, and In November the edition was seized,^ Once again

Voltaire had to learn that, despite his high connections and the favor he enjoyed In the eyes of the Prince Royal of Prussia, he was still open to attack In his own country. Perhaps the controversy surrounding

these criticisms led the poet to despair of winning production for his tragedy. Certainly the climate was not too favorable for him at

that time. We sense a note of discouragement In his letter to

Helvetiua, written on October 3, from Paris. Referring to his plan

to have a friend of the young phlloaonhe read the play to the actors,

^^Loo. clt.

l^Deanoiresterrea, ofi. clt.. p. 263. 157 the poet wrote:

SI je sav&ls o& loge votre aimable Montmireil, si j*avals acheve Mahomet, je me eonflerals i. lul j£ nomine tup, male je ne ouls pas encore P£et, et je pourrais vous envoyer de Bruxelles mon Alcoran.

Voltaire was true to his word. Despite the annoyances of quarrels with Plron and Jean-Baptiste Rousseau, also living in Brussels at the time, and despite the distractions of his duties in super­ vising the publication of the Anti-Machiavel, he continued the long ta3k of revising his tragedy and winning for it a presentation in

Paris, On January 5, 1740, he wrote to Mile Quinault, assuring her that she would be satisfied with his handling of the recognition of

Zopire and Seide. (Besterman, X, 2-3; Moland, XXXV, 356). Some three weeks later (January 26), his letter to D'Argenson revealed the poet's distaste at his labors. He speaks of abandoning poetry after

Mahomet is completed, and complains that

j'ai peur que dans oette pi&ce 1 *attention a ne pas dire tout ce qu'on p o u r r a i t dire, n1alt un peu etelnt mon feu. La circonspection eat une belle chose, mala en vers elle est bien trlste. Etre ralsonnable et froid, c'est presque tout un..

A part of this tone of discouragement seems due to the constraint which was probably placed on the poet by his friends. While he was indeed being circumspect in letting the powerful D'Argenson know that he bar? no intention of saying "tout ce qu'on pourrait dire," we are

^Besterman, IX, 247; Moland, X X X V , 336.

1®Besterman, X, 26; Moland, XXXV, 374. 158 at the same time left with an impression of lethargy and discouragement.

This feeling continues in the rest of the correspofadence during the early months of 1740. To Frederick, Voltaire wrote that he was so dissatisfied with the fifth act, that he did not dare send it to him. To the D'Argentals, he complained of their alienee. His fifth act was completed, he said, and the other four had been reworked.

Would it be possible to send the entire manuscript in care of M. de

Pont-de—Veyle? And he ended on a note of mock pathos, which was perhaps more sincere than one might believe at first glance:

Pourquo1 mes anges sont 11s muets? C'est blen la peine d 1 avoir des anges gardiensl Je vous balae lea ailes, male ecrivez moi done un petit mot.l?

In this same letter, he defended over Zul Ime. which was the choice of the Parisian group for first performance. Cne scene of ^g^omgt, he wrote was worth all Zulijne. and in spite of its weak fifth act, "qui sera toujours faible", the tragedy is "un mcrceau tr&s singulier." Again, on February 4, he answered Mile Quinault's criticism in a way which permits us to see the tragedy gradually taking its final form:

...je suls aussi meeontent que vous du dernier acte; mais je crois qu'en met tan t la reconnaissance It la fin du quatrl&me et 1 1 amenant n&turellement an presence du p&re tout sang1ant, et blesse par son fils, et revenant sur la sc%ne tenant le poignard dont 11 a ete frappe, je orois, dls je, que c'est le seul moyen de pousser la terreur et la tendresse a son comble, et de reeerver beaucoup d ’etoffe pour le cihquiXme.20

l^Besterman, X, 36j Moland, XXXV, 376.

20Besterman, X, 40—41; Moland, XXXV, 380. 159

Voltaire as a tragic poet w&a always at his weakest in the plotting of his plays. Where Raolne was capable of using the barest incidents as the framework for a tragedy, Voltaire was constantly concerned with spinning out his material as much as possible. Lacking Racine's penetration into the human heart, the eighteenth-century tragic poet was forced to dwell more on peripheral action. He was completely aware that, in this case, after the excitement of his fourth act, the final one could only be anticlimactic.

He continued, none the less, to push on in his efforts to have it performed. On February 16, he wrote to D'Argental that it might be well to forget Zulima and to produce Mahomet during the

Lenten season, and he assured his friend that, even were the tragedy to hold the stage only for seven performances, he would publish it,

parce qu'il y a plus de neuf, plus d ’invention, plus de choses dans une seule so&ne de oe drole-la que dans toutea les lamentations amoureuses de la faible Zulime.

But he seemed aware that his battle was lost. On February 23, he wrote Frederick despondently:

Je ne sals pas si cette piece sera jamais representee; mais qu'importe? C'est pour ceux qui pensent conme vous que Je l'ai faite, et non pour les badauds qui ne connaissent que des intrigues d*amour, baptisees du noen de tragedie.22

On February 25, he agreed to permit D'Argental to arrange for the production of resigning himself to await the reopening of the

21 Besterman, X, 42-43; Moland, XXXV, 381

22Besterman, X, 49; Moland, XXXV, 386. 160 theater at Easter for Mahomet, (Besterman, I, 51; Moland, XXXV, 387).

A little earlier, he had written to Mile Quinault on much the same tone, insisting on the merits of Mahomet, and suggesting that in the hands of an aotor such as Dufresne, the role of Seide could touch the audience, and admitting that "dans ce o'est Mahomet seul qui ambarasse." (Besterman, X, 50). Despite some encouraging remarks from Frederick, when Voltaire wrote to Helvetius on March 24, it was with a note of sad patience.

Je ne me presse point de donner Mahomet je le travaille encore tous les j o u r s . 23

On the first of April in 1740, Voltaire sent to D'Argental a new version of Mahomet, and asked him to have M. de Font—de-Veyle put in the hands of the Abbe Moussinot "tout ce qu'il a des premieres legons de cette tragedie." He also, through D'Argental, promised to

Mile Gaussin the leading role in M»hom«t. (Bestermam, X, 81-82; Moland,

XXXV, 409). However, by this time, what the poet had always feared had happened. The news of the existence of his new tragedy was beginning to circulate in Paris. (Cf. letters of the abbe Le Blanc

to Jean Bouhier, Besterman, X, 16 and 30). He could hardly have

expected anything else; a secret shared by so many people could only

end by becoming discovered. In May, Voltaire promised to send a

manuscript to his friend Cideville, who had apparently already heard

something of the tragedy:

Ce Mahomet n'est pas comme vous crovez bien le Mahomet second qui coupe la tete a sa bien alxoee, o'est Mahomet

23Besterman, X, 72; Moland, XXXV, 401. 161

le fanatique, le cruel, le fourbe, et & la honte des homes le grand, qui de gargon marohand devient prpph^te et monarque.^A

He compared once again to Zu H ibw- saying that the latter portrayed only the dangers of love, while the former tested those

of fanaticism, and thus was "tout nouveau,* And he prided himself on having found "une veine nouvelle dans oette mine du teatre si long temps fouilee et retournee1"

The date of the production of 7.nT 1 me was approaching. On

June 1, 1740, Voltaire wrote to Frederick to announce the presenta­

tion of this tragedy, "toute d 1amour, toute distillee de l'e&u rose des dames frangelses." (Besterman, X, 125; Moland, XXXV, 431)* And

he mentioned again that he was continuing to revise the entire

tragedy of Mahomet. But Voltaire's Zullme was not to have the success

that his friends had predicted. Presented on June 8 , 1740, it

suffered from the inevitable comparison with BaJaaet and Thomas

Corneille's Ariane.^^ On June 12, Voltaire asked D ,Argental to

withdraw on "some honest pretext," reminded him that he had

always preferred Merope and Mahomet, and offered to incorporate his

friend's suggestions in his revision of the latter, (Besterman, X,

150; Moland, XXXV, 452). And on July 3, he wrote to Mile Quinault:

^Besterman, X, 108. The words I have italicised indicate that Cideville h*d Indeed heard rumors of Voltaire's Mahomet, and had confused it with La Noue1 a Mahomet II.

2^cf. Avertissement. Moland, IV, 3, and Voltaire's prefaoe to the same tragedy, Ibid.. 8-9. 162

Paix aoit aux manes da Zuliose. On ne salt que trop que j'al fait Mahomet, mals 11 feudra la d o r m e r soua la nom de Saida, at si vous a 1 an opcrsz. vous la donnerax tout au oomancement da l'hiver, pour ne pas lalsser le tamps an puhlio d ’eventer le secret.^3

Having suffered the setback of Zullma. and aware that the public was alerted to the new tragedy, Voltaire could only sat to work again at his job of polishing and Improving his next effort.

The taalr had already been In progress, as we have seen, over the preceding year, and it had entered what we might consider its second period. Eight days after this letter to Mile Quinault, Voltaire addressed to M. de Pont-de-Veyle a letter entitled Humbles Remontrances.

In which he answered some of the criticisms he had received of the new version of Mahomet, and this letter permits us to continue our reconstruction of the tragedy's state at the time. First, Voltaire refused to present Hereide, Seide1s foster father, on the st^ge.

Doing so would necessitate explanations, and "je ne aula dej& charge que de trop de reclts preliminalres," (Besterman, Z, 193; Moland,

XXXV, 480), He agreed to accept certain changes in the scene between

Mahomet and palmire, and to write the fifth act "tel qu'on le propose,"

He feared, however, that the last act could only be anticlimactic after Zopire's death, and that Mahomet might possibly push his crime to "un etxc&s revoltant." Seide* s death from a poisoned letter Voltaire considered "une chose assez delicate," and Palmire*s death also raised

^Besterman, X, 18^-185; Moland, XXXV, 4.77. Voltaire had made the same suggestion to Mile Quinault on April 19, pointing out that Mahomet "n*est pas le role interessant" (Besterman, X, 94; Moland, XXXV, 256), 163 difficulties, because it would not be likely that she would appear armed in Mahomet* a presence, Voltaire suggested that Seide bring to the stage the dagger with which he killed Zopire,

On the question of Mahomet* a feeling guilt, Voltaire was also aware of difficulties. He wrote:

••. il sera bien difficile que la douleur et le desespoir ^ient lieu dans 1 1 ame de Mahomet, surtout dans un moment o& il s'agit de sa Tie et de sa gloire.^

Above all, the poet refused to portray his character as the tender gallant so much admired in eighteenth-century tragedy:

C'est un homme qui a fait 1* amour en souverain et en politicpxe, comment lui dormer les regrets d'un amanh desespere?^®

We shall have reason to return to this point, for the solution to the

problem of Mahomet's punishment was one of the most striking successes

of the tragedy, and ve must attempt to decide whether it was Voltaire's,

or was suggested to him by his friends. Finally, Mahomet's "faux

miracle" and his "art etonnant de conserver sa reputation par un crime"

constitute a "belle horreur," which Voltaire promised he would try to

convey "de ses ©ouleurs veri tables,"

During the sunnier of 1740, Voltaire continued working on his

revision of the tragedy, probably concentrating on the fifth act,

developing the "admirable idea" his friend D'Argental had suggested

to him. (Besterman, X, 194; Moland, XXXV, 482). But the Parisian

27Besterman, X, 193; Moland, XXXV, 480. 16A coterie was not the only one active in advising the poet. In August, he wrote to La Noue, thanking him for his suggestions and promising to make use of them. He spoke of hoping to hear the actor-poet before long and asked him:

Mandez moy Je vous prie si vous pouriez y etre le ler septemhre. J'ay m e 3 raisons, et ces raisons sont principalement l'estime et 1'amitie...29

Voltaire might protest that he wished to 3ee La Noue only for reasons

of friendship, but our study of the development of Mahomet indicates

that another reason was even more present In his mind. Blocked in

his efforts to present the tragedy in Pari3, perhaps discouraged by

the lack of confidence of D'Argental and the other members of his

council, Voltaire was probably already in August beginning to formulate

the plan of presenting Mahomet in Lille, where his niece was living,

and where he would have the services of the troupe that La Noue had

gathered about him. When Mme du Chatelet was forced to travel to

Paris again in the month of August, she wrote to D'Argental suggesting

that the tragedy might be rehearsed while she and Voltaire were at

Cirey, and presented on their return, some two months later. (Besterman,

X, 232). The opportunity passed by, and Voltaire's plans were defi­

nitely changing.

The later months of 17A0 were full of acticity for Voltaire.

In September he met Frederick at a castle near Cleves, and read Mahomet

to the Prussian king, who could only "admire, and remain silent."

(Besterman, X, 258). Against the wishes of Mme du Chatelet, the poet

29B©sterman, X, 228—229; Moland, XXXV, A98. took the long journey to Berlin, where he suffered the beginning of the disillusionment which was to mark his relationship with the monarch he dared to address as "votre human!te.* Returning to Brussels to oooupy himself again with the affairs of his mistress, Voltaire reestablished his friendships and his previous activities. He evidently made a trip to Lille, for he wrote to La Noue on January 28,

1 7 U :

Vous m'avez donne une grande envie de revenir a Lisle. Je ne vous ay vu ny a s s e s entendu. J'aime en vous l ’acteur, l 1auteur et surtout l’honme de bonne compagnie.

During this period Voltaire had served as go-between in the nego­ tiations of Frederick to bring La Noue's troupe to Berlin, and part of his kindness in this letter was undoubtedly due to his efforts to console the actor for his disappointment at Frederick* s delays in engaging his troupe. But the meeting at Lille had its importance for the development of the tragedy, since Voltaire wrote to the author of

Mahomet II in the same month:

Je reprends de temps en temps mon coquin de profeto en sous-oeuvre. Tous les Mahomets sont nez pour vous avoir obligation.

And on March 13, he wrote to Cideville:

La Noue vous aura mande sans doute que nos deux Mahomets se sont embrassez & Idle. Je luy lus le mien. II en parut assez content, mala moy je ne le fus pas.*^

3°Bestennan, II, 32; Moland, XXXVI, 114.

^Besterman,XI, 12-13; Moland, XXXVI, 57.

^Besterman, XI, 58; Moland, XXXVI, 28. 166

Again in September, Voltaire addressed to D'Argental a reply to criticIans which permits us to evaluate the progress of the work towards its completed form. He claims that in the scene of Zopire's murder, it is quite possible for Palmire and Seide to hear what the old man speaks. He Insists:

Cola mame est plus theatral et augments la terreur. Je pousserai la hardlease Jusqu'& leur falre ecouter atten- tivement Zopire, et lorsqu'il dlt Si du fier Mahomet vous re3peatea le sort, Je voudrais que Seide d£t & Palmire Tu l'entends, 11 blaspheme, Et que Zopire oontinuat Aooordez moi la roort ,3 Mais rendez moi mes fils; a mon heure demi^re

Although the verses cited in this letter were to be later revised, the movement is that of Act IV, scene 4, as it appears in Moland,

Voltaire did not accept B'Argsntal's criticism of the poisoning of

Seide, for he felt that no details were necessary: "rien ne revolts plus que des personnages qui parlent \ froid de leurs crimes." 'Hie scene between Mahomet and Palmire offered the danger of coming close to comedy. He must move rapidly here, for "si Mahomet y joue trop le role de Tertuffe et 1 *amant, le ridicule est bien pres." Finally

Voltaire suggested that Mahomet be performed the day after Aah-

VJednesday (lg des Cendres^ for if the tragedy were to fail it could be withdrawn honorably, hut if it were presented after Easter, a failure would be less easy to explain. And he left casting and direction in the hands of Mile Quinault, asking D ’Argental to visit rehearsals to represent the author.

33Be3terman, XI, 21; Moland, XXXVI, 9-10. 167

But misfortune continued to harass the poet. D'Argental suffered from an eye illness which prevented him from reading the manuscript, and when Voltaire wrote him again on February 15, it was to say sadly, "J'ai peur que Mahomet ne soit pas profete dans mon pals." (Besterman, II, 3 6 ; Moland, XXXVI, 22). In the winter of

1741, yet another blow struck. Kile Quinault and her brother, the actor Dufresne, upon whom Voltaire had been counting to create the role of Mahomet, both retired from the Comedie, following an argument with the first gentlemen of the theater. On April 7, Voltaire wrote

to D'Argental that he would present Mahomet in Lille. La Noue was

to play the title role — "il e3t bon acteur, il ne lui manque que de la figure." The poet Is aware that he will be called an "auteur de province," but feels that away from Paris he will be able to judge

the play without the effects of the cabale. and assures D'Argental

that "ce sont vos troupes que j 1exerce sur la fronti&re." (Besterman,

XI, 81; Moland, XXXVI, 4.3 ).

The success of Mahomet in Lille is too well known for us to

dwell on it here. The first performance took place some time after

April 24, and Time du Chatelet was able to write to D'Argental on

May 2 that they had seen the play twice. In her opinion, it was

"ce que ns avons au theatre de plus veritablement tragique." She

felt that La Noue should be trusted with the part in Paris, "si le

public peut s'^ccoutumer a sa figure qui ressemble un peu a celle

d'un singe." She assured D^Argental finally that Voltaire had decided

not to publish the tragedy until after it had been presented in Paris, 168 add that he had brought back to Brussels all of the roles. (Besterman, II, 98-101).

A letter from Voltaire to D ’Argental on May 5, added some details to the story of his triumph. Four performances were given In Lille, one in private for the clergy, "qul a voulu absoluroent voir tm fonda- teur de religion,'* and the poet praised La Houe13 acting, calling him better than Dufresne, and stating that the tragedy was not likely to be done as well in Paris. (Besterman, XI, 105; Moland, XXXVI, 52-53).

Once again, under the prodding of his friends, Voltaire began revising the play. Cideville obliged with a complete criticism of the tragedy (August 7, 1711). He would like to see greater justifi­ cation of Mahomet1 s choice of Seide as an assasln, since a man wise in human nature would naturally hesitate In seleoting a youth for the task. He approved of Voltaire’s avoiding the trap of casting Selde as Mahomet’s rival, and felt that Omar could give some assurance of the success of the plan. He criticised some lines of the tragedy,

and suggested a new entrance for Pal ml re. He would have preferred a

play without love, but bowed to Voltaire’s judgment, since the poet

could estimate at first hand the audience reaotion at Lille. But he

remained opposed to the remorse of Mahomet at the end of the play,

which he considered "contra l’idee que nous avons de son caractere.'1

(Besterman, XI, 172-17A).

Voltaire answered his friend on July 19. He agreed to change

Mahomet's decision "des le premier acte de faire assasiner Zopire par

son propre fils, sans etre force a ce crime.1' Although the solution 169

to this problem which he sent to Cideville is lost, we can assume

that he changed Act II, scene 6, in which Mahomet is forced to decide

on the assassination of Zcpire by the news that the inhabitants of

Mecca are plotting his own execution. This is confirmed by his

sending Fornont on August 10 a long variant where the ease with which

Seide can approach Zopire is stressed, (This variant, although

rewritten, became & part of the final version of the tragedy, and

begins with Omar's line, "Pour ce grant attentat je reponds de

Seide,") (Besterman, XI, 180; Moland, XXXVI, 93), Considering again

Voltaire's answer to Cideville, we find that he accepted his friend's

criticism of Palmire's entrance. Instead of the "disparate de Mahomet...

qui envoye charcher les filles dans son boudoir quand le feu e3t dans

la raaison," he will have Palmire come on stage to plead for Seide1s

life - "Alors les biensaances sont observees, et cetbe action mane

de Palmire produit un coup de theatre." He had observed the weakness

of love in such a play, and has reduced it to smaller proportions,

but noted that the "Innocence tendre" of Palmire and Seide contrasts

with the horror of the subject. After defending some expressions

attacked by Cideville, he stated that "...tout le monde a exige

absolument quelques petits remords a la fin de la pi&co pour 1'edifi­

cation du public." He concluded by pointing out the difficulty of

his subject and saying "c'est un nouveau monde a defricher." (Besterman,

XI, 158-160; Moland, XXXVI, 92-93).

We have seen earlier that D'Argental had suggested changes in

this fifth act and that Voltaire had accepted them. We also know 170 that the idea of remorse appears to have been suggested by his friends*

His statement to Cideville would seem to bear this out. If Voltaire was frank in this letter, the tremendous speech which closes the play must have been the inspiration of outsiders rather than his own* But we cannot reach a firm conclusion here, since he was possibly using the argument that others had insisted on remorse merely to satisfy

Cideville. At any rate, In reducing this remorse to Its barest essentials, and in avoiding the lamentations of a jealous lover,

Voltaire increased the effectiveness of the scene.

Either as a reward for the actor's having given the new tragedy Mahomet its hearing, or out of appreciation for his talents,

Voltaire seemed determined to bring La Noue from the provinces to

Paris. Whatever his motives, he was successful, for on May 15, 1741> he was able to announce to La Noue th^t the dukes of Rochechouart aixl d'Aumont, first gentleman of the Comedie, wanted to engage both the actor arkl his protegee. Mile Gautier. Little remained except to reassure D'Argental that reports of his publishing Mahomet were false and were based only on a poem which he had sent to La Noue and which the latter had unwisely made public* The poem was indeed indiscreet* In his excitement at gaining an audience for his tragedy,

Voltaire had allowed himself to compare his Mahomet, to the heroic figure in La Ncue's playt

Votre fils Mahomet II fut un conquerantj Le mien, a l'honneur d'etre tin apotre, Pretre, filou, devot, brigand, Faites en 1* aumonior du votre.

34-Besterman, XI, 6lj Moland, X, 526. 171

The verses could hardly have been better designed to gain the disfavor of the devout party, and Voltaire, already in difficulties with

Cardinal Fleury,could not afford such an open declaration of hostilities. But no matter. Voltaire and Mrae du Chatelet were busy

convincing D'Argental of the necessity of keeping La Noue out of the

hands of Frederick the Great arri were inquiring anxiously about the

date of departure of the Turkish ambassador, Zafed Effendi. (Besterman,

XI, 244, 24&-249; Moland, XXXVI, 108). The first period of the long

arduous task of composition and revision which had begun in 1739 was

thus finished in 1742, and the poet began to look with expectation

to the opportunity of presenting his work on the stage of Paris.

^Besterman, XI, 130 (cited in text), and Desnoire3terres, Voltaire au Chateau d? Cirey. 293 ff* CHAPTER VIII

THE PERFORMANCE AND PUBLICATION OF MAHOMET

Until 17A1* the existence of Voltaire's Mahomet was still largely a closely guarded secret. It is true that news of the tragedy had begun to be whispered in Paris, at the time of the unsuccessful performance of fin,!<^ » but the play had circulated only in manuscript.

Frederick, of course, had been Informed of the tragedy since its beginning. The D'Argentals and Mils Quinault in Paris had necessarily been brought into the writer’s confidence, since he must rely on thesi to win the acceptance of the players, and the Abbe Mousslnot, and

Pont-de-Veyle, who had served as the addressees of the manuscript, were also aware of what was going on. Finally, in the last stages of composition, Formont and Cideville received copies of the tragedy, since Voltaire submitted most of his productions to these two friends for their criticism. But Wwhnw^t, had been sent only with the admonition to keep it safe from unfriendly eyes. In 171*21 it was brought to the stage and later to public print, and thus joined the current of the times.

During the first months of the year, Voltaire was on the move, visiting in January Mme d ’Autrey, who had received him in Paris, and

172 173 who was in bad health. Despite the distractions of travel, Mne du

Chatelet wrote to D 1Argental that her friend continued to "mahometiser."

(Besterman, XII, 3)* The tragedy was still foremost in the poet's mind. His problems in bringing it to the stage in Paris were compli­ cated by La Noue, who was negotiating for acceptance in the Comedie-

FTangaise before his actual debut. In an obvious effort to influence the members of the troupe in his favor, the aotor relayed news of

Frederick’s interest in bringing him to Berlin. On January 19, 1742,

Voltaire wrote to D'Argent&l that he preferred La Noue to Dufresne, who had retired, since the latter was ”trop forme pour Seide, et trop faible pour Mahomet.1* (Besterman, XII, 7; Moland, XXXVI, 111-112).

On the same day he wrote to Cideville, complaining of the lack of talented actors in Paris. (Besterman, XII, 9; Moland, XXXVI, 113)*

This problem of casting moved towards a solution when, in May, 1742,

La Noue made his debut at Versailles, and the next day was received as a member of the Comedie.

These were troubled times for France.^ 'Hie ministry of Cardinal

Fleury, never too decisive in its policies, seemed to grow more and more ineffectual as the Cardinal declined into senility. The war against the English continued to drag on, and in the streets of Paris the Autrich^eflft. as the bearers of bad news were oalled, continued to grumble. Each day brought more intrigues in the old struggle for

^For a vivid recounting of these days, see the Chronloue de lfi Regence fit £u rfegne £e Louis M (1718-1763) ou Journal dg Byblgr, Paris, Charpehtier, 1885, vol. Ill, passim. m pover between the Jansenlst party of the parlament. and the court-

supported Jesuits* Paris, in many respects, was a tinderbox of

emotions. The news arrived that Frederick had made a separate peace,

leaving France to fight on alone against her enemies* In June, 1742,

Voltaire wrote to his royal friend, congratulating him on his action,

and encouraging him to devote himself to the building of theaters in

Berlin* (Besterman, XII, 60-61; Moland, XXXVI, 140-141). Certainly

the sentiments expressed in the letter were sincere on Voltaire1s

part. He had long sought to influence Frederick away from war, as

had the Abbe de Saint-Pierre. Unfortunately for the poet, the letter

which he had intended only for the eyes of the Prussian king wqs

circulated in Paris. Whether it had been intercepted, as Voltaire

suspected, by the spies of Cardinal Fleury, or whether, as Desnoires-

terres has suggested, Frederick himself had put it in the hands of

the French in a devious plan to force the writer to leave his native

land,^ the letter had the effect of gravely deunaging Voltaire's

popularity. For some time his friendship with a foreign monarch had

given rise to doubts concerning his patriotism; now his enemies were

able to use to good effect the weapon he had placed in their hands*

Despite this blow to his reputation, even to his safety,

Voltaire continued in his plans to present M a h o m e t . From the point

of view of prudence, he could scarcely have chosen a worse moment.

When the Chevalier de Mouhy reported to Marville on August 8 , 1742,

^Voltaire et la societe p? au d fo-huji-M pp.r siecle. II, 335. 175 that Voltaire's tragedy "donne occasion aux reflexions du public sur cet auteur, * he revived the scandal of the letter to Frederick* In this connection, Mr. Theodore Besterman, the editor of Voltaire's correspondence, expresses the opinion that de Mouhy had been suborned by Voltaire's enemies to work against the publication of

Mr. Besterman can see no other reason for his bringing up the matter of the letter, which had died down by the time of Mahomet1 s performance.^

It is true that the authorities had decided not to press the matter, and that Voltaire had succeeded in excusing himself* But is it so surprising that de Mouhy should have mentioned this letter, which had circulated in Paris only two months before? Given the fact that

Mahnmwt must have been in rehearsal at least by July, Voltaire's name was probably much repeated in the day's gossip. The police spy, although he may have been bribed by Voltaire's enemies, was perhaps doing no more than his duty in reporting to his chief, Marvil1e, what people were saying about the poet and his tragedy.

Marville, in fact, was in no enviable position in the controversy that began to rage. Son-in-law of the former lieutenant of police,

Herault, new to his duties, he found himself caught in the crossfire between Voltaire's enemies and his friends, and also between the

Jansenists and the court party. Voltaire had attempted to circumvent

3Journal de Barbier. VIII, 1^6.

4Volt»lry* a CorrespopfiapQe- III, 80, note. 176 censorship by reading his play to Cardinal Floury earlier, and it vent to the police lieutenant with the prime minister's oral approval*

Even though Crebillon, to whom the manuscript was entrusted for reading, refused his approbation (possibly because he recognized the tragedy as a rival to hi3 own Atree). Marville decided to allow the performance on his own authority.

The result was no more than what could have been expected.

Mouhy's report to Marville,^ although undoubtedly biased, permits us to reconstruct the scene. The «hAv*liAr asserted, strangely enough, that Voltaire "s'est peint dans le caraot&re de Mahomet." He pictured many persons as surprised that the government should permit the pro­ duction of a play in which "il y a des traits hardis et pour la religion et pour la politique." He declared that Voltaire had stationed men in the audience to insure the tragedy's success, and that the poet himself had gone into the parterre, but that "il s'en faut beaoooup quo 1 *applaudissement ait ete general*"

Mouhy* s report contained a grain of truth, for the Abbe Le Blanc wrote to his correspondent Jean Bouhier on August 13 in much the same terms. (Besterman, XII, 81-82). He too was surprised that the police should have permitted the performance, for "la politique y est pour le moins aussi maltraitee que la Relligion*" For Le Blanc the play

^Deanolresterres, op. cit.. p. 336* The author gives the date of the first performance as August 19, which should be corrected to August 9*

^Journal de Barbier. VIII, 149. 177 was "le triomphe du Delsme ou plustot du Fatalisms." He critioized the character of Mahomet, claimed that the horror of the fourth act vaa due to an Imitation of Atree. and that the "Pretendu miracle" which gave the tragedy its denouement was only puerile. Nevertheless, he recognized that Mahomet contained many beauties, and predicted that it would have much success.

The moment for the tragedy's triumph, however, had not yet arrived. Already Voltaire1a enemies were gathering in the oafes, circulating rumors, creating controversy. Rival poets, like Piron, and Desfontaines, and the oabale des devota joined together to bring about the defeat of the man who had tormented them all. Joly de Fleury wrote to the lieutenant of police he had heard of the tragedy in the narlement. and that it was said to contain "des choses enormes contra la religion." (Besterman, XII, 81). M&rville immediately became frightened at the situation which was developing. He wrote to Maurepss on August 13, that the play was causing "un bruit infini," that he himself was being attacked for allowing its performance, and that the public was scandalized. (Besterman, XII, 84.). On the same day,

Maurepas replied that he had taken Marville's letter to the cardinal, along with a letter from Joly de Fleury, and that the prime minister had suggested Marville might have the actors give an excuse to forgo the performance on Thursday. Maurepas advised the police lieutenant

to have Voltaire withdraw his own play "pour eviter l 1eclat." (Besterman,

XII, 84).

A letter from the orocureur general to Marville suggests the 178 tactics employed by Voltaire's enemies among the Janaenist party.

Joly de Fleury protested to the lieutenant that he had not yet a chance to read the tragedy, but he repeated a series of stories drawn from gossip In Paris. He quoted his friends as saying that the play was "l'enormite en fait d'Infamies, de soaleratesse, d'irre-

Uglon," and had heard one man say tnat the author should be sent to

Blcetre for the rest of hi3 days. One sentence must hare struck

Marville more than all the others 1

• ••on m'en a tant dit que J'en oublle la moitiej qua vous poursulvieg ^ lansenlstea. qua vous laisslez tr«igiiiil>. IS ^teur soelerat. £t g u 2 vogs faitee ^ o m p h q r Utofc: llglon et les sEifltSfl*7

Marville could hardly have missed the threat implied in this phrase.

The Jansenlst3 had reoognized Voltaire's attack on fanatic!am, and they Intended to turn it against the author, and against the author­ ities who had favored him. Marville appealed to Maurepas to help him.

a In his letter of August 14, 1742, he reported to the minister that he had seen Joly de Fleury, had explained to him his reasons for passing the tragedy through the censor, and had not hidden from him

"combien il seroit desagreable pour moy qu'en semblable occasion le parlement v£nt me chercher noise." He had further informed the

procureur that Voltaire expected to withdraw Mahomet on

Saturday. But Louis Le Peletier, had warned Marville that he could

not trust Joly de Fleury, and that the procureur general was sure to

^Besterman, XII, 85, italics mine. 179 try to turn the affair to his own advantage. (Besterman, XII, 86-87).

The outcome of the controversy was scarcely in doubt. The play must be suppressed at all costs, and the only consideration was that all involved might save face. On August Li (according to Mr.

Besterman1s dating of the letter), Voltaire wrote a submissive letter to Marville, accepting the decision "que vous avez prononce malgre vous oontre mol." He informed the police lieutenant that the manu­ script signed by him was in the hands of a person not in the city, but promised to obtain it. (Besterman, XII, 87-88; Moland, XXXVI,

1X7-148). On April 22, Voltaire announced to D 1Argental his departure to Brussels, complaining bitterly of this new persecution:

Que dit m. de la Marche de sea confreres de Paris, qui ont instrument© si pedentesquement contre mon prophet©? que dira m. le cardinal de Tensin? que dira mad6 aa aoeur de nos oonvulsionnaires en robe longue qui ne veulent pas qu'on joue le fanatiame... Pulsque me voila la vietime des ^Ansenlstes je dedierai Mahomet au pape et Je compte etre eveque J* BflrtHzaa

Once again Voltaire was obliged to leave France, not necessarily in exile this time, but certainly having felt a serious check to his plans. Aixl in the Paris he had left behind, his enemies exulted in their success. The Journal de nollce Informs us that Desfontaines

se vante que e'est a lui qu'il [[Voltaire} doit la suppres­ sion de aa £i^ce, par les demarches qu'il a faites aupres de M. l'abbe de Fleury pour faire sentir I'lndeoence de sa tragedie.9

®Besterman, XII, 92; Moland, XXXVI, 149-150.

9Journal de Barbier. VIII, 156. 180

The reaeption accorded to Mahomet was a blow to Voltaire's pride. But the poet, who had never accepted defeat easily, refused again to bow to his enemies. The tragedy had been presented in Paris, and but for the oabale. it would undoubtedly have been a success.

Now it had been suppressed, but another line remained open to its author - publication. The intention of Voltaire had always been clear. He had always insisted that he would publish Mahomet, even were it to have no more than nine performances. We have already seen that in 1741 D'Argental had been upset by rumors that the play was being printed. (Besterman, II, 130; Moland, XXXVI, 67). But Marville had promised Joly de Fleury that Maurepas and the cardinal would never permit the tragedy to appear in printed form. (Besterman, III, 8 6 ).

The author of the Journal de police reported to hi3 superiors on

August 17j

Les speoulatifs pretendent aussi qu'il a ete imprudent de souffrir que la religion de Mahomet fut jouee sur le theatre, dans les oiroonstanoea d'amitie renouvelee avec le Grand Seigneur et soellee par 1'ambassade qu'il a envoyee en France. On oongoit que si eette pi&ce est imprimee, qu'elle sera envoy 4e £ Zaed Effendi ^Turkish ambassador to France], et que le grand seigneur pourra s'en plaindre & K. de Castellane, notre ambassadeur a sa Cour.^-0

It would be difficult to decide whether there was actual concern in

Paris about the feelings of the Turks on Voltaire's satire of their

Prophet. Much more likely, the enemies of the poet were marshal ling

their arguments against the tragedy's appearance in published form.

■^Journal de Barbler. VIII, 153. 181

If they thought that they had driven the poet to the wall, however they were sadly mistaken. The first step Voltaire took was to improve his standing with the authorities at the court. In a masterful letter, he informed the Cardinal (August 22) that he had received a letter from the king of Prussia, asking that he visit the letter's capital.

Voltaire humbly refused to make such a trip, without the permission of Louis XV, and of the cardinal himself. The poet promised that

Frederick would give him copies of all his letters written since June, and that the cardinal would be able to see that there was nothingto support the accusations of treason that had been made against M m .

He pointed out to Fleury that their interests were basically the same:

C'est une fatalite pour moy que les seuls hommea qui aient voulu troubler votre heureux ministere soiont les seuls qui m 1aient persecute; jusques 1% que la oabale des convulsionnaires, c'est k dire oe qu'il y a de plus abject dans le rebut du genre humain, a obtanu la suppression injurieuse d'un ouvrage public honore de votre approbation et represente devant les premiers magistrate de Paris.

But, the poet continued, he remained silent on this matter, and

"sur beaucoup d ’autres concemant le roy de Prusse." This was more than a formal letter expressing Voltaire's submission to Fleury and to the king. It was a deliberate attempt to awaken the interest of the cardinal in Voltaire's connection with Frederick, and inspire in the head of the government a desire to profit from this friendship to learn of the plans of the Prussian monarch. In this aim Voltaire

^•Besterman, XII, 94; Moland, XXXVI, 148. 182 was successful. He vrote two letters to Fleury, detailing conver­ sations with Frederick, and received in turn a long reply from the cardinal, which began, "Vous aves parle d'or, Monsieur, et agl de meme." (Besterman, XII, 113). The poet was to turn this letter to curious profit, a little later in 1742*

Having thus protected his flank from attack, Voltaire proceeded with his major plan - the publication of his tragedy. His first step was to write to his correspondent in London, Cesar de Missy, offering him the right to reprint an edition of the author1 s collected works which had Just appeared in Paris.

Si quelque libralre de Londves vouloit les reimprimer je luy enverrois un exampleIre corrige et mis en meilleur ordre, accorapagne de pieces curieruses qui n'ont point encor paru, et surtout de la tragedle de Mahomet ou du fanatisme. C'est Tartuffe Is grand, les fanatiques en ont fait suprimer Paris les representations, comme les devots etouff&rant 1 ’autre Tartuffe dans sa naiBsance. Cette tragedie est plus faitte Je crois pour les tetes anglaises que pour les cosurs frangais.^*

The offer of an edition of Voltaire's works corrected by the poet

himself might well induce any bookseller to publish the play that

accompanied it.

This letter to Missy is dated from Brussels, September 1, 1742.

It establishes definitely that Voltaire had begun negotiations for

the publication of Mahomet before the pirated editions began to

circulate in France. Far from being forced to make his tragedy public

T2Besterman, XII, 100; Moland, XXXVI, 157. 183 because of the many Inexact versions that appeared, Voltaire was following his own plans. Independently, on his own authority, he wished to present his work to the final judge of literary questions, his readers.

On the same day, Marville1 s informant reported t

L'on dit que la tragedie de Mahomet a ate imprimee a Meaux, qu'elle paroit loi et qu'elle coute six livres. Si ce bruit est vrai, M. de Marville en sera sur-le- champ lnforme.^-2

Mae du Chatelet answered on September 22 a letter from D'Argental, who had apparently written to express his fears concerning the rumors of the publication of Mahomet. She Informed the nobleman that the stories of the edition of Meaux had been repeated for a month, protested that Voltaire was not implicated, since "II ne connolt pas un chat It Meaux," and pointed out that a play which had been performed three times, and had gone to the police, and to Mlnet, the prompter at the Comedie, could hardly remain secret. But her worries were not shared by the poet, who "dit que ie 3uis folle d ’auolr sur cela aucune inquietude." (Besterman, XII, 117).

Far from being alarmed by the news, Voltaire was continuing his own efforts to publish the tragedy. On October 4, he sent three acts of Mahomet to the bookseller in Amsterdam, Etienne Ledet. He also included an "epltre qui doit etre mise an devant de cette Pifcce," and the Avis de I1 Editeur.^ By October 19, Perrault could inform

^Journal de Bar bier. VIII, 170. ^Voltaire’s letter to Ledet has been lost, but can be deduced from Ledet*s answer on October 8. (Besterman, XII, 127.) Marville specifically that copies of the play were being sold in

Paris, and could also identify the 1 lbraireg responsible. These must have been pirated editions, since Missy's version had definitely not yet been sent to press, and Ledet could hardly have produced any copies between October 4 October 19. Thus, when Voltaire wrote to Cardinal Fleury on October 20, asking that the minister order

Marville to discover the publishers of Mahomet who had printed the

play "malgre toutes les precautions qu'on avait prises pour le derober

au public,” (Besterman, XII, 137; Moland, XXXVI, 172), he was at

least partially sincere. But on the same day, he wrote to Missy,

informing him that "on a imprime Mahomet a Paris sous le nom de

Bruxelles,” and that the copy is full of mistakes. (Besterman, XII,

137; Moland, XXXVI, 171.) This letter to Missy gives one the

impression that it was written with circulation in mind. The letter

of September 1 had already given Missy permission to print the

tragedy. This message might well have been intended to prove to

D'Argental and to the authorities that Voltaire had arranged to

publish his play only after the incorrect editions had appeared in

Paris. From our more comfortable viewpoint at two centuries'

distance, Voltaire's actions might seem open to criticism. He cer­

tainly did not deal honestly with the cardinal, nor with his friends

In this matter. But we must remember that the poet was undertaking

a battle in which all the odds were against him, and that these

tactics were necessary to his plan of action.

On October 30, the poet continued his subterfuge, writing to 185

Marville to a3k him to continue his investigation. His main interest was to discover the "depositaire infidele qui a trafique du manuscrit."

He justified the booksellers in curious language when the identity of his correspondent is considered:

Je ne me plains point des libraires, ils ont fait leu£ devoir d 1 imprimer elandestinenent et d'imprimer mal.

Almost within the week, on November 7, the poet addressed three acts

of "le veritable Mahomet” to Missy in London. Ke also enclosed "une "16 espece d*ep£tre dedicatoire au roy de Prusse." The only condition

that he put to Missy's publishing the manuscript was that the author

should be sent "deux douzaines d'exemplaires pour mes amis." (Besterman,

XII, 145; Mo] and, XXXVI, 173).

November 10, Voltaire finally informed D'Argental of what he

had done. He still refused to admit his responsibility completely,

saying that he had decided to publish the play after "lea malheureuses

editions qu'on en avait faites a Paris, et qu'on allait fairs encore

a Londres et en Hollande." We have already seen that the editions of

London and Paris were actually undertaken at Voltaire's request. Ke

^Besterman, XII, 141; Moland, XXXVI, 173.

■^This is one of the few times that Voltaire spoke of his letter to Frederick as a dedication, and even here he qualified his use of the term. Early in the period of composition, he had written of dedi­ cating the play to his royal friend, but the relationship, as we have seen, began to cool shortly after the two men met at Cleves. Further, Voltaire was intrigued by the idea of dedicating the play to the pope, and perhaps for this reason published the letter as a kind of preface rather than a dedication. When the play appeared in the edition of 1748 with the letter to the pope before it, it had the distinction of having been dedicated both to the head of the Catholic church, and to the monarch who was most closely associated with Lhe forces of free thought* also denied that the letter to I,'roderick which would appear at the head of the tragedy was an "epitre dedicatcire," describing It as

"une lettre que je lui avals ecrite il y a deux ans, en lui envoyant un exemplaire de la piece." (Besterman, XII, 1A6; Moland, XXXVI, 180).

On November 18, Missy sent Voltaire a long letter, asking for the solution of various editorial problems, most of them verbal. By this date the poet had already left Brussels for a visit in Paris.

Among his first callers must have been Mouhy, the man he had befriended earlier, and who at the moment was in the service of the police. The ohav^lIrt reported his interview to Marville, and we cannot keep from

Imagining Voltaire's enjoyment of the conversation. Mouhy had been invited by the poet, who wislied him to circulate the story that the three editions of Mahomet published in Paris were false, and that the true version was being prepared in London and Amsterdam. Mouhy had hesitated to do so, without speaking first with Marville. bine du

Chatelet had told the spy that "Voltaire avait l'honneur d'etre en liaison avec le ministers," and evidently when Mouhy remained uncon­ vinced, Volt&ire showed him the letter from Cardinal fleury, which, according to Mouhy,

commence par cea mots: 7oua dltes tout d 1or; j'ai fait part de votre lettre au Roi qui en a ete fort content. Cette lettre est de six pages, et contient sans doute des instructions pour monager une affaire.-^'

Voltaire's stratagem here can be easily deduced from Mouhy's report. He must have shown the spy the first page of the letter from

-^Besterman, XII, 165. 187

Cardinal Fleury, letting him glimpse the words which Mouhy misquotes.

Obviously the chevalier was not allowed to see the other six pages, since he could only gue3s at their contents. The point of the entire manoeuver was to let the spy know that Voltaire's relationship with the authorities was close. And this impression was heightened when

Mouhy noticed at his arrival that Kme du Chatelet was taking coffee in the company of the president de Menieres.

Thus, less than six months after the crushing defeat which followed the performance of Mechanist, Voltaire had succeeded in turning the tables on his enemies. Cautiously building his connections with

Fleury and the ministry, using to advantage his friendship with

Frederick, he had proceeded with the publication of his play, against the wishes of the government and the advice of his friends. And, on his return from Brussels, instead of being tracked and persecuted, he was able to appeal to the police to defend his edition of Mahomet against the pirated versions than circulating in Paris. The admirable irony of Mouhy1 a vi «*tt marks one of Voltaire's greatest triumphs over the censors and i1 forces of oppression.

Now in his preoccupation with the production of Merone and with

his unsuccessful candidacy for the Academy, Voltaire laid aside for

a while his controversial Mahomgt. The correspondence for 17A3 doeB

not reveal many details on the publication of the tragedy. Bengesco

informs us that, after the five editions of 171*2 which he has located,

the version of Ledet, supervised by the poet himself, was published, 188 18 bearing the date 174-3, and the place Amsterdam. This is the first edition to bear the title, "Le Fanatisme." Thus Voltaire brought his case before the tribunal of the reading public.

While the poet became interested in other productions, he never lost his favorite child from sight. In 1745, he carried through with his plan to dedicate Mahomet to the Pope, and received a letter from the Pontiff in return.^ Both the dedicatory epistle and the reply from the Pope were printed with the tragedy in the 1748 edition of the poet's works, printed in Dresden.

With this tacit approval of the play from the highest of church authorities, the opposition to Mahomet began to lessen. In June 1750,

the Abbe Raynal informed his readers:

M. de Voltaire a fait dresser un theatre chez lui, et il y fait jouer la comedie. L'ouverture s'en fit samedi dernier par une representation de Mahomet... Le principal acteur, nomine Le Kain, a montre un talent distingue. S'il avait une voix un peu plus favorable il pourrait devenir tres—b o n . ^

Thus Voltaire, barred from the Cornedie-Frangaise by the cabala.

resorted to amateur performances in private. The young Le Kain was 2i one of a group of young bourgeois who had formed troupes in Paris.

x^Georges Bengesco, Voltaire: Bibliograpnie de sea oeuvres. Rouveyre et Blond, I, 136.

^cf. Desnoiresterres, Voltaire au Ohateau de Clrey. p. 458 ff.

2°Correspondance Littaraire. I, 436, June 15, 1750.

2^-Cf. Desnoiresterres, op, cit.. Ill, 345 ff. Voltaire discovered and encouraged him, and later Le Kain would create some of the poet's most Important roles on the professional stage.

With Voltaire's departure soon after for Berlin, his popularity in his native country was greatly increased. Aware of the loss it had suffered, the country began to regret the treatment it had dealt to Voltaire. By 1751, the moment had arrived for an attempt to present Mahomet on the stage of the Cornedie-FVang&ise. Once again the tragedy was submitted to Crebillon for review, and once again the elderly poet refused to give his approbation to the production of

Voltaire, who in Ore ate and Cat Ul n a had brought into the open his rivalry with the author of Atree. This time, however, the government took the manuscript out of his hands and gave it to D'Alembert, who approved it forthwith.

So Mahomet was revived before the public on September 30, 1751.

The troupe had obviously gone to some expense in preparing the pro­ duction j H. C. Lancaster quotes the Registre to the effect that the

Comedle had provided "diamonds, babouchea. and an ecfyypft for Grandval a turban for Dubois, coats for Grand val, Dubois, and Paul, In, five

Turkish costumes, six vestes. Schamas and wigs."23 a great deal of the success of the production was due to Le Kain, who despite his harsh voice and unattractice appearance played the role of Seide

^Lancaster, French Tragedy in the Times of Louis XV and Voltaire. I, 210. 23Loc. pit. 190 effectively. The tragedy was acted eight times until October 1 6 ,

1751, and was re per ted four more times that y e a It had been established, despite continuing criticisms, as one of the most popular dramatic productions of the eighteenth century*

^ *Loc. cit CHAPTER H

MAHOMET AND ITS CRITICS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

A work such as Mahomet could not help but arouse a storm of comment. From its first performance in Lille, especially after the presentation in Paris in August, 1742, the play attracted much critical attention. Many of those who examined it recognized the tragedy’s very real merits, but because of Voltaire's position and because the play was an attack on fanaticism, its enemies sometimes revealed a parti pris which tended to invalidate their judgment.

Other writers were severe in their comments because the tragedy, by its very success, served as an obstacle to the development of the drome. a new theatrical genre, in whieh prose replaced poetry, and the bourgeois, royalty or nobility, became the hero. In this way, the reactions to the tragedy throw much light on many of the philo­ sophical and literary preoccupations of the latter part of the century.

Even before the theater opened on the first performance of

Mnhnmpit at the Comedie-Frangaise, brochures were being sold' on the streets, informing the play-goers of the plot, characters, and setting of the tragedy. Trading on the interest which had grown as word spread that the controversial play would be performed in the capital, 191 192 writers took advantage of the play's appearance in Lille to summarize it for its future audience. One of these productions, published anonymously in 1742,^ emphasizes that it has been written for the curious spectator who cannot await the performance of the tragedy to learn what Voltaire has done. The author of the pamphlet describes

Mehomet as "le chef-d'oeuvre dramatique de M. de Voltaire, & meme... comme le chef-d'oeuvre du Theatre en general." (Pp. A-5) He pictures himself as a member of the troupe which had played the tragedy in

Lille, to the enthusiastic approval of the usually phlegmatic

Flemish. He remarks that the character of Mahomet is faithful to historical truth; Omar, in his opinion, is a more important role than the usual one of the confidant, serving Mahomet as "le compagnon de sea travaux, auasi-bien que le principal agent de ses fraude3."

(Pp. 7 —8 ) He recognizes that both Mahomet and Omar are motivated by ambition, and describes Zopire as the eocact opposite of Mahomet.

Seide is "un de ces jeunes princes vertueux, dont les Passions servent au noeud des PiSces." (P. 9) In conclusion, the Letter is favorable, even highly respectful of both the tragedy and of Voltaire as a dramatic writer.

It is interesting to note that the Abbe de Cahagne, in another criticism of Mahomet, mentions that the Lettre d'un Comedian de Lille

^Lettre d'un Comedlen de Lille sur la tragedie dp Mahomet de M. de Voltaire, oontenant l'idee des caracteres, de la conduite, St des details de cette Piece, A Paris, 0hez Prault p&re, 17A2. 193 was based on a letter the abbe himself had written to & friend, after 2 having seen two performances of Mahomet In Lille the previous year.

Cahagne's treatment of the tragedy is also a favorable one, notable for the judiciousness of his comante. He tells his reader that he had gone to the theater, forgetting both history and the reputation of the poet, in order to form un unbiased judgment of the play* He was disappointed to notice that the stage setting failed to identify the scene as "un Palais, une Place publique, ou quelqu' autre endroit," but believed that this fault might be more due to the com­ pany than to the author* (P. 332) He found in the oharaoters of

Zopire and Phanor much to praise, especially since the latter was not merely the usual confident of the French classic stage, but rather one who "annonce... I 1action par une sorte d'interet qu'il y prend." (P. 333) He described Omar as proud and "sublime11, and noted the contrast between his eloqusnoe and the more natural nobility of

Zopire.

To a certain extent, Cahagne1s article is a kind of defense of Voltaire’s work. He remarked that the verse, "S'il etoit vertueux, c'est un heros peut-etre" was an "Expression quo la froide Granmaire peut eritiquer, mai3 cue la Poesie adopte pour s'orner et s'embelir."

(P* 337) He also attempted to justify Selde's presence on stage, pointing out that a hostage was necessary to prevent Omar from at­ tempting to win over the people.

^Sentiments d ’un spectateur sur la Traeedle de Mahomet. I, Aoust 1742, 331-372* 194

Cahagne is fervent in his praise of the character of Mahomet. who "eface, & la noblesse de Zopire, & la fierte d'Omar; il est majestueux, c'est la le premier trait qui le distingue*..*1 (P. 339)

For Cahagne, the love of Mahomet for Palmire is only secondary in interest. The Prophet may be passionate, but he is "trop grand pour etre l’esclave de 1*amour." (P. 340) Finally, he judges Voltaire's protagonist as

tin ambitieur qui a congu les plus vastes desseins, un Politique qui a autant de genie & de profondeur que d ' eloquence & d'audace; un imposteur redoutable ^ui reunit 1 *artifice a la force & la valeur la soelera^ tesse; un homme extraordinaire, unique, prodigious. II est trop eclatent pour ne pas surprendre notre imagination, 1 ' echaufer, la ravir, la transporter* (P. 341)

Another element in Cahagne*a defense of the tragedy is his

refutation of the accusations of inmorality which had been leveled

at the play. One of the arguments of the was that Mtfonmet was

a play which would encourage young men of strong opinions to become

assassins. Cahagne denied this accusal, stating that

[la sceleratesae de MahomelQ est foudroyante; alls m'etonne sans doute, & me procure le plaialr d'etre etone, mais elle n 1 est point dangereuse pour ma raison. (P. 345)

We shall see later that Jean—Jacques Rousseau was not as optimistic

as the abbe on this Important point. Cahagne is also aware that the

tragedy does not end with the punishment of the villainous Mahomet,

but points out that the poet had to remain true to historical fact.

He stated also that there was no attempt to attack the Christian

religion. Of course, Mahomet did present the founder of a religion 195 as an impostor and a hypocrite, but:

•••de bonne-foi, pout—on supposer dans le monde un esprit asses faux & gate pour conolure de la Religion de Mahomet a la notre? (P. 369)

We can only conclude that either the abbe was exceedingly naive, or that he wrote in bad faith when he attempted to deny the all-too- apparent attack implicit in Voltaire's tragedy.

Having given the tragedy a clean slate from the point of view of morals, the abbe criticized some details such as the lack of unity, interest and place, but he also pointed out that these faults were characteristic of the poets of the time. On the whole, his comments are friendly, and the often keen insights of his literary judgment must have had a convincing ring to his readers.

The third pamphlet^ issued at the time of the Parisian nromi is more ambiguous. It is addressed to Voltaire himself, but the praise which its author, Vlllaret, pays to the poet has often the sound of satire. Vlllaret used the device of picturing himself standing in the pit at the time of the first performance of Mahomet, "eloigne de ces petits cercles tumultueux, tourbillons de poussi&re du Finde, emportes perpetuellement par un mouvement circulalre, & dont 1 *esprit de vertigo & de cabale est le centre." (P. 4) Despite this somewhat isolated position, Vlllaret becomes involved in a conversation with his neighbor, and in the exchange of criticism and defense between

^Vlllaret, Lettre £ Monsieur de V*** sur sa tracedle de Mahomet. 1742. 196 the two, the tragedy sometimes comes out second best.

In the parterre rumors concerning the tragedy circulate rapidly. Vlllaret hears that the play was hooted during the perform­

ance at Lille, especially during the third act. But the performance

begins, and the author profits from "ces intervalles qu’un Acteur

judicieux sgalt manager avec art aux beaux endroits, pour donner le

terns de respirer & d 'applaudir les belles tirades... ce sont des

poses d 1 admiration marquees par le Comedian, qui indiquent aux

Spectateurs l'heure de battre des mains." (Pp. 10-11) During these

pauses the author of the pamphlet exchanges coimaents with his neighbor.

Vlllaret admires the cleverness with which entries and exits are

arranged, especially in the appearance of Pal mire, but his adversary

holds it ridiculous that Seide should be brought along as a hostage

when Omar himself is inside the city. (P. 13) This critic from the

parterre sees in the famous passage beginning,

Ne aais-tu pas encore, homme faible et superbe,

no more than the "coramentaire louche" on J.-B. Rousseau1s

Celui devant qui le superbe Parent plus bas dans sa grandeur, Qua l'lnsecte cache sous 1'herbe. (Pp. 13-15)

If Voltaire saw Vlllaret1s pamphlet, the mere mention of the possibi­

lity that he might have imitated his arch-eneny, Jean-Baptiste Rousseau

must have bean enough to make him shout in anger.

The neighbor also finds the verse, "S' 11 etait vertueux,"

questionable on the basis of language, but Vlllaret defends the

expression on the grounds that "le style oriental est sujet 1 ces 197 sortes de licences." (P. 16)

Again the hostile critic accuses Voltaire of plagiarism, this time of having adapted the line "Reposez-vous sur mol, de vos vrais interets" from La Motte's highly successful foes de Castro. and Vlllaret defends the poet on the suspicious grounds that

to us lee mots appartenaient aux homines, & qu'il etoit permis de les prendre quelque part, qu'on les trouvat pour e'en servlr au beboin. (P. 18)

Vlllaret's neighbor also criticizes Mahomet's confiding in

Omar on the grounds that since the two men had been friends for years, there was little possibility that they would have any secrets from one another. (Pp. 19-20) He also sees in the verses beginning

"Je ne suis assez grand..." a theft from the tragedy Gustave Waaa by

Plron, IV, 5. Villaret reacts in horror to Mahomet's statement that nature is no more than habit, but he iB fair enough to recognize the touching scene between Seide and his unknown father Zopire as

the rebuttal of Mahomet's position.

Je vous avoue, Monsieur, que sans ce correctif, J'aurois ete indlgne de 1'execrable par ad ox e de Mahomet. (P. 2 6 )

The character of Seide is described as "trop sombre pour la Comedie,

& d ’un ridicule indecent pour la Tragedie" (p. 3 0 ), and in the moving scene of recognition, the critic sees only Zopire and his

children acting as the "singes de Zaire & de Nerestan." (F. 32)

On the other hand, Villaret concedes that Seide's monologue upon killing Zopire is "le chef-d'oeuvre de l'Art, le pathetique y regne 198 avBC une force..." (P. 34) On the whole, Villaret's testimony is mosi "evealing, because it permits U3 to reconstruct the many mriticisms wnlch were aimed at Mahomet from the moment of its first

Parisian performance.

In the early months of 1743* Charles Simon Favart presented a parody of Mahomet at the Foire Saint Laurent.^ The author attempted to combine a satire on medecine with the lampooning of Voltaire's

tragedy, which was still circulating in Paris in the different pirated editions. The carelessness of Favart's work is an indication that he had written hurriedly in order to capitalize on the scandal caused by the suppression of Mahomet. He followed the plot of his model closely, changing the figure of the Prophet to that of the charlatan, Marmouset. Zopire becomes "Sot Pere" and Seide "Sot File."

Favart mocked the heroic diction of Voltaire's tragedy. When Jouflar

(Omar) quotes one of the speeches of Mahomet. Sot P&re reproaches him:

Parie-nous un jargon qui soit plus naturel; Dis le fait en deux rnots.^

Favart also criticizes the unnecessary mystery in the tragedy. All of the characters ef his parody are unable to understand why Marmouset, who is complete master of the situation, should hide his plans from

everyone, and the only explanation the charlatan can give is that

"cela doit produire quelque chose de neuf." (P. 43) Here the

^G. L. Roosbroeck, L 1 Qpplrlcme: An Unpublished Parody of Voltaire1s Mahomet. New York, Institute of French Studies, 1929, p. 3.

5Ibid.. p. 35. 199 parodist strikes close at one of the weaknesses of Voltaire; in his constant search for novelty the author of Mahomet and of Eriphvle sometimes was forced to distort character and situation. A^-er the tragedy was suppressed in 1742 after only three performances in Paris# through the efforts of Voltaire's many enemies, especially those of the church party, it was to remain unperformed in public until, in 1751, the poet felt his position sufficiently strengthened to present it again at the Comedie-Frangaise. Some four years after this play was reestablished, Collier published a parody which in many ways constitutes an effective criticism of some of the tragedy's faults.^ At times Collier mocks such incorrect images as "Les flambeaux de la haine..." (pp. 3-^4). Again, in the speeches of the BaiUi (Zopire) he satirizes the pompons tone of Voltaire's poetryi Taises-vous, maltre sot, insolent Pedagogue, Sachez que ces grands mots sont d'un Auteur en vogue, Et qu'il vous convient mal de vouloir blasonner Ce que de grands S&vans n'ont ose ccndamner. (P. 4) Collier attacks Voltaire'3 use of the qonfiriant who appears on stage only to give the major character a chance to speak:

Pendant que vous jasioz je n'avois rien a falre; Et comme ^e n'etois ici que pour me taire, J1ai pense qu'en dormant je me tairais bian mieux. (P. 16)

6thornet ou le Broulll*»nim - Parodie en un acte de Mahomet de M. de Voltaire par M. de C***. Representee sur le Theatre de *** le 7 mars 1755. A Londres, 1755. 200 He thefa attacks the style with a biting parody cn the attempt of Voltaire to attain the sublime i Par hi ex., vous l'entendezl ai-je done ce tema-la? Faut-il aussi qu'ici, sur un ton emphatique, Ornant des riens pompeux en style pathetique, J*aille, en m'egosillant, queter des brouhahas, Et d'un geste presse me demettre les bras? Cependant pour Conner \ Thomet que J * amene Le terns de s'avancer fierment sur la scene Je vais vous procurer 1'inutile plaisir De voir, les bras oroises, ccmme on va m'applaudir. (Pp. 19-20) Here Collier is attacking both the style of the poet, and the equally exaggerated attitudes of the aotors. Like Villaret, he has noted how the actors pause for long moments to ilicit the applause of the audience, and he wishes to attack the enflure which can offer the audience only an "inutile plaisir." But Collier's criticism in this case is as applicable to nearly 1 the classic tragedy as it is to Mahomet. His position seems to be that of condemning the genre of French tragedy itself, and, as we shall see in his later remarks, it is obvious that he prefers the more natural language and postures demanded by the newly-developing drame. An observation which bears more directly on Mahomet is that which points out the occasional lack of reason for some of the entrances in Voltaire's tragedy. In Thomet. the Balili, watching the protagonist count his followers «nd then send them away, reproaches him: Maugrebleu, notre Maitre, etoit-ce done la peine De venir de si loin embarasser la scene? 201 Thome t replies with some of "the hajesty of Mahometi Tu raisonnes, tu crois? Monsieur du dlscoureur, Je n'aime point du tout quiconque est raisonneur. Saohez que devant mol l1on dolt etre en silence, J'agis comme 11 me plait... toujours sans consequence. (Pp. 21-22) Collier also has noticed the unusual Importance given to the role of Omar in Voltaire’s tragedy. Like Villaret, he disapproves Mahomet's having to confide in his old friend, and Arlequin (Omar) remarks: Parler & ne rien falre est en effet ton role. Moi, me meler de tout est aujourd'hui le mien. (P. 25) The same passivity is underlined when Collier has his Arlequin offer T ho met the plan of attacking the old BaiUi: Qu'un heroe est heureux lorsque son confidant Le tire d'embarras, & cela sur le champ...* (P. 29) The scene of Zopire's assassination, and especially Seide's mono­ logue also come in for their share of parody. Jannot's speech, which corresponds to the soliloquy of Seide, is marked by Collier with the indications: Pathetloue de recit. Effrol de recit. D1un air niais. Riant, and Pleurant. Obviously Collier did not find much to his liking Voltaire's deliberate attempt to mix the tones in Seide's speech. In the same way, the parodist, ridiculing Voltaire's effort at dramatic effect, mocks his breaking the dialogue in the scene between Seide and Mahomet.

Many of the points Collier chooses to satirize in his Thomet are part of the usual objections to Voltaire's tragedy. Thus the 232 criticism of weak image a, the lack of logic in the denoueme.it. and the inflated language, had all been brought out by the enemies of the play from its first performance in 1742. However, in some of his satire, in his attack on the use of flowery language rather than action to express the character of Mahomet, and in his criticism of the exaggeration of both language and acting, Collier seams to introduce a new note, whioh indicates the dissatisfaction of the partisans of the new drama. who were only too willing to attack in Mahomet one of the most highly regarded products of classio tragedy in the eighteenth century. Charles Colle expressed much the 3ame point of view as Collier in his remarks on Mghomgt. Colle, who had established himself as a minor writer of comedy with the production of Dunuis et Dearonais in 1765, and whose more famous Partie de chaase de Henri 17 was presented in 1774, was throughout his career both critical and admiring of the talents of Voltaire. His attitude may have been determined partly by envy, but it was also due to the feeling that Voltaire had been unfair to Corneille, whom Colle admired greatly. Indeed, Colle left among his papers a commentary on some of the works of Voltaire which paralleled the Commontalre the latter had written on Corneille's dramatic works.^ Colle first mentioned Mwhon^t when It was revived in Paris in

7 Michaud, Bio graph! e unlversclle fmoienne et mod erne. Paris, Louis Vives, libraire-editeur, 1880, VIII, 586-537. 203 g 1751. In his Jmimfll. he wrote that the tragedy had been played, and reported the fact that after its three performances in 174-2 it had been withdrawn because Hla clameur publique fut contre." (I, 349) He reviewed the story of Voltaire's attempt to have Cardinal Fleury approve the play without Its being submitted to censorship, and said that Crebillon p&re had refused to pass it In 1751, since the elderly writer felt that the same circumstances which had caused it to be banned before still existed. However, Colle tells us, the marechal de Richelieu was anxious that M^hnwjftt receive a hearing, and had assigned it to D'Alembert, who had given it his approbation. Colle was not impressed by the attacks on Mahomet based on morality, since he believed that "les choses dites au theatre contre la religion ne peuvent jamais faire ni bien ni mal, un trait impie n'ajoute rien \

1 'Incredulite de ceux qui ne sont pas persuades et revolte oeux qui croiant..." (I, 351) He stated that he had seen the play on all three performances in 1742, and that he considered it mon gout, une mauvaise piece 11 y a de grandes beautes: il y a meme des lueurs de genie..." (I, 351) Among these glimmerings of talent were the recognition scene between Zopire and his children, and the idea of bringing to the stage "le frere Clement", the type of the fanatic. For ffolle the tragedy Is weak mainly in its plot. There is not enough logic or necessity in the linking of events. Further,

^Journal et Memolres de Charles Colle. aveo une Introduction et des notes par Honore Bonhornme, Pails, Didot freres, 1868. 204 Mahomet "...y eat petit et n'eat point en action." (I, 351) The last phrase la important for an understanding of Colle1 a position. This is the idea of the partisans of the drma. who felt that action rather than language should express character. To Voltaire's rhetoric, they preferred the eloquent pause, the silence, or the gesture which would set off character more effectively. Colle finds in Voltaire's versification the greatest of Mahomet1s merits: "C'est peut-etre, au reste, une de ses tragedies les plus remplies de beaux vers..." However, he insists that it is only in these details that the play is pleasing, and that the tragedy itself is "revoltante par l'horreur et l'atrocite de quelques situa­ tions, qui sont horriblement cboquantes, parce qu'elles ne sont ni preparees, ni ammnees, ni ne ’aires."

To see that this evaluation of Colle1 s remained the same through the years, we have only to examine a poem he sent to a young relative in 1781.9

Ce Mahomet que l*on fete Aveti force ecrit, Mais qui n'a ni pieda ni tite, Corneille en eut dit: C'est l'ouvrage d'une bete De beaucoup d1esprit. The begrudging tone of this doggerel is obviously due to the increased popularity of Voltaire's play. This impression iB confirmed by Colle's comments on the poem. He remarks to his correspondent that he must

^Correspondence inedite de Colle. avec une Introduction et des note3 par Honore Bohhomme, Paris, Plon, 1864, p. 237. 205 recall "les defauts enormes du plan et des earact&re3 de la tragedie de Mahomet*" (P. 236) He considers it ridiculous that Mahomet, the master of Asia, should go "s’enfermer niaisement dans une bicoque, oil 11 court le risque de la vie." He sees Voltaire's protagonist as "un scelerat sans raison et sans un grand objet." Again Colle criticises the lack of action in the tragedy: "Mahomet dlt de grandes choses et 11 en fait de petites." He considers the miracle which serves as denouement absurd and "dignc du theatre des Marion- net tea du sieur Bienfait.* But he still recognizes the poetic beauties of the lines, "qui sont a se mettre & genoux levant et plus beaux que ceux de la Henriade," and claims that "cette broderie magique a couvert le fond de l'etoffe, qui est un drap de l'hopital." (P. 236)

The estimate J.—J. Rousseau made of Mahomet in his Lettre 3

M. d1 wrebert sur les spectacles'^ is more judicious than the remarks of Colle. The story of the composition of Rousseau's letter is well enough known not to be insisted upon here. After the publication of D'AlemberMs article on Geneva in the Encyclopedia. an article in which the famed mathematician, on Voltaire's suggestion, recommended the establishment of a theater in that Protestant city, Rousseau decided to answer, and aimed his attack at what he considered the basic immorality of the stage. The fact that Rousseau discussed Mahomet at some length indicates that by 1758, date of the publication

^Our quotations are taken from the critical edition by M. Fuchs, Lille, Librairie Giard, Geneve, Librairie Droz, 1948. 206 of his letter to D'Alembert, the tragedy was already established as a masterpiece of the French theater. Rousseau compares M^hom^t to Crebillon's Atree in that both tragedies present "monsters" who go unpunished. He considers Mahomet superior, however, since it at least contains "un second personnage, d 'un interet de respect et de veneration." (P. 39) Mahomet, in the confrontation with Zopire, wit' out losing any of his majesty, is "eclipse par le simple bon sens et l'intrepide vertu de Zopire." (P. 40) Rousseau sees in this scene one in which "le sacre caractere de la vertu 11emporte•..sur 1'elevation du genie." (P. 40) In a footnote, Rousseau says he had at first believed that Omar had maintained a more elevated tone in speaking to the sherif than had Mahomet, but upon reflection had realised that the Prophet was not a fanatic, like his follower, but a "fourbe" who falsely assumes the tone of reason and thereby loses some force in his argu­ ments. We shall see later that this interpretation drew La Harpe's judgment that Rousseau was outside his sphere whenever he chose to speak of the stage. But for Jean-Jacques the question of moral utility must always come before that of literary excellence. He might remark on the skillful characterisation of Voltaire, but his primary concern must be, "Is the tragedy good in Its effect?"* He recognized that it was useful, since it exposed "les forfaits du fanat1sme...pour apprendre au peuple ^ le connoltre et s'en deffendre." (P. 40) Despite this, he had certain misgivings, for he feared that Mahomet's greatness 207 might diminish the horror of his crimes, and that the play, "jouee devant des gens en etat de choisir, ne fit plus de Mahomets que de Zopires." (P. 41) If Rousseau, ^&lle recognising the sublimity of Mahomet, still held doubts as to its moral effect, Grimm, the author of the CorrespnTidwnne lltteralre. also had reservations, based this time on esthetic considerations. In an article written in February 1770, the German critic mentioned to his readers that La Harpe had read In private assemblies his new tragedy, Melnni e. ou la Raligieuse. Grinan praised the play on the basis of its versification, but it led him to the reflection that nla vraie tragedie, celle qui n'existe point eh France, celle qui est encore a creer, ne pourra etre ecrite qu'en prose, et ne s’accomodera jamais du 1 engage pompeux, arrondi, et phrasier du vers alexandrin." (VIII, 459) Grimm accuses both Racine «nd Voltaire of using a language which is far too polite, too highly polished to be always fitting to their subjects, and he chooses, to decide the question, to examine Mahomet, "le plus bel ouvrage du Theatre—Frangais." (VIII, 4&1) His objection is that the connaisseur cannot easily accept the idea that Arabs, "une troupe de brigands et de patrea subjugues par le fanatisme le plus aveugle et le plus barbare," should speak "une langue pleine d’harmonle, de grace et de charme." This language is far more suitable to a people

110orre8pondance litteralre. philosophiaue et critique, par Grimm, Diderot, Raynal, Meister, eta., Paris, Gamier, 1877-82, VIII, 459 ff. 208 who have attained a high degree of civilization. Instead, Grimn would demand that "1'aprete de la langue reponde a l'aprete des moeurs.w (VIII, l£>2) This harshness should not consist of incorrect expression, but of "je ne sals quoi de sauvage, d'agreste et d'inculte, dans un caractere d'etrangete que l'homme de genie peut soul trouver, et dont notre petit gout leche, peigne, frise ne se doute seulement pas." (VIII, -462) This criticism of Grimn's continues the thread we have already noted in the parody by Collier, and in the remarks of Colle. By the time this article was written, the ideas of Diderot on bourgeois drama have begun to take hold among literary circles, and particularly on his closest friend, the author of the Correspondence H m . Grimm recognized the basic weakness not of Mahomet, but of poetic tragedy in general. The lack of verisimilitude in the speech of savage characters Is all the more obvious in French tragedy, because the rules of versification and the demands of blenseanoe required politeness and correctness of utterance. Grimn does not condemn Voltaire's tragedy alone. His argument attacks the very idea of expressing characters who are not civilized in polished verse. He recognized that Mahomet was a model of its type, but rejected the type Itself, preferring to call on some future man of genius to find the true language of the tragedy which was not yet existent except in the dreams of himself, Diderot, Sedaine, and the other partisans of the drame. 209 The remark3 which La liarpe made concerning Mahomet 1.2 permit ua to control to some extent the criticisms which we have examined, for this author, although not free from prejudice, attempted to write, in his Lycee. a more serious criticism than that of Colle, or even than that of Grimm, who was naturally influenced by the journalistic demands of his Correspondence titteraiFurther, La Harpe, having the advantage of composing his remarks some years further removed from the events of the period, would reflect a greater objectivity than the immediately contemporary critics. His judgments can then, to some extent, be taken as a summary of the eighteenths century estimate of Mahomet. La Harpe remarks that, like Crebillon's Atree. Voltaire's tragedy has the serious defect of presenting vice which is insuf­ ficiently punished. Mahomet does lose Palmire, and everything he had loved, but this punishment is weak, and "on sent le vice de ce denouement, et c'est la seule tache de ce grand ouvrage." (I, 66) Later, in a more fully developed discussion of Mahomet. he returned to this point: "Le plus grand defaut de cet ouvrage profond et sublime sera toujours d'etaler trois viotimes innocentes, qui meurent aux pieds d'un monstre impuni." (IX, 319) This is the same charge which Rousseau levelled at the play, and it must be dealt with seriously. It is certain that the reader is left somewhat dissatis­ fied at the end of the tragedy. How can a poet hope to move his

Lyneg, ou Cours de litteratnre anclenne et mod erne. A Paris, Chez Deterville, 1818. 210 audience with such a spectacle? Cahagne, in his ^ntlmn^tp ambiguity, and in this case, it is our opinion that both Rousseau and La Harpe were too limited in their judgment to appreciate fully the meaning of the tragedy. La Harpe recognizes what might be called the didactic purpose of Mahomet, namely to "lnstruii e les hommes, pour leur inspirer cette bienveillance mutuelle qui doit les rapprocher encore quand leur croyance les divise." (IX, 363) However, he believes that Voltaire actually preferred this work to his others because of its hidden

intention to attack Christianity. (XX, 363-36 4 ) And he points out its similarity to Tartuffe. both in its purpose, and in the treatment

it received at the hands of the authorities. (IX, 3 6 4 )

Seide, for La Harpe, is an illustration of "la vertu la plus

pure conduite par un fol enthoueiasme de religion jusqu'au plus 212 execrable des forfaits." (IX, 36 6) He claims that Voltaire has been falsely accused of imitating Crebillon, in whose Atree Plisthene vas reared to carry out one brother's vengeance on another. La Harpe sees Mahomet as more of an opportunist, arriving slowly, step by step, at the plan of having Seide murder his father, Zopire, and argues convincingly that it is Omar, after all, who conceives of the plot. Rousseau's comments on Mahomet are treated by La Harpe with condescension. He praises his predecessor's discussion of the scene between Zopire and the Prophet as "un tr^s bel eloge." (IX, 379) However, he does not accept Rousseau's distinction between Omar, the fanatic, and Mahomet, the "fourbe," pointing out that Omar at all times is the Prophet's agent in carrying out his plot. He dis­ misses Rousseau as a critic, stating, " il sortait de la sphere de ses oonnaissances quand il parlait de l'art dramatique, dont il n'avait aucune idee.'* (IX, 3&1) For the author of the Lvcee. the fourth aot, with the murder of Zopire, and the recognition scene illustrate "le comble de l'art, c'est de combiner le dernier degre d'horreur que la tragedie puisse comporter avec l'interet qu'elle doit produire..." (IX, 38 6 ) But he advanced the claim that this scene was imitated from Lillo's Merchant of London, in which, similarly, a young man kills an uncle who had befriended him. (IX, 389) Naturally La Harpe noticed the anti-climactic nature of the final act, which Voltaire was also aware of, and condemned the use of poison on the grounds that It would be too difficult to determine exactly when it would take effect. 213 Again, to defend Voltaire, this often-repeated criticism fails to recognize the opportunism of Mahomet, a quality which La Harpe himself mentions. It seems clear from the text that when Mahomet speaks of causing the death of any who oppose him, he is observing the symptoms of Seide which are beginning to appear, and that he takes advantage of the situation as it develops. La Harpe admires the hemistich, nIl est dono des remordsl" as poetry, but doubts that Mahomet actually experienced remorse. (IX, 391) This attitude stems from the critic's opinion that Mahomet is not of a nature really to love anyone, and that therefore Palmire'a death cannot touch him* He passes off as unsuitable the fact that the Prophet has even mentioned in the tragedy his "gout pour une jeune fille innocent©." (IX, 385) Again we have a rigid interpretation of character which, we feel, caused La Harpe, and others, to judge the tragedy unjustly. It is true that Mahomet as he is presented, the Prophet, the absolute ruler, the conqueror, would not be expected to love as other men. Voltaire also was aware of this difficulty. But to say that he cannot change Is carrying the idea of character (the limitations of a type imposed on an individual) much too far. Mahomet perhaps does not react as much to the loss of Palmire (which would be egotistical) but rather to the revelation of his own nature which her act forces upon him. He is a charlatan, his deliberate attempts to deceive his followers have been revealed throughout the tragedy. Yet, like all men, he has also succeeded in blinding himself to the reality of his acts, and it is the shock of becoming aware of 2 U this reality which is his punishment. This interpretation, which La Harpe ignores, Is the only one which is consonant with Voltaire's ideas of morality. Voltaire might have been guilty of irreligion; he was nevertheless never unaware of moral law. From our discussion of the criticism of Mahomet in the eighteenth century, certain constants can be deduced. As soon as the tragedy was produced, its enemies hastened to cite each fault of versification, of imagery, and expression. Further, they found some examples of lack of logic, and especially of necessity, in the plot. On these counts Voltaire was vulnerable, for his method of composing, hurriedly, under the heat of enthusiasm, led him to comnit many errors, some of \4iich he removed, on the advice of friends, or following the criticisms aimed at him. Moreover, his weakness in inventing action which would serve as a suitable framework for his plays is well known. Here the remarks of Colle, La Harpe, Collier and others are justified. The second accusation aimed at is more serious. The many borrowings from classic and contemporary theater, some of which we had occasion to see in Villaret*s Lettre a M. de Voltaire, tend to reduce the poet's orlginall-ty. To some extent, again, we must admit the justice of these observations. As we have seen In our discussion of the literary sources of Mahomet. Voltaire followed his models with a faithfulness which often approached the slavish. Another important theme which is repeated in these discussions of Mahomet is the moralistic criticism of the tragedy. The eighteenth 215 century emphasized the utlla. and could not accept a serious work which did not meet the standards of morality. Connected with this matter, is the idea that the play was too full of horror to be completely acceptable. Finally, and of great interest in the development of dramatic theory, there is a widely shared opinion in the late eighteenth century that Mahomet is at fault because of its beauties of versifi­ cation. Partisans of the drame. who desired a language closer to the natural one of real life, could only see in the tragedy a superior example of a "type of theater which they wished to destroy. They criticized therefore the lack of action, the revelation of character top exclusively through language, the use of a style which must be considered unconvincing when it comes from the mouths of Arabs of the eighth century. Here Mahomet suffered the fate of many other works. Although its many excellencies were recognized, the tragedy was not strong enough, as were the productions of Racine and Corneille, to stand out against the effects of time and change of taste. CONCLUSION

Mahomet was the favorite tragedy of Voltaire. La Harpe1s statement that he preferred it probably because of its hidden attack on Christianity is true only to a limited axtent. In this work the poet did strike more openly than before at the forces which were to be his major enemy during the later part of his life. But this explanation ignores the effort Voltaire spent in outlining his plot, in planning his characterisation, and in polishing his lines. Mflhoiqft-tf was Important to him as an attack on fanaticism; but it was also significant as an artistic undertaking. It is necessary to keep these two aspects of the tragedy in mind. The work is a blending of ideological and of artistic concerns, and to forget either element is to distort its value. In his achievement as a dramatic poet, Voltaire is revealed to have relied on many sources. Not too creative a writer in the fields of poetry and the theater, where the artist was bound by a rigid set of conventions, Voltaire for his inspiration turned to his wide reading of the masterpieces of the past. His imitation of Racine has been widely recognized; and in Mahomet we find the spirit of Racinian tragedy with its emphasis on human deceit and treachery.

216 217 The use the poet made of Crebillon*s A tree Is of a different character. In his borrowings from Racine the reader feels the almost reverent attitude of a disciple following in the footsteps of a predecessor who had, to a large degree, given France its supreme definition of tragedy. The utilisation of themes, of treatment, ar.d of characters from Crebillon is reminiscent of the younger Voltaire's daring to make his debut on the stage of the Cornedie-Frangaise with a subject which had been treated before by Corneille, that of CE dipus. Here the poet seems to accept the challenge of imitating and endeavoring to surpass men whom he considered not superior to him in talent, but who had only the advantage of having lived before him. Thus, if Crebillon brought to the theater a play in which a young man ran the risk of committing the crimes of incest and patricide, Voltaire attempted to go him one better by having at least the last of those crimes carried out in deed. Crebillon had, to some extent, perfected the tragedy of horror, and Voltaire, writing for audiences Inured to even stronger stuff by poets such as La Noue and Gresset, could push the effect of horror even further. Intimately related to this esthetic aspect of Mahomet is the philosophical element, since much of Voltaire's originality lies in his having brought to the tragedy an idea which was serious and which particularly needed ►repression at that time. It is not enough to say that he conceived of a Tartuffe, "lea nrmes a la main," although this is part of the truth. In recognizing that religious intolerance was too great a matter to be treated by satire alone, Voltaire had 218 already done much. Thus his Seide illustrates an example of human conduct, that of a man blinded by his religious beliefs, which was grave enough to cause the character's name to enter the language as a comnon noun, indicative of a type. Beyond this aspect of the tragedy, which might be described merely as propaganda, there lies the larger question of the nature of man's relationship to his fellows and to the divinity. As we have seen, Voltaire had treated these matters in other previous works, but Mahomet is one of the more forceful expressions of his opinions. That man owes loyalty to other men rather than to abstractions, that no one should commit, through religion, a deed which is not in itself good, that the individual who sets himself against natural law runs the risk of losing his humanity, these are the truths which Voltaire spoke in Mahomet. They were valid in his time, and they bear repeating today.

A frequent criticism has been levelled at the author of Mahomet. It is that his treatment of the Prophet is unhistorical, and so distorted as to reduce serioujtly the worth of his tragedy. Indeed, the modem reader must ask himself how the author of the

Essat sur les moeurs could write so unfair a version of the founder of a religion. If Voltaire's purpose had been to produce in Mahomet a historical work, such criticism would be justified. But this was not his intention. In composing his tragedy, he wished to function both as an artist and as a propagandist, and in doing so he felt permitted to distort facts to some extent; in allowing himself 3ome inaccuracy, he followed a tradition which had existed in Christian 219 writings on Mohammed. Authorized by the anti-Moslem works of such scholars as Prideaux, Voltaire might well present his Mahomet as an impostor who took advantage of man1 s willingness to believe in order to gain his own ends* Nor was the distortion complete, from Voltaire's point of view* The rationalistic writer of the eighteenth century could really accept in no other way the man who claimed to have received the visit of angels, and to have been transported miracu­ lously to Jerusalem. Those who accuse Voltaire of having missed his mark through the distortion of his major character are themselves guilty of applying to the past criteria developed only in more recent times* As an artist, Voltaire's achievement in Mahomet was great. His effect as a propagandist was no less. That the members of the Cabale des devots were frightened by the tragedy’s influence is indicated by their fervent efforts to suppress it. They were success­ ful temporarily, with the help of both the Jansen! str-incllhed oar lament and the ministry, which was in no mood for an open scandal. But Voltaire characteristically refused to give in. He had worked almost alone, discouraged by the members of his intimate circle, to bring the play to Paris. He was to continue for almost a decade to establish Mahomet definitely as part of the repertory of the Cornedie-Frangaise* The dedication of the tragedy to the Pope was only one episode in a battle which was not ended until the play was revived in 1751, aided immensely by the acting of Le Kain, one of the many young artists 220 whom Voltaire had encouraged. Thus the story of Mahomet and of the struggle it caused its author constitutes an important glimpse of the artistic and ideological concerns of Voltaire, as well as of those of the century for which he wrote. BIBLIOGRAPHY

I, Bibliographies

Barr, Mary Margaret* A Century of Voltaire Studyi jj Bibliography of Wrlting« on Voltaire, New Yorks Institute of French Studies, 1929* _ . "Bibliographical Data on Voltaire from 1926-1930," Modem Language Notes. XLVIII (1933), 297-307. _ . "Bibliographical Data on Voltaire from 1931-1940," Modem Language Notes. LVI (19a), 563-582. Bengesco, Georges. Voltaire; Bibliograph!e de ses oeuvres* Paris: Vol. I, Rouveyre et Blond, Vols. II-IV, Perrin, 1882-1890.

Cabeen, D. C. (general editor). £ Critical R^bl^fry^p^y of French Literature* (Vol. IV, The Eighteenth Century, edited by George R. Havens and Donald F. Bond.) Syracuse University Press, 1951. Caussy, Fernand, ftnveptflldes mflnnpcrlts de ^a bibllotheoue de Voltair^ conserves a la Bibllotheoue imperiale publiaue de Sftint-Petersbourg. Paris: Imprlmerie nationale, 1913. Gfraud, Jeanne. Manual de blbliographie lltteraire pour les XVIe. M U I f Si ancles frangels. 1931-1935. Paris: Vrin, 1939.

Lanson, Gustave. Manuel bibliogranhlnua de la litterature franyalse raoderae. XVIe. XVIIe. XVIII*. et XIXe slecles. nouvelle edition. Peris: Hachette, 1921. Morehouse, Andrew. "The Voltaire Collection of the Rare Book Room," Yale University Library Gazette. XVTI (April, 1943)> 66-79.

221 222 II. Editions of Voltaire's Works

Besterman, Theodore (ed.). Voltalre1s Correspondence. 41 vols. Geneva: Institut et Musee Voltaire, 1953—. Havens, George R* Selections from Voltaire. New York: Century, 1925. Jean-Aubry, Georges. Lettres d1 Alsace ji niece madame Denis. Paris: Gallimard, 1938.

Tieghem, Philippe van (ed.). Contes et Romnna de Voltaire- Paris: Roches, 1930. Voltaire, Frangois-Marie Arouet de. CEuvres completes. Kehl. 70 vols. Imprimerie de la Societe litteraire typographique, 1784 and 1785-89. _ . CE uvres. edited by Adrien Beuchot. 72 vols. Paris: Lefevre, Didot, Werdet et Lequien fils, 1829-1840. _ . CE uvres completes, edited by Louis Moland. 52 vols. Paris: Garnier, 1877-1885.

III. Original Sources other than Voltaire

Barbier, Edmond. Chronlaue de la Reeence et du r&gne de Louis XV (1718-1765). 8 vols. Paris: Charpentier, 1885.

Bayle, Pierre, pictionnaire historione et critique, nouvelle edition augmentee de notes extraites de Chaufepie, Joly, La Monnoie, L.-J. Leclerc, Leduchat, Prosper Marchand, etc. 16 vols. Paris: Desoer, 1820. Boulainvilliers, Henri, comte de. £*£. Vie de Kahomed. seconds edition. A Amsterdam: chez Pierre Humbert, 1731.

Cahagne, (Abbe). Sentiments d*un 3pectabeur sur la tragedie de Mahomet I. Aoust, 1742, 331-372.

Colie, Charles. Correspondence inedite. edited by Honore Bonhomme. Paris: Plon, 1864. ______. Journal et Memoirea. edited by Honore Bonhomme. 3 vols. Paris: Didot, 1868. 223 Collier. Thcaaet. ou lg Broui 11 - Parodle en un aote de Mahomet 1 de M. de Voltaire. Par M. C***. Representee pour la premiere fois sur le Theatre de *** le 7 Mars 1755. A Londres, 1755# Orebillon, Prosper Jolyot de. CE uvres. 2 vols. A Paris: Renouard, 1818. Diderot, Denis. CE uvres completes, edited by J. Assezat and Maurice Toumeux. 20 vols. Paris: Gamier, 1875-1877. Favart, Charles Simon • L'Empiriaue. An Unpublished Parody of Voltaire1 a Mahomet, edited by L. Van Roosbroeck. New York: Institute of French Studies, 1929. Gagnier, Jean. Ig Vie de Mahomet, tradulte et compilee de 1'Alcoran, des Traditions authentiques de la Sonna, et des meilleurs auteurs arabes. 2 vols. Amsterdam: chez les Vetsteins & Smith, 1732.

Grinan, F. M. Correspondance lltteralre. nhlloaonhlnue et critique de Grimm. Diderot. R»vnal- Meister. etc,. edited by Maurice Tourneux. 16 vols. Paris: Gamier freres, 1877-1882. Jaucourt, chevalier de. "Mahometisme," in Encyclopedia ou Diction- nalre raisonne des sciences, des arts, gi des metiers. Vol. U. Neufcha3tel: chez Samuel Faulche et compagnie, 1765. La Harpe, J. F. de. Lvcee. ou Qours de 1literature ancienne et modeme. 16 vols. A Paris: chez Deterville, 1818* La Noue, J.-B. Sauve de. Mahomet Second, tragedie. in M. Petitot, Repertoire du Theatre Frangois. Ill (Paris, 1803), 392-491* Lettre d'un oomedien t^e Lille sur la tragedie de M. de Voltaire. contenant I'idee des caracteres, de la conduite, & des details de cette Piece. A Paris: chez Prault p&re, 1742. Lillo, George. Dramatic Works. 2 vols* London: W. Lowndes, 1810.

Prideaux, Humphrey. Ig Vie de l1 imposteur Mahomet, recueillie des auteurs arabes, peraana, hebreux, caldalques, grecs, et latins. Paris: J. Musier, 1699. Racine, Jean. CE uvres. nouvelle edition. 9 vols. Paris: Hachette, 1885-1890. Rousseau, Jean Baptiste. CE uvres. nouvelle edition. 4 vols. Londres, 1753. 224

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. Correspondence gftnerala de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, edited by Theophile Dufour and Pierre-Paul Plan. 20 vols. Paris: Colin, 1924-1934*

______. Lettre a d'Alembert £ur iss aneotacles. edited by M. Fuchs. Lille: Libraixie Giard.Geneve: Librairie Droz, 1948.

______. CE uvres comolltes. 13 vols. Paris: Hachette, 1885-1905*

Sale, George. The Koran, commonly called the Alcoran of Mohammed. London, 1734.

Traite des trois imposteurs. A Amsterdam, 1776.

Vi Hare t, Claude de. Lettre £ Monsieur de V*** sur sa traeedie de Mahomet _I. Paris, 1742.

IV. Historical, Biographical and Critical Studies

Aghion, Max. theatre £ Paris au XVIIIe sifecle. Paris: Librairie de France, 1926 .

Ascoli, Georges. "Voltaire," Revue des oours et des conferences. XXVl. 673-687; XXV2, 16-27, 128-144, 302-315, 417-428, 6 1 6 -63O; XJVli, 262-273, 501-514, 703-721} XXVI2 , 153-167, 373-384, 619-626, 627-639, (1924-1925).

______. Voltfiirfi: poemea phllosophlaues. Paris: Centre de documentation universitaire, 1936 .

Bengesco, Georges. Le3 Comediennes de Voltaire. Etudes sur le XVIII® si^cle. Paris: Librairie Academiqua, 1912.

Bondois, Paul-M. "Le Procureur-General Joly de Fleury et le Mohamet de Voltaire," Revue d'Histoire litteraire de la France* XXXVI (1929), 246-259.

Borgerhoff, E. B.O. The Evolution of Liberal Theory and Practice in the French Theater (1680-1757). Princeton: Princeton Univer­ sity Press, 1936.

Brumfitt, J. H. Volt^ire Historian. London: Oxford University Press, 1958. 225

Chaponni&x*© 9 "L’lnfluence d© l f©3prit mondain sur la t r a g ^ c S . XVTII® siecle," Revue d’Hlatoire litteralre c e . XIX (1912), 547-569.

Cherpak , G l i L f * ■ — J£U£ Call o f Blood I n French Classical Tragedy, B a l t : s Johns Hopkins Press, 1953.

Crousle, L . S et le3 oeuvres de Voltaire. 2 vols. Paris: C h a m p : 3 _ 8 9 9 .

Desnolre 3 Guatave. Voltaire et la Soolete francalse au xvii i« o l e . 8 vols. Pariss Didier, 1809-1876,

Havens, G e o r jag; — and Norman L. Torrey. Catalog of Voltaire's T^1 Feraey. In Studies on Voltaire a^t thg C e n t u r y , e d i t e d b y Theodore Besterxnan. Vol. IX. Gene' xm.stltut et Musee Voltaire.

Joannidea , A . * Comedie frangaise d e 1680 a 1920: dlotionnalre g e n e r a J . 3 pieces et des auteurs. Paris: Flon, 1901.

"=■ rrfl 4 -7 frangaiae de 1680 a 1920: tableau des repre & i o n s par a u t e u r et par pieces. Paris, 1921,

Lancaster, H Carrington. French Tragedy in the Time of Louis JV and. V SLfi (1215-1774)7 2 vols. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins P r e s s

* ^ History o f P a r i s i a n Drama I n the- Last Years of Louis 1 7 0 1 - 1 7 1 5 . B a l t imore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1945.

Lanson, GuL3*b> Voltaire. Paris: Hachette, 1910.

J S 2 d ’une histolre d e la tragedie frangaise. Paris: C h e L m p > l _ 1 9 2 7 .

Larroumet, G "Le T h e a t r e frangais au XVIII® siecle," Revue d e 3 o o e 1 des c onferences VTII2 (1900), 105, 260, 327, 4 6 3 , 600 , 633, 692 .

Lion, H e n r i . L Tragedies et les theories dramatiques £e Voltaire, P a r i s s itiette, 1895.

Lounsbury , T • Shakespeare and V oltaire. New York: Scribners, 1902 .

Michaud, J o s o ‘engois. Blographie universelle ancienne ft m o d e m ■xavelle edition. 45 vols. Paris: Delagme, 1 8 5 -4 —: 226

Mornet, Daniel. Las Originea intellectuelles de la Revolution frangalae. 1*715—8*7. Paris: Colin, 1933.

______. "La Question des regies au XVTII® si^cle, " Revue littaraire de la Prance. XXI (19U), 2^1-268, 596-617.

Olivier, Jean ^J a c q u e s . V o l t a i r e et lea corned lens int^i-pretea de son theatre, P a r i s : Societe frangaise d ’ imprimerie et de librairie, 1 9 0 0 .

Stephen, Leslie and S y d n e y Lee (editors). Dlctlon*n~Y of National Biography. 66> vols. New York: MacMillan; London: Elder and Company , 1 8 8 5— 1901 •

Stewart, Nancy. "The M^hnmet of Voltaire and the Mahomet of Henri de Boraier," Review. XXVII (1936), 262—268.

Tobin, Ronald W. " T h e Sources of Voltaire’s Mahomet. " French Review, XXXIV (1961), 371— 3*78.

Torrey, Norman L. "Boulainvilliers: the Man and "the Mask," in Travaux s u r Voltaire et le riig-huitlfema slecl^. edited by Theodore B e a t e r m a n . G e n e v e : Institut et M u s e e Voltaire, Vol. I, 1 5 9 - 1 7 3 .

Wade, Ira 0. l h £ m a n d e a t i n a O r c n r r i ^tion fusion £&i2= sophioal Ideas in France from 1700 to 1750. Princeton: Prinoeton University Press, 1938.

______. ’’The ’ Ep i i r e a. Uranie1 ," Publications of the Modem Language Association. XLVII (1932), 1066-1097.

______. Voltaire and Mme du Chatelet: an Essay on the Intellect! Activity at Gir e v . Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941.

Watts, George B. "Notes on Voltaire,” Modern Language Notes. XLI (1926), 1 1 8 - 1 2 2 . AUTOBIOGRAPHY

I, Robert Edward Mitchell, was b o m in Columbus, Ohio,

June 16, 1927. I received my secondary education in the public schools of Columbus, and ny undergraduate training at The Ohio State

University, which granted me the Bachelor of Art3 and Bachelor of

Science in Education, ^mnn»> cum laude. in 1948. I received the

Master of Arts degree from the same university in 1949. I taught at Southern University, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in 1949, and remained associated with that school until 1957. In 1950 I continued ny studies at Harvard University, where I wa3 a teaching fellow in the

Department of Romance Languages and Literatures. I returned to

The Ohio State University in 195-4 and again in 1958. Since September

I960 I have been an instructor in the Department of Romance Languages at this University.

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