1736-02-22, de Voltaire [François Marie Arouet] à Sir Everard Fawkener.

Now the honest, the good and simple Philosopher of Wandsworth represents his King, and his country and is equal to the grand signior.
Certainly England is the only country where commerce and virtue are to be rewarded with such an honour. Il any grief rests still upon me, my dear friend (for friend you are tho a minister) ‘t'is that j am unable to be a witness of yr new sort of glory and felicity. Had j not regulated my life after a way which makes me a kind of solitary j would fly to that nation of savage slaves whom j hate, to see the man j love. What would be my entertainement, and how full the overflowing of my heart, in contemplating my dear Fawkener amidst so many infidels of all hues, smiling with his humane philosophy on the superstitious follies that reign on the one side at Stamboul and on the other at Galata! J would not admire, as sais mylady Mary Wortley

The visier proud distinguish'd from the rest.
Six slaves in gay attire his bridle hold,
His bridles rich with gemms, his stirrups gold.

For how the devil should j admire a slave upon a horse? My friend Fawkener j should admire. But I must did adieu to the great town of Constantin, and stay in my little corner of the world, in that very same castle, where you was invited to come in yr way to Paris in case you should have taken the road of Calais to Marseilles. Yr taking an other way, was certainly a sad disapointment for me, and especially to that lady, who makes use of yr loks, and more of yr books. Upon my word a french lady who reads Newton, Loke, Adisson and Pope, and who retires from the bubbles and the stunning noise of Paris to cultivate in the country the great and amiable genius, she is born with, is more Valuable the yr Constantinople and all the turkish empire. You may confidently write to me by Marseilles chez madame la marquise du Chatelet à Cirey en Champagne. Be sure j shall not stir from that spot of ground before the favour of yr letter comes to me.

You will see perhaps a renegado, the bastard offspring of an irishman, who went at Paris by the name of Makarty, a busy, bold, stirring, and not a scrupulous man. He had the honour by chance of being known to the marquise Duchatelet, but expell'd from her house for his rogueries and impudence before he left Paris with two young men in debt, whom he seduced to turn musulmen. His story and his caracter must be known at Constantinople. J would fain know what sort of live he leads now with the followers of Mohammed.

But what concerns me more, what j long more to be informed of, it is wether you are as happy as you seem to be. Have you got a little private serraglio or are you to be married? are you overstok'd with business, does yr laziness comply with yr affaires? Do you drink much of that good cyprus wine? For my part j am too happy tho my health is ever very weak,

excepto quod non simul esses, cætera lætus.

Adio mio carissimo ambasciadore, adio, le baccio umilmente le mani. L'amo e la riverisco.

Voltaire