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Updated: June 21, 2025
Laurence Anglivielle de la Beaumelle, born in 1727, had previously visited that same house of correction on account of his political views expressed in Mes Pensees, published at Copenhagen in 1751. In his Memoires he attributed to the mistress-queen of Louis XIV. sayings which she never uttered, and his style lacks the dignity and decency of true historical writings.
From his goose of an adorer, La Beaumelle, I have riddled out the following particulars, chiefly chronological, and offer them to susceptible readers. That threat of visiting Voltaire with pistols, to be met by 'my syringe and vessel of dishonor' on Voltaire's part, was his last memorability in Berlin. His last at that time; or indeed altogether, for he saw little of Berlin farther.
'I've been let in for it, Caffyn continued; 'I'm playing that stick of a poet, "Julian," the beggar's name is; it's my last appearance on the boards, till I come out as Benedick but that won't interest you, and it's a sort of secret at present. Vincent was not curious, and asked no questions. 'Who do you think is to be the Beaumelle, though? said Caffyn; 'the author's own wife!
"'Upon which, see, paltry La Beaumelle has become my enemy for life! shrieks Voltaire many times afterwards: 'And it was false, I declare to Heaven, and again declare; it was not I, it was D'Argens quizzing me about it, that called his Majesty's attention to that PENSEE of Blockhead La Beaumelle, you treacherous Perpetual President, stirring up enemies against me, and betraying secrets of the King's table. Sorrow on your red wig, and you!
LA BEAUMELLE. "Voltaire has a fatal talent of getting into I quarrels with insignificant accidental people; and instead of silently, with cautious finger, disengaging any bramble that catches to him, and thankfully passing on, attacks it indignantly with potent steel implements, wood-axes, war-axes; brandishing and hewing; till he has stirred up a whole wilderness of bramble-bush, and is himself bramble-chips all over.
Thus, by a sort of infiltration from below upwards, with the aid of metaphor, that incalculable, trajectory slang mounts from the cavern to the Academy; and Poulailler saying: "I light my camoufle," causes Voltaire to write: "Langleviel La Beaumelle deserves a hundred camouflets." Researches in slang mean discoveries at every step.
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