The most illustrious and the earliest in date of the writers mentioned by M. Bournon is Voltaire. He was sent to the Bastille on two different occasions. His first imprisonment began on May 17, 1717. At that date the poet was only twenty-two years of age and of no reputation; he did not even bear the name of Voltaire, which he only took after his discharge from the Bastille on April 14, 1718. The cause of his detention was not "the generous and majestic movement towards ideas of enfranchisement which is the glory of the human spirit," but some scurrilities which, to speak plainly, brought him what he deserved: coarse verses against the Regent and his daughter, and public utterances coarser still. Many authors state that Voltaire was imprisoned for writing the _J'ai vu_, a satire against the government of Louis XIV., each stanza of which ended with the line:-- J'ai vu ces maux, et je n'ai pas vingt ans.[42] This is a mistake. Voltaire was imprisoned for having written the _Puero regnante_, some verses on the Regent and his daughter, the Duchess of Berry, which it would be impossible to translate. To these he added observations whose reproduction would be equally impossible. At the Bastille Voltaire underwent examinations in the usual way, in the course of which he lied with impudence; after that he was allowed considerable liberty. "It was at the Bastille," wrote Condorcet, "that the young poet made the first draft of his poem _La Ligue_, corrected his tragedy of _OEdipe_, and composed some very lively lines on the ill-luck of being there." The following are the most respectable lines of this production:-- So one fine faultless morning in the spring, When Whitsun splendour brighten'd everything, A strange commotion startled me from sleep. * * * * * At last I reach'd my chamber in the keep. A clownish turnkey, with an unctuous smile, Of my new lodging 'gan to praise the style: "What ease, what charms, what comforts here are yours! For never Phoebus in his daily course Will blind you here with his too brilliant rays; Within these ten-foot walls you'll spend your days In cool sequester'd blithefulness always." Then bidding me admire my cloistral cell-- The triple doors, the triple locks as well, The bolts, the bars, the gratings all around-- "'Tis but," says he, "to keep you safe and sound!" * * * * * Behold me, then, lodged in this woful place, Cribb'd, cabin'd, and confined in narrow space; Sleepless by night, and starving half the day; No joys, no friend, no mistress--wellaway![43]