The Wine and the Word – 204

(Written at the dining table, long after the candles have guttered out)

My dear Mary (and our meddlesome muse, Molly),

You mean to conjure the Enlightenment itself — a bold trick, though I suspect the philosophers will arrive overdressed and underamused. Still, I confess I’d pay dearly to see Voltaire and Rousseau quarrel in person while Franklin tries to bottle the lightning between them.

Let Polidori tend the fainting, Claire turn heads, and Percy preach benevolence till someone pours him more wine. As for me, I’ll stand by the fire and whisper to Adam Smith that his invisible hand has grown far too greedy.

Mockery aside, your notion stirs a dangerous hope — that ideas might yet matter, that reason and appetite could dance again without killing the music.

So summon them if you must, dear Mary. But keep the wine close — philosophers are more bearable when half-enchanted.

Yours, incurably skeptical,
Byron