250 © 
be more humble and modett, if it is pof- 
fible for me to be fo. I had hitherto 
fiuck to my plebetan name of Arouet ; 
T now took one that founded better, and 
fF obtained at length the court diiti fhehions 
of genileman in ordinery, with the ho- 
nour of chamberlain. Shall I, my good 
friends, relate to you the p articulars of a 
trick [played a Jew very innocenily. I 
have only a contufed recollection of it 
at this time—-and, indeed, I am: un- 
willing to trouble you with trifiing mat- 
ters. 
Friend,—Say nothing about it, Sir ; 
but proceed to give us the more firiking 
parts of your confeflions, and that in the 
Manner according to which you have 
written your hitiory. 
Volt.—Be it fothen, my worthy friends; 
¥ will be inftructed by you. But, pray 
now, excufe fome occafional digreffions, 
efpecia ally from fuch a kind of “ott tuad 
literary confeffion as I am about to make 
to you. I was eignteen years of age; 
my name was aire eady -known, and my 
pians were exteniive. My idipa 1s had 
been acted, was well received, and I[ 
was coubaerea another Racine. I was 
introduced at court, I was leaded with 
enfions : it was not poflible for me to 
es within the bounds of modefty. La 
Mothe, who had reafon to complain of 
me, forgot his refentment, and wrote in 
favour of my piece. Crébillon, who was 
inclined to be jealous, faw only i in me a 
faccelsful rival. Fontenelle, the father 
of literature, gave mea lelfon of advice: 
he fent me word that my travedy had 
too much fire in it, and I returned for 
an{fwer, that I would read his pattorals 
in order to damp it. 
Friend. —Will you favour the 
pany with an analyfis of the tragedy of 
(Edipus, that piece which you produced 
at fo early an agef 
Volt.—With pleafure, my friend ; but 
it fhall be at another time. You may 
well fuppofe, it will be no fhort buline’s.. 
Tt is fufficient to tell you now, that I nfe 
Sophocles with freedom, and do jufice 
to myfelf. He is far from having brought 
tragedy to that degree of perfeétion i 1t is 
thouglit he has. What is your opinion ? 
are we unjutt 7 in this age, when we refufe 
him our entire admiration? What are 
we to think of a poet who can devile no 
other means of making us acquainted 
with the characters of bis drama, than 
by putting words lke thefe into- the 
mouth of the chief of them—* T am 
that CEdipus fo renowned in ftory ;” 
whilft. another tells. us, he is: the high 
Voltaire’s Literary Cozfefions. 
_again{t me. 
coOmM—-~ 
[Aprilt, 
prieft of Jupiter! What dearth of in- 
vention! what ftupidity! How is it pof- 
fible, fora moment, to miftake and call 
this a noble fimplicity? * Further ; let us 
own the truth: is it poffible | or. likely 
that Cdipus, after reigning fo long a 
time as he did, fhould be unacquainted 
with the particulars of the affatiination 
of Lajus, who was his predeceffor on the 
throne, and that he fhould not know 
whether it was on a plain or in a town? 
This ignorance was no. more than pre- 
tence. Be it fo: but he does not tell us ~ 
why he pretended ignorance. I want 
a term to exprefs my idea of fuch ab- 
furdity. 
Friend. —Biut it may be urged in ex- 
cufe, that this is a’ defect a the ftory 
itfeif; and not any fault of the author of 
the tragedy. 
Voit. -—Mercy on us! whatan excufe 
is this! Have it your own way then: 
fay the ftory is defective. But is net an 
atthor to turn and fathion his fubject-as 
beft fuits his own deélign? is he not to 
amend and fapply whatever is wanting 
or deficient? IL guefs how you will re-- 
ply; and I am fenfible that I ain not 
clear of the fame-—charge, if brouglit 
I will be as feverely jute in 
my own caufe, and will how mylelf no 
more favour than | have done Sophocles; 
and I fhall hope that the fineerity with 
which f acknowledge my own faults, will 
juftify me fully in the boldnefs wie 
which I have taken upon me to bring this 
charge again{t an ancient tragic poet— 
But here am I running into another 
digrefiion! It is your fault this time, > 
friend. Obferve, whenever my digref- 
fons are occafioned by yourlelves, I have 
no pardon to folicit. | 
The fuccefs of my own CEdipus had 
turned my brain: I was refoly ed to make 
trial of another tragedy. I believe it 
was in the ie 1720, that J brought my 
a Hele on the {tage at. Paris. I had 
introduced a young actrefs who was new 
to the theatre, and who was fuppofed to 
be my miltrefs. Catealls were thea in 
ufe atthe theatres. The firft act was 
faluted by catcalls, and the performers 
weve difconcerted with the noife. I was 
prefent ; and you may fuppofe, my 
friends, L was not in a little agitation. 
The noifes were tremendous; hiffes, 
groans, catcalls, refounded from every 
part of thetheatre. I was near ruaning 
mad, I foamed with rage. I was many 
times induced to faliy into the pit, fword 
in hand; at length I came to the more 
prudent refolution of leaping ‘on the fiage 
from 
