A LETTER FROM MR. VOLTAIRE. то FATHER PORÉE, a JESUIT. OU will receive, my dear father, by this packet, the new edition of my tragedy of You Oedipus. I have taken care to wash out, as well as I could, the difagreeable colours of a loveplot, very ill placed, which, in fpite of myself, I was obliged to mix with those strokes of the manly and terrible, which the fubject naturally demands. muft at the fame time inform you, in my own juftification, that, * young as I was when Oedipus was I Oedipus was written when Mr. de Voltaire was but nineteen years of age. It was played for the first time in 1718, and ran five-and-forty nights. Du Frêfne, a celebrated actor, and of the fame age with the author, played the part of Oedipus; and Madame Desmarêts, a famous actress, did Jocasta, and soon after quitted the stage. In this edition, the part of Philoctetes is reftored, and ftands exactly as it was in the first representation. VOL. I. written, B written, it was then very nearly the fame as it now ftands: my mind filled with the reading of the antients, and your judicious reflections on them, and little acquainted with the theatre of Paris, I fet about the performance as if I had been at Athens. I confulted Mr. Dacier, who was of the country: he advised me to put a chorus into every fcene, after the manner of the Grecks: he might as well have advised me to walk about the streets of Paris with Plato's gown on. I had much ado only to perfuade the players to perform the choruffes which appear three or four times in the piece; and greater ftill was the difficulty to make them act a tragedy almoft without any love in it: the actreffes laughed at me when they found there was never a tender fcene for them; the reciprocal confidence of Oedipus and Jocafta, taken partly from Sophocles, was thought quite infipid: in a word, the actors, who at that time were all grand figniors and petits-maîtres, absolutely refused to represent it. I was extremely young, and believed they might be in the right of it. To please them, I spoiled my play, by inferting feveral uninterefting fcenes of tenderness in a fubject intirely foreign to them. When I had put a little love into it, they became partly reconciled; but would by no means permit me to bring in the grand scene between Oedipus and Jocafta: So..phocles phocles and his imitator were treated with equal contempt. I still perfevered, repeated my reasons, employed my friends to follicit, and at laft, by dint of powerful protection, got my Oedipus on the stage. One of the actors, whofe name was Quinaut, declared openly, that the piece fhould be played exactly as it was written, with the vile fourth act taken from the Greek; which would be a fufficient punishment for my obftinacy. Befides all this, I was looked on as a rash young man, for daring to write on a subject which the great Corneille had already treated fo fuccessfully. At that time Corneille's Oedipus was esteemed a mafter-piece: I thought it a poor performance, but durft not fay fo till about twelve years after, when all the world were of the fame opinion. In things of this nature, it is generally fome years before strict juftice is fuffered to take place. The two tragedies of La Motte on this fubject met with it indeed a little fooner than ordinary. Father Tournemine has, I fuppofe, fhewn to you the little preface in which I have attacked him. Monf. de la Motte has a great deal of wit: he is not unlike the famous Grecian wrestler, who, when he was thrown down, could always prove that he was uppermoft. We totally disagree in our opinions; but you have taught me to dispute like a man of honour and a gentleman. I wrote against him with so much politeness, that I even defired him to criticise himself that preface wherein I have endeavoured in every line to prove him in the wrong; and my little polemic differtation met with his applause. This is the method which men of letters fhould always make use of in their controverfies with each other; and this they would always purfue, who had been under your tuition but they are generally as full of acrimony as a lawyer, and as angry as a Janfenift. Polite literature is grown, of all things, the most unpolite. We cabal, we afperfe, we calumniate, we write verfes against one another. It is pleasant enough thatwe should be at liberty to tell folks in writing what we dare not speak to their faces. You, my ! dear father, taught me to avoid all fuch mean practices; how to live, as well as how to write. With love alone the heav'n-born muses glow, |