I began to recite the same scene that I had recited to Crebillon ten years before, and I thought M. de Voltaire listened with pleasure.
“It doesn’t strike one as at all harsh,” said he.
This was the highest praise he would give me. In his turn the great man recited a passage from Tancred which had not as yet been published, and which was afterwards considered, and rightly, as a masterpiece.
We should have got on very well if we had kept to that, but on my quoting a line of Horace to praise one of his pieces, he said that Horace was a great master who had given precepts which would never be out of date. Thereupon I answered that he himself had violated one of them, but that he had violated it grandly.
“Which is that?”
“You do not write, ‘Contentus paucis lectoribus’.”
“If Horace had had to combat the hydra-headed monster of superstition, he would have written as I have written—for all the world.”
“It seems to me that you might spare yourself the trouble of combating what you will never destroy.”
“That which I cannot finish others will, and I shall always have the glory of being the first in the field.”
“Very good; but supposing you succeed in destroying superstition, what are you going to put in its place?”