l for
fifteen years, and he related several very curious anecdotes which were
generally unknown. Amongst other things he assured me that the Siamese
ambassadors were cheats paid by Madame de Maintenon. He told us likewise
that he had never finished his tragedy of Cromwell, because the king had
told him one day not to wear out his pen on a scoundrel.

Crebillon mentioned likewise his tragedy of Catilina, and he told me
that, in his opinion, it was the most deficient of his works, but that he
never would have consented, even to make a good tragedy, to represent
Caesar as a young man, because he would in that case have made the public
laugh, as they would do if Madea were to appear previous to her
acquaintances with Jason.

He praised the talent of Voltaire very highly, but he accused him of
having stolen from him, Crebillon, the scene of the senate. He, however,
rendered him full justice, saying that he was a true historian, and able
to write history as well as tragedies, but that he unfortunately
adulterated history by mixing with it such a number of light anecdotes
and tales for the sake of rendering it more attractive. According to
Crebillon, the Man with the Iron Mask was nothing but an idle tale, and
he had been assured of it by Louis XIV. himself.

On the day of my first meeting with Crebillon at Silvia's, 'Cenie', a
play by Madame de Graffigny, was performed at the Italian Theatre, and I
went away early in order to get a good seat in the pit.

The ladies all covered with diamonds, who were taking possession of the
private boxes, engrossed all my interest and all my attention. I wore a
very fine suit, but my open ruffles and the buttons all along my coat
shewed at once that I was a foreigner, for the fashion was not the same
in Paris. I was gaping in the air and listlessly looking round, when a
gentleman, splendidly dressed, and three times stouter than I, came up
and enquired whether I was a foreigner. I answered affirmatively, and he
politely asked me how I liked Paris. I praised Paris very warmly. But at
that moment a very stout lady, brilliant with diamonds, entered the box
near us. Her enormous size astonished me, and, like a fool, I said to the
gentleman:

"Who is that fat sow?"

"She is the wife of this fat pig."

"Ah! I beg your pardon a thousand times!"

But my stout gentleman cared nothing for my apologies, and very far from
being angry he almost choked with laughter. This was the happy result of