I... kind of need this sequel to "Very Secret Chat" now :P
When I wrote it, I hadn't even been aware that Gessler the Anti actually was bff with (P)Russian Pete's wife the fake fangirl who hadn't gotten him Fritz' autograph. The possibilities for the flame war to end all flame wars certainly are rising.
Or that he couldn't sing well enough not to look foolish next to Émilie, which I am also happy to be the case :D
Either way works, though Voltaire's type of vanity did allow playing the clown if it suited him. (He also had no illusions about being a great acting talent - he enjoyed participating in the occasional private (in Cirey) or court performance (though he played supporting roles rather than main parts -in La Rome Sauvée, for example, Cicero while being the nominal hero has limited text, whereas Catiline as the chief villain has the biggest part, and the play at some stage hat indeed been called Catiline - , and he certainly kept telling professional actors how he wanted them to play the parts he'd written for them if he was around, but he also had a solid respect towards actors. Which wasn't a given in the day and age. (Hence young Voltaire being horrified when the most admired actress of France, like the rest of the profession, ends up refused a Christian burial and writing one of his most biting essays about this.) And they returned the favour. Le Kain, one of the most popular French actors in the mid-18th century, kept visiting him once a year in Geneva, then Ferney to perform for him (since Voltaire at that point couldn't come to France to see him act).
...waaaaait, what! I didn't realize this!
So, the tale of the leaked letter, according to Orieux:
All Paris was in uproar: the copy of a letter by Voltaire to the King of Prussia was in everyone's hands. The later had just made separate peace with Austria, without bothering to even notify his ally France about this. (...) The effect of this letter was terrible. The current maitresse en titre, Madame de Mailly - this was years before Reinette appeared on the scene - was outraged, she demanded that he should be made an example of. He of course swore that he had nothing to do with it, that the style of the letter wasn't worthy of him. In ain. Even Madame du Chatelet accepted the letter. Since he couldn't play the courtier in Versailles, he'd played one in Berlin. It was just a temporary measure, as Friedrich would have put it, but the timing couldn't have been worse to congratulate the King of Prussia for his betrayal of France.
(The immediate effect is that Voltaire's play Mahomet, the decorations of which had already been made, couldn't be staged in Paris since the theatre people got cold feet. This was a blow to Voltaire, but he naturally was afraid worse was to come:)
He wrote to the favourite, he cajoles, he flatters, he swears, he calms down! All who counted in Paris were against him. Madame du Deffand sums the problem with intelligent malice: the point wasn't to know whether or not the letter had been written by Voltaire, since the entire world, other than Voltaire, already accepted that it had been. The point was to learn how it had gotten from Friedrich's pockets to the salons, receptions and streets of Paris. "The only thing I can't comprehend is how it could have gotten into circulation," the Marquise said.
Suspicion fell on the police, on thieves, on possible jealous rivals Voltaire might have at the Prussian court. Voltaire suspected the old Cardinal. No one suspect the true guilty party, who laughed behind his cloak: Friedrich. Friedrich himself had ordered via his agent copies of the letter to be depsosed at every embassy in Paris, including, as a red herring, at the Prussian embassy. Why? For the reasons we already know: in order to create a permanent split between Voltaire and France, and to get him banished from his country for his entire life. Since he'd then not know where else to go, "du Chatelet's lover", as Friedrich put it, would then fall into the arms or rather paws of his crowned philosopher.
The ending is confusing: Louis XV. showed no interest in the poet. Be it from lethargy or indifference, he did not take any measures against the writer, whom he neither admired, nor loved, no esteemed, nor hated. Thus he did Friedrich a bad turn without even meaning to: Voltaire remained peacefully in Paris.
That both Louis XV and Louis XVI basically had no interest in Voltaire beyond a general mild dislike (which never got fervent enough to be called hate) is a source of frustration to Orieux; he admits that his own inner Frenchman would have prefered it if Voltaire had the type of relationship he had with either Fritz or Catherine with a French King. But neither King ever had the actual interest in the arts Louis XIV had had (who was a despot but one with the great taste to support Moliere, Racine and on the musical side Lully). Meanwhile, both Fritz and Catherine of course had propaganda purposes in mind (among other things) when starting their relationships with Voltaire, but there's no doubt that they were real readers (and we have letters from Catherine in her Grand Duchess era to various friends proving she was a Voltaire reader before needing someone to tell Europe she was an enlightened monarch), did engage with his works (and ideas), and chose him to read not because someone told them he was fashionable but because they cared for the books.
Government bonds: there are details those and all of Voltaire's other businesses, the legal and the shady alike. (I admit I skipped over most of the explanations after checking whether Orieux holds Voltaire to account for his behavior re: Hirschel.) As Orieux put it in the preface, even as a schoolboy young Francois had come to the conclusion that talent without money and money without talent were both undesirable and he firmly intended to have both. Which, as opposed to most other writers, he managed. (And not via inheritance. Brother Armand got most of the money from Dad the notary, and he in turn left it to various other people rather than to his already scandalous kid brother the writer.)
Here's a great example of Voltaire's mixture of business sense, PR sense, artistic sensibility and generosity at their best (i.e. the light side counterpart to such stunts as those he pulled off in Prussia). Background: Pierre Corneille the dramatist, author of "Le Cid",contemporary of Louis XIII and Richelieu, was in Voltaire's time already firmly acknowledged as the first of the great classic French dramatists (to be followed by the younger Racine in tragedy and of course by Moliere in comedy) from French literature's golden age.
Jean-Francois Corneille, post officer & carpenter: I'm a great nephew of the poet. Dad fell on hard times, now I have to suport my kids by wood carvings because my day job of post officer doesn't pay much, and I don't even have a dowry for my dear daughter. I did try to send her to school when the actors of the Comedie Francaise did a charity performance, but that money covered only a short time. Now my girl won't have an education or a marriage!
Voltaire (hears about it via Parisan friends, has them check out the tale only to find this is indeed so and the oldest daughter is smart and pretty): Well, we can't have that happening to a Mademoiselle Corneille! Send her to me! I'll provide the education and the dowry.
Mademoiselle Corneille: *arrives in Ferney, age 18, truly nice and of a cheerful temper, is embraced by Voltaire's household and integrated into same*
Fréron (one of those enemies Fritz listed in his "if you had an army, you so would make war against them" statement)*writes article*: Scandal! What kind of education will she get from Voltaire, that of an ATHEIST ACTRESS? Better for a descendant of Corneille to die than THIS!
Family of first potential husband, reading this article: Sorry, our boy won't propose to Mademoiselle Corneille (nicknamed Rodogune by Voltaire) after all.
Voltaire: Okay, now it's on! Firstly, Rodogune, in addition to your school lessons, you and I are going to mass every Sunday from now on. Secondly, Fréron, it's vicious pamphlet time, is it? I can write those in my sleep. *publishes "Anecdotes sur Fréron' Thirdly, Academéi Francaise, you know, that complete edition of Corneille's works you've been dragging out for years and years without an end in sight? How about I take over, write a critical commentary to every single work, I'm publishing this with my own money as a very special expensive edition, the profits of which will go to Rodogune for her dowry and then future life?
Academie Francaise: Well, "Voltaire/Corneille" sounds like a must have to all literati, and God knows we're glad to have found a witty workoholic to write all the footnotes but "expensive"? With gold cut? Privately printed? Who's going to buy that?
Voltaire: Glad you asked! Dear royal pen pals: you know what to do.
Fritz: buys 200 copies. Catherine: 200 copies for me. MT *not a pen pal, but informed*: Fine. For the girl. 200 copies. Marquise de Pompadour: 50 copies for me. Sorry, but my fellow won't budge, so I'm paying this out of my own money.
French aristocracy: We suppose we can't stay behind? *plenty of orders arrive*
Voltaire: at age 67, for the first time since his schoolboy days, reads every single Corneille play. Now, remember, Corneille is an icon. The first of the great classics. He's a holy cow you do not, in any circumstances, critisize.
Voltaire: actually does do a critical edition, in that while there's ample applause for Corneille, he actually, for the first time since Corneille's life time, citisizes him as well where he thinks this is due*
Orieux: Look, I've made no secret of the fact Voltaire's own plays are in my opinion dead boring, but as a critic - and critical editor - he was brilliant. That edition contains some of the most insightful Corneille commentary ever, he blew off the dust and treated him as a writer, not an icon. I love that edition!
Academie Francaise: Glad the edition is now published but... hang on! OMG. YOU SAY CRITICAL THINGS ABOUT DIVINE CORNEILLE IN IT! WHAT HAVE YOU MADE US COMPLICIT IN?
Voltaire: I'm me. What did you expect? Also: did you notice this is the first complete edition of a writer a century dead which is a bestseller today? Marketing, people!
Colonel Henri-Camille de Colmont: Mademoiselle Corneille, I hear you've been granted the rights to the Voltaire-Corneille edition and 1400 Livres per year as a dowry, which makes you all in all a bride with 40 000 Livres per year. I'll even lower myself to marrying the daughter of a post officer who sells wood carvings. How about it?
Rodogune: Must I? You're greedy and gloomy. Aso too old for me.
Voltaire: *investigates prospective groom* Nope. You must not. We'll wait till someone better shows up.
Meanwhile, hardcore Corneille fans: THAT MAN IS OF THE DEVIL. HE CRITISIZES THE DIVINE. NOW HIS FANS ARE SWAMPING OUR FANDOM!
Monsieur Dupuits de la Chaux, age 23, officer, 8000 Livres per year income, owns estate near Ferney: Mademoiselle Corneille, I'd be honored.
Mademoiselle Corneille: I like him.
Voltaire: WEDDING TIME! Who says I can't write happy endings?
Wedding and happily ever after for Rodogune (with permanent rights to Corneille/Voltaire): Happens.
Lots and lots of people with last name of Corneille: Hey, Voltaire, how about you finance us as well? We're, like, totally related to THE Corneille, too!
Voltaire: Nope. Off with you, little crows! (Pun with the name "Corneille, which means crow.) I'm generous, if I want to be, but a sucker, I'm not.
(2) but can you imagine the letters?
ROTFLOL. Yes, that's about how it would go. Especially since the time of Voltaire's second visit falls right into the beginning of the critical enstrangement phase. Now where "hosting Émilie" would rank in the list of "lunch with MT", "not arresting Erlangen journalist who keeps critisizing me", and "marrying female Marwitz to Austrian nobleman", I don't know, but I suppose beneath "Lunch with MT" but at least equal to "marrying Marwitz to an Austrian"...
Re: Jean Orieux: The Life of Voltaire - I
When I wrote it, I hadn't even been aware that Gessler the Anti actually was bff with (P)Russian Pete's wife the fake fangirl who hadn't gotten him Fritz' autograph. The possibilities for the flame war to end all flame wars certainly are rising.
Or that he couldn't sing well enough not to look foolish next to Émilie, which I am also happy to be the case :D
Either way works, though Voltaire's type of vanity did allow playing the clown if it suited him. (He also had no illusions about being a great acting talent - he enjoyed participating in the occasional private (in Cirey) or court performance (though he played supporting roles rather than main parts -in La Rome Sauvée, for example, Cicero while being the nominal hero has limited text, whereas Catiline as the chief villain has the biggest part, and the play at some stage hat indeed been called Catiline - , and he certainly kept telling professional actors how he wanted them to play the parts he'd written for them if he was around, but he also had a solid respect towards actors. Which wasn't a given in the day and age. (Hence young Voltaire being horrified when the most admired actress of France, like the rest of the profession, ends up refused a Christian burial and writing one of his most biting essays about this.) And they returned the favour. Le Kain, one of the most popular French actors in the mid-18th century, kept visiting him once a year in Geneva, then Ferney to perform for him (since Voltaire at that point couldn't come to France to see him act).
...waaaaait, what! I didn't realize this!
So, the tale of the leaked letter, according to Orieux:
All Paris was in uproar: the copy of a letter by Voltaire to the King of Prussia was in everyone's hands. The later had just made separate peace with Austria, without bothering to even notify his ally France about this. (...) The effect of this letter was terrible. The current maitresse en titre, Madame de Mailly - this was years before Reinette appeared on the scene - was outraged, she demanded that he should be made an example of. He of course swore that he had nothing to do with it, that the style of the letter wasn't worthy of him. In ain. Even Madame du Chatelet accepted the letter. Since he couldn't play the courtier in Versailles, he'd played one in Berlin. It was just a temporary measure, as Friedrich would have put it, but the timing couldn't have been worse to congratulate the King of Prussia for his betrayal of France.
(The immediate effect is that Voltaire's play Mahomet, the decorations of which had already been made, couldn't be staged in Paris since the theatre people got cold feet. This was a blow to Voltaire, but he naturally was afraid worse was to come:)
He wrote to the favourite, he cajoles, he flatters, he swears, he calms down! All who counted in Paris were against him. Madame du Deffand sums the problem with intelligent malice: the point wasn't to know whether or not the letter had been written by Voltaire, since the entire world, other than Voltaire, already accepted that it had been. The point was to learn how it had gotten from Friedrich's pockets to the salons, receptions and streets of Paris. "The only thing I can't comprehend is how it could have gotten into circulation," the Marquise said.
Suspicion fell on the police, on thieves, on possible jealous rivals Voltaire might have at the Prussian court. Voltaire suspected the old Cardinal. No one suspect the true guilty party, who laughed behind his cloak: Friedrich. Friedrich himself had ordered via his agent copies of the letter to be depsosed at every embassy in Paris, including, as a red herring, at the Prussian embassy. Why? For the reasons we already know: in order to create a permanent split between Voltaire and France, and to get him banished from his country for his entire life. Since he'd then not know where else to go, "du Chatelet's lover", as Friedrich put it, would then fall into the arms or rather paws of his crowned philosopher.
The ending is confusing: Louis XV. showed no interest in the poet. Be it from lethargy or indifference, he did not take any measures against the writer, whom he neither admired, nor loved, no esteemed, nor hated. Thus he did Friedrich a bad turn without even meaning to: Voltaire remained peacefully in Paris.
That both Louis XV and Louis XVI basically had no interest in Voltaire beyond a general mild dislike (which never got fervent enough to be called hate) is a source of frustration to Orieux; he admits that his own inner Frenchman would have prefered it if Voltaire had the type of relationship he had with either Fritz or Catherine with a French King. But neither King ever had the actual interest in the arts Louis XIV had had (who was a despot but one with the great taste to support Moliere, Racine and on the musical side Lully). Meanwhile, both Fritz and Catherine of course had propaganda purposes in mind (among other things) when starting their relationships with Voltaire, but there's no doubt that they were real readers (and we have letters from Catherine in her Grand Duchess era to various friends proving she was a Voltaire reader before needing someone to tell Europe she was an enlightened monarch), did engage with his works (and ideas), and chose him to read not because someone told them he was fashionable but because they cared for the books.
Government bonds: there are details those and all of Voltaire's other businesses, the legal and the shady alike. (I admit I skipped over most of the explanations after checking whether Orieux holds Voltaire to account for his behavior re: Hirschel.) As Orieux put it in the preface, even as a schoolboy young Francois had come to the conclusion that talent without money and money without talent were both undesirable and he firmly intended to have both. Which, as opposed to most other writers, he managed. (And not via inheritance. Brother Armand got most of the money from Dad the notary, and he in turn left it to various other people rather than to his already scandalous kid brother the writer.)
Here's a great example of Voltaire's mixture of business sense, PR sense, artistic sensibility and generosity at their best (i.e. the light side counterpart to such stunts as those he pulled off in Prussia). Background: Pierre Corneille the dramatist, author of "Le Cid",contemporary of Louis XIII and Richelieu, was in Voltaire's time already firmly acknowledged as the first of the great classic French dramatists (to be followed by the younger Racine in tragedy and of course by Moliere in comedy) from French literature's golden age.
Jean-Francois Corneille, post officer & carpenter: I'm a great nephew of the poet. Dad fell on hard times, now I have to suport my kids by wood carvings because my day job of post officer doesn't pay much, and I don't even have a dowry for my dear daughter. I did try to send her to school when the actors of the Comedie Francaise did a charity performance, but that money covered only a short time. Now my girl won't have an education or a marriage!
Voltaire (hears about it via Parisan friends, has them check out the tale only to find this is indeed so and the oldest daughter is smart and pretty): Well, we can't have that happening to a Mademoiselle Corneille! Send her to me! I'll provide the education and the dowry.
Mademoiselle Corneille: *arrives in Ferney, age 18, truly nice and of a cheerful temper, is embraced by Voltaire's household and integrated into same*
Fréron (one of those enemies Fritz listed in his "if you had an army, you so would make war against them" statement)*writes article*: Scandal! What kind of education will she get from Voltaire, that of an ATHEIST ACTRESS? Better for a descendant of Corneille to die than THIS!
Family of first potential husband, reading this article: Sorry, our boy won't propose to Mademoiselle Corneille (nicknamed Rodogune by Voltaire) after all.
Voltaire: Okay, now it's on! Firstly, Rodogune, in addition to your school lessons, you and I are going to mass every Sunday from now on. Secondly, Fréron, it's vicious pamphlet time, is it? I can write those in my sleep. *publishes "Anecdotes sur Fréron' Thirdly, Academéi Francaise, you know, that complete edition of Corneille's works you've been dragging out for years and years without an end in sight? How about I take over, write a critical commentary to every single work, I'm publishing this with my own money as a very special expensive edition, the profits of which will go to Rodogune for her dowry and then future life?
Academie Francaise: Well, "Voltaire/Corneille" sounds like a must have to all literati, and God knows we're glad to have found a witty workoholic to write all the footnotes but "expensive"? With gold cut? Privately printed? Who's going to buy that?
Voltaire: Glad you asked! Dear royal pen pals: you know what to do.
Fritz: buys 200 copies.
Catherine: 200 copies for me.
MT *not a pen pal, but informed*: Fine. For the girl. 200 copies.
Marquise de Pompadour: 50 copies for me. Sorry, but my fellow won't budge, so I'm paying this out of my own money.
French aristocracy: We suppose we can't stay behind? *plenty of orders arrive*
Voltaire: at age 67, for the first time since his schoolboy days, reads every single Corneille play. Now, remember, Corneille is an icon. The first of the great classics. He's a holy cow you do not, in any circumstances, critisize.
Voltaire: actually does do a critical edition, in that while there's ample applause for Corneille, he actually, for the first time since Corneille's life time, citisizes him as well where he thinks this is due*
Orieux: Look, I've made no secret of the fact Voltaire's own plays are in my opinion dead boring, but as a critic - and critical editor - he was brilliant. That edition contains some of the most insightful Corneille commentary ever, he blew off the dust and treated him as a writer, not an icon. I love that edition!
Academie Francaise: Glad the edition is now published but... hang on! OMG. YOU SAY CRITICAL THINGS ABOUT DIVINE CORNEILLE IN IT! WHAT HAVE YOU MADE US COMPLICIT IN?
Voltaire: I'm me. What did you expect? Also: did you notice this is the first complete edition of a writer a century dead which is a bestseller today? Marketing, people!
Colonel Henri-Camille de Colmont: Mademoiselle Corneille, I hear you've been granted the rights to the Voltaire-Corneille edition and 1400 Livres per year as a dowry, which makes you all in all a bride with 40 000 Livres per year. I'll even lower myself to marrying the daughter of a post officer who sells wood carvings. How about it?
Rodogune: Must I? You're greedy and gloomy. Aso too old for me.
Voltaire: *investigates prospective groom* Nope. You must not. We'll wait till someone better shows up.
Meanwhile, hardcore Corneille fans: THAT MAN IS OF THE DEVIL. HE CRITISIZES THE DIVINE. NOW HIS FANS ARE SWAMPING OUR FANDOM!
Monsieur Dupuits de la Chaux, age 23, officer, 8000 Livres per year income, owns estate near Ferney: Mademoiselle Corneille, I'd be honored.
Mademoiselle Corneille: I like him.
Voltaire: WEDDING TIME! Who says I can't write happy endings?
Wedding and happily ever after for Rodogune (with permanent rights to Corneille/Voltaire): Happens.
Lots and lots of people with last name of Corneille: Hey, Voltaire, how about you finance us as well? We're, like, totally related to THE Corneille, too!
Voltaire: Nope. Off with you, little crows! (Pun with the name "Corneille, which means crow.) I'm generous, if I want to be, but a sucker, I'm not.
(2) but can you imagine the letters?
ROTFLOL. Yes, that's about how it would go. Especially since the time of Voltaire's second visit falls right into the beginning of the critical enstrangement phase. Now where "hosting Émilie" would rank in the list of "lunch with MT", "not arresting Erlangen journalist who keeps critisizing me", and "marrying female Marwitz to Austrian nobleman", I don't know, but I suppose beneath "Lunch with MT" but at least equal to "marrying Marwitz to an Austrian"...