Volz also has a lot of Voltaire quotes, from the early "he's the best, adores me, and btw, if the King and Madame de Pompadour would have treated me like that, I'd still be in Versailles!" to the late "I'm outta here, Frederick-Alcina!" . It is, of course, noticable that he selected more of the gushings than of the diatribes (Volz, this is the wrong emphasis; one reads Voltaire for the snark, not for the gushings), and several of these quotes were familiar, but still: grreat fun, and as ever, they ship themselves.
Berlin, September 23rd, 1750 (to Madame de Fontaine): I wish I could sacrifice the King of Prussia for your benefit, but I can't. He's a King, but it's a sixteen-years-long passion that connects us; he's swept me away. I imagine nature has created me for him. Our taste is so eerily alike that I forgot he's master over half of Germany. And that the other half trembles in front of him, that he's won five battles and is the greatest general of Europe, that he's surrounded by six foot tall professional killers. All of this should have caused me to run a thousand miles in the other direction, but the philosopher in him has reconciled me with the monarch, and I have only found him to be a great man who is good and sociable.
Voltaire the beta reader, as described in a letter to Madame Denis:
I'm currently correcting the second edition the King wants to publish of the "History of the House of Brandenburg". An author like himself doesn't have to go into exile in order to tell the truth. He's using that privilege aplenty. Just imagine, in order to come across as impartial, he's bashing his grandfather like no one's business. I have softened the blows as much as I could. I do love this grandfather a bit: for he loved splendour, and has left behind beautiful monuments. With some effort, I've toned down the accusations the grandson made at the grandfather regarding the later's vanity that made him put a royal crown on his head. Said vanity has produced solid advantages for the descendants, after all, and a royal title is nothing to sneeze at. Finally I said to him: "It's your grandfather, not mine. Do whatever you want." Afterwards I only complained about expressions. That's all very entertaining and fills out my day.
Do we detect some exasparation in the idyll already?
Potsdam, November 6th 1750 (still to Madame Denis): So people in Paris know that we've produced "La Rome Sauvée" in Potsdam, that Prince Henri is a good actor without any accent and very charming, and that there's a lot of entertainment here? That's all true, but -. The soupers of the King are delicious. One talks with reason, esprit and knowledge; freedom rules; he's the soul of everything; there's no bad mood, no clouds, well, at least no thunder and lightning. My life is free and fully occupied, but - but. Operas, comedies, carousels. Soupers in Sanssouci. Military manouvres. Concerts. Studies. Reading; - but - but -. The town of Berlin is large, with wider streets than Paris. Palaces, theatres, gracious Queens, charming princesses, beautiful, well dressed ladies-in-waiting. Our envoy's house is always full of guests, sometimes too many, - but - but - the cold season approaches.
Not just the cold season. The percentages of male versus female people around Fritz is starting to annoy Voltaire:
We're three or four foreigners here and live like monks in a monastery. Hopefully our high born abbot is just laughing at us! Still, there's a solid quantum jealousy here. Where does envy creep towards when it isn't here? Ah, I swear to you, there's nothing to be envious about. One would only have to live in peace, but Kings are like female coquettes; their very glances inspire jealousy. And Friedrich is very much of a coquette. Then again, there are a hundred social circles in Paris which are even more infected with that vice. The most cruel "but" I can see is that this country isn't for you. As far as I can see, ten months of the year are spent in Potsdam. This isn't a court, but a quiet place from which the ladies have been banished, even if we're not in a monastery. Thinking this through: expect me in Paris (...)!
Not so fast, Voltaire. You still have two and a half years in Prussia to go, and besides, has the charm of the main attraction already faded?
Nature has created Frederick the Great for me. It would have to be the work of the devil if my final years won't be happy ones, consorting with a prince who shares my thoughts in everything, and who loves me as much as a King is able to love.
Then the "squeezes like an orange"/"dirty laundry" quote exchange happens. Also Voltaire hears about the Palladion and is less than impressed, presumably wondering whether he'll guest star in the next poem.
Guess what, his majesty has equipped his secretary Darget with several qualities in his jests which the later was severely insulted by. He gave him a vigorous role in his poem "The Palladion". And this poetry has been printed, though just with a few copies. What shall one say? If it's true, one has to console oneself by assuming the great ones love the little people they jest about. But what to do if they don't love? Why, to ridicule them right back and to leave them in the same spirit. It will take some time to make the means I'd had transfered here solvent. This time I'll dedicate to patience and work. The rest of my life will be dedicated to you.
Maupertuis vs König becomes Maupertuis vs Voltaire becomes Fritz vs Voltaire.
Since I don't have a hundred and fifty thousand villains in my service, I won't conduct war. I'm just contemplating a proper desertion, to look after my health, to see you again and to forget this three-years-long dream. I can see now, one has... squeezed the orange dry; now let's save the peel, shall we? I shall put together a dictionary for Kings as my entertainment. "My friend" means "my slave". "My dear friend" means "I'm more than indifferent to you". "I shall make you happy" means: "I'll tolerate you for as long as I need you." "Dine with me today" means: "I'll have a go at you this evening." This dictionary may expand for quite a while; it's worth an article in the Encyclopedia. (The famous "Encyclopedia by Diderot and D'Alembert".) Seriously, all that I've experienced here makes my heart burst.
There, there, Voltaire. As Mildred put it, celebrity break-ups are hard.
Edited 2020-03-22 17:27 (UTC)
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
This is amazing. I'm here for the gushing and the snark! The gushing context makes the snark so much better.
"It's your grandfather, not mine."
Are you quite sure about that? Your father, maybe. :P Uncle Voltaire, Wilhelmine?
Nature has created Frederick the Great for me.
Small correction: she has created Frederick *like* you. Frederick, meanwhile, is bad at recognizing his own reflection in a mirror, be it named Heinrich (lovely fic!) or Voltaire.
Also Voltaire hears about the Palladion and is less than impressed, presumably wondering whether he'll guest star in the next poem.
Algarotti: Join the club. I'm plotting my own desertion so I can get away while it's *just* an orgasm poem.
Since I don't have a hundred and fifty thousand villains in my service, I won't conduct war.
Fritz, quite accurately: If you did, you would TOTALLY be making war on all your many enemies. Don't get so high-and-mighty about my invasions.
(I agree with Fritz completely. The mirror works both ways.)
This dictionary may expand for quite a while; it's worth an article in the Encyclopedia.
This was awesome. I had seen a short excerpt of this quote but not the full thing. Thank you for this!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Small correction: she has created Frederick *like* you.
LOL. And did you notice Voltaire in his letters goes from "nature has created me for him" to "nature has created him for me"? (Also, thank you for the compliment!)
I agree with Fritz, too, re: what Voltaire would have done if he'd had an army to command.
Incidentally, since I've seen Kids These Days call Fritz/Katte "Fratte", what would be the portmanteau for Fritz/Voltaire - Fraire? Vitz? Either pun would work in the spirit of the pairing. (Fraire = frère; Vitz = Witz, which is German for joke.)
Voltaire having a soft spot for Grandpa F1 presumably would mean he'd be relieved to find out he owes his existence to him rather than Monsieur Arouet, at least!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Speaking elsewhere of Du and Sie, Voltaire's German wiki entry has this gem of a footnote I had previously overlooked: Wilhelmines Tochter, Friederike, hatte Voltaires La Pucelle abgeschrieben, reiste ihm nach Vernoy nach, behandelte ihn als Onkel und ließ sich von ihm duzen. Max Döllner: Entwicklungsgeschichte der Stadt Neustadt an der Aisch bis 1933. Ph. C. W. Schmidt, Neustadt a. d. Aisch 1950, OCLC 42823280; Neuauflage anlässlich des Jubiläums 150 Jahre Verlag Ph. C. W. Schmidt Neustadt an der Aisch 1828–1978. Ebenda 1978, ISBN 3-87707-013-2, S. 329.
Boy, did Wilhelmine take this "Brother Voltaire" thing seriously or what, if her daughter treated him as an uncle and allowed him to call her tu (since I doubt it was literally du)?
Wilhelmine: definitely shipping Fritz/Voltaire over all the other boyfriends. Despite all. Comes from having the same soul as Fritz in a female body, I tell you.
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Wilhelmine: I have four brothers and five sisters. I'm telling you, I can spot the Hohenzollern soul in an Arouet body a mile away!
Wilhelmine: definitely shipping Fritz/Voltaire over all the other boyfriends.
I don't know how she felt about Suhm or Fredersdorf (I find it possibly telling that Fritz doesn't write to her about Fredersdorf, even with the class differences), but I think Algarotti's the only other boyfriend we know that she liked.
Wilhelmine: Peter Keith is NOT the real hero of 1730, and neither is Katte!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
I don't know how she felt about Suhm or Fredersdorf (I find it possibly telling that Fritz doesn't write to her about Fredersdorf, even with the class differences), but I think Algarotti's the only other boyfriend we know that she liked.
Ah, but then everyone (except Lehndorff) liked Algarotti! Whereas decidedly not everyone liked Voltaire. I can think of something Voltaire and Algarotti have in common, though, to wit, the reason why I cast them both as cats. Neither guy is going to settle down with Fritz for good. They're intermittently living together, long-distance loves. Peter Keith and Katte come into Fritz' life when he's moved out out of the female sphere to the male one at court where Wilhelme can't follow him. Whereas Peter and Katte can hang out with him all day (in theory, baring FW, but you know what I mean). Fredersdorf is the one who actually gets to live with Fritz, as in live in the next room, be with him always when Fritz isn't campaigning or Fredersdorf isn't on business travels. (Including one to Paris as we now know. Presumably he took a translator with him?) Voltaire, even if the big explosion hadn't happened, wasn't likely to do that.
Incidentally, if Voltaire was on "tu" terms with Wilhelmine's daughter, it makes the two of them having a good cry about Wilhelmine as mentioned in Fritz' letter in the correspondance (you know, the one with "greetings and letters do not replace Voltaire if one has once had him in persona" in it) less likely to have been a courtly convenience and more likely to have been carried by real emotion.
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
We all have our problematic favourites. :) And you know, Wilhelmine's daughter can't have been the type to put up with jerks just because society demanded it. Seeing as she took the really rare step of leaving her no-good husband Carl Eugen of Würtemberg on her own accord and went back to her parents. (Schiller: I sympathize. I left him, too, seeing as I was in his bloody cadet school, hated it, and famously hightailed it out of Würtemberg after "The Robbers" because my first theatrical smash hit and he put me on a Most Wanted list.)
Ohhhh! Do we have any letters from Wilhelmine about what she thought about that? (I assume from your use of "parents" that Wilhelmine was still alive at the time?)
She was. Actually daughter Friederike left her husband twice. The first time her parents and Uncle Fritz persuaded her to go back and give it another try, but the second time - September of 1756 - she remained in Bayreuth. (That the war had just broken out helped in this regard.) Now, the reason that the entire Würtemberg match came to be was because Würtemberg was one of the biggest German duchies, and Fritz was trying to build an anti-Habsburg league within the HRE.
Wilhelmine was never keen on her son-in-law; she already had the impression directly after the wedding that he was, while apparantly at this point passionately in love (well, in lust - according to Casanova, Wilhelmine's daughter was the most beautiful princess of Europe), way too jealous and possessive. We do have a letter from her to Fritz about this. Fritz being Fritz, he wrote back that hey, a passionately interested husband was a GOOD thing, surely? Also it would cool down in time anyway.
Sure enough, Carl Eugen lost interest. He and Friederike then travelled together to Italy (this was before Wilhelmine herself went) in order to save the marriage. This did not work. After their one and only daughter died as a baby, Friederike grew melancholy. He started to have lots of mistresses. Then Friedrike left for the first time and went home to Bayreuth. Cue parental attempt to mediate between husband and wife. But Uwe Oster doesn't quote any letters on this, so I can't, either. After the second time, they didn't bother anymore. (Also if I understood Lehndorff's diaries correctly Carl Eugen actually sided with MT in the 7 Years War.) This why Friederike was with her mother when she died (along with the Margrave, of course). She herself died in 1780. Carl Eugen's main claim to fame is being notorious for being the tyrannical Duke young Schiller went up against (and wrote that biting scene in Kabale und Liebe" where Lady Milford gets the jewelry and the servant tells her how the Duke sells regiments to Amerika to pay for his high life about), before hightailing it out of Würtemberg for good.
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From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Berlin, September 23rd, 1750 (to Madame de Fontaine): I wish I could sacrifice the King of Prussia for your benefit, but I can't. He's a King, but it's a sixteen-years-long passion that connects us; he's swept me away. I imagine nature has created me for him. Our taste is so eerily alike that I forgot he's master over half of Germany. And that the other half trembles in front of him, that he's won five battles and is the greatest general of Europe, that he's surrounded by six foot tall professional killers. All of this should have caused me to run a thousand miles in the other direction, but the philosopher in him has reconciled me with the monarch, and I have only found him to be a great man who is good and sociable.
Voltaire the beta reader, as described in a letter to Madame Denis:
I'm currently correcting the second edition the King wants to publish of the "History of the House of Brandenburg". An author like himself doesn't have to go into exile in order to tell the truth. He's using that privilege aplenty. Just imagine, in order to come across as impartial, he's bashing his grandfather like no one's business. I have softened the blows as much as I could. I do love this grandfather a bit: for he loved splendour, and has left behind beautiful monuments. With some effort, I've toned down the accusations the grandson made at the grandfather regarding the later's vanity that made him put a royal crown on his head. Said vanity has produced solid advantages for the descendants, after all, and a royal title is nothing to sneeze at. Finally I said to him: "It's your grandfather, not mine. Do whatever you want." Afterwards I only complained about expressions. That's all very entertaining and fills out my day.
Do we detect some exasparation in the idyll already?
Potsdam, November 6th 1750 (still to Madame Denis): So people in Paris know that we've produced "La Rome Sauvée" in Potsdam, that Prince Henri is a good actor without any accent and very charming, and that there's a lot of entertainment here? That's all true, but -. The soupers of the King are delicious. One talks with reason, esprit and knowledge; freedom rules; he's the soul of everything; there's no bad mood, no clouds, well, at least no thunder and lightning. My life is free and fully occupied, but - but. Operas, comedies, carousels. Soupers in Sanssouci. Military manouvres. Concerts. Studies. Reading; - but - but -. The town of Berlin is large, with wider streets than Paris. Palaces, theatres, gracious Queens, charming princesses, beautiful, well dressed ladies-in-waiting. Our envoy's house is always full of guests, sometimes too many, - but - but - the cold season approaches.
Not just the cold season. The percentages of male versus female people around Fritz is starting to annoy Voltaire:
We're three or four foreigners here and live like monks in a monastery. Hopefully our high born abbot is just laughing at us! Still, there's a solid quantum jealousy here. Where does envy creep towards when it isn't here? Ah, I swear to you, there's nothing to be envious about. One would only have to live in peace, but Kings are like female coquettes; their very glances inspire jealousy. And Friedrich is very much of a coquette. Then again, there are a hundred social circles in Paris which are even more infected with that vice. The most cruel "but" I can see is that this country isn't for you. As far as I can see, ten months of the year are spent in Potsdam. This isn't a court, but a quiet place from which the ladies have been banished, even if we're not in a monastery. Thinking this through: expect me in Paris (...)!
Not so fast, Voltaire. You still have two and a half years in Prussia to go, and besides, has the charm of the main attraction already faded?
Nature has created Frederick the Great for me. It would have to be the work of the devil if my final years won't be happy ones, consorting with a prince who shares my thoughts in everything, and who loves me as much as a King is able to love.
Then the "squeezes like an orange"/"dirty laundry" quote exchange happens. Also Voltaire hears about the Palladion and is less than impressed, presumably wondering whether he'll guest star in the next poem.
Guess what, his majesty has equipped his secretary Darget with several qualities in his jests which the later was severely insulted by. He gave him a vigorous role in his poem "The Palladion". And this poetry has been printed, though just with a few copies. What shall one say? If it's true, one has to console oneself by assuming the great ones love the little people they jest about. But what to do if they don't love? Why, to ridicule them right back and to leave them in the same spirit. It will take some time to make the means I'd had transfered here solvent. This time I'll dedicate to patience and work. The rest of my life will be dedicated to you.
Maupertuis vs König becomes Maupertuis vs Voltaire becomes Fritz vs Voltaire.
Since I don't have a hundred and fifty thousand villains in my service, I won't conduct war. I'm just contemplating a proper desertion, to look after my health, to see you again and to forget this three-years-long dream.
I can see now, one has... squeezed the orange dry; now let's save the peel, shall we? I shall put together a dictionary for Kings as my entertainment. "My friend" means "my slave". "My dear friend" means "I'm more than indifferent to you". "I shall make you happy" means: "I'll tolerate you for as long as I need you." "Dine with me today" means: "I'll have a go at you this evening." This dictionary may expand for quite a while; it's worth an article in the Encyclopedia. (The famous "Encyclopedia by Diderot and D'Alembert".) Seriously, all that I've experienced here makes my heart burst.
There, there, Voltaire. As Mildred put it, celebrity break-ups are hard.
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
"It's your grandfather, not mine."
Are you quite sure about that? Your father, maybe. :P Uncle Voltaire, Wilhelmine?
Nature has created Frederick the Great for me.
Small correction: she has created Frederick *like* you. Frederick, meanwhile, is bad at recognizing his own reflection in a mirror, be it named Heinrich (lovely fic!) or Voltaire.
Also Voltaire hears about the Palladion and is less than impressed, presumably wondering whether he'll guest star in the next poem.
Algarotti: Join the club. I'm plotting my own desertion so I can get away while it's *just* an orgasm poem.
Since I don't have a hundred and fifty thousand villains in my service, I won't conduct war.
Fritz, quite accurately: If you did, you would TOTALLY be making war on all your many enemies. Don't get so high-and-mighty about my invasions.
(I agree with Fritz completely. The mirror works both ways.)
This dictionary may expand for quite a while; it's worth an article in the Encyclopedia.
This was awesome. I had seen a short excerpt of this quote but not the full thing. Thank you for this!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
LOL. And did you notice Voltaire in his letters goes from "nature has created me for him" to "nature has created him for me"? (Also, thank you for the compliment!)
I agree with Fritz, too, re: what Voltaire would have done if he'd had an army to command.
Incidentally, since I've seen Kids These Days call Fritz/Katte "Fratte", what would be the portmanteau for Fritz/Voltaire - Fraire? Vitz? Either pun would work in the spirit of the pairing. (Fraire = frère; Vitz = Witz, which is German for joke.)
Voltaire having a soft spot for Grandpa F1 presumably would mean he'd be relieved to find out he owes his existence to him rather than Monsieur Arouet, at least!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Ha! I did not, thank you for your keen eye for detail.
what would be the portmanteau for Fritz/Voltaire
Hmm! I like both your suggestions. Obviously they would go for the one that's in French. :P
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Boy, did Wilhelmine take this "Brother Voltaire" thing seriously or what, if her daughter treated him as an uncle and allowed him to call her tu (since I doubt it was literally du)?
Wilhelmine: definitely shipping Fritz/Voltaire over all the other boyfriends. Despite all. Comes from having the same soul as Fritz in a female body, I tell you.
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Wilhelmine: I have four brothers and five sisters. I'm telling you, I can spot the Hohenzollern soul in an Arouet body a mile away!
Wilhelmine: definitely shipping Fritz/Voltaire over all the other boyfriends.
I don't know how she felt about Suhm or Fredersdorf (I find it possibly telling that Fritz doesn't write to her about Fredersdorf, even with the class differences), but I think Algarotti's the only other boyfriend we know that she liked.
Wilhelmine: Peter Keith is NOT the real hero of 1730, and neither is Katte!
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Ah, but then everyone (except Lehndorff) liked Algarotti! Whereas decidedly not everyone liked Voltaire. I can think of something Voltaire and Algarotti have in common, though, to wit, the reason why I cast them both as cats. Neither guy is going to settle down with Fritz for good. They're intermittently living together, long-distance loves. Peter Keith and Katte come into Fritz' life when he's moved out out of the female sphere to the male one at court where Wilhelme can't follow him. Whereas Peter and Katte can hang out with him all day (in theory, baring FW, but you know what I mean). Fredersdorf is the one who actually gets to live with Fritz, as in live in the next room, be with him always when Fritz isn't campaigning or Fredersdorf isn't on business travels. (Including one to Paris as we now know. Presumably he took a translator with him?) Voltaire, even if the big explosion hadn't happened, wasn't likely to do that.
Incidentally, if Voltaire was on "tu" terms with Wilhelmine's daughter, it makes the two of them having a good cry about Wilhelmine as mentioned in Fritz' letter in the correspondance (you know, the one with "greetings and letters do not replace Voltaire if one has once had him in persona" in it) less likely to have been a courtly convenience and more likely to have been carried by real emotion.
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
You are determined to make me like Voltaire, aren't you :D I guess I have to like someone Wilhelmine liked that much...
Re: From our Parisian Correspondant in Sanssouci: Extra, extra!
Husband-leaving
Re: Husband-leaving
Wilhelmine was never keen on her son-in-law; she already had the impression directly after the wedding that he was, while apparantly at this point passionately in love (well, in lust - according to Casanova, Wilhelmine's daughter was the most beautiful princess of Europe), way too jealous and possessive. We do have a letter from her to Fritz about this. Fritz being Fritz, he wrote back that hey, a passionately interested husband was a GOOD thing, surely? Also it would cool down in time anyway.
Sure enough, Carl Eugen lost interest. He and Friederike then travelled together to Italy (this was before Wilhelmine herself went) in order to save the marriage. This did not work. After their one and only daughter died as a baby, Friederike grew melancholy. He started to have lots of mistresses. Then Friedrike left for the first time and went home to Bayreuth. Cue parental attempt to mediate between husband and wife. But Uwe Oster doesn't quote any letters on this, so I can't, either. After the second time, they didn't bother anymore. (Also if I understood Lehndorff's diaries correctly Carl Eugen actually sided with MT in the 7 Years War.) This why Friederike was with her mother when she died (along with the Margrave, of course). She herself died in 1780. Carl Eugen's main claim to fame is being notorious for being the tyrannical Duke young Schiller went up against (and wrote that biting scene in Kabale und Liebe" where Lady Milford gets the jewelry and the servant tells her how the Duke sells regiments to Amerika to pay for his high life about), before hightailing it out of Würtemberg for good.
Re: Husband-leaving
Well, good for Friedrike, anyway :P
Oh, I knew I'd heard Carl Eugen's name before! Thanks for reminding me :D