According to Orieux, who however does not give a citation as to the source of that anecdote, Fritz had ordered a copy of Houdun's bust (which I linked along with the statue in the earlier comment), but by the time it arrived in Prussia, he'd read the memoirs, so he ordered the box with the bust to remain closed, and it wasn't openened until after Fritz' death. (Madame Denis: had great fun selling that manuscript to a publisher. For once, Orieux doesn't begrudge it to her.)
Jesuit teachers: writes Orieux: Between him and his teachers, there was a silent understanding. They loved the same authors and for the same reasons. H was born as a great writer. If he'd been educated in a Janesenite or in a Calvinist school, he still would have become famous. But in order to become Voltaire, little Arouet had to be educated by Jesuits. He learned this highest form of intelligence and art from them, which is commonly referred to as taste. (...) The language in which he'd later write "Merope" and "Candide", he learned at the grammar school; not just the language, but a specific way of thinking, a technique of hints, a restraint which aims at making things all the more visible by remaining hidden. (...) School was a happy time for Francois. He didn't regard work as a burden, he enjoyed working and being liked even then - and he pleased by flattering his teachers through the brilliant successes he achieved. He loved them and was loved by them. His entire life he retained affection and gratitude for them: "I was educated for seven years by men who kept trying unceasingly to educate the mind of youth. Since when shouldn't one be grateful to one's teachers? NOthing will extinguish in my heart the memory of Father Porée, who is dear to all who have learned from him. No one has managed to make studies and virtue more charming. HIs lessons were marvellous hours for us, and I wish that he'd have had a position in Paris as he'd have had in ancient Athens, and that people of every age could have participated in his lessons: I'd have gone back often to listen." (...)
He wrote this in 1746, a beautiful homage to his teachers (...) They had no more devoted student, he sent them his books, he awaited their judgement full of impatience. To Father Tournenmine, he writes: "My very dear worthy Father, is it true that you like my 'Merope'?" (...)When he isn't in Paris, he sends his friend Thiériot with his latest tragedy to Father Brumoy: "In God's name, run to Father Brumoy, to the Patres who must never become my enemies. (...) Assure them of my unchanged affection, I do owe it to them, they have educated me, and one must be a monster if one isn't grateful to those who have nourished one's mind." His father never had a right to such a proof of his gratitude - his true fathers were those who nourished his mind; the other - or others, since he declared three candidates for his biological father - not worth talking about! (...) And how could his teachers have forgotten him? With twelve, he was already unforgettable. He didn't often play during breaks, he talked to the teachers. THey tell us that he was interested in contemporary events, or, as we would put it today, "in politics". "He enjoyed putting the great interests of Europe into his small scales," Father Porée says.
Re: Jean Orieux: The Life of Voltaire - I
Jesuit teachers: writes Orieux: Between him and his teachers, there was a silent understanding. They loved the same authors and for the same reasons. H was born as a great writer. If he'd been educated in a Janesenite or in a Calvinist school, he still would have become famous. But in order to become Voltaire, little Arouet had to be educated by Jesuits. He learned this highest form of intelligence and art from them, which is commonly referred to as taste. (...) The language in which he'd later write "Merope" and "Candide", he learned at the grammar school; not just the language, but a specific way of thinking, a technique of hints, a restraint which aims at making things all the more visible by remaining hidden. (...) School was a happy time for Francois. He didn't regard work as a burden, he enjoyed working and being liked even then - and he pleased by flattering his teachers through the brilliant successes he achieved. He loved them and was loved by them. His entire life he retained affection and gratitude for them: "I was educated for seven years by men who kept trying unceasingly to educate the mind of youth. Since when shouldn't one be grateful to one's teachers? NOthing will extinguish in my heart the memory of Father Porée, who is dear to all who have learned from him. No one has managed to make studies and virtue more charming. HIs lessons were marvellous hours for us, and I wish that he'd have had a position in Paris as he'd have had in ancient Athens, and that people of every age could have participated in his lessons: I'd have gone back often to listen." (...)
He wrote this in 1746, a beautiful homage to his teachers (...) They had no more devoted student, he sent them his books, he awaited their judgement full of impatience. To Father Tournenmine, he writes: "My very dear worthy Father, is it true that you like my 'Merope'?" (...)When he isn't in Paris, he sends his friend Thiériot with his latest tragedy to Father Brumoy: "In God's name, run to Father Brumoy, to the Patres who must never become my enemies. (...) Assure them of my unchanged affection, I do owe it to them, they have educated me, and one must be a monster if one isn't grateful to those who have nourished one's mind."
His father never had a right to such a proof of his gratitude - his true fathers were those who nourished his mind; the other - or others, since he declared three candidates for his biological father - not worth talking about! (...)
And how could his teachers have forgotten him? With twelve, he was already unforgettable. He didn't often play during breaks, he talked to the teachers. THey tell us that he was interested in contemporary events, or, as we would put it today, "in politics". "He enjoyed putting the great interests of Europe into his small scales," Father Porée says.
Re: Jean Orieux: The Life of Voltaire - I