Touching On Voltaire (1694 – 1778)

Manly P. Hall on Voltaire

Among the French schools of philosophy are Traditionalism (often applied to Christianity), which esteems traditions as the proper foundation for philosophy; the Sociological school, which regards humanity as one vast social organism; the Encyclopedists, whose efforts to classify knowledge according to the Baconian system revolutionized European thought; Voltairism, which assailed the divine origin of the Christian faith and adopted an attitude of extreme skepticism towards all matters pertaining to theology; and Neo-criticism, a French revision of the doctrinces of Immanuel Kant. (Chapter I)

William James Durant on Voltaire:

"Newton just died [1727] , Voltaire attended the funeral, and often recalled the impression made upon him by the national honors awarded to this modest Englishman. "Not long ago," he writes, "a distinguished company were discussing the trite and frivolous question, who was the greatest man, -- Caesar, Alexander, Tamerlane, or Cromwell? Some one answered that without doubt it was Isaac Newton. And rightly: for it is to him who masters our minds by the force of truth, and not to those who enslave them by violence, that we owe our reverence." Voltaire became a patient and thorough student of Newton's works, and was later the chief protagonist of Newton's views in France. " (The Story of Philosophy, Chapter V)

W.J. Durant in his Voltaire-in-ten-parts (The Story of Philosophy) describes the mid-point of Voltaire's life (c. 40 years old) as follows:

... the Regent, not knowing of this character, sent Voltaire permission, in 1729, to return to France. For five years Voltaire enjoyed again that Parisian life whose wine flowed in his veins and whose spirit flowed from his pen. And then some miscreant of a publisher, getting hold of the "Letters on the English", turned them without the author's permission into print, and sold them far and wide, to the horror of all good Frenchmen, including Voltaire, The Parliament of Paris at once ordered the book to be publicly burned as "scandalous, contrary to religion, to morals, and to respect for authority"; and Voltaire learned that he was again on the way to the Bastille. Like a good philosopher, he took to his heels -- merely utilizing the occasion to elope with another man's wife.

The Marquise du Chatelet was twenty-eight; Voltaire, alas, was already forty. She was a remarkable woman: she had studied mathematics with the redoubtable Maupertuis, and then with Clairaut she had written a learnedly annotated translation of Newton's Principia; she was soon to receive higher rating than Voltaire in a contest for a prize offered by the French Academy for an essay on the physics of fire; in short she was precisely the kind of woman who never elopes. But the Marquis was so dull, and Voltaire was so interesting -- "a creature lovable in every way," she called him "the finest ornament in France." He returned her love with fervent admiration; called her "a great man whose only fault was being a woman"; formed from her, and from the large number of highly talented women then in France, his conviction of the native mental equality of the sexes; and decided that her chateau at Cirey was an admirable refuge from the inclement political weather of Paris. The Marquis was away with his regiment, which had long been his avenue of escape from mathematics; and he made no objection to the new arrangements. Because of the mariages de convenances which forced rich old men on young women who had little taste for senility but much hunger for romance, the morals of the day permitted a lady to add a lover to her menage, if it were done with a decent respect for the hypocrisies of mankind; and when she chose not merely a lover but a genius, all the world forgave her.

In the chateau at Cirey they did not spend their time billing and cooing. All the day was taken up with study and research; Voltaire had an expensive laboratory equipped for work in natural science and for years the lovers rivaled each other in discovery and disquisition. They had many guests, but it was understood that these should entertain themselves all day long, till supper at nine. After supper, occasionally, there were private theatricals; or Voltaire would read to the guests one of his lively stories. Very soon Cirey became the Paris of the French mind; the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie joined in the pilgrimage to taste Voltaire's wine and wit, and see him act in his own plays. He was happy to be the center of this corrupt and brilliant world; he took nothing too seriously and for a while made "Rire et faire rire" his motto. Catherine of Russia called him "the divinity of gayety." "If Nature had not made us a little frivolous," he said, "we should be most wretched. It is because one can be frivolous that the majority do not hang themselves." There was nothing of the dyspeptic Carlyle about him. "Dulce est desipere in loco. [It is sweet to be foolish on occasion.] Woe to philosphers who cannot laugh away their wrinkles. I look upon solemnity as a disease."