Voltaire in Love

by Nancy Mitford

In 1733, the lovely, intelligent, and married Marquise du Châtelet commenced her romance with one François-Marie Arouet, a philosophe who had made a name for himself as "Voltaire." Mitford deftly and engagingly recounts their exemplary affair, whether in studious exile in the country, on the run from the censor, or in the "thoughtless circles of high society." Her portrayals of the "scamp" philosopher, his mistress who was "excessive in everything," and their "irregular century" are delightful portraits in themselves and as a group, a fascinating fresco of the French Enlightenment.

Genres: Biography, History, Nonfiction, France, Philosophy, Classics, 18th Century

288 pages, Paperback

First published December 1, 1957

About the author

Nancy Mitford, styled The Hon. Nancy Mitford before her marriage and The Hon. Mrs Peter Rodd thereafter, was an English novelist and biographer, one of the Bright Young People on the London social scene in the inter-war years. She was born at 1 Graham Street (now Graham Place) in Belgravia, London, the eldest daughter of Lord Redesdale, and was brought up at Asthall Manor in Oxfordshire. She was the eldest of the six controversial Mitford sisters.

She is best remembered for her series of novels about upper-class life in England and France, particularly the four published after 1945; but she also wrote four well-received, well-researched popular biographies (of Louis XIV, Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, and Frederick the Great). She was one of the noted Mitford sisters and the first to publicize the extraordinary family life of her very English and very eccentric family, giving rise to a "Mitford industry," which continues.

Reviews

[Kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ve written before about why I love Nancy Mitford’s biographies so much. First off, she writes exactly the sort of narrative history that floats my boat: history that treats the past as, first and foremost, an endless, rich vein of gold to be mined for storytelling yarn, fascinating characters and plots so good that you need the excuse of Hey-It-Actually-Happened to get people to suspend their disbelief.* Secondly, her writing has, for the most part, exactly the right touch for the upper class social histories she chooses to cover: a light, witty tone and a focus on the day-to-day human foibles of the rich and powerful she covers. She’s more than able to achieve this due to my absolute favorite thing about her: She’s an ultimate Insider. A Gossip Girl in a timewarp back to the eighteenth century: at times a welcoming, warm Serena, and sometimes, deliciously, a cutting Blair at her worst.

Mitford is able to offer a unique understanding of her biographies’ subjects precisely because she, unlike so many other historians, refuses to put her subjects on any sort of pedestal. Having been brought up an aristocrat herself, knee-deep in history and family and traditions up to her eyeballs, she treats courts, celebrities, great nobles and great historical personages with absolutely no deference whatsoever- unless, for her own reasons, she feels that they have earned it. (Louis XIV gets a grudging and not-entirely-complete pass, but only because he created her personal dream heaven come to earth- Versailles. Seriously, lady needs the Tardis to land on her doorstep, STAT. I can’t even imagine the unholy sums she would have paid to be a part of that Madame de Pompadour episode.) She has no self-consciousness and no hesitation in pronouncing with authority on the way that X lady of the court handled a rival, or how Y lord of the realm should have responded to the traitorous actions of a friend. (My favorite example comes from this book when she takes the actions of a barely-tolerated visitor of Voltaire and Madame du Chatelet as an excuse to give well-bred parasites who live off a career of constantly visiting their richer, country-house owning friends a piece of her mind.) Their characters are drawn, cut up and pronounced Good For Nothing or quite the best fellow who ever lived without the slightest hint of the temporizing and presentation of both sides that professional historians think appropriate- all without ever descending into any sort of Victorian moralizing. Oh no, her verdicts are of a very practical, no-nonsense, English sort. This person understands how things are done and that one does not. One of her biggest pet peeves with the female consorts of powerful men is when they just do not understand how to properly manage them in order to keep their high-status companions at their side and grateful to be there. (La Pompadour, a personal hero of hers, earns plaudits for her savvy when she personally sets up and manages a whorehouse for the king after the sexual aspect of their relationship grows cold.) The manors, townhouses, courts and palaces of these eighteenth century folk are where she lives, mentally, if not physically. These biographies are written, often, like Richelieu, Madame Pompadour and Louis XIV are her personally known contemporaries whose various episodes she dissects with perfect, witty, dry detachment.

Voltaire in Love is another great example of this trend. Mitford had written biting, ironic asides about Voltaire before (“apt to bite the hand that fed him” is the one I remember being repeated), another example of those side characters you could tell she’d really rather write about that I wrote about in my review of the Sun King . So it wasn’t surprising to find that she’d chosen him as a subject.

What was interesting is that she chose, rather than making herself responsible for doing a biography for his whole life, to focus on only the part of his life that interested her: His nearly twenty year-long love affair with Emilie, the Marquise du Châtelet. I really liked that she did that- it let her talk about all the stuff she loves (illustrious, vaunted men and women creating their great works…. and committing very human acts of folly along the way), without giving herself the obligation to follow through with the conventions of biography if she doesn’t want to. Voltaire’s early life is got through rather quickly, with only the fun highlights to give us the broad brushes of his character and the atmosphere he grew up in. It’s clear that Arouet (his birth name- he gave himself the name Voltaire) was an irresponsible, narcissistic sort, who thought rather a lot of himself. Selfish, disinclined to work, thoughtless- he once tried to elope with a girl after he’d been packed off to The Hague as an unpaid attache so that he wouldn't cause any more scandals. In short, the sort of boy nobody wants their sons to hang out with. In the negative column, he was also the sort who dished it out but had a problem taking it back (something that would make him ridiculous socially and get him in trouble with the law repeatedly. Nancy does not approve of this, which makes sense- it does not fit her code of what the Right Sort Does). But he was, as we know, also smart, talented, perceptive, and determined- a fan of the Enlightenment, logic and scientific advances. He was a great proponent of Newton in France- something quite controversial in those Cartesian times. He repeatedly got into fights with other writers and critics, was easily offended, and went in and out of jail all of his life...

(Read the rest of my review on my blog at: http://shouldacouldawouldabooks.com/2... )

[Sketchbook · Rating 4 out of 5]

Voltaire believed that any historical study, writes
Mitford, should be composed like a play, with "a beginning,
a middle and an end - and not be a mere collection of facts : 'If
you want to bore the reader, tell him everything.' " Mitford's story of Voltaire & Emilie is polished entertainment.

Even when their love affair "turned imperceptibly into
a marriage," and both had other romances, "chains had been
forged which could not be broken." Adds the worldly Mitford:
After ten years they knew that "a return of the old passion
was a thing that never happened in nature." Never mind. It
was not an ordinary love, Mitford reminds us, for they were
not, after all, ordinary people...

Spoiler alert: The finale is bawdy French farce. When the
brilliant philosopher Emilie finds herself preggers, age 44,
by a younger lover, she and Voltaire worry about the future
child's inheritance. She hasn't slept w Monsieur in years,
what's to be done ? Voltaire, Emilie and St-Lambert (the
lover-dado) - amid much laughter - conceive a plan to bring
husband home and put fresh sheets on the marriage bed.

"The good Marquis came post haste." Eventually, Emilie told her husband their union was again to be blessed. He almost fainted with joy. What happens next is not what you expect.

[Para (wanderer) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I haven’t been able to read or review much lately (“start all the books and let god sort it out” is a phrase I keep using). But this? This brought joy, and it gets 5 stars purely on enjoyment and the fact that it's the first book I've been able to finish in ages. History presented in a readable, snarky style, with plenty of drama and general ridiculousness, it’s all I needed.

After asking an innocent question on Frederick the Great and Voltaire and receiving a laundry list of books in return (thank you, good to see SFF nerds aren’t the only ones with the habit of destroying TBRs), I decided to start at the less serious end. This is no scholarly, professional biography – Mitford doesn’t attempt to be objective or hesitate to pass judgements. But it’s an inceredibly fun read and I loved how it was written. Her style is dry, hilarious, gossipy, entertaining, and even though it’s showing its age in a few places and a couple bits did raise an eyebrow, it holds up shockingly well for something very nearly as old as The Lord of the Rings.

Take this bit:

The first guest from the outside world to stay [with Voltaire and Émilie at Cirey] for any length of time was a twenty-three-year-old Venetian, Algarotti. He had decided that he wished to live among eminent folk and to this end had wisely acquired a knowledge of science which opened doors to him all over Europe. His attraction for both sexes did the rest.

The main focus is supposed to be the relationship between Voltaire and the mathematician Émilie du Châtelet up to Émilie’s untimely death. As such, it focuses less on their works and more on their incredibly colourful personal life. The result is an absurdist farce, and I was delighted.

Voltaire being Voltaire, a supreme attention whore of a writer, philosopher, and professional asshole who could dish it out but never take it, thrived on scandal, and suffered (literally, since his frequent entanglements tended to either ruin his always-fragile health or send him to prison or exile) from a chronic inability to shut up, is already everything required for a perfect, entertaining mess of a story. He could not stop himself from getting into increasingly ridiculous fights with authorities and other writers, usually both at the same time, and they all followed much the same pattern: he’d publish something inciting, get in trouble, make himself scarce (or, twice, get imprisoned), and upon return immediately resume his bullshit. It gets even worse once he had power to do something about slander. In short, a royal pain in the ass.

(Many a “oh for FUCK’S sake” was uttered. But then, swearing copiously at whoever you’re reading about is the fun part of history.)

Voltaire was allowed to go back to Paris at the end of March 1735. The Chief of Police, who had been at school with him, sent him this leave, and begged him, in future, to behave like a grown-up person.

[a couple pages later]

Eschewing the advice of the Chief of Police and other friends to behave like a grown-up person…

You’d think Émilie would be boring in comparison and you’d be very wrong. She was one of the most well-educated women of that era – a scientist, philosopher, and gifted mathematician. I ended up rather liking her, and wanting to know more. Her translation of Newton is apparently still used today. She also had a gambling addiction and love affairs. Many love affairs.

Émilie got married to the Marquis du Chastellet at nineteen, had three children, two of whom survived. When he went away to war, she was left to do pretty much whatever she wished: study mathematics and sleep around. He didn’t care much for her intellectual pursuits or her intellectual friends, but he was not the jealous sort – later on, he and Voltaire were on friendly terms. Even while she was with Voltaire, Émilie had other lovers, especially since he wasn’t much interested in sex. (And Voltaire also had a secret side affair with – yes, yikes, very much yikes, why the hell did Mitford try to excuse it? – his niece.) But strange and often sidetracked as the relationship was, there was never any suggestion of them breaking up, or not sticking up for each other – in a way, they were married in all but name.

I got a distinct impression that in 18th century France it was pretty common for upper-class men and women both to have an arranged marriage for status or connections and have various indiscretions on the side, which led to some absolutely ridiculous situations. It was certainly not just Émilie. There’s a very long, hilarious tangent about a certain Mme de Boufflers who was publicly the mistress of two men at the same time – an exiled Polish king and his chancellor (the king was old and thought he could not satisfy her, you see) – while secretly also screwing Saint-Lambert. The story goes that the king’s pet priest, unhappy with the most unchristian arrangement and not having much success with trying to guilt the king into dropping it, tried to break them up by inviting Voltaire and Émilie. All that achieved was Émilie becoming friends with de Boufflers and eventually hooking up with Saint-Lambert, who ended up getting her pregnant. Followed by Voltaire and Émilie hatching a plan to make the child legitimate by having Émilie lure her husband home to Cirey immediately and…well, you can imagine the rest. It ultimately ends in tragedy, as this is the pregnancy that caused her death, and the last chapter was awfully sad, but everything leading up to it? Incredible.

And then there’s the whole love/hate affair with Frederick the Great, the king of Prussia, which is what sent me down this road in the first place. In particular, hearing that even though she lacks some recent information (namely that Voltaire faked some of his letters to make Frederick look bad) and isn’t a historian, Mitford still has one of the best takes on their rocky, fascinating relationship because she doesn’t choose sides and understands they were both being dipshits. Which I’d agree with. I’m still not quite sure what Frederick and Voltaire had, the book ends way before it all blows up in a spectacular fashion and doesn’t include many letter excerpts. But whatever it was, it was messy.

Highlights include:

- The fact that it started with Frederick writing a fan letter.
- Voltaire laying the flattery on thick in replies and generally kissing ass, then showing the letters he received around, but not before correcting Frederick’s bad French.
- Thieriot repeatedly sending Frederick slander about Voltaire and Frederick being delighted. Yes, Voltaire knew what was going on. (Also, Thieriot was supposed to be paid and never was. I don’t know which is funnier.)
- Émilie worrying Voltaire would do something stupid and not allowing him to send some of the more controversial manuscripts over.
- “Voltaire corrected the Anti-Machiavel while Frederick corrected Mérope; each privately thought that the other’s observations on his work were idiotic, but their letters were none the less loving for that.”
- Mitford’s constant and glorious snark at Frederick promising he’d be a better, more enlightened king and turning into a warmonger as soon as he came to the throne.
- Voltaire not wanting to come to Prussia for a long time because Frederick didn’t want Émilie to come along.
- Frederick trying to make Voltaire come to Prussia by helping spread slander and discrediting him in France, so that he’d have to escape the rumours. Multiple times. It worked.
- Their first physical meeting. Everything about it. It’s ridiculous.
- Voltaire being sent to spy on Frederick and failing completely (and hilariously).
- Voltaire calling Frederick in a letter a “respectable, singular, and lovable whore.”
- Frederick repeatedly insulting France in front of Voltaire to rile him up.

…and I’ll end it here. There is, of course, even more anecdotes and I skipped some of my favourites, like the whole ludicrous episode with Desfontaines and La Voltairomanie, but I have already gone on long enough.

I am exactly the target audience. I like seeing historical figures as people, off the pedestals, and I’m especially interested in their fallible side. Even though most of what I read in the course of my obsession with the 18th century is serious (and I don’t feel up to reviewing those), I shamelessly admit that I’m an absolute slut for historical drama and “reality is stranger than fiction” anecdotes. Nobody could talk shit quite like people back then did. Everyone comes across as petty and neurotic and awful and over the top and I eat it up with a spoon. Accuracy-wise, the book is not too great – since it’s from 1957, it’s missing the modern research/discussion and relies on some dubious sources – and I’d certainly recommend not stopping here, but it’s amazing at presenting history like a story, and very readable.

Next stop: her bio of Frederick the Great. I have been promised it’s even better.

Enjoyment: 5/5
Execution: 3.5/5 (points off for accuracy and datedness, not for style)

Recommended to: history nerds, fellow drama hoes, those looking for a light read or an introduction to the topic
Not recommended to: anyone looking for a serious or complete biography, those who can’t stand reading about awful people being awful or don’t care who was screwing whom

More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.

[Jenny McPhee · Rating 5 out of 5]

ÉMILIE DU CHÂTELET: THE LADY WHO WAS A GREAT MAN, My December post at Bookslut

In a 1740 letter to an English friend, Voltaire expressed his regret at being unable to visit him, as he could not live without, even for a short period, “that lady whom I look upon as a great man and as a most solid and respectable friend. She understands Newton; she despises superstition and in short she makes me happy.” The famous French poet, playwright, and polemicist was then midway through his extraordinary fifteen-year love affair with the Marquise du Châtelet, a liaison that would produce works of genius from both their pens.

Émilie du Châtelet was a mathematician, physicist, and philosopher who loved to bedeck herself in diamonds, attend salons and soirées, show off at court, and indulge in amorous adventures. Émilie was born into French aristocracy and showed an early aptitude for learning. Her father hired the best Parisian tutors to educate her. When she was nineteen, he arranged her marriage to the Marquis du Châtelet, a man who adored his young wife, appreciated her talents, and never interfered with her indefatigable pursuit of intellectual excellence.

At twenty-six Émilie resolved, after giving birth to her third child, to turn to the serious study of mathematics. At a dinner party in Paris, she encountered Voltaire. He was thirty-nine and after an exile in England — his controversial compositions frequently forced him to flee France — he had returned steeped in Newton’s scientific discoveries and the philosophy of Locke. He couldn’t, however, arouse in French academics — devoted Cartesians — any intellectual curiosity, much less enthusiasm, for these new ideas from across the Channel. Émilie became ignited mind and body by Voltaire and his ability to clearly express complex notions about the natural world. For his part, Voltaire found in the Marquise someone whose scientific intelligence enhanced, challenged, and eventually surpassed his own.


Their uncommon relationship drives Nancy Mitford’s remarkable 1957 book Voltaire in Love, reissued by The New York Review Books in November 2012. In zestful prose, itself dripping with Voltarian wit, Mitford spins an account of the lovers’ incessant shenanigans, both highbrow and bawdy, and in so doing paints a flamboyant, down-and-dirty tableau of the French Enlightenment. Mitford offers hilarious and astonishing reports of the lovers’ quarrels, betrayals, and sexual appetites; their embroilments with the nobility at Versailles; Émilie’s destructive gambling habit (to repay her staggering debts she developed a financing arrangement similar to modern derivatives); Voltaire’s endless fights with fellow writers and banishments by the royal censor; the ménage at Cirey, Émilie’s husband’s country estate in Champagne where the lovers transformed a crumbling chateau into a resplendent laboratory and high-powered think tank; the myriad productions, both failures and successes, of Voltaire’s plays, many featuring Émilie as leading lady; Émilie’s desperate push to finish her masterpiece, an annotated translation of Newton’s Principia Mathematica, after discovering at age forty-two that she was pregnant by her young lover (by then she and Voltaire no longer shared a bed) and unlikely to survive the birth, which she did not.

Adam Gopnik, in his introduction to the new edition of Mitford’s book, calls it “a small-scale masterpiece of antiheroic history.” Mitford’s work is an amuse-bouche for at least three subsequent full-scale biographies of the Marquise: The Divine Mistress (1970) by Samuel Edwards; Émilie du Châtelet: Daring Genius of the Enlightenment (2006) by Judith Zinsser; and David Bodanis’s Passionate Minds: Émilie du Châtelet, Voltaire, and the Great Love Affair of the Enlightenment(2006), which details how fundamental du Châtelet’s work was to scientific development.

Read on at www.Bookslut.com

[SilveryTongue · Rating 3 out of 5]

0,3 estrellas

Personalmente esta biografía no mejoro la opinión que tenía de Voltaire.

[Sherwood Smith]

Though I'm not lit on fire by her fiction, I find Nancy Mitford quite interesting in essays, letters, and especially when she writes about history. I suspect one has to take her judgments on character with the proverbial dash of salt (well, I know one does; her view of Madame Maintenon, for example, in her work on Louis XIV is a fine example of the born aristocrat's contempt for an ambitious mushroom—and worth reading because it shows just how Maintenon was regarded by the court) so I kept resorting to my collection of Voltaire's letters, and double-checking, French dictionary in hand. But she writes with delightful style, she works hard to make the people of the time come to life, and I find her historical ruminations, like those of Warnie Lewis on the same period, great relaxation reading, sometimes with a more academic text at hand to check on the dreary facts.

[Luke · Rating 2 out of 5]

It sometimes becomes extremely noticeable when certain frameworks of knowledge lift up certain pinpoints for the lemmings to flock over for no particular reason other than the fact that it's the right balance of new with same old, same old, when one starts eyeballing a particular 'interest' one has and discovers that there's no real reason for them to have it. Take, for a personal example of mine, the Mitford sisters, that sextet which includes multiple writers, at least two fascists, a duchess, and probably more queer folks than their circle of compatriots is willing to admit to even today. Certainly sounds interesting at first glance, which is probably what led me to adding a collection of the sister's letters back when anything by a woman that was big and imposing was almost guaranteed to find its way onto my TBR. Then came the years of being unable to find a copy and instead stumbling over more easily acquirable single-authored works that I purchased with the intent to not touch until that long sought after compilation was finally tracked down and read to completion, a tactic that left me with two works apiece by both Nancy, the "author", and Jessica, the "communist." What I got of Nancy and her huge dose of self-satisfied "neutral" independence didn't enamor me nearly as much as the second youngest did, so I already had some reservations going into this. Now that I've read it, I can say that it wasn't the most poorly put together piece of biography I've ever encountered, but what could have been accomplished had Mitford spent more effort on research and less on making snide remarks can only be left to a desultory reader's imagination.

Coming out, I have to say, when it comes to nonfiction, some authors can insert themselves in a way that brings a lovely cohesiveness and comprehension to the whole, whereas others can do little more than smear themselves all over the otherwise interesting pane of straightforward facts in hopes that the audiences will jibe and sneer along with them. Of course, that only works if you've never engaged with sex work, aren't a red head, and don't have any manner of physical disability, since it doesn't take Mitford very long at all to veer off from a brisk recountal of the facts and figures surrounding the companionship of one Émilie du Châtelet and one François-Marie Arouet at a stage in both their lives and in both of their positions when living situations were a game of musical chairs and adultery a matter of convenience, compatibility, and social standing. Indeed, much of text is concerned with the turning tides of such, with the titular Voltaire getting the lion's share in a record of his triumphs and his tantrums and Châtelet getting the nudge in whenever she simply can no longer be ignored. True, there are moments when Mitford specifically refers to her as "genius" or "a scion in the progress of women", but for every word of that, there's a good two hundred or three hundred discussing lovers, gambling debts, poor handling of servants, domestic spats, neglectful hosting, and other eccentricities that I have no doubt would have been passed over had Voltaire been on his own. By the time Châtelet dies in the wake of bearing a child, I felt as if I knew a great deal more about the technical details of timeline and cast list of a segment of the life and times of Voltaire ('Candide', for which he is now most famous on the Anglo side of things, was not written during Châtelet's lifetime), as well as how easily the European theatre, both in terms of war and on the stage, was capable of devolving into complete soap opera across the span of at least four countries, but had lost sight of what had interested me in the history in the first place. In short, Mitford makes it especially clear whenever she is drawing material from various examples of the pre-magazine version of the gossip rag, I'm afraid that particular tone soaked into the entire piece and left it a pile of juicy details with an empty center.

Frederick the Great, the other figure whom I picked up a Nancy Mitford nonfictional treatise concerning, plays a rather significant role in the series of Voltaire/Châtelet events as the Salaciously Effeminate Yet Militaristically Rigorous Gay, so I unfortunately have to assume that the author's choice in material has more than a little to do with that weird fascination that cishet white women have had for gay white males ever since it became socially acceptable to do so. If that's indeed the case, I'll be keeping it on my shelves for the sake of wanting to know more about this particular queer figure of history, but I'm not in any especial hurry to get to it. After reading this, it doesn't surprise me how poorly her nonfiction has largely fared in comparison to her fiction, representation in various fashionable imprints aside: apparently people like their nonfiction without nasty interjections reeking of social norms of mid 20th c. Angloisms coming in without warning. Circumstances being what they are, I'll also be getting to Jessica's writing as part of my challenges this year (the siblings conveniently wrote during a particular series of years of current interest to me and are conveniently put out by the NYRB Classics), and I expect that that will go much better for me. In any case, if you're looking at this wondering whether this will give you a glimpse of Châtelet that's worth trudging through the Voltaire for, you might be better off seeing what else has been published in an authoritatively biographical manner since Nancy put this out in 1957. However, if you don't mind something comparatively quick (and glib) that spends a bit more time recounting the sordid framework of that particularly lauded period of French high society, you might be entertained by this. Just don't expect factual details to be valued whenever a scandalous aside will do.

Voltaire observed that the State never minds how much it spends on keeping authors in prison, but if the question arises of some tiny pension for an author, that can never be afforded.

[Mela]

I really wanted to read it. I was (am) interested in the topic. Moreover, it was obvious, that Nancy Mitford did as deep research as it was possible.

Sadly, to me, reading it was too often burdensome. There is a chance I would have found it more easy to read if I had more knowledge of those people's lives. I don't want to discourage anyone, I think I will try it again in the future.

[I stopped at the eleventh chapter, which is the one-hundredth page.]

[Margaret · Rating 5 out of 5]

Voltaire in Love by Nancy Mitford recounts the relationship between Voltaire and Madame du Chatelet. Voltaire and Madame du Chatelet both are brilliant and confrontational, and their clashing personalities creates a whole lot of relationship drama (between them as well as their peers) while Madame du Chatelet works to translate the works of Issac Newton. Voltaire and du Chatelet's intellectual relationship outlives their romantic one in many ways, and their work in translating Newton also describes the spread of a scientific revolution from England to France.

The scientific aspect of this relationship biography was fascinating on its own, but Mitford's biographical style makes this account fun to read even if it relies heavily on secondary historical sources. Mitford at times writes with strongly mid-century British diction, adding an element of humor when she puts what others have been delicate about in her own straightforward terms (maybe she and her sister Jessica Mitford had this in common).

This short biography describes the intellectual relationship of two Enlightenment figures who challenged the literary and scientific norms of Enlightenment France, with all their faults and idiosyncrasies.

[RH Walters · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was smitten with this book, read snatches out loud and felt imbued with the wit and daring of the people in it. I reveled in Voltaire’s cheekiness and du Chatelet’s intense passion for science and her lovers. Voltaire said, “when I see a clock I believe in a clock-maker.” When I told Bruce I drank all our soda he dryly said “I guess Voltaire would’ve drank all the Coke.” After long enchantment, however, the hectic vanity and selfishness of the lovers seemed to exhaust Mitford, and me. Still a sparkling and unusual biography.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Alas, Goodreads doesn't have the divine cover of this book done by Cecil Beaton, in which Voltaire's manuscripts and Mme. de Chatelet's teacup go flying as he kneels to declare his passion. Perfect wit (Beaton) matched with perfect wit (Mitford) describing the wittiest man who ever lived. A total wit fiesta!

[Alicia · Rating 1 out of 5]

What a disappointment. I wanted to read this book because I was intrigued to learn that Voltaire’s lover for 16 years, Marquise Emilie du Chatelet, was a mathematician, physicist, and author during the Age of Enlightenment. Her major achievement is considered to be her translation and commentary on Isaac Newton's work Principia Mathematica. Voltaire often referred to her as his muse and the only true love of his life.

Emilie lived together with her husband (the Marquis du Chatelet) and her lover (Voltaire) happily in Paris and in her country house Cirey-sur-Blaise in North-Eastern France. Voltaire and Emilie shared a passion for science and they set up a laboratory in du Châtelet's home.

This biography by Nancy Mitford however, was extremely tedious. Mainly because it pretty much skimmed over du Chatelet’s intellectual achievements and instead focused on minutiae of the social and sex life of the upper classes in 18th century France. Apparently back then everybody (including Voltaire and Emilie) had several lovers at once but then would get into fits of rage and hysterics when they found out they were being betrayed. It was extremely difficult to keep track of who was sleeping with whom throughout the book. It was exhausting.
Voltaire was constantly quarrelling with the church and almost all other French institutions and was often sent into exile or landed in trouble with the law in some way. However, there was no real discussion of the impact of his works. It was just a lot of gossipy reports on people's reactions and his own desire to settle personal scores.

They both come across as petty, jealous people obsessed with their standing in French society and King Louis XV’s court. Mitford's main sources were letters and diaries and the book reads like an 18th century version of a National Enquirer exposé. I guess this has its appeal but it was not what I was looking for in a biography.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A delightful biography of two fascinating yet exhausting people written as only Nancy Mitford could-- with droll wit and a dull poker aimed right at the foibles of the subjects. Voltaire teeters on the brink of death with every illness, but rallies as soon as something more interesting comes up; Emilie is a brilliant scientist who appears to have irritated nearly everyone with whom she came into contact, including Voltaire. Yet their relationship persisted through infidelities to each other, political upheaval, banishments to the Bastille, court intrigue, and much more. Only Emilie's untimely death brings this pastiche of a near-marriage to a close. (Emilie, of course, is married to the Duke du Chatelet, with whom she, Voltaire, and eventually her other lovers all live together happily in the lovely Chateau de Cirey)

The scholarly work is in here, as the chapters follow Voltaire's publications and growing fame, but the primary content is the stuff of Nancy Mitford: the relationships and the hilarity around them. One pictures Nancy very much at home among Voltaire and his circle, picking up on all the gossip (and there is much fodder for it) and finding the humor in all that goes on.

I wish she'd written more biographies. This is a gem for any Francophile, philosopher, or Mitford lover.

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book. While it is not a military history book, It still has to due with my favorite period in history. It involves my one of my favorite authors and i came away extremely impressed that Emile was able to translate all of that math and concepts into French from Latin.
It was an odd relationship but normal for its time. Heck today's relationships would be pretty odd if a person from that period heard of some of the present day ones.
It was a GOOD READ...

[Melissa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not as lurid as The Sun King (Mitford's biography of Louis XIV), but an interesting, snarky, gossipy account of the unusual love affair and living arrangements of two great philosophers, Voltaire and Émilie du Châtelet. Everyone is neurotic and petty and Voltaire dodged a bullet with Frederick the Great of Prussia, I'm just saying.

Book 1 of 24in48 Readathon.

[Kyli · Rating 3 out of 5]

It is very important in life to know what we want. Too many people have no idea, and yet without an aim there can be no happiness. We destroy in the morning what we did the night before; we commit blunders; we repent. This repentance is one of the most disagreeable of all the feelings that assail us, and we must be careful to protect ourselves from it. As nothing in life happens twice in the same way it is useless to dwell on past faults. We must go on from where we are without looking back, and always substitute agreeable reflections for disagreeable ones. It is foolish, for instance, to dwell upon death, whether our own or that of other people, a sad and humiliating thought which does us no good at all.

This quote Madame de Chatelet said and was summarized by Mitford in her book, Voltaire in Love . I found it spoke to me and is representative of how I want to go through life (but often don't). I focus too much on the past and my mistakes instead of looking forward. I wasn't expecting to read a quote like this in a book like this one, but it was a welcome surprise!

Overall, I enjoyed reading this short narrative of the French writer Voltaire and his one true love, the learned Emilie de Chatelet. I felt I couldn't really connect to Voltaire and Emilie as people just because they lived in such a different way that I do as they were both in the upper echelons of French society at the time which is so far and away from the middle class America I call my own. Even to others living among them, they were often scorned and turned away at times. This was mainly, according to Mitford, because of Emilie and her lack of manners at times to get what she wanted. But I think that's what I respected the most about her was that she was a woman who did what she wanted when she wanted and didn't care who disagreed, which included Voltaire at times. But he always stuck with her until her untimely death after childbirth in her 40s.

I had a hard time with Mitford constantly putting down Emilie because she was "too whiny" and droll with some of her lovers. It kind of screamed a little bit of slut shaming in a weird way and that might've been because of the time period Mitford was writing in as well. Like she wasn't writing in this same way for Voltaire even thought you could argue he was the same way when writing to his other paramour, Madame Denis. Overall, Mitford did do a pretty good job of being fair in her picturing of these two historical figures, not too fanatical of them nor disparaging.

It was hard to keep track of the names sometimes too, and almost felt like you were expected to know a lot of them, like everybody studies 18th century French society and all of its main players? I'll admit I knew the kings, queens, and their mistresses but that's about it. I love the French language but when all of these names get thrown at you, they all start sounding the same.

The book was pretty enjoyable and gave a nice portrait of Voltaire and Madame de Chatelet's relationship. I would definitely explore more books about them, just to compare and see if I like something else better!

[Julie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to love this more than I did. Unlike her books on Louis XIV and on Madame de Pompadour, this book dragged at times and I found it hard to maintain interest. It took much longer to read than I thought it would.

I think Nancy was hampered in writing this book because all of Emilie's letters have vanished/been destroyed. I found it difficult to get a real sense of who she was. It would seem that she was very charismatic and brilliant, based on how people were drawn to her.

Eventually, the book started to hold my interest somewhat. I love reading about that period in France and about all the shenanigans of the aristocrats. Emilie's personal life the last year or so she was alive was surprising. I'm not sure how she managed to swing a young lover, an old lover and a husband all at the same time. I mean, they were all living together at one point! Her untimely death was heartbreaking - so many women back then died in childbirth.

I googled what happened to Emilie's son, the one with all the tutors. He was guillotined during the Revolution. Fun fact - his adopted daughter (his wife's niece, he had no children with his wife) became the longterm mistress of General LaFayette. She inherited the beautiful estate of Cirey, that Voltaire renovated for Emilie, and the niece & LaFayette spent a lot of time at Cirey.

I hadn't quite realized what a big baby Voltaire could be. He could dish it out but couldn't take it. He really didn't know when to let things drop. I got the sense that he enjoyed living like that - all the drama and intrigue was stimulating to him.

Voltaire and Frederick the Great's relationship bewildered me. I couldn't tell from Nancy's writings whether or not the two had a sexual relationship? Or just very flirty on Voltaire's end? I need to go read Nancy's book on Frederick to find out more, I guess. Frederick certainly came across poorly in this book. He really disliked women, which I find off-putting.

I ended up learning more about Voltaire (which is always a good thing, to learn new facts) but I wasn't entranced by him. After reading The Sun King & Madame de Pompadour, I was fascinated and immediately delved into more books about them. After finishing this, my reaction was more "eh, ok, so that was Voltaire".

[Jeff Chalker · Rating 2 out of 5]

A book club choice which started well. Nancy Mitford has a talent for the well-turned insult or withering observation. Voltaire is an attractive figure of the French Enlightenment. The 18th Century was an eventful and interesting one in Europe. All very promising.

OMG what a disappointment. Voltaire and his mistress Emilie are introduced as accomplished writers and "philosophes" and yet we learn next to nothing about their philosophical writings. Voltaire, the towering wit and social commentator, comes across as petty, spiteful and inconstant. For someone who attacked the French establishment he spends unconscionable amounts of time ingratiating himself into it.

Mitford assumes a high level of knowledge of the leading figures of French aristocracy. We learn which Comtesse is having an affair with which Duc (there are very many of these). Long tracts of French poetry are quoted without translation. The style is gossipy rather than authoritative, more Tatler than Tacitus. Halfway through I began to feel bilious from this over-sweet confection. I couldn't finish it.

[Hilary · Rating 3 out of 5]

Drawing on Voltaire's correspondence and his secretary's memoirs, this sheds interesting light on the great philosopher's private life and his long-term love affair with the amazing Marquise du Châtelet a woman of huge intellect and strong desires. The ménage à trois at Cirey is typically French, her husband being happy to pursue his military career while Voltaire kept his wife happy (mentally and physically). She herself died following childbirth in her forties - a not unusual fate at that time, but what a loss. She emerges as the most fascinating character in this account - no mean feat considering the cast includes Louis XV, Madame de Pompadour, Frederick the Great, as well as the exiled King of Poland and his court.

Mitford writes with her usual verve and wit, but the story does become tedious in places and naturally Voltaire's works take second place in this account of his private life. Stimulating nevertheless.

[sophiesview · Rating 4 out of 5]

A dashing read, not always pleasing but certainly painting a vivid picture of 18th century life amongst the foremost French of the time. It also lets the main subjects, Voltaire and the fascinating Emile du Châtelet, come to life in a most tangible manner.

In the writing one can feel on every page Nancy Mitford's unique insight into the workings of the society at the time, an outlook which is certainly very much more foreign to any reader in the 20th century but to a society girl of London in the 20s and 30s.

An enjoyable read & well executed, especially in dialogue with the French language.

[Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Voltaire was a leading eighteenth century philosopher, playwright and writer; Madame Du Chatelet was a member of the French aristocracy and also a mathematician and scientist who translated Newton’s work into French, a controversial move at a time when French science focused on Cartesian ideas. The ups and downs of their 15-year relationship, their work together, and the milieu they lived in are entertainingly presented by Nancy Mitford in sparkling, satiric prose and deft asides. This edition also has an excellent introduction by Adam Gopnik.

[Megan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a well written book. It reads as if it is a romance novel at times, a history book at other times, and a biography. The love story between Voltaire and Émilie is a complicated one. Starts off with a lot of passion and ends with possession, obsession, and a love that was deeper than it seems.

Would recommend if you are curious about Voltaire and his history and the woman who possessed him for a good part of his life.

[Aaron · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was hoping Mitford would be a new "Tuchmanesque" discovery. A woman historian from the mid-20th century who wrote engaging and insightful histories. This was definitely insightful, but maybe there is a little too much insight. The daily activities of Voltaire (including the multiple times he re-decorated his home and chose new curtains) are painfully documented. This one brought the eye glaze.

[Carmen · Rating 1 out of 5]

Según dice la autora, para Voltaire el mayor insulto era llamarle aburrido a alguien. Tal vez debería haberlo tenido en cuenta al escribir esta obra. Es aburridísima.

Hasta la página 173 llegué. No creo que mejorara, francamente.

[tatterpunk · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unrelentingly educated, caustic, and drily amused. It was a weird book to get through - I felt either bored or enthralled, with very little middle ground. Still, looking forward to Mitford's other biographies.

[bookreader · Rating 3 out of 5]

In her breathless chronicle of the Ancien Régime aristocratic extramarital liaisons of Voltaire and his circle, Mitford renders them all petty, scheming, whiny, and dull — precisely the true attributes of the "U" class that she famously extolled.

[Tora · Rating 2 out of 5]

Probably not a great book for a book club, but I now know a lot more about Voltaire and applaud Nancy’s research.

[Daniel Polansky]

A chronicle of the occasionally passionate romance of two of the great thinkers of the French enlightenment. Nobody does caddy social history like Nancy Mitford, and this was a fun read.

[James Woo · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5

[Martha Courtauld · Rating 3 out of 5]

My god the 18th century French high society lads were crazzzyy… so much shagging and mistresses and food and duels and versaillesing!!!!