felis wanted to know: Which three Star Trek characters should Voltaire meet? And which one would totally ignore him and go talk to Emilie instead?

The last one is the easiest: any of the Star Trek characters who started out as scientists - Janeway, Seven of Nine, Michael Burnham, Tilly, and yes, Spock - would pounce on the chance to talk to the fabulous Émilie du Chatelet before they'd talk to Voltaire. Especially if the meeting happens via actual time trip as opposed to everyone visiting a holographic recreation of Cirey complete wtith Holo!Voltaire and Holo!Émilie. Because then they'd need to enlist a great pyhsicist to fix whatever the MacGuffin is that has the ST characters stranded in the past. If I had to choose just one of them, I'd go with Tilly. Depending on which biographer you believe, she and Émilie could even bond over mother issues, and at any rate Tilly's fannish enthusiasm would be great for Émilie to hear.

As to which three other ST characters should meet and primarily engage with Voltaire:

1.) Garak from ST: DS9 for the quality dialogue and barrage of one liners from both parties which would inevitably ensue. Garak would be amused by Voltaire's occasional failed and rebuffed spying efforts; Voltaire would be appalled by the Cardassian justice system (even worse than the French 18th century one) and start a campaign immediately; Garak would be intrigued by someone who isn't naive at all yet relentless in his zeal once he picked up a cause. And they'd agree on Shakespeare. (See here. ) Then, however, Garak would score a point by mentioning the Federation laws re: genetically modified folk, proving that even in a supposedly free society there's some major discrimination going on. At which point Voltaire decides to use the case of the remaining Jack Pack as precedence and campaign against these laws as well.

2.) Mirrorverse Philippa Georgiou from ST: Discovery. She's a witty dictator both cruel and able to build on that tiny glimmer of humanity within and become more, and therefore absolutely his type. Again, there would be high quality dialogue. Presumably Voltaire in the Mirrorverse either was his worst self or didn't exist, so she wouldn't be that interested to start with and/or assume he had court fool qualifications at best, they'd go from amusing verbal sparring to downright vicious arguments, but then he'd surprise her by talking her out of a suicidal mindframe (perhaps this is Georgiou right after mid s3?) with his patented "reasons why you shouldn't kill yourself: your enemies would rejoice, you suck, and also, I'd miss you" pep up speech.

3.) The Doctor (the one from Voyager, not a guest starring DW). This is for a scenario where it's Holo!Voltaire, because you just know Holo!Voltaire would develop conciousness, creating yet another ethical headache for Janeway. Holo!Voltaire and the Doctor would start an opera production together, starring the Doctor, of course (presumably he'd requested the holodeck to provide him with such a scenario), but then there would be mighty arguments once Voltaire finds out no one watches the operas based on his plays anymore, or, for that matter, his plays, and that his fame mainly rests on his prose. The Doctor would not hold back on his musical and theatrical opinions and insist on producing Verdi or Puccini instead. In this mighty clash of egos, he'd still verbally lose because Voltaire (even a Holo version of same) just has more practice and vocabulary at verbal sparring. Then, however, Voltaire (by now exceeding his original program, because of course he does, and achieving consciousness) finds out about the Doctor's iffy status on Voyager (depending on which season we're in, and how much autonomy Janeway grants him) and the whole problem of if some holoprograms can achieve consciousness, isn't the entire holotechnology providing future slaves, and suggests teaming up for a Freedom For Holobeings campaign. I'm not sure how this episode would end for the holo cause, but I think the Doctor in the spirit of reconciliation would aquaint Voltaire with Leonard Bernstein's version of Candide, and pick that as the to be staged production, thus providing us with a finale where he sings Pangloss and the entire Voyager crew joins in with The Best of All Possible Worlds. (Voltaire sighs that they're missing out on the satire - Bernstein isn't, of course, but the Voyager crew gives him the impression they think he agrees with Pangloss - but takes the tribute as given.)


The other days

You may or may not have heard about the controversy regarding the the new statue honoring Mary Wollstonecraft. One of the questions I've seen repeatedly raised was: "Which famous male writer and philosopher would be displayed in the nude?" I see your general point, but the answer to this one is obviously Voltaire, in his own life time, no less.

This is a story which I came across in the course of the last year in my current fandom, but it's entertaining enough to be told to a more general audience. And because most people involved were fond of writing, we can, in this case, answer the question "what were they thinking?" precisely. So: it's April 1770. Voltaire hasn't lived in France for many years (though he will return to his city of birth, Paris, a few months before his death). He's living in Ferney, Switzerland, in fact, writing and involving himself as vividly as ever, but he's old, and definitely a living legend. A couple of younger enlightenment writers - among them Diderot, D'Alembert, Helvetius, Melchior Grimm - as well as the sculptor Pigalle - are having dinner in Madame Necker's salon.(Suzanne Necker: currently hostess of one of the most sought after salons in Paris. Wife of Necker the banker and future minister, mother of future writer Germaine de Stael.) And that's when they decide they'll erect a statue to a living writer - which has not been done before in France - to wit, Voltaire. In the nude, symbolizing the quest for truth and echoing what was then believed to be a depiction of Roman philosopher Seneca as he was dying, though the statue in question today is known as "Old Fisherman") (and also in the louvre, as the Voltaire statue).

Voltaire had his vanities, but pride of his physical appearance wasn't among them. He was deeply sceptical when Madame Necker first broke the news to him (and asked whether Pigalle could come to Switzerland for a sitting or several). Quoth he: Monsieur Pigalle is supposed to come to model my face, but, Madame, for this I would need to have a face. One hardly guesses where it lies hidden. My eyes lie three inches deep, my cheeks are old paper, which is badly put on bones that can't hold anything together anymore. What few teeths I had left are gone.


D'Alembert the encyclopedist wrote to soothe him: Genius has, as long as it breathes, a face that can be rendered by the genius of his brother, and Monsieur Pigalle will take the fire from the two diamonds nature has made your eyes and use it to awaken his statue to life. I can't tell you, dear honored comrade, how flattered Monsieur Pigalle is to have been chosen to create this monument for his and the glory of the French nation.

When Pigalle showed up in Ferney, Voltaire just could not sit still, either moved too much, dictated, came and went, or grimaced, and then finally Pigalle lucked out by drawing him into a discussion about the golden calf in the bible. Voltaire said no way the Israelites could have created a statue of gold within four hours, and Pigalle explained to him how such a statue was created and that it usually took six months at least. Voltaire listened, sitting quietly and attentively, and Pigalle was delighted, because at last he had the chance to model him.

(His face, that is. The nude body depicted in the finalized statue was that of an old soldier who modelled for Pigalle later, but the sensational part was that it was indeed shown as physically old.)

Then there was the question of financing the entire enterprise. Not only was Pigalle a sought after arist, but he intended to use Carrara marble. The very material from which Michelangelo had made his statues. This was expensive; he needed 1,5000 livres to purchace the marble in Italy, and that was without transport costs or his own salary. So the enlightenment crowd decided to make it a matter of subscriptions, asking patrons for their money.

Now, Voltaire by 1770 had of course his share of highly placed admirers (along with the even greater share of enemies). The most (in)famous of which was Frederick II. of Prussia; if you want to refresh your memory of the love/hate Friedrich/Voltaire trainwreck, check out these posts. (Or you could just read my story.) Frederick was also famously thrifty - even when he was in the early flush of Voltaire adoration, before their arguments, he had haggled with Voltaire about Voltaire's travel expenses - , and of course, you could never tell on any given day whether he'd praise Voltaire to the skies or curse him as the scum of humanity (usually both). When Madame Necker asked him to sign up as a subscriber, he did ask "how much?" first, and was told "your name and an Ecu" (i.e. the equivalent of a penny) would do. So he signed on, and did fork more money than that, because Voltaire's old school mate the Duc de Richelieu (great grand nephew of the famous Cardinal) was ready to contribute 50 Louisdor. Richelieu then was told this made everyone else look bad, so he diplomatically adjusted it to 20 Louisdor. By then, Friedrich had gotten even, and also contributed what we'd call a "blurb" for the entire project, to wit: The Greece of the ancients would have made him a God, one would have built him a temple: we only erect a statue to him as a pale recompense for all the persecutions he has suffered.

Presumably by "presecutions" Friedrich meant events like Voltaire's several stints in the Bastille, not the time he himself had Voltaire arrested in Frankfurt am Main (which wasn't Prussian territory, and where he had no business arresting people in any fashion whatsoever) just to get his (i.e. Frederick's) poems back. (The poems satirized virtually all over European monarchs, so they were tricky contraband.) In any event, the grand project went on, Pigalle started with his work, and by the spring of 1771, there was a model that already predictably scandalized people (both because of the nudity in general in the depiction of a living person, and the decrepit nudity in particular). King Gustav III. of Sweden (no stranger to scandals himself, and a future that involved being assassinated at a masque ball) asked sarcastially whether he should donate a coat, which was fairly typical as a reaction. There was massive pressure on Pigalle to change his design for the statue. Voltaire himself, having worked through his doubts, had Pigalle's back and said: “Pigalle must remain the absolute master of his statue. It is a crime, in fine art, to cause hindrances to genius. It is not without reason that genius is depicted with wings: it must fly where and how it wants. I ask you to presently see M. Pigalle, and to tell him what I think, to assure him of my friendship, my gratitude and my admiration. All that I can say, is that I have only succeeded, in the arts I have undertaken, when I listened only to myself.”

Pigalle finished the statue in 1776, two years before Voltaire's death. It is dedicated to "“Monsieur de Voltaire, by the people of letters, his compatriots and contemporaries.”. And for many years, it gathered dust, first in Pigalle's studio, as Voltaire's niece and heir, Madame Denis, didn't want it, then in a variety of places including the Academie Francaise. Today, it's in the Louvre, in the Richelieu Wing (and placed in the centre of the Pigalle Room).

Now whether the Wollstonecraft statue will have a similar fate, who knows....

It's been 16 years (zomg!) since I wrote this post about how if German universities were like lj world (as it then was), Goethe/Schiller would be an incredibly popular pairing, listing some letter quotes as to why. The fannish world has turned quite a lot since then, and over the weekend, I saw there's now a neat assembly of fanfiction to choose from. Here are my two favourites so far:


Anakreons Grab: despite the German title, (gorgeously) written in English. Schiller pov, covers the entire relationship, is told in a non-linear fashion and circles around the three "first" meetings they had. (The sort of one when Schiller was still in Würtemberg as a cadet and the ten years older Goethe was visiting together with his Duke, Carl August, where we don't even know whether they talked, the incredibly awkward and unsuccessful one in Rudolfstadt where they were brought together by mutual friends which gave Schiller a few more years to obsess in love/hate from a distance, and the successful one after having both attended a lecture that Goethe later described as "Glückliche Begegnung" where they hit it off and started the most productive relationship between two German writers ever.) This is basically the Goethe/Schiller story of my dreams.


Die Metamorphose der Pflanzen: this one is written in German, and focuses on the successful meeting in question; also an intense Schiller pov, which makes sense, since the Goethe pov on that meeting was already written by Goethe himself, and it has a delightful Alexander von Humboldt cameo to boot!


Still on a literary note, mildred_of_midgard has summed beautifully why the 40-years-long relationship between Voltaire and Frederick the Great is so hilarious, passionate and tremendously entertaining to read about. Talk about two people totally deserving each other. :)

Another thing I aquired on my tour through England and Scotland was yet another volume of James Boswell’s journals. Which gave me all kind of crazy ideas (for example, Boswell meeting the Pirates of the Caribean characters would be a riot, and it might even fit with the very vague hints we get as to when the hell PotC is supposed to take place), and most of all made me want to do what things we’re enthusiastic about always do to us: spread the enthusiasm.

So, Boswell, James Boswell.. Who is he, and why should you bother reading his diaries? For starters and most obviously because they’re great fun and offer a look at the 18th century sans hindsight, 21st century glasses or censorship. Boswell was and is most famous because he wrote what is probably the most famous biography in the English language, the Life of Samuel Johnson; said biography had already managed to eclipse its subject’s work in the 19th century. People quoting Johnson were quoting him from the aphorisms he spouts in the Life, not from his own works. Johnson went from being one of the most famous writers of his day to being A Character; meanwhile, Boswell went from being Johnson’s Disreputable Sidekick (Macauly in the 19th century write a particularly vicious diatribe about what an unworthy, disgusting toadying fellow Boswell was and how the greatness of the Life came by sheer accident and certainly not due to any skill of Boswell’s) to The Literary Discovery (when his journals began to be edited, which started in the 1950s and ended in the 1990s; Boswell really wrote a lot of journals).

A lot of the charm of Boswell and his diaries lies in the contradictions. He was very observant (well, duh) and yet introspective; he could be enthusiastic as hell one minute and depressed in the next; he was a passionate Tory with a sneaking fondness for revolutions and rebels (hence was rooting for the Americans, saw Rousseau and Voltaire when he was visiting the Continent, which from the pov of both his father and Dr. Johnson, i.e. the men he revered most, was like visiting the devil), a lawyer who was never that successful because he invariably chose the cases no one else cared about, clients who hardly had any money – horse thieves, sheep thieves, drunken and unemployed veterans, conscripts who made it back to England from Australia and got caught – and yet was pro-slavery because he couldn’t see anything wrong with the system; a Scotsman proud of his heritage and simultaneously ashamed because everyone ridiculed Sots in those days; a man who wanted to be respected desperately and yet when things got boring invariably clowned around (once he imitated a cow in a theatre where the audience waited and waited for the curtain to rise); deeply in love with his wife and yet, the first three years of their marriage aside, unable to remain faithful to her; and so on, and so forth. Boswell describes figures of world history with the same detail and intensity he gives to descriptions of people we’d never heard about otherwise and who are insignificant to history, like his client John Reid (whom he saved from being hanged for stealing sheep the first time around but could not save the second time) or his children. (Boswell, who had a rather severe father, was himself a very enthusiastic one, and it amused but didn’t surprise me to find out in the Edinburgh journals that when his little daughter Veronica shocked him by declaring God didn’t exist, he did what one associates more with parents of the 20th than the 18th century – he consulted a guidebook. In vain, btw; it didn’t cover religious doubts. Boswell then didn’t reprimand Veronica but talked to her to find out how she got the idea.) Oh, and his sexual encounters and/or romances. One reason we’re lucky the journals didn’t get published before the 20th century – they would have been hopelessly cut otherwise, because of Boswell’s sex life.

And now I’m going to let the man speak for himself – and for some of his contemporaries:

( Of patriotism, sex, love, Shakespeare, polygamy, marriage and death )