SOURCE: Brumfitt, J. H. “Voltaire Historian and the Royal Mistresses.” In Voltaire, the Enlightenment and the Comic Mode, edited by Maxine G. Cutler, pp. 11-26. New York: Peter Lang, 1990.

[In this essay, Brumfitt examines Voltaire's writings to and about royal mistresses. Brumfitt observes that while Voltaire was skilled at flattery, his overall view of these women appears to be dim, though he cautions against seeing Voltaire's treatment of mistresses as representative of his views about women in general.]

As Jean Sareil has vividly demonstrated,¹ Voltaire was a master of the art of the compliment. His flattery, it is true, had little success when directed towards the monarch he would probably most have wished to captivate: Louis XV. With royal mistresses, however, he was more fortunate. Mme de Prie, mistress of the due de Bourbon, was not, strictly speaking, a “royal” mistress, but it is tempting to include her here not only because of the power she wielded during the Duke's premiership, but also because her relations with Voltaire can be described as intimate.² In later years he was to enjoy the support of Mme de La Tournelle (later duchesse de Châteauroux) who tried her best to achieve his election to the Academy.³ Towards the end of his life he was to receive greetings (and “kisses”) from Mme Du Barry, to which he responded in verse.⁴ Most important of all was the long relationship with Mme de Pompadour whose protection and encouragement (and sometimes displeasure) he was to enjoy over a long period of his middle life. For a full and perceptive account of this it is once again to Jean Sareil that we are indebted.⁵

It was a re-reading of this account that prompted the present article. My aim, however, is a much more limited one. It is to examine the ways in which Voltaire, in his major historical writings, treats the royal mistresses of his own and earlier epochs of French history and to see what light this treatment throws both on his conception of what is important in history and on the limitations imposed on him by the society for which he wrote.

Voltaire had many aims as a historian and at times they were far from easy to reconcile. Some were avowed: a desire to avoid chronicles of wars and diplomacy and to produce instead an “histoire de l'esprit humain” which emphasised man's achievements in the arts and sciences; a wish to treat history with the objectivity of natural science; a desire (here already contradictions begin to arise) to give to historical writing an artistic form akin to that of classical tragedy and to introduce an important element of dramatic tension.⁶ Other aims were more covert, though they emerge clearly at times in Voltaire's correspondence as well as in many details of his actual narrative and the structuring of his works: a wish to “écraser l'infâme,” to denounce tyranny and religious bigotry and proclaim the virtues of liberty, tolerance and humanity.⁷ Lastly, there were the largely unavowed aims. Voltaire, “historiographe du Roi,” sought to write history which would be agreeable to the King; which would magnify the achievement of the monarchy or at any rate discreetly ignore details which the monarch (or “les grands”) would prefer to remain unmentioned. He hoped, initially, that his historical writings would bring him recognition and even glory at Court. If he had abandoned these hopes in his later years of exile, he would still have wished to see his historical works freely published in France and was prepared to make the compromises necessary to ensure this.

It is with these considerations in mind (with particular emphasis, where contemporary history is concerned, on the last one) that we must examine and evaluate what Voltaire has to say about the royal mistresses. It may seem appropriate, too, to begin with the age with which Voltaire was best acquainted—his own. This involves (leaving aside minor writings) consideration of two works: the Précis du siècle de Louis XV and (in its later chapters) the Histoire du Parlement de Paris. The former first appeared as a separate work in 1768, but much of its material had already been published as “updatings” of the Siècle de Louis XIV and some had formed part of the Histoire de la guerre de 1741 which Voltaire had begun during his brief period of favour at Court after 1745. The Histoire du Parlement had been written more hastily and with a more polemical purpose.

The Précis contains the briefest possible description of Mme de Prie: “jeune femme brillante, légère, d'un esprit vif et agréable”; it mentions the salient facts relating to her role in the repudiation of the young King's Spanish marriage and the subsequent choice of the daughter of Stanislas Leczinski, whilst asserting that the man behind the decisions taken was the financier Paris-Duverney. It describes her death after the disgrace of Bourbon: “elle mourut bientôt dans les convulsions du désespoir.”⁸ All this gives us only marginal insight into the character of one who may have been Voltaire's lover⁹ and whose role in the elevation of the future Queen of France was considerable. Still she was at least named and as she was long dead and Louis XV had disliked Bourbon anyhow, it was safe to name her. At this point, however, the curtain of silence descends. The three Mailly sisters are not named (not even Mme de Châteauroux). Nor are Mme de Pompadour and Mme du Barry, still less any of the more transient amours of Louis's eventful life. Discretion is clearly, in this field, Voltaire's guiding principle.

He is only marginally less discreet in the Histoire du Parlement. In this work, rapidly written, clandestinely published and appearing five years after Mme de Pompadour's death, Voltaire can not only name the marquise, but gives a short statement describing at least something of her role:

Il y avait alors une femme à la Cour qu'on haïssait et qui ne méritait pas cette haine. Cette dame avait été créée marquise de Pompadour par des lettres patentes dès l'année 1745. Elle passait pour gouverner le royaume, quoiqu'il s'en fallût beaucoup qu'elle fût absolue. La famille royale ne l'aimait pas, et cette aversion augmentait la haine du public en l'autorisant. Le petit peuple lui imputait tout. Les querelles du Parlement portèrent au plus haut degré cette aversion publique.¹⁰

Jean Sareil quotes this passage and observes that “Voltaire s'efforce de la juger avec l'impartialité et la sérénité d'un témoin et d'un historien” (134). Perhaps, whilst agreeing with this statement as a whole, one may have a certain doubt as to the appropriateness of the word “historien.” For if one expects measured judgements from a historian, one also expects that he will give us some of the evidence on which these judgements are based. This Voltaire does not do. This is his first mention of Mme de Pompadour, and “une femme à la Cour” does very little to define her status. The reasons why anyone should think that she governed France are not given, nor are those for the hostility of the royal family or the “petit peuple.” Information as to the date of her elevation to the rank of marquise has no obvious importance. The uninformed reader—some French-speaking Micromégas newly arrived from outer space—would find this paragraph almost as uninformative as the blank pages of the book left on earth by Voltaire's own visitors from other planets. The one other direct reference in the Histoire du Parlement, the assertion that “la marquise de Pompadour fit renvoyer de même le garde des sceaux Machault et le comte d'Argenson,” hardly does much to clarify her role, though it suggests that she was more “absolue” than had previously been indicated. One is tempted to conclude that excessive precaution has deprived of almost all value the little that Voltaire has to say about the royal mistresses of his age.

However, two considerations should lead us to avoid adopting such an extreme view. The first is the nature of the readership for which these works were intended. Neither was written for distant lands or a distant posterity. The Histoire de Parlement was an intervention in a current political debate and the final chapters of the Précis (“Des lois” and “Des progrès de l'esprit humain”) show that it had, in part, similar aims. Voltaire was writing for educated contemporaries and educated contemporaries did not need to be told that Mme de Pompadour had been the King's mistress, did not need to be told why the Church and the more devout members of the royal family should have no love for her. Nor did they need any explanation for the hostility of the “petit peuple,” for they were well aware that she was accused of extravagance and of being responsible for the highly unpopular Austrian alliance. Perhaps they had forgotten that Mme de Pompadour had been the first bourgeoise to become an official royal mistress; if so, the reference to the creation of the marquisat would have reminded them.

In the short paragraph on Mme de Pompadour, then, it is possible to see a whole series of what one may describe as coded messages or as trip-wires designed to set off in the mind of the reader a series of explosions of recognition. Moreover, in case the point may escape the reader, surrounding paragraphs draw attention to it. The power of Mme de Pompadour in ensuring the dismissal of Machault and d'Argenson (two ministers of whom, in general, Voltaire approved) has already been noted. But the paragraph before that on Mme de Pompadour contains a comment on the Seven Years War: “Une guerre très-mal conduite contre l'Angleterre et contre le nord de l'Allemagne, l'argent du royaume dissipé dans cette guerre avec une profusion énorme, des fautes continuelles des généraux et des ministres, affligeaient et irritaient les Français.” Voltaire makes no clear connection between the three paragraphs, but the reader who knew that Mme de Pompadour had been partly to blame for the war against Prussia and was largely responsible for the appointment of the incompetent Soubise who had led the French armies to disaster, could easily make his own connections.

Even though no names are named in the Précis, a similar technique is to be observed there. In 1744, in Metz, Louis XV fell ill and appeared near to death. Voltaire comments that:

Les moments de crise où il parut expirant furent ceux qu'on choisit pour l'accabler par les démarches les plus indiscrètes, qu'on disait inspirées par des motifs religieux, mais que la raison reprouvait et que l'humanité condamnait.¹¹

Mme de Châteauroux is not named, but the story of how clerical pressure had forced Louis to dismiss her at the time of his “death-bed” confession was well known. Voltaire's mention of it, however oblique, would evoke in the reader reflections on the monarch-mistress relationship and condemnation of clerical intolerance.

Mme de Pompadour, though likewise unnamed, leaves two sets of traces behind her in the Précis. The first, a comment on the Franco-Austrian alliance which led to the Seven Years' War, notes that “l'animosité de quelques personnes” in France had been aroused by Frederick the Great's “plaisanteries” (P 1483). Mme de Pompadour had, in fact, been the principal victim. The second, relating to the conduct of the war, is more important. Voltaire remarks that “des intrigues de la Cour” had been responsible for the dismissal of d'Estrées as army commander at the very moment of his victory over Cumberland (P 1487). This passage is followed by praise of d'Estrées's generalship and, a few pages later, by a description of the defeat of his successor, Soubise, at Rosbach. Soubise's own military qualities are, one is tempted to say, damned with faint praise and, though Voltaire does not actually say so, he was known to be Mme de Pompadour's nominee (P 1488).

Lastly, Mme du Barry. In a late addition to the Précis, after praising the achievements of Choiseul during his period of office, Voltaire writes: “La récompense que reçut le duc de Choiseul pour tant de choses si grandes et si utiles qu'il avait faites, paraîtrait bien étrange si on ne connaissait les cours. Une femme le fit exiler. …” The woman in question was Mme du Barry, but Voltaire neither names her nor discusses her motives (P 1554).

In the light of this evidence, then, we may modify our conclusion that excessive caution has led Voltaire to impose a total black-out on information regarding the mistresses of Louis XV. He does refer to them (mainly obliquely) in order to condemn their clerical opponents or, somewhat more frequently, to point to the unfortunate results of their influence on political affairs. Yet he does so only rarely. Nowhere, moreover, does he so much as touch on their intimate relations with the King, nowhere does he comment on their appearance or character, nowhere does he offer us any of those revealing anecdotes which lend attractiveness to historians of a different stamp.¹²

Is this purely precaution? is it that Voltaire thinks such material unworthy of the serious historian? or is it simply that he is uninterested? To answer this question we must turn to an earlier age about which he could write with relative freedom from fear of censure.

Henri IV had been assassinated at the beginning of the previous century. He had become (partly with Voltaire's assistance) probably the best loved of French monarchs. There was no need to be silent about his amorous adventures, for le vert galant was both renowned and admired for them. In the ninth canto of his Henriade, Voltaire does full justice to the most celebrated of Henri's amours—that for Gabrielle d'Estrées—which is described with all the wealth of voluptuous terminology of which the eighteenth century was capable. Voltaire could depict “romantic” and sensual love when he chose to. Yet he chose to do so here in the context of an epic poem—one which was largely modelled on Virgil and which, in consequence, demanded the inclusion of a love-episode comparable with that of Dido and Aeneas. If we turn from the epic poet to the historian we get a very different picture. Not totally, perhaps, for after having briefly dismissed Daniel's account of Henri as pedestrian, Voltaire turns to Bayle's remark about the King: “si on l'eût fait eunuque, il eût pu effacer la gloire des Alexandre et des César.” He proceeds to ridicule this, insisting that there is no opposition between military courage and sexual virility.¹³ The love affairs themselves, however, are not deemed worthy of mention. Gabrielle d'Estrées is only spoken of as the recipient of a letter Henri wrote just before his conversion (538). When, some pages later, he returns to the theme, Voltaire expresses himself in the most general terms: “Ceux qui reprochent encore à Henri IV ses amours si amèrement ne font pas réflexion que toutes ses faiblesses furent celles du meilleur des hommes, et qu'aucun ne l'empêcha de bien gouverner” (548). Voltaire the historian has no interest in Henri's mistresses as such; such “moral” comments as he makes refer purely to the King himself. He is, moreover, much more interested in Henri's religious than in his sexual motivation. Even in dealing with a period where censure is unlikely and where there is ample material for a detailed portrayal of a royal “love-life,” he avoids a “romantic” approach.

Voltaire called the Siècle de Louis XIV “l'ouvrage de toute ma vie”¹⁴ and it is certainly the most intensively researched of all his historical works. As far as the role of royal mistresses was concerned, he could be, indeed had to be, far less reticent than in dealing with his own times. The La Vallière story, calculated to bring tears to the eyes of the sentimental, was too well-known to be ignored. Mme de Montespan might have had less appeal to the reader's emotions, but the mother of one (the duc du Maine) who might very possibly have become king of France could scarcely be omitted. Least of all could Mme de Maintenon be left out of the picture. Her personal history was a fascinating one, her political influence in the last decades of Louis's life could have been decisive. Moreover, aspects of the influence of each of these royal mistresses had been discussed by earlier historians—writers like Larrey or Limiers whom Voltaire scorned, but nevertheless often copied.¹⁵ More and more memoirs of the period (La Fare, Dangeau, Torcy, Saint-Simon) were being published or at least becoming known. Yet this increased openness was by no means total. Louis XV cherished his ancestor's reputation and had no desire to see it placed under the scrutiny of journalists or historians.¹⁶ His government had already taken offence at the politico-religious stance of the opening chapters of the Siècle published in 1739.¹⁷ President Hénault, an old friend of Voltaire's, but one now close to the Queen, could temper his initial enthusiasm for the Siècle with a remark such as: “Il raconte le mariage de madame de Maintenon et en fait l'apologie, matière hardie et délicate sur laquelle il y a à réfléchir.”¹⁸ A more hostile critic, the abbé Guyon in his Oracle des nouveaux philosophes of 1759 could still take Voltaire to task for having the effrontery actually to name Louis's mistresses.¹⁹

In writing about the seventeenth century, then, Voltaire still faced taboos, even if they were more relaxed than those which applied to the history of his own times. This did not worry Voltaire unduly, for though he included four chapters of “Particularités et anecdotes,” he had no intention of writing a “chronique scandaleuse.” The chapters range widely from descriptions of Court festivities, via the story of the man in the iron mask, to details of Louis's generous subvention of the arts and sciences. There is, nevertheless, a significant emphasis on the galanterie of the Court of the young King and on amorous liaison—not merely famous ones such as that of Lauzun and Mademoiselle, but more unlikely ones such as those of Louvois or Bossuet. Louis's own early flirtations—with Marie Mancini or Henriette d'Angleterre—receive brief mention, but his three most lasting mistresses, each in her own way, are treated more fully.

The story of Mlle de La Vallière contained everything calculated to appeal to an âme sensible. La Beaumelle (not the first to exploit the subject) introduces a long and imaginative account of her love for the King into his Mémoires de Mme de Maintenon.²⁰ Voltaire, seizing on one description of the royal mistress “dans un déshabille léger” dreaming of her lover, protests: “est-il permis d'ecrire ainsi l'histoire?”²¹ Yet he himself introduces a greater element of galanterie and pathos into his comments on La Vallière than is usual for him. “Il goûta avec elle le bonheur rare d'être aimé uniquement pour lui-même”; “tous les divertissements publics que le roi donnait étaient autant d'hommages à sa maitresse”; “Le Roi, parmi tous les regards attachés sur lui, ne distinguait que ceux de Mlle de La Vallière” (P 904-06). A few pages later, Voltaire devotes a moving paragraph to a description of her withdrawal to a convent when she had lost her place in the King's affections to Mme de Montespan (P 915). We are left with an impression of douceur, tendresse and resignation coupled with reflexions on the vanity of power. There is enough colour and feeling in this portrait to differentiate it from that of other royal mistresses. Yet Mlle de La Vallière had little influence on political events and it perhaps for this reason that Voltaire turns quickly to Mme de Montespan. Her portrait, however, is scarcely more detailed and the reasons for her success only barely explained. We learn that she and her sisters were “les plus belles femmes de leurs temps, et toutes trois joignaient à cet avantage des agréments singuliers dans l'esprit” (P 919). A brief description of the flamboyant progress in the King's campaign in Flanders in 1670 and a suggestion that she may have tried to interfere in the Lauzun affair prepare the way for a reference to her “emportements altiers” when she was losing Louis's favour (P 929). Though these are the only overtly uncomplimentary words Voltaire uses, his narrative more than once implies criticism of her excessive ostentation. As to her power, he is more undecided. Initially she is described as “toute-puissante,” but it is later emphasised that she did not share in “le secret du roi” (P 918, 920).

Mme de Maintenon had played a role in the life of the King and of the nation far greater than that of her predecessors. Though, as we have seen, her story was “modern” enough to require to be treated with caution, it could be told without the restrictions that applied in Mme de Pompadour's case. In the Siècle, Voltaire devotes considerable space to her.

Here he was faced with two problems which had not presented themselves in the other cases we have considered. The first concerned the authenticity of his sources. The most important of these were Mme de Maintenon's own letters. Some of them had been published and Voltaire used them. The majority, however, were in the hands of La Beaumelle, who did not publish them until after the first appearance of the Siècle. Voltaire had tried in vain to consult them and had expressed his fears lest they should contradict his own work. When they did appear, he borrowed from them in later editions and, whilst expressing his doubts about the dating of some of them, accepted their overall authenticity, asserting the they had “un caractère de naturel et de vérité qu'il est presqu'impossible de contrefaire.” Many contemporaries were unconvinced and subsequent editors have discovered many inaccuracies and probable forgeries.²² Voltaire's judgement shows both naivety and lack of critical precision—qualities more fully exempli-fied in his attacks on Richelieu's Testament politique.²³ To naivety was soon to be added bitter prejudice. La Beaumelle's Lettres were followed by his biography of Mme de Maintenon and by this time the two men had become mortal enemies. The historian who had accepted the Lettres could scarcely find a word of truth in the Mémoires de Mme de Maintenon and the Siècle was augmented (one is tempted to say disfigured) by many angry footnotes abusing La Beaumelle. To naivety and prejudice one can add at least one case of clear dishonesty.²⁴ Voltaire's discussion of Mme de Maintenon reveals one of the less attractive features of his historical writing.

The other (less serious) problem arises from the way he presents his material in the Siècle. Mme de Maintenon first appears in the chapters dealing with military and political affairs. Only later, among the “Particularités et anecdotes” is her lifestory recounted. Finally, her role in religious affairs finds its place in the closing chapters. The three facets of her activity and personality are thus never united.

Nevertheless, Voltaire's overall presentation, though discreet, is both thorough and balanced. Her early years are briefly described (though Voltaire avoids explaining the religious and political conflicts behind them). Her marriage to Scarron, her role as governess to the duc du Maine are more fully related. Her douceur, esprit and conversational ability, rather than her beauty account for her displacement of Mme de Montespan. Voltaire presents her as modest in her demands for her family and in her submission to the royal will, whilst not hiding her ambition.²⁵

One could add further details from the chapters on “Particularités et anecdotes.” It is perhaps more interesting to note a certain contrast between Voltaire's benign attitude here and that which he has earlier adopted when dealing with political events of the later years of Louis's reign. A footnote on Catinat (whose generalship Voltaire praises) blames his failure at Court on the hostility of Mme de Maintenon: “Il paraît que le peu de connaissance qu'avait cette dame des affaires et des hommes, et les mauvais choix qu'elle fit, contribuèrent depuis aux malheurs de la France” (P 775). Voltaire is equally scathing on her choice of Chamillart as minister: “Mme de Maintenon, avec toutes les qualités estimables qu'elle possédait, n'avait ni la force, ni le courage, ni la grandeur d'esprit nécessaire pour soutenir la gloire d'un Etat” (P 811). Her political role, then, is seen as disastrous. If one turns to the chapters on religious affairs, the tone is far less scathing, but the emphasis is on Mme de Maintenon's weakness: “Ces reliques qu'il (Louis) avait la faibless de porter, lui avaient été données par Mme de Maintenon” (P 949). Again, speaking of Noailles and the Jansenist dispute, Voltaire remarks, à propos of Mme de Maintenon: “Cette seule affaire pourrait faire connaître le caractère de cette dame, qui n'avait guère de sentiments à elle et qui n'était occupée que de se conformer à ceux du roi” (P 1079).

If we turn to the chapter on Calvinism and to the Repeal of the Edict of Nantes for a final judgement based on an issue close to Voltaire's heart, we shall be disappointed. Mme de Maintenon is not even mentioned. Perhaps his most measured judgment in the Siècle (though it was later to be modified)²⁶ is that to be found in the Catalogue des écrivains:

On voit par [les lettres] de Mme de Maintenon qu'elle avait épousé Louis XIV; qu'elle influait sur les affaires d'Etat, mais qu'elle ne les gouvernait pas; qu'elle ne pressa point la révocation de l'Edit de Nantes et ses suites, mais qu'elle ne s'y opposa point; qu'elle prit le parti des molinistes parce que Louis XIV l'avait pris. …

(P 1183)

One may conclude that here, as in the case of Mme de Pompadour, Voltaire is exhibiting impartiality and serenity. Yet given the different sorts of evidence he presents us with, one may also feel that he is sitting on the fence.

What conclusions can we draw about the historian's treatment of royal mistresses? Most of them tend to be negative. Though he has more to say about those of his own times than is immediately apparent, a cautious silence dominates. Silence on certain topics remains characteristic of his treatment of those of the previous century. The author of La Pucelle or Candide was no prude, but the historian thought that the secrets of the bed-chamber should remain secret and only rarely does he introduce a hint of “romantic” love. He has nothing to say, either, apart from one quotation from Mlle de La Vallière²⁷ on the moral position of the royal mistress. In so far as he reflects on the desirability or otherwise of royal extra-marital relationships,²⁸ he does so from the point of view of the King. Only in one or two brief and indirect references does he touch on the Church's opposition to adultery in relation to the royal mistresses, though this is an issue on which one might well have expected him to take some sort of stand.

If more positive conclusions can be drawn, they relate to the political rather than the personal role of the royal mistresses. Mme de Maintenon, Mme de Pompadour, Mme du Barry and (to lesser extent) Mme de Châteauroux have all exercised a degree of political power and in most cases they have abused it, or at least proved incapable of using it wisely. It would perhaps be rash to try to extrapolate from these examples any general anti-feminist conclusion; Voltaire's admiration for Catherine the Great would seem to dispel such a suspicion. Yet Voltaire is coming near to saying that the woman who possesses the qualities of an ideal royal companion is unlikely to possess those of an ideal prime minister. Such may be the only positive sociological conclusion we can draw from this study. If so, we may take some comfort from Voltaire's own well-known suspicion of Montesquieu-like generalisation. If no general thesis can be extracted from his treatment of the royal mistresses, this is perhaps precisely what he himself would have wished.

Notes

1. J. Sareil, Voltaire et les grands (Geneva-Paris, 1978), pp. 135-45.

2. See R. Pomeau, D'Arouet à Voltaire (Oxford, 1985), pp. 184ff.

3. See A. de Broglie, Frédéric II et Louis XV (Paris, 1885) II 31ff and Sareil, p. 58.

4. See Th. Besterman, Voltaire (Oxford, 1976), p. 554.

5. Besterman, pp. 103-34.

6. See, inter alia, the Introduction to E. Bourgeois's edition of the Siècle de Louis XIV (Paris, 1914); that to R. Pomeau's edition of Voltaire's Œuvres historiques (Paris, 1957); H. T. Mason, Voltaire (London, 1975), pp. 32ff; or J. H. Brumfitt, Voltaire Historian (Oxford, 1956), pp. 46ff. and 160ff.

7. J. H. Brumfitt, “History and Propaganda in Voltaire,” Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century (hereafter SVEC), XXIV (Geneva, 1963), pp. 271ff.

8. Œuvres historiques, éd. Pomeau, pp. 1315-19. Subsequent references to this edition will be designated by ‘P’ and page number(s) both in the footnotes and in the text.

9. This is affirmed categorically by Besterman, p. 113.

10. Œuvres complètes, éd. L. Moland (Paris 1877-85), XVI 92.

11. P 1365. Broglie, II 334ff., gives a full account.

12. Among these one may single out the highly readable biography of Mme de Pompadour by Nancy Mitford (1954).

13. Essai sur les mœurs, éd. Pomeau (Paris, 1963), II 529. Subsequent page references to this edition will appear in the text.

14. Letter to Cideville, 26 June 1735. In Besterman's definitive edition of Voltaire's correspondence which forms part of the Complete Works now in progress (Oxford 1958-) the letter is numbered D885. Subsequent references to the correspondence will take this form.

15. See P 7 and P 606. A forthcoming article by M.S. Rivière, “Voltaire's use of Larrey and Limiers in Le Siècle de Louis XIV” (Forum for Modern Language Studies) examines the subject fully.

16. See N. R. Johnson, Louis XIV and the Age of the Enlightenment, SVEC, CLXXII (Oxford, 1978).

17. P 27. For further details see Bourgeois, pp. xiv-xv.

18. See Hénault's letter to d'Argenson, 31 Dec 1751 (Best. D4641).

19. (Berne, 1759) p. 318.

20. (Geneva, 1757) I 243ff.

21. Lettre à l'auteur des honnêtetés littéraires, Œuvres, éd. Moland, XXVI 162.

22. The latest and best-informed study of La Beaumelle's work on Mme de Maintenon and of his quarrel with Voltaire is Claude Lauriol's La Beaumelle (Geneva-Paris, 1976) especially pp. 259-403.

23. See Brumfitt, Voltaire Historian, pp. 147-60.

24. P 1080 and see Pomeau's note. Voltaire cites his earlier knowledge of one previously published letter in a manner calculated to imply that he knew them all.

25. P 933ff. It is noteworthy that La Beaumelle in his Mémoires pour servir à l'histoire de Mme de Maintenon (Geneva, 1757) lays far greater stress on Mme de Maintenon's love of gloire and on her pride (I 164, 165, and 175).

26. On his later hesitations, particularly on Mme de Maintenon's role before and after the Repeal of the Edict of Nantes, see G. Gargett, Voltaire and Protestantism SVEC, 188 (Oxford, 1980), pp. 245-46.

27. “Je dois pleurer sa naissance encore plus que sa mort,” she said in her convent, hearing of her son's death (P 915). However, there is no indication that Voltaire agreed with her sentiments.

28. Voltaire is careful not to suggest that there was a sexual relationship between the King and Mme de Maintenon before their secret marriage.