On 28 March 1727, Voltaire, already at thirty-three a notorious playwright, sometime royal favourite, sometime dissident, now exiled in London, attended the funeral of Isaac Newton. It was a seminal moment. Already convinced that Britain’s mixed constitution was superior to French absolutism and an admirer of Newtonian science, Voltaire interviewed Newton’s doctors, fascinated to discover that the scientist had died a virgin but also to hear from his niece that his theory of gravity originated in a falling apple. It was a passing of the baton: Voltaire saw himself as Newton’s heir.
Born François-Marie Arouet, the son of a lawyer, nicknamed Zozo in the family, Voltaire refused to study law and wrote poetry instead. When his father sent him to work for the French ambassador to Holland, his affair with a teenage girl known as Pimpette got him sacked just as his poem on the French regent’s incest with his daughter got him imprisoned in the Bastille. Later his cheek to an aristocrat got him beaten up and imprisoned again. Returning from England, he joined a consortium that bought up the state lottery, making a fortune. Next he fell in love with a talented, beautiful, younger writer, Émilie, marquise du Châtelet, and settled (with her husband’s permission) at her chateau where they wrote philosophy, history, fiction and science* – she translated Newton, he popularized Newton; and she was the first woman to have a paper published by the French Academy. Later they each took other lovers – he fell in lust with his niece – but remained partners until she died in childbirth.
In 1734, his
Voltaire was the first of the
Voltaire, who was richer and more famous than his cohorts, being an adept financier in addition to all his other talents, played the role of protector: when a young, poor writer got into trouble, Voltaire intervened. Denis Diderot, son of a provincial cutler who cut him off when he refused to enter the priesthood, was a messy, mischievous, manic force, curious about everything from hermaphroditism to acoustics, pouring out works that challenged royal and Catholic rule, love letters to his many paramours, novels and pornography: his
Yet it was not the end of the old thought: there were still plenty of religious fanatics; some