Gay and Lesbian Review March-April 2018

pardonable weaknesses, and the other is innocence itself, virtue, prudence and goodness melded together.” What these “few pardonable weaknesses” were, Voltaire would not reveal. However, other members of high society might recall a few de- tails about the Marquis de Villette: indecorous flings and in- discreet trysts with actresses ending in duels to which the Marquis would simply not show up. They were probably just feints to throw society off the scent of his real indiscretions, which were known at first only to the constabulary. Police lieutenant Jean-Charles-Pierre Lenoir had twice caught the Marquis de Villette in compro- mising situations with men in the shrubbery of the Jardin des Tuileries, not too far from where the cruising area is situated today, as I found out from my extended research. Anxious to maintain public order, Lenoir was able to arrest the common- ers of this trysting place but not the nobleman himself, who was above the law. Lenoir, however, was able to persuade one of the plebs, Villette’s secretary, Carrier, into spying on his master for a period of time. Villette’s free range in the gardens must have been curtailed by the informant’s revelations, for we hear of no further dalliances. This could also be due to the thickets and the bowers having been uprooted in an attempt, in turn, to uproot “the shameful industry of Sodom” and to thwart “its fanatics who prowled the garden paths.” However, the hal- lowed grounds of the Père Lachaise Cemetery remained avail- able, as they are today, for nocturnal interludes among the overgrown crypts. Despite Voltaire’s enthusiasm to join in marriage two of his favorite people, it was not an inspired union. Even though it en- gendered at least two daughters and a son—the requisite heir!— alas, there was to be no enduring happiness for either parent. Perhaps the Marquis de Villette had relied on the naïveté of “Belle et Bonne” to enable him to perpetuate his secret liaison with the Marquis de Thibouville under the same roof. It is doubtful that the Marquise de Villette ever became aware of her husband’s infidelities with a man. Voltaire, however, must have been mindful of the Marquis’ proclivities. He writes to his friend and fellow philosophe Jean le Rond d’Alembert: “M. de Vil- lette has consummated his marriage. ... It is a beautiful conver- sion that will be a great honor for philosophy, if it lasts.” D’Alembert responds: “This convert needs, in order to assure his conversion, to spend several months in your church, and to go to you for his catechism. I strongly wish that your instruc- tions will complete this cure.” Villette might have basked quietly in Voltaire’s aura for years, but he could not silence the clarion call of his nature. Hid- ing his sexuality under a bushel was not one of his talents. Even- tually, Villette came out of the armoire (there were no closets in those days), and his lust for other men became widely known. Even the Marquis de Sade came up with a quip about Villette: when a new type of carriage became popular, Sade baptized it “voiture à la Villette,” since one entered it from the rear. Voltaire never quipped about Villette, although he did per- haps, just once, quip about Thibouville in his long satirical poem, The Maid of Orleans . Here is my quick translation, but not in rhyming decasyllabic couplets: Such have been seen like Thibouville and Villars, Imitators of the first of the Caesars, All inflamed by the fire that possesses them, Head lowered, waiting for Nicomedes; And assisting, by frequent lunges, The valiant thrusts of their Picardian lackeys. In case you prefer an older interpretation in verse, here is one from 1899: So we are told Thibouville and Villars, Who imitated Caesar from afar, Inflamed by the fire which was their fate, With lowered heads would Nicomander wait, And frequently with vigorous emprise Their Picard lackeys’ bodies fertilize. (I think this version gets it backwards.) And here’s a more con- temporary version, in prose, from 1758: “Thus Thibouville and Villars, in imitation of the first Caesar, when devoured by the fire of unnatural lust, with heads declined, sigh for the loved in- sertion of their Nicomedeses, and dexterously second the home efforts of their vigorous lacqueys.” The Maid of Orleans has such a convoluted history that a quick summary might be helpful. Voltaire started his satire on Joan of Arc in 1730 and passed it around to friends in manu- script form. Never did he dream of publishing it, as such an ir- reverent text would have brought him more grief than it was worth. However, so many spurious versions were published— in London, Liège, Frankfurt, Amsterdam, and Paris—that Voltaire decided to publish his own official version in 1762, from which the most scurrilous portions were expunged. Thi- bouville must have forgiven Voltaire for the offending passage, or believed that these verses did not come from his quill, for their correspondence continued unabated until Voltaire’s return to Paris and his move into Villette’s home. There is no evidence that Voltaire shared his friends’ sexual proclivities. He was too busy extolling the “big tits” and “suc- culent ass” of Madame Denis, his niece, who was his junior by eighteen years. Still, his treatment of the “anti-physique” theme is everywhere in his works, such as in an article titled “ Amour nommé Socratique ” in his Philosophical Dictionary ; the scenes in Candide in which Cunegonde’s brother—an aristocrat, a priest, and a homosexual, in that order—appears. There is no underlying criticism, no judgment about the baron of Thunder- ten-Tronckh’s homosexuality. Instead, what Voltaire criticizes mercilessly is that the baron is simultaneously a nobleman and a clergyman—the “infamy” in his “ Écrasez l’Infâme! ” One can surmise why homosexuals were not targets of Voltaire’s re- proach: they played no role in curtailing the rights of others in society or denying the oppressed the possibility of bread and happiness. Voltaire cared less about sexual orientation than about the favoritism and privilege enjoyed by the nobility and the clergy. Two of Voltaire’s best friends were gay, and I have my sus- picions about a third, the Marquis d’Argenson, the creator of the Arsenal Library. The three of them were among those he called his “angels,” who helped him to vanquish his enemies. With his trademark tolerance and humanity, Voltaire accepted his gay friends with aplomb, created gay characters who were villainous for other reasons, and lived his final days succored, and loved, by intimate friends who were “anti-physiques.” 14 Th' Gay & L'sb%an R'v%'w / oRLd ide