The initial spark between Frederick the Great and Voltaire was more than just mutual admiration; it aligned revolutionary visions for governance and society.

In their extensive correspondence, which began in 1736, the two visionaries found common ground in their skepticism towards organized religion.

A letter Voltaire penned to Frederick on January 5, 1767, crystallizes their shared perspective: “You are perfectly right, Sire. A wise and courageous prince, with money, troops, and laws, can perfectly well govern men without the aid of religion, which was made only to deceive them.”

A “Philosophical Ruler”

For Voltaire, Frederick was a philosophical ruler, the embodiment of an enlightened aristocracy that could reform society from the top down. This sentiment echoes Voltaire’s disdain for the masses, whom he saw as “fools and rascals” susceptible to the snares of religion. In Frederick, he saw an opportunity for a philosophical aristocracy — a harmonious fusion of Enlightenment ideas with the practicalities of rule.

Voltaire’s arrival in Potsdam in 1750 was not merely a meeting of minds but a convergence of egos, each man keen to actualize their intellectual visions. Frederick aspired to transform his court into an epicenter of European intellectualism, a Prussian Athens. Voltaire, however, was not content to serve as an ornament; he saw himself as a gadfly, a provocateur whose role was to challenge and reform.

Voltaire’s eagerness to critique led him to scrutinize the issues of philosophy and religion and the concrete policies of Frederick’s rule. For instance, despite Frederick’s legal reforms, Voltaire pressed him further, asking if these reforms met the ideals of justice and human rights. The philosopher was undeterred, even brash, in his questioning, prompting discomfort within Frederick’s court, who had expected more compliance from their guest.

Frederick’s enlightened exterior concealed kingship’s traditional constraints and responsibilities, including the prerogative to protect his ego and authority.

When Voltaire engaged in a financial enterprise related to counterfeit bonds, Frederick felt insulted and threatened. Voltaire’s activities damaged the image of an enlightened court. They poked at Frederick’s inflated sense of his own wisdom and judgment. The public fallout from the scandal, leading to Voltaire’s house arrest, revealed a sovereign who would wield his power to suppress a voice that questioned his authority too profoundly.

Voltaire’s acerbic wit led him to openly satirize Maupertuis, Frederick’s close friend, and the Berlin Academy’s president.

The ensuing pamphlet, the Diatribe of Doctor Akakia, was a scathing critique that publicly humiliated Maupertuis and, by extension, Frederick himself. The pamphlet was publicly burned, symbolizing not just the deterioration of a friendship but the shattering of a utopian vision for an enlightened state.

For Voltaire, the burning of the pamphlet exemplified Frederick’s limitations as an enlightened ruler.

For Frederick, the audacity of Voltaire’s actions laid bare the philosopher’s disregard for the sensitivities and complexities of ruling. In these failures, the tragedy reached its final act — a grand disillusionment, both personal and ideological.

Voltaire and Frederick the Great were not merely two high-profile figures who failed to maintain a friendship; they were living embodiments of a tension as old as thought — the strife between the ideals of intellectual inquiry and the realities of political authority.

Their shared dreams, most vividly captured in their anti-religious visions, were insufficient to bridge the yawning gaps their roles as philosophers and rulers inherently presented.

A Failed Utopia

Voltaire sought a philosophical aristocracy, which he saw as a cure for society’s ills. Frederick aspired for a rule that would elevate Prussia to the epitome of enlightened governance.

Yet, when faced with the practical challenges of implementing such grand ideas, both were shackled by their limitations — Voltaire by his relentless probing and Frederick by his bounded authority.

In the collapse of their relationship, we see the disintegration of a dream of enlightened governance. This vision had held the promise of transcending the strife of opposites.

It remains an episode rich in lessons for any era where intellectuals and politicians are entangled in the perennial struggle to harmonize the realms of thought and power.

The Last Straw: Divergent Ideals and the Pamphlet that Ended It All

In 1750, Voltaire found himself in the court of Frederick the Great. Enamored by the philosopher’s intellectual prowess, the King granted him the role of a chamberlain, an appointment to the Order of Merit, and a yearly salary of 20,000 French livres.

Residing in the illustrious quarters of Sanssouci and Charlottenburg Palace, Voltaire initially thrived in this regal atmosphere. However, the honeymoon was short-lived. The philosopher found himself entangled in a financial scandal involving a Jewish financier, Abraham Hirschel, who acted on Voltaire’s behalf in investments related to Frederick’s sensitive diplomatic negotiations with Saxony.

The fissures in their friendship deepened when Voltaire released his Diatribe du Docteur Akakia, a scathing critique of Maupertuis.

Not only did the diatribe dismantle Maupertuis’s theories, but it also called attention to his questionable ethics. Frederick, incensed by this public humiliation of his confidant, ordered all copies of the document burned. At the beginning of 1752, Voltaire offered to resign from his esteemed positions, an offer that Frederick initially refused but ultimately accepted.

As Voltaire made his slow journey back to France, he was detained at Frankfurt by Frederick’s agents. An exchange of acerbic letters between the philosopher and the King ensued over a satirical book of poetry that Frederick had once lent Voltaire.

This Frankfurt episode exposed the despotic lengths to which Frederick was willing to go, compelling Voltaire to focus his ire on the King in his subsequent works.

Voltaire’s attempt to vilify Frederick reached its zenith in his posthumously published Mémoires pour Servir à la Vie de M. de Voltaire.

This text not only recounted the previous humiliations but went further by explicitly discussing Frederick’s homosexuality, framing it in a manner that portrayed the King as morally compromised.

As they parted ways, their relationship had transformed into a canvas of resentment.

Voltaire’s commitment to the freedom of inquiry clashed sharply with Frederick’s authoritarian inclinations, each revealing to the other their respective limitations regarding handling criticism and dissent. Their correspondence continued even after the Seven Years’ War, but the relationship was irrevocably damaged.

The interactions between Frederick and Voltaire serve as a tragic morality play, illuminating the pitfalls inherent in a partnership that mixes power with the intellectual pursuit of truth.

They both emerged as modern archetypes: Frederick as the ‘terrible father’ unwilling to be challenged, and Voltaire as the unwavering challenger, committed to exposing the truth regardless of personal cost. Their tale is a timeless illustration of what occurs when ideals clash between themselves and within the profoundly flawed individuals that embody them.

A Tragedy in the Vein of Sophocles’ Antigone

In understanding the tumultuous relationship between Frederick the Great and Voltaire, one is reminded of Sophocles’ Antigone, a tragedy portraying the lethal friction between authority and moral defiance.

Voltaire assumes the role of Antigone — representing the inviolable spirit of independent thought — and Frederick the Great, Creon — the embodiment of state authority and the “terrible father” archetype defined by Erich Neumann in analytic psychology.

When Voltaire and Frederick commenced their friendship through letters and, later, face-to-face at Potsdam, they were entangled in a web of mutual admiration and shared ideological goals, notably their disdain for the shackles of organized religion.

Both saw the potential for a unified vision, a new model of governance where intellectual illumination could marry political pragmatism.

Yet, the foundations that seemed to make them allies were the tectonic plates that would later rift apart, erupting into personal and ideological earthquakes.

Much like Antigone, who defies the state to honor the divine laws she holds sacred, Voltaire carried his philosophical ideals with unwavering integrity. In the court of Frederick, Voltaire was no mere sycophant; he served as a vociferous gadfly, questioning the King’s policies and moral undertones. His commitment to intellectual rigor was a ceaseless quest without regard for Frederick’s authoritative boundaries.

In the way that Antigone says, “Unwept, no wedding song, unfriended, now I go down the road made ready for me,” Voltaire was willing to face exile and shame rather than curtail his intellectual freedom.

He became increasingly isolated within a court that had presumed itself open-minded, a solitude exemplified by his financial and literary scandals. The spirit of Antigone lived within him — a fearless commitment to ideals, regardless of the cost.

Frederick the Great fits Erich Neumann’s description of the ‘terrible father,’ an archetype embodying autocratic authority. This figure seeks to impose his will upon the psyche of his constituents.

Frederick was not just protecting the sovereignty of his rule when he reacted to Voltaire’s actions but was acting as a father protecting his familial legacy, the Prussian state. His actions revealed a figure deeply uncomfortable with being questioned, echoing Creon’s intolerance for Antigone’s defiance.

This is evident in Frederick’s handling of the scandal involving Voltaire’s financial dealings and the public embarrassment inflicted upon Maupertuis.

Frederick’s reaction to these events was less a measured response and more an assertion of patriarchal control, proving that his capacity for enlightenment had its bounds.

Voltaire’s sharp critique and Frederick’s autocratic proclivities culminated in a rupture that could no longer be mended.

Both men failed to transcend their archetypical constraints — Voltaire couldn’t relinquish his moral integrity for the sake of political expediency, and Frederick couldn’t dissolve his domineering predilections in the crucible of enlightened governance.

This complex relationship did not merely end in personal disillusionment but disintegrated a vision of enlightened governance.

The strife between the roles of philosopher and ruler, crystallized in the archetypes of Antigone and Creon, also calls to mind the dual principles posited by Empedocles — Love and Strife — as elemental forces in the nature of things. In this metaphoric landscape, Love attempts to unify disparate elements, while Strife works to separate them.

Voltaire and Frederick initially came together under the aegis of Love, bound by intellectual curiosity and the promise of enlightened governance. However, Strife, manifest in the ceaseless intellectual rigor of Voltaire and Frederick’s insatiable need for patriarchal authority, gradually gained prominence.

Each man, in his interaction with the other, found himself confronting a mirror of limitations. Like particles in an Empedoclean universe, they were ultimately torn asunder, their friendship crumbling under the weight of these unyielding, elemental principles.

In this tragic downfall, we witness the catastrophic failure of two ‘great men,’ unable to harmonize the realms of intellect and governance, each captive to their own intractable nature. Their relationship serves as a cautionary tale, reminding us of the perpetual struggle to harmonize diverging realms of human endeavor.

It reaffirms that even in the face of mutual admiration and ideological alignment, the complexities of the individual psyche and the rigidity of roles can doom even the most promising of collaborations.

Voltaire and Frederick the Great: their Ressentiment

In our prior analysis of Voltaire and Frederick the Great, the contours of their relationship were set against the backdrop of Sophoclean tragedy. As a deeper layer, we introduce the notion of ‘ressentiment,’ a term most famously articulated by Friedrich Nietzsche, as a lens through which to scrutinize Frederick’s psychological state. This concept — born out of internalized envy and inferiority — provides a framework for understanding how a seemingly equitable intellectual friendship disintegrated.

The friendship between Voltaire and Frederick was initially marked by mutual respect and shared ideals, such as their disavowal of religious orthodoxy. Yet, from the beginning, an inequality was concealed within their exchange. Frederick fancied himself an enlightened despot, tolerant of ideas, and committed to modern governance. In contrast, Voltaire brought not just ideas but an indefatigable commitment to “Aletheia,” or truth, as a process of unconcealment. This inherent imbalance would later manifest as ressentiment in Frederick, whose pose as an equal interlocutor was but a façade.

Ressentiment can be said to occur when one recognizes one’s own limitations but lacks the ability or the will to confront them directly in the dynamic between Voltaire and Frederick, the former’s dedication to unobstructed intellectual pursuit unmasked Frederick’s more superficial commitment to enlightenment ideals.

The philosopher’s probing questions and fearless scrutiny were not merely academic exercises; they were existential commitments that Frederick, despite his intellectual pretensions, was not prepared to meet.

The crux of their ideological and personal schism lay here: Voltaire’s commitment to truth as unconcealment irrevocably exposed Frederick’s superficial engagement with enlightenment ideals.

This exposure led to a deep-seated ressentiment in Frederick, who found himself unable to reconcile his self-image as an enlightened ruler with the uncomfortable truths that Voltaire forced him to confront.

His autocratic tendencies, so deeply ingrained, clashed violently with his public image as an enlightened ruler — forming the psychic turmoil that can best be described as ressentiment.

Frederick’s ressentiment exacerbated his Creonian tendencies. His inability to bear his exposure by Voltaire — whose role as Antigone became more evident — resulted in punitive actions such as Voltaire’s forced seclusion and Frederick’s public disparagement of his former friend.

Here, the archetypes were reinforced: Voltaire remained committed to an Antigone-like stance, while Frederick retreated further into his role as the ‘terrible father,’ bolstered by a burgeoning sense of ressentiment.

The relationship between Voltaire and Frederick serves as a vivid illustration of how ressentiment can corrode even the most promising of intellectual partnerships.

While both figures were initially united in their desire for enlightenment, Voltaire’s unyielding commitment to the disclosure of truth revealed Frederick’s more ambivalent stance.

It was this existential divide, fermenting into ressentiment within Frederick, that catalyzed their tragic estrangement.

Their story offers a cautionary tale transcending its historical context, shedding light on the perils awaiting intellectual partnerships if the parties involved lack a genuine, equal commitment to truth.

This case reminds us that underneath the grandiloquent proclamations of philosophical and political ideals lies the much murkier domain of human psychology, where the battle between authenticity and ressentiment is ceaselessly waged.

References

Greek Tragedies: Volume I. (University of Chicago Press: 2012)

The Portable Voltaire. (Viking Penguin: 1977)