Two things that amaze me about the European Enlightenment are the brilliance of its achievements and the stupidity with which it excluded much of humanity from its circle. Say, for example, you were an 18th-century Frenchwoman who wished to advance human understanding of the universe by doing experiments, discussing texts and comparing hypotheses with other experts. You could forget about joining any of the scientific or philosophical academies created for that purpose – they would not let you in. Instead, your best hope was to create a salon and make it fashionable. For this you had to be wealthy, so you could provide the snacks and wine, and you’d need a country château or a Paris apartment or both. Also, you’d have to have been lucky enough in childhood to have a supportive parent to give you an education. Finally, you would need a tolerant husband – the sort who would not panic if he saw a scandalous personage such as Voltaire around the house.
All these advantages were possessed by one of the most celebrated of Enlightenment women, the Marquise du Châtelet. Born Gabriele Émilie le Tonnelier-de-Breteuil in Paris in 1706, she had an encouraging father who taught her Latin and Greek. She then had the suitable husband, Florent-Claude du Châtelet, an aristocratic colonel who owned the château of Cirey-sur-Blaise in the Champagne region, and who was often away on military service. Even when at home, he did not mind seeing Voltaire – which was fortunate, since Voltaire was at Cirey a lot and was Émilie du Châtelet’s lover for a time.
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