Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary — Edition Insights

The Dictionary as a Weapon Against Clerical Authority

The entry on Joan of Arc exemplifies Voltaire's method of using documented history to attack ecclesiastical power. He cites specific judges—Nicholas the Bird-Catcher—and describes how two priests hid behind serge to transcribe Joan's confession, calling this 'sacrilege in order to be murderers.' The target is not Joan alone but the forty-four French priests who condemned her 'for the English faction.' Voltaire does not invent motives; he draws from chronicles and the historian Villaret to note that Joan received her sentence 'with cries and tears,' a detail he treats as compatible with battlefield courage. This forensic approach—citing sources, naming names, exposing procedural abuse—runs through the dictionary. In 'Kissing,' he similarly invokes Molière-era comedies to illustrate social conventions, but the tone is lighter, almost playful. The contrast between the two entries shows how Voltaire adapts his voice to the subject while maintaining a consistent skepticism toward authority and received opinion.

The Reader as Co-Author: Voltaire's Provocative Invitation

In the preface, Voltaire declares that 'the most useful books are those of which readers themselves compose half.' This is not a modest disclaimer but a challenge. The dictionary's fragmentary structure—short entries that can be opened at any page—forces the reader to supply connections and judge the arguments. Voltaire expects an 'enlightened' audience capable of correcting what seems defective and strengthening what seems weak. Yet he also undercuts this ideal by noting that philosophical works are 'made only for philosophers,' while warning that 'every honest man must try to be a philosopher, without pluming himself on being one.' The tension between elitism and universal aspiration is deliberate. The entries themselves model this critical engagement: in 'Joan of Arc,' he refutes the myth that she was not burned by citing the official execution report, then dismisses impostors who 'want to be deceived.' The reader is thus trained to demand evidence and resist credulity.

Satire, Sarcasm, and the Limits of Enlightenment

Voltaire's wit is never far from the surface. In 'Kissing,' he pretends to apologize to 'boys and girls' for disappointing their expectations, then declares the article 'only for scholars and serious persons.' The joke is that the entry is indeed about kissing—but as a social and literary convention, not a titillating subject. He quotes Quinault's comedy to illustrate how valets asked for kisses, turning a potentially risqué topic into a footnote on theatrical manners. This self-conscious play with reader expectations is a hallmark of the dictionary. Yet the satire has a serious edge: the same author who mocks prudishness also condemns the 'absurd barbarism' of executing a woman for wearing breeches. The range of tones—from dry historical analysis to mocking aside—reflects Voltaire's belief that philosophy should be both rigorous and entertaining. The dictionary does not offer a unified system; it offers a method of questioning, one that relies on the reader's willingness to think alongside the author.

Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary rewards readers who treat it as a workshop rather than a reference work. The entries are deliberately uneven: some are dense with historical detail, others are brief provocations. The best approach is to read selectively, following the cross-references that link topics like 'Superstition' and 'Tolerance.' Pay attention to the footnotes and the sources Voltaire cites—they are part of the argument. And remember the preface's warning: the book is designed to make you compose half of it yourself.