The Structure and Form of the French Enlightenment, Volume 1: Esprit Philosophique
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The Structure and Form of the French Enlightenment, Volume 1: Esprit Philosophique
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Originally published in 1977.
The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780691644011 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Princeton University Press |
| Publication date: | 04/19/2016 |
| Series: | Princeton Legacy Library , #1690 |
| Pages: | 716 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.10(w) x 9.30(h) x 2.00(d) |
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The Structure and Form of the French Enlightenment
Volume I: Esprit Philosophique
By Ira O. Wade
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS
Copyright © 1977 Princeton University PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-691-05256-4
CHAPTER 1
FROM PHILOSOPHER TO PHILOSOPHE
DESPITE the many eighteenth-century attempts to define the philosophe, modern criticism has experienced some difficulty in marking out his nature and even in coming to some agreement as to his origin. The most recent attempt at definition has been Professor Gay's opening chapter in The Enlightenment (1966) entitled "The Little Flock of Philosophes." Mr. Gay presents them as "a loose, informal wholly unorganized coalition of cultural critics, religious skeptics, and political reformers." They were, he says, a "clamorous chorus," consisting partly of "discordant voices," but also of a "general harmony." And they united in "a program of secularism, humanity, cosmopolitanism, and freedom." They composed "a family — a noisy family." They were a "party" but without a "party line," although Mr. Gay has just accorded them "an ambitious program." When threatened with censure, they closed ranks, says Gay, who gives as example Helvetius's De l'esprit. It is not precisely a good example, since Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot penned refutations, which is not exactly a good way to close ranks. Still, Gay insists, they formed a "single army with a single banner," they constructed a coherent philosophy which turns out not to be so coherent after all as he presents it. This philosophy — "a dialectic interplay of their appeal to antiquity, their tension with Christianity, and their pursuit of modernity" — defines the philosophes and distinguishes them from other enlightened men of their age. The former were "modern pagans." Mr. Gay forgets to tell us what the other enlightened men were. And we are still in the dark as to their origin.
Of more help are the suggestions of Professor Spink (Free-thought from Gassendi to Voltaire, London, 1960) and Professor Pintard (Le Libertinage érudit, Paris, 1943). These two critics state rather categorically that the philosophes are the direct descendants of the free-thinkers of the previous century. In the opinion of Busson (La Religion des classiques, Paris, 1948), the philosophes, or rather the free-thinkers, are derived from the Italian naturalists of the sixteenth century. There is thus, if one accepts these views, from the early Renaissance to the Enlightenment a consistent development of a free-thinking, naturalistic philosopher into the philosophe.
These three scholars have, however, done very little to trace the evolution of the Italian naturalists into the free-thinkers and thence into the philosophes. Indeed, they are not in full agreement with each other on this matter. Pintard, for instance, rejects Busson's explanation that the seventeenth-century free-thinkers are derived from the Italian naturalists of the Renaissance, although he makes a fairly strong case for the continuity of thought from the free-thinkers to Bayle and Fontenelle. Busson, for his part, states that this development was neither continuous nor consistent. Professor Dieckmann, who has given much thought to the definition of the philosophe, has explicitly stated that "it is thus very probable that the libertin had little influence on the philosophic movement and that the apparent common traits can be explained by the use of the same sources." (See H. Dieckmann, Le Philosophe. Texts and Interpretation, St. Louis, 1948, p. 95.) But what are these sources à Could they be the seventeenth-century philosophers ? That would be a novel suggestion, since Lanson explicitly ruled out any interpretation which saw in the philosophic movement of the eighteenth century a continuation of the systematic philosophy of the seventeenth. (See G. Lanson, "Origines et premières manifestations de l'esprit philosophique dans la littérature fraçaise de 1675 à 1748," in RCC, 1910.) For his part, Brunetière saw the philosophy of the eighteenth century as a merging of libertinism and Cartesianism, while Professor Beyer rejected all notion of a merger and insisted that the philosophy of the Enlightenment was derived solely from the free-thinkers.
The effort to overthrow Aristotle's influence in philosophy began in the seventeenth century, but it was by no means a consistent revolt against the philosophers of antiquity, since Gassendi and his followers used the writings of Epicurus to overthrow the basic doctrine of Aristotle, whereas Descartes attempted to do the same through his own inventive genius, with much aid from St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure. The Aristotelian philosophy of qualities, the "formes substantielles," was sacrificed to a purely mechanical philosophy of movement. The emphasis tended to a more precise definition of the phenomena and more accurate measurements. The methods employed ranged from mathematics and the a priori to mathematics and the empirical. In a curious way, the revolt against Aristotle was not extended to the Greek atomists such as Leucippus and Democritus. The supreme problem was the nature of matter, that is, a definition of substance, and its relationship to thought, although everyone agreed that neither matter nor thought could be defined. Whether they could or not, every seventeenth-century philosopher from Montaigne to Bayle focused his attention upon some aspect of this central problem.
We must not fail to take into consideration the complex situation in philosophy during the whole seventeenth century. Between Montaigne and Bayle, it had been transformed completely. The major elements of this transformation are clear. By the end of the Renaissance, philosophy was no longer the hand-maiden of theology, particularly orthodox Christian theology. The human mind could not prove, interpret, or justify by reason the perennial philosophical problems. Therefore, the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, the existence of free-will, the nature of Providence, the nature of matter and of good and evil had to be accepted on faith or on revelation, or rejected as valid philosophical problems. Henceforth, theological dogma could no longer depend upon philosophical reasoning for support. When, for instance, Montaigne was told that Sebond's reasons for the defense of religion were weak, he replied that of course they were and thereafter he did not counsel according any great importance to the proofs of reason in religion. When Descartes offered his rational proofs for immortality, he still advised that belief in immortality be accepted on faith. This disclaimer of any efficacy in proving major problems of religion by the use of reason is present in every philosopher from Montaigne to Bayle. Yet, every philosopher used as best he could rational arguments to explain his position in metaphysical matters. The conclusions deduced can be so ambiguous that present-day criticism cannot tell exactly whether the position taken by these philosophers is genuine faith or a stratagem. But the result is not debatable. If the purpose of philosophy is not to prove theological points because it cannot do so, then it must have other purposes. Ultimately, such reasoning served to discredit the old metaphysics and also to shift the emphasis of philosophy to physics, natural science, and ethics. Only Pascal seems to have rejected this attitude, but we are none too sure that his rejection did not prevent him from completing his apology.
Some of our difficulties stem from the inadequate and strange notions we have as to the way ideas develop into philosophies and the way one system of philosophy merges with another, or even provokes another, or causes even numerous systems simultaneously to appear. Least of all do we know how ideas form themselves and communicate themselves to those who deduce from them other, more pertinent ideas. Finally, we cannot always distinguish between an author's system and what a disciple or disciples have made of it.
Some examples taken from the history of seventeenth-century philosophy will illustrate our dilemma. First, it is well known that while Descartes was busily engaged in elaborating his system, Hobbes published his De cive in Paris. One could hardly conceive of two philosophies more diametrically opposed. Moreover, after the Méditations appeared, Hobbes made objections to the work (as did others) to which Descartes made replies. Did these discussions modify Descartes's own thinking? Or the thinking of the Mersenne group? More important still, to what extent did Cartesianism merge with Hobbism in the first moment of the rise of modern philosophy to give a wholly new set of conditions for the development of modern philosophy? The objections and replies were translated and published in London in 1680 by William Molyneux. How did they affect the transmitters of Cartesianism to the eighteenth century, Bayle and Fontenelle? What influence did they have upon a Voltaire eager to forge a philosophy from his French antecedents and his new English acquaintances?
Our second example is even more curious. Historians of seventeenth-century ideas have always noted the opposition of Pascal to Descartes; indeed, the former's Pensées have practically always been considered as much of an attack upon Cartesianism as upon libertinism. So strong was the attack that Lanson offered Pascal as the main reason for the lack of success of Descartes in seventeenth-century France, and others, including Brunetière, have noted that as long as Pascal checked Cartesianism, eighteenth-century philosophy could not develop with any assurance. In 1670, the same year in which the Jansenists who were supposedly favorable to Descartes brought out a version of the Pensées, Spinoza brought out the Tractatus theologico-politicus, which also had some obvious relationship to Descartes's philosophy and which gave rise to over a hundred treatises of like nature from 1670 and 1730. Thus it is the prime work in the whole anti-Pascal movement. How can we measure its importance in relation to Descartes? Did it eventually eliminate Pascal as an opponent of Descartes and thereby make way for eighteenth-century philosophy ? What effect could this situation have had upon a compiler of philosophical ideas such as Bayle, who wrote a treatise on Descartes, who is thought (at least by Professor Schinz) to have had a great affinity with Pascal, and whose violent objection to Spinoza is fully the equal of Pascal's assumed rejection of Descartes?
A third example concerns Leibnizianism, which in the eighteenth century was often equated with Spinozism as a fatalistic philosophy. But more important was its relationship with Malebranche, the spiritual descendant of Descartes. Leibniz questions the integrity of Cartesianism and also opposes Newton. Thus a new situation arises in which Cartesianism refined with Malebranchism is in disaccord with Leibnizianism, which is likewise in disaccord with Newtonianism. What happens to Malebranche's philosophy in the public mind when it merges with Newtonianism? What happens when this Leibnizianism and Newtonianism have to merge with a revived form of Cartesianism, an opposing form of Pascalism now locked in a death struggle with one aspect of Spinozism ? This is Professor Hazard's crisis in another frame of reference, I suspect, but it is no less real for being philosophical.
These considerations are perhaps more important for their practical than for their theoretical effect, particularly in an age of philosophy. Involved in their comprehension is the nature of the thinking process, the relationship of thought and thinking to the external world and above all to the internal world. A preeminent problem is the relationship between "connaissance" and "conscience," and between these two factors and "being" and "doing." This was the central point of seventeenth-century philosophy, as Boutroux has shown. It is not enough to describe the aspects of the various philosophies, although to be sure if we do not describe them we can hardly expect to reach our ultimate goal of discovering their vital inner content.
Essentially, the problem is one of structuring; only insofar as we learn how to flow into the movement can we succeed in grasping this inner content, seizing the "passage" rather than the "etre," as Montaigne said. Every system of philosophy seems to create within itself or from itself a contradictory "system" to itself. A Descartes is opposed by a Pascal, a Pascal by a Spinoza, a Spinoza by a Bayle, a Voltaire by a Rousseau. It is in this opposition that the "passage" moves; a sloughing off, a reform, a "new" structure, in turn create a "new" form. One movement has to conform to the influences of innumerable other movements. Cartesianism has to conform to Newtonianism, Jansenism has to conform to Lockean psychology, Newtonianism has to adjust to Leibnizianism. The philosophers of the seventeenth century have to "reform" themselves into the philosophes of the eighteenth.
Complex as it was, the shift in philosophical inquiry from metaphysics to the physical and moral world could find favor with all the groups we have listed as free-thinkers — the Horatian poets, the Utopian novelists, the deists, the erudite humanists, the followers of Lucretius, Seneca, Cicero, the stoics and the Epicureans, the political thinkers, the moralists. When Bayle, for instance, in the article "Pyrrhon," said that science could work well in a world of appearances, he was merely stating a truism. The human mind was deemed by him quite capable of understanding problems which concerned the individual and his world, and Locke was of the same opinion.
We practically always assume, though for the most part tacitly, that the philosophe represents a change in the nature of the man rather than in the conception of philosophy. This, of course, is a mistake since it is a simple fact that a very important change in the study of philosophy began in the sixteenth and continued throughout the seventeenth century. Indeed, the inner mobility of the subject-matter of philosophy explains in part the unusually large number of first-class philosophers and the fierceness with which they debated one another. Consequently, it would not be amiss to shift briefly from the problem of the definition of a philosophe to the more relevant problem of what had philosophy become. However, it is difficult to arrive at a true perspective in matters of this sort by trying to define them while they are in a state of becoming because of our inability to isolate the truly relevant from our own private opinion as to what is important. Thus, when we begin to talk about the philosophe, we can easily slip into the trap of defining him, not as he was, but as we would like him to be. This is a natural and human tendency, but we must resist it because the philosophe is probably the most important factor in the Enlightenment and if we are not careful we can distort the definition of this essential character without even realizing what we are doing. I have tried to avoid that difficulty here by placing responsibility for the definition upon the Encyclopédie. I have also taken the further precaution of stressing two ideas. First, the circumstances surrounding the making of the Encyclopédie made necessary a character such as the philosophe. Second, these same circumstances also shaped the character of the philosophe.
We are now ready to look at what philosophy had become by the beginning of the seventeenth century, when it began to exhibit an autonomy of its own in many respects. No longer a subordinate ally of theology, it was a science in its own right. Metaphysics had become a special subject, while the natural sciences were now preoccupied with exploring nature in the interest of developing "les commodites de la vie" — those things which could be useful in enriching present-day life. The techniques used in the natural sciences have begun to be utilized in the human sciences also for the simple reason that these preoccupations are judged useful to human life in the here and now. These changes had wrought some significant modifications in other aspects of living: morality was being separated from the hegemony of religion, history was being freed from the domination of Providentialism, and politics was becoming a subject in its own right. These innovations, though far from being definitive between 16001680, were sufficiently great to bring about eventually a total reorganization of epistemology.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Structure and Form of the French Enlightenment by Ira O. Wade. Copyright © 1977 Princeton University Press. Excerpted by permission of PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS.
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Table of Contents
- Frontmatter, pg. i
- CONTENTS, pg. vii
- ABBREVIATIONS, pg. ix
- INTRODUCTION: FROM ART TO THE MAKING OF THE “ESPRIT PHILOSOPHIQUE”, pg. xi
- FROM PHILOSOPHER TO PHILOSOPHE, pg. 3
- FONTENELLE AND THE PHILOSOPHIC SPIRIT, pg. 26
- THE SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY PHILOSOPHERS AS SEEN BY THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, pg. 35
- THE REGENCY, pg. 87
- THE ENGLISH INFLUENCE, pg. 120
- FOREWORD, pg. 175
- RELIGION TO HOLBACH AND HELVÉTIUS, pg. 177
- ETHICS TO ROUSSEAU, pg. 240
- ESTHETICS TO DIDEROT, pg. 279
- POLITICS, pg. 313
- “MŒURS”, “LOIS”, AND ECONOMICS, pg. 435
- SCIENCE TO BUFFON, pg. 516
- PATHS TO THE SELF, pg. 583
- BIBLIOGRAPHY, pg. 652
- INDEX OF NAMES, pg. 671
- INDEX OF IDEAS, pg. 685