The Enlightenment and intellectual

This book had its origin in the surprise I experienced many years ago when considering the
fundamental change in thinking and valuing that oc curred during the period stretching from the
second half of the seventeenth century until the end of the eighteenth. Curious to know what the
intellectual principles of modern thought were, I made a study of the beginnings of mod ern
culture before turning to the critical epoch that forms the subject of the present book. It soon
appeared that no direct causal succession links the hu manism of the fifteenth century with the
Enlightenment. When Max Weber described modernity as the loss of an unquestioned legitimacy
of a divinely instituted order, his definition applies to the Enlightenment and the subse quent
centuries, not to the previous period. We ought to avoid the mistake made by Jacob Burckhardt
in The Civilisation of the Renaissance in Italy, and often repeated in the twentieth century, of
interpreting the Renaissance as the f irst stage of the Enlightenment. It is true, though, that the
early period intro duced one fundamental characteristic of modern culture, namely, the creative
role of the person. Yet that idea did not imply that the mind alone is the source of meaning and
value, as Enlightenment thought began to assume. To investi gate what is new in the basic
concepts of this later period of modernity and to f ind out how it has affected our own culture has
been the purpose of this study. The Enlightenment enjoys no high regard in our time. Many
consider its xi xii Introduction thinking abstract, its feeling artificial. To its modern critics, the
very term evokes form without substance, universality without particularity. They are dismayed
by the claim that the Enlightenment, concluding centuries of dark ness and superstition,
introduced a new age of freedom and progress. The condescending attitude of the ‘‘enlightened’’
toward the rest of our species impresses them as arrogant. Certainly the French philosophes felt
little respect for the herd they were so confidently leading to truth. They also tended to
exaggerate the significance of their achievements. Baron Grimm, a friend of Diderot who issued
a bulletin about cultural life in Paris, cast an ironical eye on the pretenses of his age: ‘‘Il me
semble que le dix-huitième siècle a surpassé tous les autres dans les éloges qu’il s’est attribué
lui-même. . . . Je suis bien éloigné d’imaginer que nous touchons un siècle de la raison.’’∞
Rarely did the Enlightenment attain true greatness in the visual arts. Some painters have left us
major works. Watteau, Chardin, La Tour, Tiepolo, Rey nolds, and Gainesborough immediately
come to mind. But the eighteenth century lacked the explosive creativity of the preceding two
centuries. This holds true even more for sculpture: we remember most of the works only because
of the models they portrayed. The case of literature is more complex. French, English, and
German prose attained classic perfection during that period. The works of Hume, Johnson,
Fielding, and Gibbon in Britain, of Voltaire, Rousseau, and Fénelon in France, and of Wieland
and Lessing in the German lands continue to serve as models of elegant, precise, and powerful
expression. But little memorable lyrical poetry appeared between Milton and Wordsworth. Or
between Ronsard and Lamartine. Dramas were better per formed than ever, particularly in
England, which also produced excellent com edies. But few major tragedies were written
between Racine and Schiller. Music and architecture enjoyed a glorious season. Yet some of its
greatest composers—Handel, Bach, Haydn—still drew their inspiration from the spir itual
impetus of an earlier age. Significantly, we refer to eighteenth-century composers as Baroque
artists. The splendid architecture of the time also, by large part, continued to build on earlier
foundations. In Spain, Bavaria, and Austria, the Baroque style culminated in the eighteenth
century, while English and French classicism continued to be inspired by Renaissance principles.
In contrast to the often mediocre quality of its artistic achievements, the Enlightenment displays
a veritable passion for ideas. The second half of the seventeenth century and the first one of the
eighteenth witnessed the break through of modern science and the establishment of new
scientific methods. Newton changed not only our world picture but our very perspective on
reality. There is hardly a field in which his influence does not appear. The historical works of
Montesquieu, Voltaire, Gibbon, and Herder form the ma Introduction xiii jestic entrance to
modern historiography. Equally striking is the sudden emer gence of major philosophers:
Spinoza, Leibniz, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume. Kant, the most gifted thinker of the period and
the one who brought its ideas to a synthesis, largely defined the course of philosophical
reflection for the next two centuries. The very contrast between the Enlightenment’s stunning
accomplishments in history, science, and philosophy and the lesser ones in the f ine arts (again,
with the exceptions of music and architecture) highlights its intellectual orientation. It was first
and foremost a breakthrough in critical consciousness. Those who criticize its one-sidedness are
unquestionably right. But they ought to remember that they attack the movement with the very
weapon forged by the object of their attack: that of critical reflectiveness. In this book I intend to
analyze some of the guiding ideas of the Enlighten ment, in particular those that have been
instrumental in shaping our own assumptions, attitudes, and values. By tracing them to their
origins we may hope to gain some insight into principles we had long taken for granted but have
recently come to question. The catastrophic wars fought during the twentieth century, its social
upheaval, and the environmental predicaments caused by the very technology responsible for
that century’s greatest triumphs force us to reexamine its moral foundations. Because of their
problematic con sequences in our own time, many now reject the assumptions of the Enlighten
ment. My own assessment will be more favorable and my critique less radical. One severely
oversimplifies the nature of eighteenth-century thought in dis missing it as rationalism. The
rationalist tendency did indeed exist, but so did others pointing in the opposite direction. One
might just as well describe the Enlightenment as an era of sentimentality. In disregarding the
variety of these currents we risk projecting our own aspirations and aversions upon a self made
image of the past. To understand our relation to the Enlightenment we must attempt to describe it
as it understood itself, even while trying to under stand its role in shaping the present. The
starting date of this study, 1648, marked the end of the Thirty Years’ War and the beginning of a
restructuring of Europe’s political powers. The half-century that followed shaped the scientific
ideas of the modern age. Thinking became simpler, more rational, and more methodic. Religion
and morality continued to be primary concerns, but they became subjected to a critical
examination. The year 1789, the end date of this book, witnessed an event that shook the
political and cultural foundations of Western Europe. The excesses of the French Revolution
introduced a strong reaction against the ideals of the Enlightenment, but it did not bring the
movement to an end. On the contrary, the French armies spread its ideas to the more remote parts
of Europe. The ideals, however, underwent a mutation. xiv Introduction This book is not
intended to be an intellectual history of the Enlightenment. Rather have I attempted to draw an
intellectual portrait of a crucial epoch in European history with particular emphasis on the
development and interac tion of those ideas that most contributed to the formation of our own
spiritual identity. This ought to explain why some writers receive more attention than others who
were perhaps equally significant yet less representative of the movement or less influential in its
effect on the present. In referring to my sources I have as much as possible quoted from readily
available editions. Translations are mine except when explicitly attributed to others. A number of
thinkers have influenced my approach. If I had to mention names, they would be those of Ernst
Cassirer, Henry Gouhier, and Hans Georg Gadamer. They taught me that it is possible to
understand how the past shaped the present without being reduced to it.