The eighteenth century was the age of Enlightenment, a period that we associate with social criticism, anticlericalism, and scientific discovery; and the classics often appear to have no place in this culture of reason and progress. But as Peter Gay has demonstrated, virtually all of the important Enlightenment figures were deeply immersed in classical learning. These men were of course virulent and aggressive ‘‘moderns,’’ but in case after case we find that their rejection of contemporary prejudices or their contempt for Christianity had been nourished by their readings in the ancient moralists and philosophers. Voltaire, for instance, said that he took his article on ‘‘Superstition’’ for the Dictionnaire philosophique (Philosophical dictionary) from Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch; and David Hume declared that he preferred the catalogue of virtues in Cicero’s De officiis (On duties) to that in The Whole Duty of Man (Gay 1966: 1:51, 66). Indeed, Cicero alone, through his dialogues examining the various ancient philosophical systems, provided justifications for the modern versions of skepticism, Stoicism, or epicureanism espoused by so many of the philosophes.
Few books on the Enlightenment, though, even mention neoclassicism, and an unsuspecting reader might conclude that literature and the arts did not exist during the Age of Reason. It is true that in England during the seventeenth century a suspicion of figurative language gave rise to a plainer prose style, with some effect on poetry as well, and that a number of French thinkers of the eighteenth century were directly hostile to verse because it interfered with simple, clear expression (Niklaus 1970: 58), but the educated classes of both nations continued to read poetry and to attend the theater despite the disapproval of their more austere contemporaries.
During the first half of the eighteenth century, neoclassicism actually constituted the basic aesthetic theory of the Enlightenment. We have already seen the general tendency towards rationalism that underlay so many neoclassical judgments, and in such works as Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man we recognize the inherent compatibility between Enlightenment ethics and neoclassical aesthetics. But here, too, as in so many aspects of the Enlightenment, Voltaire offers the most instructive example. Our modern image of Voltaire - the author of Candide, the enemy of established religion, the sage of Ferney - misses almost completely the way he was perceived by his contemporaries. To his age he was France’s greatest living poet and dramatist, the master of the alexandrine couplet, which he wrote by the thousands, not only for his epic poem La Henriade, but for his tragedies as well. It was in fact through his tragedies that he preached his message of freedom and toleration most directly to his contemporaries, and it was his success as a poet that earned a readership for his philosophical prose. Throughout his long life he remained committed to neoclassical principles in art, whether in his remarks on poetry or his general adherence to the dramatic unities. In the works of Voltaire Enlightenment and neoclassicism merge.
But neoclassicism and Enlightenment influenced one another in more subtle ways as well. In England, for instance, the concept of‘‘polite letters’’ - that is, a literature of formal polish aimed at a sophisticated audience - had always been associated with an idea of social progress. A truly refined literature, many believed, could improve the manners, the morals, and the intelligence of its readers. In his Spectator essays (1711-14) Joseph Addison, perhaps the finest practitioner of ‘‘polite letters’’ in his day, made no secret of his purpose:
It was said of Socrates that he brought philosophy down from heaven, to inhabit among men; and I shall be ambitious to have it said of me that I have brought philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and in coffee-houses. (Spectator 10)
Addison is hardly to be ranked among the philosophes, but this was an educational project worthy of the Enlightenment.
Nevertheless, as the eighteenth century progressed, the neoclassical style began to seem antiquated and the rules of art in conflict with the Enlightenment spirit of freedom. In addition, the rise of‘‘sensibility” introduced a new emphasis on feelings that came into conflict with the primacy of reason. These powerful trends would lead inexorably to Romanticism. And finally, Rousseau’s Discours sur les sciences et les arts (Discourse on the arts and sciences, 1750), with its argument that modern civilization corrupted rather than ennobled human nature, attacked the very premises of neoclassicism. As a literary movement neoclassicism had stressed artistic refinement and respect for tradition; its dominant principle was propriety. It made no secret of its elitist presuppositions; its aim was not just to entertain but to civilize its audiences. But to Rousseau, social polish and artistic decorum were mere screens for dissolute morals and a corrupt taste. Neoclassicism was part of the problem he sought to remedy. It is perhaps a fitting irony that Rousseau’s Discourse is shot through with illustrations from the classical world; the angle of vision, though, has been changed.
Sparta is there preferred to Athens. Rousseau’s heroes are Socrates, praised not for his philosophy but for his ‘‘ignorance,’’ and Cato the Elder, who opposed the introduction of Greek refinement into Rome. And so it was that with an appeal to the classics, neoclassicism was brought down.
FURTHER READING
The indispensable work for understanding the historical development of neoclassical theory is Bray (1927). For the particular way these ideas developed in England, see Johnson (1967). For many years the period of English literature from 1660 to 1798 was called the ‘‘Augustan Age.’’ That terminology came under attack towards the end of the last century. Some background on the dispute as well as a defense of the term ‘‘Augustan’’ can be found in Kaminski (1996). Readers in need of a general introduction to French literature will find clear, readable surveys of the important authors and literary trends in Yarrow (1967) and Niklaus (1970). David Hopkins has provided an excellent, brief survey of classical translation and imitation during this period in Womersley (2000). Stack (1985) provides a detailed analysis of Pope’s imitations of Horace. Two important works (often in disagreement) survey the reputation of Augustus Caesar and his place in the political debates of the eighteenth century: Weinbrot (1978) and Erskine-Hill (1983). The disputes between the Ancients and the Moderns receive thorough coverage in Levine (1991). And finally, for a wide-ranging discussion of Enlightenment thought, including the influence of ancient philosophers, see Gay (1966).
A Companion to the Classical Tradition Edited by Craig W. Kallendorf Copyright © 2007 by Blackwell Publishing Ltd
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