Linguistic Notes

I figured it was about time to publish some of my language observations, so as to keep to the promise in the title of my blog!

In my French studies in the classroom, I always learned that in French, only the first word of a title is capitalized. However, a bit of research has presented conflicting viewpoints on how titles are capitalized in French. Some say that only proper nouns are capitalized; some say that proper nouns and their descriptors are capitalized; the variations continue. In English, typically each word that is not an article or preposition (of, the, to, etc.) is capitalized. Also, the Oxford Comma is never used in French. It is used based on writer preference in English. In the same sentence in L’Encyclopédie and in the Plan of the French Encyclopedia, the Oxford Comma is omitted in the French print while it is included in the English print.

When I first began to read the Encyclopedia, I had to adjust myself to a couple of things. Other than becoming accustomed to handling three-hundred-year-old original prints, there were differences in the language and format, some of which I expected. The most glaring difference was the way the letter “s” is sometimes printed. Printing presses of the time often printed the lowercase “s” so it looks more like an “f”. This occurs when an “s” appears at the beginning or in the middle of the word, but never at the end of a word. I was baffled; it seemed impossible that “s” used to be “f” in every old French word. I soon deciphered the problem – Mr. Ring informed me of the printing difference.  

A difference in actual language, however, is that the typical “ais,” “ait,” “aient” endings used in some verb tenses were instead “ois,” “oit,” and “oient.” In addition, the first “a” in the word “connaissances” is an “o” in L’Encyclopédie. A brief reading of the Wikipedia article “French Verb Morphology” shed light on this situation: using an “o” where there is now an “a” was simply a part of Old French, “not…abandoned by the Académie Française until 1835.” Specifically, this difference appears frequently in verbs conjugated in the imperfect tense, used to signify actions in the past.

L'Âme

The entry for "l’âme", the soul, spans an entire twenty-six encyclopedia pages and is surely one of the longest entries in the series. It covers both the human soul and the animal soul, and it starts by raising four questions about the soul:

1.     What is its origin?

2.     What is its nature?

3.     What is its destiny?

4.     What are the beings in which it resides?

The author of this particular article, Claude Yvon, explains that there are a multitude of opinions on the soul and that it has been a highly debated subject throughout history. He explores the prominent ideas and theories, from those of the ancient Greek philosophers and Cicero to Spinoza and Descartes.

On one hand, there are philosophers who see the soul as a “pure quality” that is necessarily destroyed when the being in which it resides dies. Most philosophers, however, view the soul as a “subsistence…[that] is nothing more than a part of a whole.”

The article continues as such for about fifteen pages and then turns specifically to “l’Âme Des Bêtes,” or the animal soul. At this time, the author addresses the fact that of the four initial questions raised about the soul, philosophers have had the most interest in the question of its nature. This part of the article is essentially a discussion and critique of the Cartesian automata model, which is one of Rene Descartes’ most famous philosophies.  According to the article, Descartes was forcibly led to distinguish between the soul and the body. He classified humans as “pure machines,” or automata, which explained objections against the immortality of the soul and the goodness of God, two issues that were very central in Descartes’ work. In the automata model, the human body is viewed as a machine, and the soul is a separate entity that controls emotion and intellect. It is not hard to understand why Descartes reasoned that the body is a machine: our blood flows, our organs work, and our balance stabilizes all on their own. Bodily functions work independently of human control and the human mind. Yvon investigates views of different thinkers on the Cartesian model, and then he offers his own analysis on the theory as a whole and its validity. This evaluation of Descartes is noteworthy, but like many other interesting things I have come across, it is too long to discuss here.

As a student of philosophy, I was naturally drawn to this article because it addresses what is one of the most debated metaphysical questions among philosophers. I was not surprised in the least bit by the article’s length or by its reflective discussion. Treatises on the question of the soul are simultaneously fascinating and frustrating because they seem to give plausible options but never a truly definitive answer. I studied Descartes and the Cartesian model in a western philosophy class I took last fall, so I was particularly interested in the second half of the article.

Descartes is a really interesting guy -- read more about him and his work here.  

“Système figuré des connoissances humaines” - Map of the System of Human Knowledge

By far the coolest thing I’ve found comes next: Diderot and d’Alembert created a detailed map of their system of human knowledge. This map is as much a visual aid for readers as it is a bolstering agent for the validity of their work. It clearly organizes and solidifies their idea of how this “system” of human knowledge works. It also, as I mentioned in my last post, allows the authors to display how they both were inspired by Bacon’s work and expanded upon it. As seen in the Preface as well, Diderot and d’Alembert obviously wanted to substantiate their designs and work – the idea of the containment of such a large amount of information was so revolutionary, they really needed to. The diagram certainly helps them to cover all of their bases by explaining the connections between disciplines. Plus, it’s pretty interesting to look at.

At first glance, a couple of things we already knew are confirmed. First, there are three categories of knowledge, memory (history), reason (philosophy), and imagination (poetry). Second, poetry is much shorter than the other two sections; this difference is even starker when it is laid visually out as such. This map is exciting, though, because their system is now so clear and easy to understand. I found myself bogged-down by the enormous amount of text that Diderot and d’Alembert provided in the preface to explain the system. The map is still complex, sure, but it includes simply the names of disciplines and displays how each is connected to the others. The lengthy explanations in the preface were almost counterproductive in describing the classification of knowledge just because they were so long. The system of human knowledge, I think, is much more accessible to readers thanks to this map.

How would thoughts be organized differently today if the project were done at the present time? 50 years later? What would be added? Taken out? These are all questions that are valid to reflect upon. Diderot and d’Alembert credit Bacon for inspiring the creation of their map, but the two French editors certainly had discretion in terms of what to add or subtract from the map.  The inclusion and exclusion of concepts from this map undoubtedly impacted society. Exploring this assertion alone could be a project in itself!

Another important thing to note is that despite including an elaborate diagram to explain the organization of knowledge, entries were categorized alphabetically, as opposed to being organized by their place on the map. I’m sure this organizational choice was made to make the volumes easier to navigate.

Here’s a picture of the map itself, scanned directly from the Watkinson edition of L’Encyclopédie. Click here to see the map translated into English via the University of Michigan translation project.

Volume I - Tome premier

The full official title of L’Encyclopédie is L’Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers, translated to “The Encyclopedia, or Classified Dictionary of Sciences, Arts, and Trades” (Britannica).  It consists of 28 books, 17 of which are volumes. The remaining 11 books, called plates, contain illustrations and graphics that correspond to the volumes. Throughout this semester, I plan to begin with Volume 1 and continue through the volumes as far as I can.

The first volume contains all of the entries that begin with “A” – there are so many “A” entries that it took up the entire book! I suspect that common letters like “A” will have their own volumes, while other less popular letters will share with their neighboring letters. Who knew that encyclopedia publishing was a popularity contest?

The first entry in the first volume of L’Encyclopédie is simply the letter “A”, “the character or figure of the first letter of the Alphabet in Latin, French, and in almost all of the languages of Europe” (3). The very last entry of the first volume is “Azymites”, or “the name that the schismatic Greeks give to the Roman Catholics”(914). So, as a reference, there are a total of 911 pages worth of entries in the first volume, and there are 16 volumes that follow. I repeat: there is an incredible amount of information contained in this work. I have included pictures of both the first (page 3) and last (page 914) entry pages of the first volume. 

An introduction to the project is included at the beginning of this volume, titled “Discours préliminaire des éditeurs” (Preface from the editors). It is quite long – 45 large encyclopedia pages, to be exact. Nonetheless, as one might expect, it is fundamental to the work as a whole. Diderot and d’Alembert (the latter of whom is the principle author of this preface) set the tone for their writing and explain the nature of the project in this section. The University of Michigan hosted a collaborative translation project of L’Encyclopédie in which a team of academics and student assistants translated the entirety of the work from French into English. The project’s scholars call the Discours préliminaire “incomparably the best introduction to the French enlightenment.” In doing my own reading of the work, I appreciate this assessment of the preface, and if I were more qualified to make such a comment, I would probably agree. The Enlightenment was characterized by the organization and advancement of human knowledge and learning; the preface and L’Encyclopédie as a whole most definitely lend themselves to these tendencies. The University of Michigan article about the Preface in addition to the translation project itself can be found here and here, respectively.

I found that the Watkinson also has an English translation of the plan of L’Encyclopédie, published shortly after the work itself, called The Plan of the French Encyclopedia, in which this preface is included (of course, I could have read the University of Michigan translation, but reading a three-hundred-year-old book is much more fun). Upon comparing what I read in French and its English translation, I found that the two versions say slightly different things. For the most part, the gist is the same, but a budding philologist like myself would find such differences noteworthy. My principal observation is that the French version seems more proper than its English counterpart. I attribute this to two factors: first, French tends to be a formal language, and historically, the French have been pickier about use and preservation of their language (that’s why they established L’Académie Française). Second, I speak better English than I do French, so it is possible that complex words and phrasing I use in English may be more familiar to me than they are in French. Either way, I found that the French manuscript seems to say essentially the same thing in a fancier way and in more words than the English one. 

            In terms of content, the authors present their own qualifications for undertaking the task of compiling this work as well as what they intend to include in its volumes. The opening sentence states that they, the authors, are presenting this work to the public as “L’Ouvrage d’une société de Gens de Lettres,” or a publication of a “learned body.” With this, Diderot and d’Alembert begin to address an important critique of the work: “how is it possible that two persons can be [qualified] to treat all of the arts and sciences?” They reassure readers that “this is not the work of a single hand or two,” but will have many contributors from this “learned body” (see this list of contributing authors). The work will embrace two perspectives: first, as an encyclopedia, and second, as a philosophical dictionary. As an encyclopedia, the work will demonstrate the connections between and organization of all human knowledge and disciplines. The Philosophical Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, and Trades will explore the base principles and essential details of each science and art in human existence.

My next post will concern the authors’ division of knowledge, which is a very integral part of the work and its context, so it deserves its own post.

Stay tuned and bon weekend!

Christina

Introduction

My name is Christina Claxton, and I am a sophomore at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut who is planning to major in Philosophy and Public Policy. During the fall of 2013, I will be a fellow in the Watkinson Library, the college’s library archive. The fellowship is an opportunity for students to explore and learn from the wealth of knowledge contained in the Watkinson’s expansive collections. Artifacts range from Victrola record players from the 1920s to an original print of the Diderot Encyclopedia from the 1750s, the latter of which will be the subject of my research. I have always been interested in European history and the French language; L’Encyclopédie, as it is called in French, captures both of those subjects. Written and assembled during the Enlightenment, the goal of L’Encyclopédie was to contain all of the information in the world in a single place. Over the course of the semester, I will work with its volumes as well as related sources to understand both its impact on the time of its publication and how it has influenced present day knowledge and thinking.

As you can see, the blog is titled “Philologie de L’Encyclopédie,” which translates to “Philology of the Encyclopedia.” Philology is the study of languages in historical sources; one of my main focuses of my research will be on the language used in this historic treasure. I’m really looking forward to comparing the French I know with the French used by Diderot and d’Alembert, the two authors of L'Encyclopédie. However, though I am fluent in French from seven years of class instruction and various immersion programs, I will write this blog mainly in English. L’Encyclopédie, of course, is in French, but academic writing in a language other than one’s mother tongue is quite challenging (and the French are particularly picky about nuances and word usages). So, for the sake of quality and accuracy, I will write in English. Some French will inevitably make its way into my writing, so I will translate for any non-French speakers.

More than just being my learning experience and hobby this fall, I hope that this blog can be a casual learning tool for others as well. My objective for this project is to explore this work and to give my own perspective on an incredible composition from a very important time in history. For further information about both L’Encyclopédie and its contributors, I recommend visiting the Britannica Encyclopedia. Questions and/or comments can be sent to christina.claxton@trincoll.edu.

Merci de votre attention, et j’espère que vous trouverez le même valeur dans ce projet que je sais j'irai!

Cordialement,

Christina