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.

Recueil de Planches, sur les Sciences, les Arts Libéraux, et les Arts Mechaniques, avec leur explication

“Collection of Plates on the Sciences, the Liberal Arts, and the Mechanical Arts, with their explanation”

As mentioned in previous posts, planches are the 11 volumes of plates and drawings that accompany the 17 volumes of text, making for 28 total books that make up L’Encyclopédie. The benefit of the planches is obvious: visual aids help readers understand and conceptualize ideas better. Naturally, not every topic in the text has an accompanying planche drawing – it would be difficult to draw the soul, wouldn’t it? The depictions included are those of material things, especially lots of industrial machinery and the like. As is the case with the text of L’Encyclopédie, you can find a drawing of pretty much anything, though. I flipped open to a page in the middle of the book and found pages and pages of architectural drawings of elaborate buildings and homes. Then, a few pages later, I found drawings of Art Militaire, or the Art of Military. Often included with the drawings are short descriptions of what is being depicted and sometimes, when applicable, instructions for its use. This particular book of planches (the first in the series) has 269 drawings. The first drawings are of agriculture, including everything from drawings of people doing agriculture to drawings of the machines used. The planche concludes with drawings of artificier, or pyrotechnics, included in the military section of this planche. The photo included above is of the table of contents which, as you can see, is quite extensive and detailed.

Including these drawings as I see it, allows descriptions of things in the text to be more complete. The authors of L’Encyclopédie were obviously masters of language, but no matter how well they describe an object or idea, nothing compares to a visual representation.

Planches - Prints and Diagrams

            I won’t be able to post my extensive observations of the planches until next week, but I wanted to give just a little preview of what is to come. Recall that of L'Encyclopédie's 28 volumes, 11 of them are planches, which are prints of diagrams of things included in the text of the encyclopedia. 
            These images are from the first planche, which encompasses everything from agriculture to “maçonnerie,” or masonry.
            First, here are two of the many anatomy plates from the first planche, one of the circulatory system and one of the brain. I would be interested to know what modern medical experts would have to say about these figures!
            The plate further below is a diagram of a "pressoir à cidre," or a cider press. In the table of contents of this planche, the authors explain that the plates for the cider press depict the "instructions for pressing cider...[and] the details of the work" needed to do so. 

Side notes: Cotgrave's French Dictionary

            One of my main goals in this project was to study the nature of the language used in L’Encyclopédie, and I thought it might be interesting to consult a period French dictionary in doing so. Randle Cotgrave published Cotgrave’s French Dictionary in 1673, which was about 100 years before the L’Encyclopédie. According to Wikisource, Cotgrave published multiple editions of the dictionary, starting in the year 1611 and ending with the edition in my possession, which was revised and edited by James Howell. Although it might be more accurate to work with a dictionary published closer to the time of Diderot and d’Alembert, this dictionary gives a thorough overview of both old French terms and general language structure.
bulk of the work was done for

            The dictionary starts with a section on French grammar, which Howell deems is necessary because starting a dictionary without first addressing grammar would be as if one were “to make the building precede the basis.” Further, having knowledge of the use of words in context will make the task of understanding those words much more reasonable. The first section, Of the French Letters, begins with the proclamation that the “English [alphabet] hath two letters, K and W, more than the French, which consists of 22 only, viz. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, V, X, Y, Z.” What? This statement not only asserts that the French (in 1673, at least) did not use the letters K and W, but also that neither French nor English at the time used the letters J or U! These two letters are missing from the list of 22 “French letters” provided by Howell, which, with the addition of K and W, is implied to be the English alphabet of the time, too.

            “French is a hungry language, for it devours more consonant than any other, which makes his speaking and writing to differ so much as doth his singing and writing,” explains Howell in a section concerning consonants. Aside from the fact that I really like his use of colorful language in describing French as a “hungry language,” I agree with Howell’s observation.  In my own experience, I have found that speaking French requires the distinct pronunciation of many consonant sounds that are difficult to English speakers. Learning how to move your and use your mouth and voice box to create the appropriate inflections and consonant sounds is challenging. From there, Howell goes through the French pronunciation of particular letters sounds, explaining how certain letters behave in different contexts of the language. For example, “X is pronounced in French as in English, but in these and all other numerical words it is pronounced like Z…[as in] deuxieme, the second.” What follows is a lengthy description of everything from the future perfect tense to the “syntaxis of nouns”, the detail of which is astonishing. In eight years of formal French study, I have never come across such a thorough explanation of French grammar and all that it encompasses (though I probably could have used it while studying for some tests).

Then, after a few letters to various public officials (some Lords, some Earls), the entries begin. Frankly, it looks like a pretty standard dictionary; observing the words and phrases included is fascinating nonetheless. There are so many period terms that I have never heard of, like the verb “fossailler”, which means “to ditch it; to make a pit or ditch.”

Studying Cotgrave’s dictionary was an interesting side project, but next I plan to explore some of the planche editions of L’Encyclopédie, which include diagrams and illustrations that accompany the main texts. 

The System of Human Knowledge

            Recall from my last post that I examined the authors’ preface but stopped before I arrived at the method Diderot and d’Alembert used to organized the topics to be included in L’Encyclopédie. I wanted to reserve an entire post (and another corresponding post following this one) for this subject because I find it to be very important and quite fascinating.

Knowledge is divided into three categories: “memoire,” “raison,” and “imagination.” The related disciplines within each subtopic are discussed at length in the Preface, and each is summarized in the “Explication détaillée du système des connaissances humaines” (Detailed explanation of the system of human knowledge). As the title indicates, this section explores human knowledge and how its branches are both distinct and interrelated.

Memoire, or memory, is associated with history, which is further divided into religious history, societal history, and natural history. This section is particularly important because in addition to covering the natural sciences, it encompasses man’s “productions in the arts, trades, and manufactures.” As I will discuss later, the explanation of arts and trades is a primary focus for Diderot and d’Alembert in this project.

Raison, or reason, is what the authors call philosophy, and it is split into the science of God, the science of man, and the science of nature. While the authors state that philosophy is synonymous with science, it is not “science” in the same connotation most commonly used today. Rather, it is intended to be thought of as “a science of reflection,” a science of reasoning.

Imagination, which is a cognate (means the same thing in French and in English), refers to poetry, or “that which is fiction”: narrative, dramatic, or parabolic. Diderot and d’Alembert describe poetry as “an imitation of historical beings.” Poetry is also related to the arts of architecture, music, sculpture, and engraving, because the masters of all of these arts “imitate and counterfeit nature.” 

In the section that follows, Diderot and d’Alembert address the fact that their division of the system of human knowledge was inspired by Chancellor Bacon’s work. They explain, however, that the philosophical branch is completely their own, as it was not included in Bacon’s work. According to the authors of L’Encyclopédie, Bacon originally applied his divisions to theology as well but later discarded this idea because it “appeared to be more ingenious than solid” (page li).

Including Bacon’s theories in the Encyclopedia, I believe, serves two main purposes. First, it further qualifies the project by showing that the concept is not completely unprecedented but is still providing an addition to the realm of knowledge. Second, it is not unreasonable to imagine that having the name of a distinguished academic and scientist tied to one’s work would be appealing both to readers and to the esteem of the authors.

Something I’m finding to be puzzling is the length of the last category, poetry (imagination). Even at the time of L’Encyclopédie’s publication, writing and literature and poetry were well-established traditions worldwide. It seems strange to me that this section is not longer because literature is such a vast field; so much could be included.

According to The European Graduate School, while Diderot included the faculties of history and poetry in the work, “the focus of [L’Encyclopédie] was to explicate varying technologies as to make them understood by anyone” (EuropeanGraduate School, Denis Diderot). It was intended to investigate the world of manufacturing, something that had yet to be accomplished. A great deal of this focus on manufacturing and the mechanical arts can be seen in the supplemental plate volumes, in which drawings and engravings are included. This explains why reason and the mechanical arts are the most thoroughly “worked-out” both in the map of human knowledge and are most extensively covered throughout the work. While this rationalization does shed some light on my confusion, I’m not quite satisfied and still do not understand why poetry is so much less extensive than the history and philosophy sections. I hope to find more clarification about this as I continue my research; if anyone knows the answer, let me know!

In my next post, I will explore the map of the system of human knowledge that accompanies the written explanation of the system.

À bientôt,

Christina