At the very beginning of my blog I
expressly noted that I should avoid works of fiction and poetry,
because I felt I would have little to say about such manners. Yet, I
also admitted that in some case I surely had to do it, if the thinker
in question had written mainly fictional works – no matter how
inconsequential the thinker might seem.
Barthold Heinrich Brockes is probably
not the most important German thinker of his time. He was educated in
the Thomasian school of philosophy, but unlike the other Thomasians
we have met so far, he wasn't an ardent enemy of Wolffians. Instead,
Brockes could be best described as a thinker of Aufklärung,
or German enlightenment, and hence, his inclusion in the blog
broadens our view of German philosophical culture in early 18th
century.
When one hears of
enlightenment, one is bound to think of Voltaire, Diderot, Rousseau
and others rather radical thinkers, who at least influenced the later
revolutionists in France. But the German enlightenment was never so
radical and most of the times it was never as critical of church as
French enlighteners were. Instead, German enlightenment was all about
the education of mankind – and in this case, education was meant to
include also moral instruction. We have already seen such tendencies
in Wolff, particularly in his insistence that all art must serve the
use of upholding morality in state.
Now,
the work of Brockes is almost a paradigmatic example of Wolff's
suggestion. Brockes was known as a translator, and even the book
Irdisches Vergnügen in Gott bestehend in verschiedenen aus
der natur und Sitten-Lehre hergenommenen Gedichten, nebst einem
Anhange etlicher hieher gehörigen Uebersetzungen von Hrn. de la
Motte Französisch. Fabeln contains,
as the title says, translations of few French fables. Furthermore,
Brockes himself was a poet, and the book I have been reading now is
also a book of poetry.
Brockes' place in
the history of German literature is far from glorious, which one
wouldn't believe from reading the preface that praises the talents of
Brockes both as a translator and as a poet. What is interesting is
the explanation what makes Brockes a poet among poets. Apparently the
author has not only the imagination required for creating dazzling
images, but also the understanding required for making his poems well
ordered and something more than just incomprehensible mess. This
interplay of imagination and understanding was more
generally held to be a precondition of good poetry and art. Something
similar can be seen even seen in Kant's notion of beauty as caused by
the free play of faculties, although there it is more about
experiencing than creating beauty.
I shall briefly
describe one exemplary piece of this poet-to-be. The poem with the
ominous title ”the world” begins with the image of people
watching the world, as it were, through the wrong end of the
telescope: everything looks much smaller than it really is. For
instance, a businessman sees nothing but profits and losses, while a
doctor sees nothing else but illness and cures. Even philosopher
fairs badly, because he sees nothing else but planets circling around
the sun – Brockes is probably thinking of works like Newton's
natural philosophy. Among these failed attempts to understand the
world, there is one who does it right – the dreamer who sees God in
all phenomena of nature.
This
exemplary poem shows already Brockes' fascination with nature. Most
of his poems simply describe some natural event, like the awakening
of animals in spring, thunderstorm or sun. But nature is not
described in these poems as an entity deserving an independent
account. Instead, the worth of all these events is that they reveal
the power of God – the nature is a piece of art and behind this art
there must be some artist.
In a
sense, Brockes' poetry is nothing more than constant use of
teleological argumentation deducing from the perfection of natural
objects the existence of their creator. Yet, it is not any arguments,
but the sentiment behind this statement that is important. To find
perfection in the colour of grass and in rain falling from the sky,
and not just any perfection, but a feeling of divine serenity and
splendour – this is what Brockes is trying to convey. The enjoyment
of nature was even an international phenomenon during 18th
century, and in Germany it finally culminated with the pantheistic
tendencies of romantic school, in which God and nature were often
regarded as opposed, but still related poles.
One may feel that
such a pantheistic appreciation of nature is far from theistic
delight with nature, yet, at least this underlying feeling of the
divinity of natur is shared by both alike. For a pantheist the
splendour of nature is a part of the nature, while for a theist the
perfection must originate somewhere beyond nature. The official credo
at the time was theistic, both in Wolffian and Thomasian schools,
latter of which will be my topic next time.
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