The Measure of Pleasure

The Encyclopédie (1751-1772) of the Enlightenment, edited by Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert, was the greatest cultural milestone of that era. In addition to its educational aspirations and other humanistic aims, it could not help but conceal a few utopias, like many of those espoused by Modernity itself. However, utopias should not be confused with ideas or notions of indisputable affirmative nuances, which are supported by authentic analysis when not by noted truths. In his text Moderns and Postmoderns, author Tzvetan Todorov develops several proposals concerning the Enlightenment period that fit the above description, evoking the famous compendium. Two of these are worth remembering:

“The basis of moral judgment is universality rather than conformity to tradition, and we arrive at values through rational discussion, not through an act of faith.”

A disjunctive conjunction would accompany the pretentious written project—among other reasons—to make clear what the work Encyclopedia or Reasoned Dictionary of the Sciences, Arts, and Crafts was about. In order not to lose the thread of the Age of Enlightenment, Charles Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu (1689-1755) was invited to collaborate on the dictionary. Montesquieu, already known for his notable Persian Letters and The Spirit of Laws, attempted to write an essay on taste, which he was unable to complete due to his death. However, his name spoke for itself: he was already considered a classic and his Essay on Taste deserved to be published. But was it because it was considered a typical text of the French Enlightenment? Wasn’t there a risk that this text would propagate an issue that only referred to Montesquieu’s artistic and aesthetic experiences? Or, in other words, was the Essay on Taste not the opportune occasion that the notable Baron found to write about his own pleasures? And if so, it represented for the supporters of the Encyclopedia, and now represents for the interested reader, the possibility of accessing knowledge acquired and, fortunately, shared by the important French thinker. In all fairness, much has been taught to the world from intuitive and sensory experience alone. And taste—both natural and intellectual, although the latter above all—is very diverse, even by virtue of its circumstantial and versatile nature.

And how can taste be defined? Any dictionary has a more or less similar proposal. But when we access the work of an intellectual who has contemplated it as Montesquieu has, then the reader can allow themselves a better understanding when not presented with the expected image of the concept. What does the contributor to the Encyclopédie tell us in his Essay on Taste? Well, this (taste) is “what links us to a thing through feeling.” But earlier, in the first pages of the text, the French sociologist refers to the usefulness of this sense and, in an effort to be categorical and clear, ends up posing other questions to his readers; since taste “is nothing more than the advantage of discovering with finesse and speed the measure of pleasure that each thing should produce in men.” The result is pleasure, and the conditions for achieving it are finesse and speed. But is this really the case for everyone? What is the most “appropriate” taste for everyone? How can we know if what we feel is what enriches the spirit? And then: is taste better when it is educated at an early age or when later (by questioning what we liked or disliked) we join or abandon what the majority accepts or prefers? We would have to turn to Kant, but who interests us now is the author of Essay on Taste. In any case, we should pay attention to Voltaire, more contemporary than Montesquieu, who, in addition to recognizing the close marriage between sensual and intellectual taste, differentiates between them to the point of warning of the learning that educated taste requires. Hence, he states in his Philosophical Dictionary:

“Good taste in the arts can be reformed much better than sensual taste, because in physical taste, even if we sometimes come to like things that previously repelled us, it is because Nature always wanted men to like everything that is necessary for them; but intellectual taste requires more time to form.”

Montesquieu contrasts Voltaire’s intellectual taste with acquired taste, which is essentially the same thing but with a different appearance. The author of Essay on Taste often attacks Voltaire, that other great luminary of the Enlightenment, in this text. However, their thoughts converge in their conclusions about what can provoke taste. While for Voltaire, intellectual taste does not depend solely on sensitivity, but on acquired knowledge. And he would go further: that there is sensitivity well directed toward what is worthy or meritorious because what is valuable has already been thoroughly understood. So first comes knowledge, then “proper” intellectual feeling; for Montesquieu, curiosity prevails. Now, does taste depend on curiosity, or is it that we are curious because we like someone or something? And which comes first: pleasure or taste? Let the author of the Persian Lettersanswer that question. For Montesquieu, taste comes first.

This text by the Baron de Montesquieu deals with his preferences and rejections, not only of objects and people, but also in the plurality of artistic expressions. Read his Pensées diverses (Miscellaneous Thoughts) for more on this, especially his reflections on antiquity and modernity. In De los antiguos (On the Ancients), we read something that is not at all modest, although admirable:

“I have studied my taste, in case it was one of those perverted tastes; but the more I have studied it, the more I have felt that I was right to feel as I did.”

From the outset, if you opt for linear reading (although this text can be read at random), never allow yourself to skim through it. Except in what I consider to be two profound, beautiful, and relevant sections: “On Curiosity” and “On I Don’t Know What.” Although, to be fair, Essay on Taste has almost no wasted space: there are several observations that remain in the author’s time. But in general, the book is enjoyable from beginning to end.

There is much talk and demand for a reorientation of taste, which is like asking for its education. How can this be achieved when discerning our own existence, even in solitude, involves accessing truths that we often find difficult to admit? What, then, can be said about the initial or habitual contact with aesthetic and artistic works? The act of discerning (to use the term again) requires as much training as taste itself. It is a reality that everyone has the right to enjoy whatever they please and at the right time. This reality confirms, once again, the relativity of personal and artistic taste, as well as its circumstances. Everything is fleeting, but not to the extent that we should not advocate for the durability of works and their effects. More than names and reputations, judgments matter because they are supported by the sovereignty of judgment trained in a strange and sometimes ineffable mixture of talent, work, and intuition. Let’s admit it: we make mistakes because our human condition is imperfect. However, intelligence is recognizable here and there, now and then. So too are good judgment and taste; for example, first reconsidering the merits of a book, then how to edit it, and finally proposing it to the average reader and the most demanding. What else is the job of a self-respecting publisher?

Let’s try and question ourselves on issues of complacency. Essay on Taste will help because Montesquieu’s thinking is still modern. It’s a pleasure to recognize it!