Philipp Blom

I wanted to read this book as my knowledge of the Enlightenment was sketchy (it still is, to be fair). All I knew had been gleaned from references in books about the French Revolution, as well as Foucault’s thoughts on it from [b:Lectures at the College de France, 1975-76: Society Must Be Defended|771816|Lectures at the College de France, 1975-76 Society Must Be Defended|Michel Foucault|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1316130657s/771816.jpg|3308111]. ‘Wicked Company’ is by no means show more an introductory book on the Enlightenment, indeed after reading I still couldn’t give you a coherent definition of what the Enlightenment was. It is a book on personalities, not socio-political trends. From the outset, Blom points out that he is writing with an agenda - to rehabilitate Baron d’Holbach and, to a lesser extent, Diderot as key thinkers of the time. I had never heard of Holbach, who held the influential salons attended by Diderot and company. In addition Holbach also published some radical works of his own, although these have apparently tended to lack popularity since. By contrast, Blom’s comments on Rousseau and Voltaire range from gently dismissive to openly hostile. Those two names are probably most often associated with the Enlightenment, at least in the references I’ve seen. This stated partiality initially concerned me, but did not reduce my enjoyment of the book overall. In retrospect, it is refreshing to find a historical author admitting up front who he/she likes best. (Should that be ‘whom he/she likes best’? Is ‘whom’ still used at all, or is that Enlightenment-era grammar influencing me?)

‘Wicked Company’ is certainly enjoyable, although I felt that very similar points concerning the philosophical differences between Holbach, Diderot, and Rousseau were picked over repeatedly. The most powerful message that comes across about Holbach’s circle is their staunch atheism. This is explained clearly and at length, in a highly sympathetic and appealing style. The extent of censorship and suppression that the circle worked under is also effectively conveyed. The book has a broadly but not exclusively chronological structure and a series of rather whimsical chapter titles. It thus appears to be quite a personal work - which isn’t a criticism, as it frustrates me when writers in the humanities cloak their opinions in protestations of objectivity. Rousseau certainly does not come out of it well, which encourages me to read his [b:Confessions|12649|Confessions|Jean-Jacques Rousseau|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1388293814s/12649.jpg|6985890] as I’ve been meaning to for ages.

Although ‘Wicked Company’ is strong and evidently well-researched as an account of Holbach’s salon and the philosophical lives of its contributors, it is much weaker on the relation of the Enlightenment to the French Revolution. Admittedly, this is not meant to be the central topic of the book. Nonetheless, I found the epilogue ‘A Stolen Revolution’ rather unsatisfactory. For one thing, it unequivocally demonised Robespierre, who I have a fascination with. Characterising him as a dictator solely responsible for the Terror is unsatisfactorily simplistic. His use of Rousseau for inspiration likewise - Robespierre’s views cannot be equated with Rousseau’s work. I would also have appreciated a little more nuance in the relationship between Enlightenment thought and the anti-clerical slant of the Revolution. I get the sense that the links between the Enlightenment and the Revolution are complex and ambivalent, probably not ideally suited to a short summary chapter such as this. From Blom’s earlier chapters, it seems to me that Holbach and Diderot would have greatly appreciated parts of the Revolution. Conversely, Rousseau would surely have strongly objected to much of it - not least its resolutely urban focus, which does not fit with his canonisation of rural life.

Speculation aside, what I can say for sure is this book is very thought-provoking and piqued my curiosity regarding the Enlightenment and its thinkers. It starts slowly but fully held my interest to the end. show less

Angelo Soliman was an African slave who was trained as a fashion accessory for the nobility: Serving a cup of coffee in style. Via Southern Italy, he was a servant first of Count Lobkowitz and later Liechtenstein. Privileged and limited at the same time. he was quite successful and even influential, becoming a Freemason, marrying a woman of Dutch origin and acquiring a house extra muros. Not a bad life for an African slave! Alas, the Austrian Emperor had no respect of his black skin. Despite show more the protestations of his daughter, Soliman's body was skinned and a taxidermised exhibit of an African wild man complete with feathers created (which the cultured servant Soliman never was) and exhibited in the natural history collection for a few years (until the new director removed the strange item from public display. He did not, however, bury the remains. A fire during the 1848 revolution destroyed Soliman's skin and purged the museum's black stain.

Both the exhibition in the Wien Museum and its catalogue marvelously use the biography of Soliman to present larger concepts of 18th century society, e.g. the less well-known north-south African slave trade (where the majority of slaves ended up in the Ottoman Empire), the role of black servants as status symbols and fashion accessories (a human specimen among the Baroque ménagerie) to fascinating details such as one had to be a citizen of Vienna to acquire property intra muros. The catalogue is exceptionally well curated, with very little overlap, good coordination among the different authors and beautifully illustrated. Highly recommended. show less

At first I thought this was going to be a survey of some eccentric collectors in history, on which is does not disappoint, but it turns out to be a lot richer and contain some real pearls of wisdom about life in general, and flashes of historical insight.

Reading through the chapters of this book was a lot like rummaging through a private collectors cabinet of curiosities. The chapter titles alone don't reveal its direction and only after a few pages does it begin to reveal its treasure. show more Chapters cover aspects of collecting as diverse as: people who collected experiences with women (Casanova), the collecting of body parts (religious relics), collecting memories, American billionaires who bought up European heritage (JP Morgan, Hearst), collectors of mass-produced items (milk bottles, food wrappers), Princes and Kings such as Rudolf of Hapsburg (17th C) who filled his castle with the worlds greatest collections and slowly went mad, collecting as a madness, as a substitute for love, as a form of autism, as psychology, as crime - and in the end, as a warning to all those who take it too far.

Required reading for anyone who is a collector, has collected, knows a collector or is considering collecting. show less

There are basically two ways to approach this book, which is essentially an extended essay. On one hand, you can treat it as a potted history of how the Little Ice Age of the subtitle was a hammer that broke the Medieval mindset and opened the way to the Enlightenment and market values that, twenty or so years ago, seemed to represent the "end of history." However, Blom (who wrote this book as a way of understanding how societies respond to global climate changes), suggests that the our show more much-celebrated market and rationalist values should be understood as a very manicured version of the intellectual ferment of the "long" seventeenth century, and that the way forward is going to depend on setting aside cultural triumphalism and engaging in some hard-headed engagement with the world as it is. This would entail, at the very least, a more modest understanding of our personal place in the world. Otherwise Humanity would seem to be in store for another war of all against all. show less