Exchange and Commerce PDF

European Review of History—Revue européenne d’histoire
Vol. 16, No. 1, February 2009, 79–99
Exchange and commerce: intercultural communication in the age

of Enlightenment
Teodora Shek Brnardić*
Croatian Institute of History, Zagreb, Croatia

( Received December 2007; final version received September 2008 )
In the framework of Enlightenment studies, topics dealing with sociability and

communication have been very popular. Seeing the Enlightenment as a process of
historicised communication, historians have focused their research on the institutions
of sociability, the Habermasian public sphere and the circulation of enlightened
knowledge. However, case studies have been taken mainly from Western Europe, and
this paper provides examples from its eastern counterpart. It argues that there was a
lively two-way communication between the ‘centre’ and the ‘peripheries’, and between
the ‘peripheries’ themselves. Such an argument seeks to provide evidence against the
monolithic definition of the ‘East European Enlightenment’.
Keywords: enlightenment; sociability; communication; Eastern Europe
More than in any other intellectual movement, the Enlightenment focused on the language
of communication and human interaction, laying a particular stress on the social side of
human relations. This was characterised by the constant use of words such as ‘exchange’,
‘commerce’, ‘sociability’, ‘sociableness’, ‘sociality’, ‘market’, etc. The ideal Enlight-
enment man was one who concentrated on developing social virtues such as sociability,
which were considered necessary human traits for living in a civil society, since, from an
enlightened perspective, human beings were incapable of surviving alone.1 The philosophy
underlying natural law equated civic participation with social engagement, so the primary
aim of education in enlightened states was to produce ‘man and citizen’. It was thus no
coincidence that the 1768 statute of the Cadet Corps School in Warsaw, established by the
Polish King Stanisław-August Poniatowski (1732 –1798), declared its main goal to be to
‘mould a good citizen and a sociable man’ (un bon citoyen et un homme sociable).2
Throughout Europe, active sociability was not just a paper commitment, but the central
reality of an individual’s lifestyle.
Within the framework of modern Enlightenment studies, which defines the
Enlightenment as a cultural system or ‘a historical world in which discourses and
practices, languages and values, contexts and representations all interacted and influenced
one another’,3 topics dealing with sociability and communication have been particularly
prominent. These key concepts provided appropriate methodological tools for interpreting
the Enlightenment primarily in terms of a process of historicised communication.
Prerequisite to the continued existence and spread of the Enlightenment was therefore
social interaction and the shaping of social communication in many ways,4 especially
*Email: teashek@gmail.com
ISSN 1350-7486 print/ISSN 1469-8293 online

q 2009 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/13507480802655436
http://www.informaworld.com
80 T.S. Brnardić
within the Habermasian public sphere, where individuals could interact without any regard
for social hierarchy or status.5 Research into the various forms of communication processes
has focused mainly on case studies from Western Europe, but this paper will consider the
Eastern European context. Historically, this area has always been characterised by a
perception of chronic ‘backwardness’ and poor standards of education. It is precisely this
‘backwardness’, which has become the primary explanation for the perceived failure of
these societies to draw from the ‘great works’ of the Enlightenment6 and consequent
inability to provide original contributions to such intellectual movements. In contrast, the
Eastern European local contexts (such as Poland, Russia, the Habsburg Monarchy in
general and the Croatian Kingdoms in particular) considered in this paper will reveal an
array of examples, which demonstrate the active responsiveness of local intellectuals to the
ideas of the Enlightenment project, not all of which originated from among the French
philosophes. Examination of local languages and practices will show the willingness of
these society figures both to appropriate Western models and to engage in a dialogue, not
only with the main Western centres, such as Paris or London, but also with other smaller
centres and amongst themselves. In my analysis I will refer to the methodology developed
by the late Italian Enlightenment scholar Franco Venturi (1914 – 1994) as well as to the
Scottish Enlightenment studies, which are particularly appropriate for investigating the
peripheral local contexts in the age of Enlightenment.
The ‘East European Enlightenment’ and intercultural communication

Members of the Eastern European7 community, an area still viewed as towards the
periphery of the continent, have been very rarely included in comparative studies of the
Enlightenment, despite the efforts of local scholars from this region to publish their books
and articles in major European languages, such as English, French and German.8 Outside
the Russian Empire, the Eastern European nations seem to be especially neglected,
because of their perceived political irrelevance and socioeconomic backwardness between
the end of the Middle Ages and the early nineteenth century. Consequently, the
‘East European Enlightenment’ is usually considered to be a phenomenon to be discussed
in geographical rather than cultural or intellectual terms, positioned beyond the bounds of
‘real’ or Western Europe.9 For most Enlightenment scholars, the boundary between these
two cultural regions is firmly established but, according to Oskar Halecki, this is simplistic
historical geography,10 which does not take into account sociocultural factors, let alone
intellectual evolution.11
Not surprisingly, the concept of ‘cultural communication’, along with the associated
concept of ‘cultural transmission’, has entered early into the vocabulary of scholarship
dealing with any aspect of the Eastern European Enlightenment. For Gert Robel, a
great achievement of the Russian Enlightenment was fitting the Imperial lands and,
subsequently, the Greek Orthodox parts of Europe into the wider European cultural system
of communication, despite state restrictions and the specific peculiarities of each nation.12
Traditionally, the emphasis has been on individuals within a national elite, who acted as
the cultural transmitters par excellence by travelling to Western European cultural centres
and absorbing these new ideas, before returning to spread them across their backward
homelands as ‘enlightened apostles of modernity’ (my term). Yet, it is usually forgotten
that the impact of intellectual discourse and its diffusion depends on both the specific
prevailing circumstances, including the nature of the social institutions, where the ideas
were discussed (press, publishers, educational or informal institutions, etc.), and the limits
on the methods of transmission, such as state censorship.
European Review of History—Revue européenne d’histoire 81
In the view of Fred E. Jandt, communication in the United States of America is usually
studied as ‘the means of transmitting ideas’ in a one-way, top-down process, a method of
communication labelled as ‘machinelike or mechanistic’.13 Similarly, the historiographi-
cal tradition of the pure history of ideas has conceived Enlightenment philosophy as a set
of independent concepts to be absorbed by educated individuals from the intellectual
wastelands beyond Western Europe. The members of this elite are usually viewed by both
Eastern and Western European historians as mere passive recipients of the great
philosophical and scientific works coming from the West. Consequently, cultural and
intellectual transmission has been interpreted as a one-way process, which disregards any
critical assessment or interpretation of these texts by their readers and the wider consumers
of intellectual output.14 The sources of these ideas are seen as the most important
component in the chain of communication, whereas in contrast, the responses and
feedback of Eastern European recipients, which would make such communication
‘a two-way or interactive process’,15 are usually disregarded as irrelevant.
Further, the spread of Enlightenment ideology has often assumed the name of
‘Westernisation’ or ‘Europeanisation’,16 especially in the case of Russia and those Greek
Orthodox nations in the Balkans, which were largely cut off from communication with the
West during centuries of Ottoman rule.17 ‘Origin of ideas’ thus assumes a particular
importance for this area, since the terminology itself points to Western Europe as the
source of enlightened values. ‘Russian culture during the second half of the eighteenth
century became a laboratory of intellectual discussion, based on elements of essentially
French and German origin’, asserts Vittorio Strada. However, he simultaneously points
out that these debates were by no means simple repetition, but were conditioned by and
adjusted to local historical circumstances, especially during the reign of Catherine the
Great (1762 – 1796), who thereby became the ‘first lady of the Enlightenment in Russia’.18
By acknowledging the specific nature of the discussions, a greater emphasis can be placed
on the examination and importance of local circumstances.19 Nevertheless, from the point
of view of intercultural communication, the question remains: how was enlightened
knowledge channelled and spread to the distant corners of Europe?
Diffusion of enlightened knowledge: books, institutions and circumstances

In his book The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France (1996) Robert
Darnton suggests that instead of asking ‘How widespread was the Enlightenment?’, the
historian should study the communication networks of everyday life and determine which
books were actually circulated most widely during the eighteenth century. Investigation of
the different sectors of the literary markets could establish the level and scope of the
demand for the Enlightenment, which Darnton equates with demand for the works of the
philosophes in a specific literary culture.20 By equating the Enlightenment with the books
of French luminaries, Darnton places historians interested in examining such networks
within an Eastern European country in a rather unenviable position. His approach ignores
the variety of political systems and institutions, which could support or hinder the
dissemination of such books, but necessarily interprets the absence of these works as
revealing a lack of interest in Enlightenment culture. However, it was precisely these
different background conditions that determined the cultural framework into which these
ideas were received, and they themselves were extremely varied, being dependent on the
existing, usually politico-cultural, circumstances, as a few examples will demonstrate.
In Poland, Jerzy Lukowski indicates a complete absence of effective censorship
throughout the eighteenth century.21 Books were imported without hindrance and all the
82 T.S. Brnardić
major works of the West European Enlightenment could be obtained within a few months
of publication. Many of them were immediately translated into Polish or at least reviewed
in a local periodical. A 1775 statute allowed unfettered political discussion.22 Sociable
exchange with German cultural centres was facilitated by the ‘Saxon epoch’ in Poland,
when the Saxon Wettin dynasty ruled the country as both elected kings of Poland and
grand princes of Lithuania (1697 –1706, 1709 – 1763).23 Saxon censorship became even
more relaxed after the House of Wettin converted to Catholicism, following which secular
issues took precedence over the preservation of religious orthodoxy.24 The result was a
flourishing of book publishing in Saxon and Polish cultural centres, such as Leipzig and
Warsaw, and the effects lasted into the subsequent period. During the reign of Stanisław-
August Poniatowski as King of Poland (1764–1795), the development of various
communication media was further actively encouraged. In addition, the court of the exiled
former Polish king, Stanisław I. Leszczyński (1677–1766), at Lunéville in France may also
have served as a conduit for the Polish Enlightenment into and from the Francophone world.25
No special government office in charge of censorship existed in Catherine’s Russia
either. It was Catherine II herself who laid down the principles for the control of imported
books in 1763, but she intervened very rarely. In the 1760s, all the printing presses legally
belonged to the Tsarina’s government, so somewhat paradoxically her light controls
created considerable freedom of expression for locally published books. At least in her
proclamations, Catherine promoted the ‘freedom of the creative mind’ in a bid to appear as
an enlightened ruler to the audience of French philosophes. The Tsarina considered the
translation of Western European works to be an especially effective means for
disseminating knowledge and, for that purpose, established a ‘Society for the Translation
of Foreign Books into Russian’ in 1768.26
In contrast to Poland and Russia, official censorship was well established in the
Habsburg Monarchy and its dominions.27 In the early eighteenth century, this was
especially true for the Hereditary and Bohemian Lands, where the danger of crypto-
Protestantism among the peasantry did not abate throughout the Theresian period
(1740 – 1780) because the secret trade in Protestant writings could not be completely
prevented. In contrast, following the end of the Seven Years War in 1763, the rise of deism
and libertinism became the primary focus of official concern. Censorship was centralised
in 1751 with the establishment of the state-supervised ‘Committee for Books’
(Germ. Bücherkommission) in Vienna, which, from 1754 onwards, regularly issued a
Catalogue of Rejected or Prohibited Books (Lat. Catalogus librorum rejectorum or
prohibitorum). This government institution replaced the previous Jesuit jurisdiction in this
area, which was widely criticised for, among other things, condemning excellent anatomic
textbooks solely on the grounds of the ‘morally detrimental’ nudity they contained.28 For the
first time, Gerhard van Swieten (1700–1772), personal physician of Empress Maria Theresa
and President of the Committee, decided to protect ‘learned books’ from censorship, but they
were beyond the reach and understanding of the bulk of the population anyway.29
Yet even the cameral political theory, formulated by the Austrian Enlightenment jurist
Joseph von Sonnenfels (c.1733 – 1817) in the 1760s, advocated the political necessity of
state censorship of books to prevent the spread of ‘scandalous, erroneous or dangerous
opinions regarding religion, good manners, or civil status’. Its novelty was the inclusion
for possible censorship of religious sermons, since these preachers were viewed as the
leading opinion formers among the common people, from whose ‘sacred pulpits’ were
frequently heard ‘cynical allusions and various judgements on political government’,
unconnected to Christian doctrine or the job of priest.30 The inherent logic was obviously
the maintenance of public order, which in the cameral political theory was an important
prerequisite for the security of the state. According to this theory, the overall ‘happiness of
the state’ was defined as being based on the ‘secure enjoyment of a proper life by the
citizens’.31
Accordingly, alongside a number of minor writers, the 1765 edition of the Catalogus
librorum prohibitorum prohibited not only the works of celebrated authors such as
Voltaire (only his tragedies were acceptable), Rousseau and Hume, but also Machiavelli
and Hobbes, because some of their books32 were considered by the authorities to be either
generally anti-Catholic or anti-religion. The catalogue would be handed over to provincial
booksellers and local censors, who had to comply with the listings until 1781, when the
‘thaw’ (Tauwetter)33 of censorship set in. In that year, Joseph II issued new censorship
regulations, Grund-Regeln zur Bestimmung einer ordentlichen künftigen Bücher Censur,
which greatly relaxed the censor’s grip.34 Censorship practice in the Habsburg Monarchy
is well illustrated by the Bohemian memoir author, Franz-Martin Pelzel (1734 –1801),
who criticised the censor’s negative influence on the progress of Bohemian sciences in the
pre-Josephinian period:
If a scholar wanted to publish some tome, he had to give them [i.e. the censors] two copies of
the manuscript; then they would check it from the beginning to the end, and would not only
cross everything out, but would also discourage the writer from any further continuation of his
scholarly endeavours with threat of prosecution for various offences. All good books were
prohibited and so, the progress of sciences impeded to the extent that our neighbours believed
we Bohemians to be totally ignorant and stupid people and despised us . . . .35
However, it is usually forgotten that censorship was relaxed in time of war, which may also
have created unusual lines of communication. Prague’s geographical position facing
Bavaria, Saxony and Prussia involved the city in a series of campaigns during the War of
the Austrian Succession (1740–1748) and the Seven Years War (1756–1763). In the course
of 1741–1744, Prague first fell into French, then Austrian, then Prussian, and eventually
back into Austrian hands. The Prussians besieged Prague again in 1757, but failed to
capture it. Although it is commonly assumed that these wars caused breaks in
communications, all these campaigns had an unexpected impact in spreading information
about the occupied and previously little known city. The fate of the French troops in Prague
sparked the interest of the European public and prompted publishing activity both inside
Prague and in other cities to fulfil the demand for information about the ongoing military-
political events. Voltaire himself states in his correspondence that the Bohemian campaigns
paradoxically helped his manuscripts to reach further east as they were carried in the
baggage of Prussian King Frederick II throughout Bohemia and Moravia.36 The result was
the beginning of the effective collapse of censorship in the Bohemian Lands.
Many Hungarian and Croatian near-contemporaries likewise argued – approvingly or
not – that the Seven Years War contributed considerably to the spread of the
Enlightenment in their nations. The historian of Hungarian law, Marton György
Kovachich (1744 –1821), very explicitly and confidently argued that this war provoked
intellectual change. He wrote that Hungarians first became acquainted with the new ideas
when they reached German cities as soldiers and, in the opposite direction, educated
refuges from Bohemia, Moravia, Saxony and Silesia fled to Hungary.37 The educated
officers would return to their homes smuggling in the new books, albeit not always to their
compatriots’ approval and bringing significant criticism on themselves. In the eighteenth
century, books were the primary written medium for the spreading of knowledge, good or
bad. The Zagreb churchman, Canon Baltazar Adam Krčelić (1715 – 1778) describes in his
memoirs how, on their return from the Seven Years War in 1763, army officers imported
previously unknown books, and their effect on the Croatian people:
84 T.S. Brnardić
Officers, who were dismissed after the army was reduced, and those, who were released from
captivity after paying the ransom, would return to their homeland. Upon their arrival back
home, they imported into Croatia many good and bad books. This is why they had to send the
list of all those books to the Ban38 in accordance with a royal decree. The consequence was
that good opinions about these books got a foothold and the importers praised their intellectual
purity, which people would otherwise not perceive from simply reading them. Alas, what kind
of ideas many of these returnees have brought and preached to the ignorant men and women:
for instance, that human soul was mortal, that all holy objects, and faith itself, were pure
fabrication and other impious thoughts. Moreover, the majority of these people boasted of
being atheists [atheos ] themselves, others of being freemasons [liberos murarios ], and only
very few of being Christians.39
The Croatian Count Adam Oršić of Slavetić (1748 – 1820), an Austrian officer himself,
makes almost identical observations, noting in his memoirs that the same phenomena
occurred in Croatia after 1763:
The potato was unknown then; during the Seven Years War it was the military that first started
growing it. The military brought a venereal disease from Saxony and Silesia to Croatia, where
it had been previously unknown; Voltaire’s books and a few Freemasons came along too.
Later, all the social strata accepted this new form of society, but ever since the Jacobin Club
was abolished in France, there have been fewer Freemasons in Croatia as well . . . . Intellectual
knowledge has increased for several years, ever since people saw different countries during
the wars, as well as reading different books, but manners and morals have considerably
deteriorated.40
From close examination of these two contemporary authors, one a clergyman and the other
an officer, it is obvious that their separate testimonies concur on the list of cultural
novelties imported into Croatia by foreign and local soldiers. These imports were regarded
as a major effect of war. Apart from the potato and a venereal disease, they are mainly of
an intellectual nature, namely books, whether good or bad, dealing with natural forms of
religion as well as with libertinism or atheism.41 According to Kovachich, Krčelić and
Oršić officers of both noble and common origin serving in the Austrian army were
considered active transmitters of the new intellectual trends, because their profession
enabled them to indulge in different cultural opportunities, which were otherwise
restricted to the wealthier classes: they had the opportunity to travel and those who took
the time to become literate and multilingual, cosmopolitan and socially adept would
constitute an open-minded group, who were secular and cultivated in outlook, so that they
were very receptive to the enlightened mode of thinking.42 Their specific profession also
made them desirable company within court society or in associations, which extended
membership to commoners.
The army has already occasionally been recognised by scholars such as the historian of
Russia Isabel de Madariaga as a ‘channel of cultural transmission’ between the Western
educated elite and lower classes.43 Likewise, the presence of Russian officers in occupied
Romanian territories, such as Moldavia, during the Russo-Turkish War of 1787–1791
contributed to the process, usually known as the ‘Europeanisation’ of the boyars’ manners,
by dragging them away from their rather lazy Asiatic traditions. The Russian officers
acquainted their native social elite with such concepts as gallantry and new social pursuits,
including formal dancing, music, playing cards and taking walks, instead of lying on the
divan all day and night. Soon, the boyars also discovered European clothes, gardens and
architecture. In 1790, during the occupation period, the Russian army also launched the first
Romanian periodical, Le Courier [!] de Moldavie.44
The transmitters of transcultural knowledge were not limited to the army and
individual Western travellers; even more important were members of the extensive
communication networks of the Catholic religious orders, such as Jesuits and Franciscans,
whose provinces were not necessarily aligned with state borders. In addition, the three
main Christian Churches in Europe, Catholic, Protestant and Greek Orthodox, had each
developed their own networks. The ‘Orthodox confessional nationality’ (as Emanuel
Turczynski termed it) allowed Russia to act as the protector of its ‘brothers’ in the Balkans
and to provide them with Cyrillic books. However, the enlightened Serbian educationist,
Dositej Obradović (c.1740 –1811), clearly expressed his dissatisfaction with this practice
in his autobiography, first published in Leipzig in 1783:
Looking at the sort of books that every day were planned, written, and published in those
German lands, I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of sorrow, whenever I thought how among
our own people they kept shouting, ‘Go bring us books from Russia!’ And what sort of books?
Of the books that in Russia are translated from the learned languages or composed and
published in Church Slavonic and Russian, there is not even a catalogue that would at least
inform us of their names.45
The Christian churches established a supranational cultural dialogue amongst themselves,
but sometimes formed alliances against each other, most notably between Protestant and
Greek Orthodox theologians against their powerful Catholic counterparts. It is well known
that the professors at the Pietistic-Lutheran University of Halle, with whom many
Romanian bishops kept in contact, were extremely interested in Greek Orthodoxy and
worked to increase Protestant – Greek Orthodox solidarity.46 Throughout the eighteenth
century, students from the Greek Orthodox denomination were freely permitted to attend
Protestant universities, including Göttingen, Edinburgh or Leipzig, whereas Catholic
students faced many obstacles, both within their community and upon enrolment. It was
therefore Enlightenment culture, especially with its focus on secular moral philosophy,
which enabled intercultural communication and a dialogue between different religious
groups, not only Christian, but also Indian47, Muslim48 and Chinese49. Enlightened
monarchs such as Maria Theresa and Joseph II strove to reconcile politics and morality,
although their underlying aim was to turn the whole population of the Habsburg empire
into ‘men and citizens’ loyal to the Crown, regardless of religious denomination.50
However, the official Josephinian policy of religious toleration only institutionalised the
existing arrangements within the confines of the social institutions, such as Masonic
lodges – ‘the schools of political and religious tolerance’51 and genuine local forums for
intercultural communication, where patriots discussed the means of improving their
immediate environment, regardless of their origin and religious beliefs.
One such intellectual microcosm was the Vigilantia Lodge, established in the
Slavonian capital of Osijek in 1773, which in 1785 hosted not only Catholic, Protestant
and Greek Orthodox believers, but also senior church dignitaries such as Stevan
Stratimirović (1757 – 1836), the future Greek Orthodox Metropolitan of Sremski
Karlovci.52 The statute of the Lodge contained patriotic proclamations, whose programme
reveals their adherence to the Enlightenment project:
We act very wisely, if we do not engage in religious disputes. Our sacred order is the school of
enlightenment, of truth, and a sure route to perfection . . . . A great respect for law and loyalty to
the sovereign . . . is required from every Freemason above all worldly concerns . . . . A duty of
every single Freemason is to acquire abilities and knowledge, so as to be able to render
profitable service to the state; no less to educate his children as good citizens, to mould [bilden ]
his fellow men for the betterment of the state . . . . The close connection and the inseparable
chain, which binds us with each other so firmly, should remind us of constant brotherly love.53
Key words in this short quotation such as ‘enlightenment’, ‘citizen’, ‘state’, ‘duty’ and
‘to educate’ belong to the usual Masonic language and are ostensibly compatible with the
86 T.S. Brnardić
programme of the Habsburg enlightened monarchs. Joseph II’s endeavour to ensure

the supremacy of the state over the church in the 1780s ended in the new ideal of a priest,
‘who would spread the Catholic Enlightenment by combining “true devotion” à la
Muratori and Reform Catholicism with practical knowledge (for example, of agriculture)
and patriotism’.54 The clergy of all denominations were supposed to take over the general
role of cultural transmitters and to become the ‘teachers of morality and industry’, who
would teach the people everything needed for their enlightenment. Ivan Dominik Stratiko
(1732 – 1799), the enlightened Bishop of the Dalmatian islands of Hvar and Brač, who
spent part of his career in Tuscany and was a close associate of the Habsburg Grand Duke
Peter Leopold, believed that priests should be trained using the Tuscan model: they would
be ‘not only the spiritual leaders of the people, but also fighters against social injustice and
ignorance, and . . . would lead the people out of backwardness with love and patience’.
Unfortunately, either the ruling state, the Republic of Venice (of which Dalmatia was a
province), was not ready for this approach or the people did not trust it.55 Unlike the
primary duty of service to the state in the cameralist ideology of the enlightened
monarchies, service to the nation was the most important motivation in the Dalmatian
republican tradition. Nevertheless, although superficially different, both philosophies were
based on the underlying concept of ‘patriotism’ – devotion to the nation – combined with
‘cosmopolitanism’ – an intellectual curiosity and unprejudiced receptiveness, together
with a willingness to promote intercultural communication. It is this duality that defines
the most significant and characteristic of a true man of the Enlightenment, recognised as
such and described by the Italian historian, Franco Venturi.
Franco Venturi’s Enlightenment: the interplay of patriotism and cosmopolitanism

The underlying idea of responses to specific or local circumstances is best expressed in
Franco Venturi’s characterisation of the Enlightenment as an intellectual movement,
which had at its core two constituent components: patriotism and cosmopolitanism.56
The former was the basis of the local or civic view (but apparently never regional, except
in the sense of provincial), whereas the latter strove for the universal or rather European
outlook. In this sense, ‘Franco Venturi’s Enlightenment’57 implies a movement
comprising individual men and women spread from Spain to Russia and from Sweden
to Italy. The influential Italian scholar recognised that the key to the overall ‘European
Enlightenment’ should be sought in the relation to ideas of reform and, even more so, in
the ‘marriage of patriotism and cosmopolitanism’ described above.58 This approach is
particularly significant because it defines a patriot as a person who is committed to the
betterment of his/her own community, but not to its superiority over others.
‘Cosmopolitanism’ in this context refers primarily to the intellectual openness to new
ideas, whereby the adherents of the Enlightenment used the experience of other societies
as models for the improvement of their own.
Moreover, ‘patriotism’, with its associated idea of ‘improvement’, thus prompts an
investigation into the ‘micro or little enlightenments’ within their local frameworks, for
instance social institutions such as coffee houses, salons and various clubs. Only in this way
is it possible to appreciate the contribution of individual patriots. All overarching
generalisations and macroscopic methods will ultimately prove inadequate. In contrast, if a
microhistorical approach is taken, which by definition is focused on the contradictions of
normative systems, it emphasises the actions and behaviour of individuals and institutions to
set the proper framework, within which Enlightenment language can be understood.
By placing the stress on individual lives and events, microhistory advances the ‘particular’.59
Sociability and communication: the model of the Scottish urban Enlightenment(s)

Among the ‘national Enlightenments’, the discovery of a distinctive English-speaking
Scottish Enlightenment proved to be the most lucrative.60 Unlike the French
Enlightenment, which was encapsulated in the single word ‘civilisation’, the Scots
version was summed up in ‘improvement’61 and promoted by enlightened patriots or,
more accurately, virtuous citizens interacting within non-political institutions, such as the
coffee house.62 According to Nicholas Phillipson, the ‘coffee house’ metaphorically
replaced the ancient Greek polis and its agora as the assembly place where citizens could
meet to discuss political issues. The coffee house provided a new moral identity and a
sense of participation for these citizens, whereas the ‘coffee house conversation’
reinforced the principles of propriety and civic virtue. The new political vocabulary, which
was advanced in the intellectual weeklies, Spectator and Tatler, by Joseph Addison and
Sir Richard Steele (London, 1709– 1712), filled the mouths of patriots with words such as
‘conversation, friendship, moderation, easiness, taste, politeness, improvement’, etc.,
which were intended to make social interaction easier and more pleasant.63 The new system
of civic morality abounded with virtuous discourse, employing key words derived from
the language of natural law, such as ‘happiness’, ‘utility’ and ‘public advantage’ instead of
the republican ‘liberty’, while emphasising ‘courage’, ‘justice’, ‘temperance’ and
‘wisdom’ as the classical noble virtues. Likewise, notions such as ‘nation’, ‘country’ and
‘people’ started to be preferred to ‘monarchy’, ‘aristocracy’ and ‘republic’.64
Similar language, of which moral regeneration and the active internalisation of virtue
were the central tenets, can be found in different enlightened programmes for citizenship
training throughout Europe, including its Eastern parts.65 By means of the sober
conversation of its moral agents, the Enlightenment becomes ‘projected, circulated, and
negotiated day by day’66 across civil society, precisely because human interaction and the
ideas of exchange were central to Enlightenment social thought. The end result is that the
Enlightenment is no longer conceived in an abstract, idealistic form of a uniform ‘spirit’
or the ‘mind’, as Ernst Cassirer would maintain, but rather as a ‘project’, i.e. a plan or
scheme for the future. ‘Association’, ‘commerce’, ‘communication’, ‘sociability’ and
‘sociality’ were preconditions for the Enlightenment, because its philosophy was
ineffective if the central ideas could not be communicated to others.67 The Enlightenment
was thus considered to be directly related to different means of communication: in the
public arena to oral discussion amongst the community and in the private arena to reading
and writing.
However, enlightened communication and polite society required the specific
institutional infrastructure that was characteristic of urban environments. Only the city
could provide suitable fora for enlightened debate and bring together advocates of
Enlightenment, such as not only writers, journalists, booksellers, publishers and printers
but also civil servants and clergymen. Since a city could host various political
(judicial-administrative institutions, parliaments), educational (schools and universities),
ecclesiastical and other cultural institutions, especially those of a social nature (theatres,
libraries, coffee houses, various societies, Freemasonry, etc.), it enhanced communication
both in everyday life and through media such as the press and letter writing.68 Without a
close examination of the sociocultural conditions of each particular city and its locality,
that is, its provincial context, the social history of the Enlightenment cannot be
visualised.69 Through such new channels of communication, the Enlightenment becomes a
‘process’, whose lasting meaning has perhaps been best expressed by Immanuel Kant in
his famous response to the question What is The Enlightenment? (1784): ‘If the question
88 T.S. Brnardić
is posed as: “Do we now live in an enlightened age?” then the answer is “No, but we do
live in an age of enlightenment”.’70
The Scottish model thus proves to be especially appropriate for studying other
‘provincial’ and/or ‘peripheral’ Enlightenments in any of the European polities, because it
carefully considers the actions of these patriots within their own local, usually urban,
environment.71 Moreover, its supporters strive to combine the approaches of sociocultural
and intellectual history, which facilitates a proper examination of the questions raised in
local debates and discussions that took place there. Students of the Scottish Enlightenment
have already identified the main urban enlightenments, such as the Aberdeen
Enlightenment and the Glasgow Enlightenment, a city-centred nomenclature, which
have been adopted as models by German scholars,72 who refer to the Leipzig
Enlightenment, the Warsaw Enlightenment, etc.73 The size of a city alone was not decisive
in judging the extent of its Enlightenment. Roger Emerson adds factors such as political or
religious dissent, cooperation between the aristocracy and urban middle classes, the
capacity of the city’s hinterlands to provide additional participants in the city’s intellectual
and cultural life, as well as possible cultural divisions between the literate classes and the
rest of population, in terms of the local language and religion.74 Emerson argues that
provincial cities may even have had an advantage over their larger major city counterparts.
Their enlightened community was small enough to remain undivided in its patriotic
endeavours and thus remain coherent in its articulation of local views. As was also the case
with the Edinburgh elite, provincial city gentlemen could fashion an improvement policy
for their whole region.75 Each city’s cosmopolitanism and desire for novelty prompted
their inhabitants to communicate among themselves and create networks with their
counterparts in other cities.
A particularly notable case in point is perhaps the unique project launched by the
little-known ‘Hessen-Homburg Patriotic Society’ (Société Patriotique de Hesse-
Hombourg), established in 1775, which in the late 1770s strove to establish a genuine
pan-European communication network of patriotic societies with branches not only in the
West but also in the East.76 Their own foundation statute set a programme which argued
that ‘a useful man is the man of universal society, the citizen of the universal homeland
( patrie)’, where he should be of greatest usefulness, both for himself and for others,
which was the obvious implication of the founders’ focus on the ‘homeland’ and
‘patriotic society’. Although the society’s secretary, Nicolaus Hyacinthe Paradis, wished
to establish provincial committees even in more distant regions, such as Hungary,
Moravia and Croatia,77 the main correspondents were from nine European capitals: Paris
for France, Spain and Portugal, London for the British Isles, Göttingen for
northern Germany, Regensburg for southern Germany, Vienna for the Habsburg empire
and Italy, St Petersburg for Russia, Warsaw for Poland, Stockholm for Sweden and
Copenhagen for Denmark. The statute explains the chain of communication within the
society:78
In the capital of each European state, the Patriotic Society should have a special committee or
branch correspondence office, which will periodically collect all the new output of the
societies and scholars of that country on a monthly basis . . . and afterwards will address them
to the Chief Committee of the Hessen-Homburg Patriotic Society. This society would then
disseminate everything across the whole of Europe in the language which is predominant in
the country where it should arrive; the main activity of the Chief Committee and its members
will be to translate all these works, depending on their general usefulness. In this way, it will
be possible for those in both Stockholm and Venice to read all the newly released scientific
materials [die Wissenschaften ] in Madrid and London, and vice versa.79
The policy of improvement and intercultural communication

Educated patriots, aiming to improve society, did not wish to limit their communications
to their intellectual equals, but also wanted to effect changes in popular culture, since
otherwise the process of popular enlightenment would be ineffective. In order to enlighten
common people, as Austrian Freemason Johann Pezzl (1756 – 1823) expressed it, first the
ancient prejudices of the people had to be suppressed and only afterwards could they be
made to accept the new ‘useful’ truths:
If a whole nation or a large population wishes to be enlightened, two steps are required: first,
to abandon old, undignified, ridiculous and harmful prejudices; the other to accept the new
truths and principles, namely those which have been previously unknown to them, which set
an example to them, which direct their spirit [Geist ] towards knowledge of self and
contemplation, which enable them to distinguish myth from reality, trivia from the significant
[Wesenheit ], solid gains from frippery.80
The replacement of popular culture, which most enlightened reformers considered to be
poor and pernicious, was also important from the point of view of Enlightenment moral
culture. The new ideal, especially that of monarchical citizenry, required an active rather
than passive attitude to the world and enlightened monarchs called for moral regeneration
of the whole nation under their crown. Civic education went hand in hand with moral
education, whose watchwords became practical virtues such as ‘industry’, ‘vigilance’,
‘humanity’ and ‘hard work’.81 ‘Monastery-like’ education, which promoted ascetic and
passive Christian ideals, was undesirable. Nevertheless, the question remained as to how
to transmit the new ideals of active citizenry to the most reactionary social stratum – the
peasantry. What were the means of communicating the message to these illiterates?
The previously mentioned Bishop Ivan Dominik Stratiko, who was inspired by
enlightened reforms in Tuscany, suggested that the rules for improved agriculture could be
incorporated into the lyrics of folk songs, making it easier to remember them as they were
sung. Further, books could be illustrated not only with agricultural tools, but also with
seasonal activities and the new methods.82
Yet, despite all the endeavours to extend literacy, which had enjoyed only varying
success, the best means was found to be making elementary education compulsory and
forcing peasants to send their children to school. This policy was a central issue in the
diffusion of enlightened knowledge, and therefore of education in general. This topic is
perhaps the most interesting feature of intercultural communication, since enlightened
knowledge had to filter down and adjust to a popular audience to make itself heard. Under
the doctrines of enlightened political theory, especially of cameralism, not only the
privileged social strata, but the whole nation, whose members were destined to become
citizens, was entitled to enjoy ‘happiness’, acquire wealth and become powerful.
Enlightened monarchies in the Eastern cultural regions, such as the Prussian, Russian and
Austrian monarchies of the 1760s, 1770s and 1780s, ran special national education
programmes.83 By this means, the authorities aimed to advance ‘the cultural and moral
state of the population’84 and, in theory at least, each citizen was to receive an education
appropriate to his/her social status. The enlightened idea of achieving perfection in
mankind was the philosophical support of such ‘civilising projects’, whose creators
wanted to raise the whole nation to a uniform ‘civilised state’, the exact antithesis of the
‘savage state’. Cultured men in these countries became the chief ‘instruments of civilising’
their compatriots and helped to create a public school system.
The most ambitious of these projects, which was intended to provide an education
in accordance with each pupil’s social status, was perhaps that implemented across the
90 T.S. Brnardić
Habsburg empire. Its reforms became the example par excellence of ‘enlightenment
from above’ and its version of enlightened absolutism, in Franco Venturi’s words,
‘left the most enduring fruits on European soil’.85 Aside from the institutional novelty
of these reforms, their most interesting aspect in terms of intercultural education is the
issue of the language of communication in the schools, which was the medium by
which modern and useful knowledge was to be disseminated to the wider masses.
The Habsburg monarchs maintained that this role should be assigned to a living
language, namely German, but this decision gave rise to the ‘myth of Germanisation’,
according to which Vienna wanted to impose the alien German language on all the
nations within the multinational monarchy. The justification for its introduction in the
lands of St Stephen is contained in the Ratio educationis (1777), which is very
instructive on the perceived status and usefulness of the German language, then
regarded in the Habsburg Monarchy as the most cultivated language (gebildete
Sprache) after Latin:
There are very few books conceived in Latin or in a vernacular which are so good, and one can
expect to make translations only with a lot of efforts and expense. In contrast, there are
excellent books in the field of arts and sciences written in German and very easily available.86
From the Croatian-speaking perspective, the large number of new German grammars and
dictionaries published after 1760 and the permission given by the Croatian authorities to
publish German-language books in its territory in 1769 demonstrate the importance
attached to at least an acquaintance with German.87 However, communication was never
regarded as one-sided, so several authors composed Croatian grammars in German in
order to make this language accessible to German speakers.88 The popularisation of
books written in German and the ability of native Croatians to read German support the
growth of bookshops with large stocks of German books, German theatres and
German-language publishing in the main urban centres, such as Zagreb, Varaždin, Buda
and Pest.89
Another issue was the purity of the language of communication, since the enlightened
stance was that there could be no progress in understanding without clarity of expression.
In this regard, it would be misleading to believe that national languages other than German
were neglected within the Habsburg Monarchy. The government’s cultural policy
respected to some extent the natural right of nations to use their local vernaculars
(Germ. Nationalsprachen, Lat. linguae patriae), so instruction in the schools was arranged
to commence in the local mother tongue and only later gradually to introduce German
grammar. All the elementary school textbooks, which were written in accordance with the
formatting method of the Silesian Augustinian Abbot Felbiger, were bilingual, combining
German with either Italian, Czech, Serbian (Illyrian), Croatian (and Slavonian), Slovenian,
Slovakian, Rumanian, Polish or Hungarian.90 Efforts to advance ‘purity of speaking’91 are
manifest in the large number of spelling handbooks, grammars and dictionaries. Through
them, the authorities aimed to codify and standardise vernaculars, in order to make
communication within the local communities easier, clearer and less ambiguous.92
The issue of the alphabet was hotly debated. In the Hungarian lands, there were
unsuccessful attempts to use the Latin alphabet for secular books even among Serb and
Rumanian populations, whose Greek Orthodox religion made Cyrillic their natural
instrument of writing.93 This endeavour was doomed to failure, due to the fierce resistance
amongst these Greek Orthodox communities, for whom the use of the Cyrillic alphabet
was an important constituent of their cultural identity.
Conclusion
Enlightenment scholarship has traditionally viewed the specific features of the East
European Enlightenment on the basis of a set of deterministic assumptions, which are
dependent wholly on historical and physical geography. This approach ignores both the
actual historical experience and the cultural, social and intellectual context of each
individual country included in the common denominator of ‘Eastern Europe’. The focal
point of the Enlightenment as conceived by Peter Gay is a small group of French
philosophes, who set out the standards of civilisation for all Europe. However, it is quite
clear that this approach is of no interpretive value when applied to the microhistorical
perspective, due to its inherent and numerous over-generalisations. Such methodological
failures may be surmounted by utilising the Scottish Enlightenment as a model for
examining other ‘provincial’ or ‘peripheral’ Enlightenments. By this means, the
Enlightenment can be clearly understood as a phenomenon in the form of intercultural
communication and to owe its existence to the dedication of local patriots to the
Enlightenment project right across Europe. In the sense applied by Franco Venturi, a
‘patriot’ is a person committed to the improvement of his/her own society, but not to its
superiority over others. As a ‘cosmopolitan’, the patriot displays intellectual openness to
new ideas and freely uses the achievements of other societies in order to make his/her own
better. In addition, enlightened communication presupposes a dialogue that refutes the old
assumptions about the ‘unilateral transfer of ideas from the West to the East’. Moreover, it
prevents a precise division between the ‘centre’ and the ‘periphery’, because the peripheral
components also indulged in cultural dialogue with each other and amongst themselves. Just
a brief consideration of several local circumstances reveals a whole range of social and
political factors, which themselves demonstrate the reality of a lively two-way intercultural
communication network, while also rendering the traditional image of a singular and passive
East European Enlightenment unsustainable.
Notes
1. Gordon, “Sociability,” 97.
2. Mrozowska, “Reform,” 120.
3. Ferrone, “Accademia,” 546.
4. More on this revised definition see in Bödeker, “Aufklärung,” 89 – 111.
5. According to Jürgen Habermas, one of the crucial assumptions underlying the public sphere as
a ‘realm of communication’ is social inclusiveness: membership was not based on the authority
or the social status of the speaker or writer, but on his/her ability to produce rational argument.
Consequently, this did, however, require a certain level of education, which thus became an
important element in the construction of a social identity. For more on this see in Van Horn
Melton, Rise, 8 et passim.
6. The literary historian Barbara W. Maggs explains in similar terms why Voltaire was not
discussed in the Croatian kingdom of Slavonia: ‘This limited acquaintanceship with Voltaire
can be explained partly by Austrian censorship, but also by the backwardness of the region and
the fact that few Slavonians were well enough educated to read Voltaire, except the
conservative clergy, a group which not surprisingly chose to attack Voltaire, rather than make
his work more generally known [emphasis added].’ Maggs, “Voltaire,” 102. Linking the lack
of education with familiarity with Voltaire’s works is a very unconvincing thesis, since primary
sources reveal that many Slavonians were educated and knew French very well. The
enlightened officer Matija Antun Relković provides evidence about his Slavonian compatriots:
“Many people still learn the French language today, pay teachers, and through that make
France richer . . . . Why is that? They respond: because of the scholarly and useful books, which
are written in this language, from which they accept French customs and thus make them
predominant in the world.” Relković, Nova slavonska i nimacska grammatika, 24.
92 T.S. Brnardić
7. I shall consider under this name only for heuristic purposes what was once the Habsburg
Monarchy, partitioned Poland, and Christian nations in European Turkey, and will not get
involved in the discussion about what this region should include or exclude today.
8. This especially counts for Poland, Hungary, Rumania and Bulgaria, whose Enlightenment studies
have been well developed. Each of them has a national society for eighteenth-century studies.
9. I deal more extensively with these issues in “Movements,” and “Enlightenment.” Dr Robin
Okey, who has launched the term ‘East European Enlightenment’ extensively responded to my
argument in “Comment.”
10. Halecki, Limits, 108– 9.
11. See also my critique of the geographically determined concept of ‘Southeast European society’
in the regional studies dealing with the history of its students. Shek Brnardić,
“Kroatische Studenten,” esp. 47 – 51.
12. Robel, “Adelsgesellschaften,” 171.
13. Jandt, Communication, 25 – 6.
14. See a very interesting example of translation as a means for changing meanings in Sinkoff,
“Benjamin Franklin,” 134– 5.
15. Jandt, Communication, 28 – 9.
16. The contemporary semantic equivalents would probably be ‘civilising’ or ‘civilisation’.
17. See a very good survey of what the process of ‘Westernisation’ may have meant in the Balkan
context written by Stavrianos, “Influence.” He dissects the ‘Western forces’ as the ‘economic, the
scientific, and the political revolutions’. I find especially significant his explanation of the reason
why science became so acceptable to Greek Orthodoxy: ‘There [i.e. in the Balkans] science
provided an intellectual meeting point with the West in place of the earlier intellectual deadlock.
So long as Western civilization was essentially Catholic or Protestant, it was unacceptable to
Orthodox peoples. When it became primarily scientific or secular, it was acceptable, and even
desirable, to a constantly growing proportion of the population [emphasis added].’ Ibid., 188. For
the chief characteristics of ‘Westernisation’ (‘modernism’, ‘modernisation’, ‘Westernism’)
which ‘replaces the isolation, ignorance, and acquiescence of traditionalism with the
participation, knowledge, and initiative of modernism’, see ibid. esp. 220.
18. Strada, “Russie,” 405. Russia is the only Eastern European country in that collection of entries
dealing with the new cultural history of the Enlightenment.
19. ‘Too often, the Enlightenment has been seen as a purely mental construct, granted a geography
and a temporality only in so far as it began in a certain place and diffused elsewhere. Like the
free market, the purported cosmopolitanism of the Enlightenment has traced its origin
principally to Britain and France, London and Paris. It was largely the Germans who actively
opposed enlightened cosmopolitanism as the vehicle of Anglo-French hegemony or
“civilisation,” inventing, if we are to believe Elias (who drew upon Kant), the notion of
“culture” to do so [emphasis added].’ Daston, “Ideal,” 372– 5.
20. Darnton, Best-Sellers, 182.
21. Lukowski, Folly, 218– 19.
22. Ibid., 219.
23. Cf. Mühlpfordt, “Gelehrtenrepublik,” 80 –2.
24. Kötzschke, “Die geschichtlichen Studien,” 262.
25. ‘His court at Lunéville was a model of the Enlightenment, the resort of philosophes and of bons
viveurs alike. He [i.e. Leszczyński] kept in close contact with Poland, and welcomed large
numbers of his countrymen to the schools and enterprises of his Duchy.’ Piarist pedagogue and
reformer Stanisław Konarski (1700 – 1773) and Bishop Józef Andrzej Załuski (1702 –1774),
founder of the first public library in Warsaw in 1748, also spent some time in exile at Lunéville.
Davies, Playground, 1: 508– 9.
26. De Madariaga, Russia, 330, 334– 5.
27. On the problems of the Theresian censorship see Klingenstein, Staatsverwaltung.
28. Bodi, Tauwetter, 46.
29. Ibid.
30. [Krčelić and Smendrović], Assertiones, 7r.
31. Ibid., 2r.
32. Cf. for example David Hume, Œuvres philosophique. Tom I. de l’histoire naturelle de la
Religion. Tome II. Dissertations sur les Passions, la Tragédie, & sur les régles du Gout
(Amsterdam, 1759); idem, Vier Abhandlungen 1. die natürliche Geschichte der Religion, 2.
von den Leidenschaften, 3. vom Trauerspiel, 4. von denen Grundregeln des Geschmacks, aus
dem Englischen (Quedlinburg und Leipzig, 1759); idem, Essais philosophiques sur
l’Etendement humain, avec les quatre Philosophes du même auteur, traduit de l’anglois. 2
Tomes (Amsterdam, 1758); idem, Moralische und politische Versuche, als dessen vermischter
Schriften 4ter und letzter Theil (Hamburg und Leipzig, 1756); idem, Geschichte von
Großbritannien, 3ter Band, aus dem englischen des David Hume (Breslau und Leipzig, 1764);
Machiavelli, Princeps (Frankofurti & Lipsiae, 1745) in all translations; Hobbes, Leviathan;
John Locke, Christianisme raisonable &c. traduit de l’Anglois de Mr. Loke (Amsterdam,
1731), etc. Catalogus, 35, 68, 84, 104, 130, 132.
33. Cf. Bodi, Tauwetter, passim.
34. Leslie Bodi informs us that in contrast to almost 5000 titles on the Theresian Index, the
Josephinian one contained only 500 titles with pornographic books, famous atheistic writings
of the French Enlightenment and some sharp anti-clerical pamphlets. Goethe’s Werther and
Schiller’s Räuber were also on the list, accompanied by a large number of baroque devotional
books, which were intolerable from the point of view of Reform Catholicism. Ibid., 51.
35. Pelcl, Pamětnı́ zápisky, 70 – 1.
36. Voltaire, Correspondence, letter no. 2591.
37. Eckhardt, A Francia forradalom, 12. See also Ives, Enlightenment, 14.
38. Ban or viceroy was the senior executive state official in the Croatian Kingdoms. At this time,
Count Ferenc Nadasdy held the position.
39. Krčelić, Annuae, 457. Mita Kostić mentions smuggled copies of Voltaire’s and Rousseau’s
books in French, which were found among the belongings of a quarantine official in the town of
Zemun, near Belgrade. Kostić, “Volter,” 57.
40. Oršić, “Uspomene,” 84 – 5.
41. The emergence of libertinism seems to have been a particular problem not only in Croatia and
Slavonia, but across the whole Habsburg Monarchy in that period. The Catholic clergy evidently
started to pay more attention to proving the truths of revealed religion. Compare the theses
presented by the Croatian Franciscan Kerubin Delamartina, Dogmata polemico-critica de Deo
existente (Zagreb, 1770) and Veritates Catholicae ex universa theologia dogmatica, polemica et
historica (Varaždin, 1774). My research has also turned up Latin excerpts by the Croatian Jesuit
Martin Sabolović, Considerationes de philosophia libertinorum (Bassano, 1767). These
represent a summary of the Italian work dealing with the issue of libertinism: “Riflessioni sulla
filosofia dello bello spirito” (Bassano, 1767), by the Italian Jesuit Giovambattista (Giovanni
Battista) Noghera (1719 – 1784). Sabolović might have used them for his preaching, in
accordance with the royal order and demonstrating the wider concern of the Church authorities.
42. The Croatian Franciscan and military chaplain Blaž Tadijanović wrote a little Illyrian
(Croatian) –German conversational grammar, Svaschta po mallo illiti kratko sloxenye
immenah i ricsih u illyrski i nyemacski jezik koje sloxi otacz Blax Thaddianovich Franciscan
Thaborski, i Suxanyah Czesarskih Duhovni Sluxbenik [A little bit of everything or a short
composition of nouns and words in the Illyrian and German language, composed by Father
Blaž Tadijanović, the Military Franciscan and the Spiritual Official of Imperial Prisoners]
(Magdeburg, 1761), which was evidently published during wartime. In the introduction he
admits that he wrote it at the request of many Croatian-speaking prisoners, and he did it at his
own expense. In order to kill the boredom of captivity, obviously literate prisoners, presumably
officers, wanted to converse with the Prussians in German. The choice of vocabulary reveals
the range of possible topics for small talk: very few dealing with God and spiritual issues, then
environment and animals, work and clothing, time, while most of them focusing on the human
condition and social contacts.
43. De Madariaga, “Comments,” 170.
44. Lemny, “Aufklärung,” 47 – 8.
45. [Obradović], Life, 283.
46. See Winter, “Zur Geschichte,” 162– 7.
47. The Slavonian captain and enlightened thinker Matija Antun Relković translated from French
and edited a book of fables by the Indian sage Pilpay, entitled Nauk političan i moralski od
Pilpaj-bramine, filozofa indijanskoga [Political and moral teaching of Brahman Pilpay, the
Indian philosopher]. The original was identified as Livre des lumières ou la conduite des roys,
composé par le sage Pilpay, Indien (Paris, 1644).
94 T.S. Brnardić
48. The Croatian Orientalist Franjo Dombay published a number of books in Zagreb dealing with
the Orient, such as Popular-Philosophie der Araber, Perser, und Türken. Theils gesammelt,
theils aus Orientalischen Manuscripten übers. (Zagreb, 1795).
49. See Menzel, “Sinophilism,” 300– 10.
50. See Shek Brnardić, Enlightened Officer, 305 et passim.
51. Wojtowicz, “Die polnische Freimaurerei,” 180.
52. Grubišić, “Slobodnozidarska loža,” 22.
53. Abafi, Geschichte der Freimaurerei, 5: 296 et seq.
54. Sorkin, “Reform Catholicism,” 209.
55. Krasić, Ivan Dominik Stratiko, 80.
56. Venturi, Italy, 18 – 19.
57. See “Franco Venturi’s Enlightenment,” 183– 206.
58. Ibid., 193.
59. On the basic tenets of the microhistorical approach see Levi, “On Microhistory,” 93 –113.
60. The collection of essays, “The Enlightenment in National Context” (Cambridge, 1981), edited by
Roy Porter and Mikuláš Teich, examined the meaning of the Enlightenment as a cultural
movement in 13 national contexts: England, Scotland, France, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy,
the Protestant and Catholic Germany, Austria, Bohemia, Sweden, Russia and America. This new
direction in Enlightenment studies is introduced by Porter and Teich in the preface to this
collection. However, comprehensive comparative studies dealing with cultural transfers between
these individual nations are rare, although a noteworthy example is Fania Oz-Salzberger,
Translating the Enlightenment: Scottish Civic Discourse in Eighteenth-Century Germany
(Oxford, 1995). In my PhD thesis, I sought to make comparisons between intellectual concepts and
practices appearing in the Bohemian Enlightenment and examples in other national contexts, esp.
Scotland, Germany and France. Shek Brnardić, “Officer.”
61. Clark et al., Introduction, 22. See also Kontler, “Historians,” 110 and 115.
62. Phillipson, “Scottish Enlightenment,” 25.
63. Ibid., 27.
64. Ibid., 33.
65. Cf. Black, “Citizenship Training,” 427– 51. Likewise, I analyse different variations of
enlightened monarchical patriotism in Bohemia and Hungary-Croatia in Shek Brnardić,
“Modalities.”
66. Clark, Golinski and Schaffer, “Introduction,” 26.
67. Cf. D’Alembert, Preliminary Discourse, 61 –2 and Rousseau, Discourse, 57.
68. Cf. Bödeker and Herrmann, “Über den Prozeß,” 11 – 13.
69. Ibid., 11.
70. Kant, “Answer,” 62.
71. Phillipson acknowledges his debt to the French historian Daniel Roche and his Le siècle des
lumières en province. Académies et académiciens provinciaux, 1680 – 1789, 2 vols
(Paris, 1978).
72. The examination of local societies has proved extremely profitable in German-speaking
Enlightenment studies. Cf. Rudolf Vierhaus, ed., Deutsche patriotische und gemeinnützige
Gesellschaften (Munich, 1980).
73. Cf. Mühlpfordt, “Gelehrtenrepublik,” 39 – 101. The series Wolfenbütteler Studien zur
Aufklärung examined also Halle, Königsberg and Riga, as well as the Enlightenment centres
in the Danish Gesamtstaat. In the Eastern context see also the Polish attempts by Anna
Grzeskowiak-Krwawicz, Gdansk oswiecony: skicze o kulturcze literackiej Gdanska w dobie
Oswiecenia ¼ Die Aufklärung in Danzig: Skizzen über die Danziger Literaturpflege im
Zeitalter der Aufklärung (Warsaw, 1998) and Stanislaw Roszak, Środowisko intelektualne i
artystyczne Warszawy w polowie XVIII wieku: miedzy kultura sarmatyzmu i Oswiecenia
[The environment of intellectual and artistic Warsaw in the middle of the eighteenth century:
between the culture of Sarmatism and Enlightenment] (Torun, 1997).
74. Emerson, “Enlightenment,” 103. Although Emerson here refers specifically to the Anglo-Irish
perspective, but it could be easily argued that Eastern European towns and cities were equally
‘islands of isolated ethnic groups’ such as the Germans, Jews, Italians, etc. whose culture and
language was considerably different from the rural population which surrounded them. The key
point is, however, that the main characteristic of these cities was their multiculturalism and that
their population was likewise multinational and multilingual. The cities and towns were the
main publishing centres for different languages: in Vienna, for example, books and journals
were published not only in German, but also in Serbian, Greek, Romanian, Hungarian,
Croatian and, needless to say, in Latin and French. The same was true for other centres, such as
Buda, Zagreb, Ljubljana, Warsaw, etc.
75. Ibid., 101– 2.
76. For more on this interesting society see Voss, “Die Société Patriotique,” 195– 221.
77. On the Hungarian and Croatian contacts see Silagi, “Zur Geschichte,” 204– 24. For the
Moravian case see Kroupa, “Société patriotique,” 129– 44.
78. Voss, “Société,” 197, 207– 8.
79. Silagi, “Geschichte,” 214.
80. Pezzl, Skizze, 383.
81. In 1752 Frederick II of Prussia proclaimed in his Testament politique: “The interest of the State
requires that all its citizens should profess virtue; . . . The virtues most useful to the citizens are
humanity, justice, courage, vigilance (activity) and hard work: these produce men useful to the
civil service and the army; and these are the sorts of qualities which are to be rewarded . . . .”
Frederick II on ‘civic virtue’ and ‘raison d’état’ in Lentin, Absolutism, 62.
82. Krasić, Stratiko, 81.
83. On Austrian and Prussian school reforms in general see Van Horn Melton, Absolutism and on
the Russian ones Black, Citizens.
84. Lüsebrink, “Civilisation,” 170.
85. Venturi, Italy, 20.
86. “De singulari linguae Germanicae utilitate.” Ratio educationis, 149.
87. Cf. Tadijanović, Everything; Matija Antun Relković, Nova slavonska i nimacska grammatika;
Josip Ernest Matijević, Pomum granatum oder der wahre Kern der deutschen Sprache,
kroatisch expliziert (Zagreb, 1771); Antun Raisp, Nemska gramatika, oder Anfangsgründe der
deutschen Sprachkunst, zum Gebrauche der croatischen Jugend, in der Landessprache
verfasset (Vienna, 1772); Josip Ernest Matijević, Grammatica Germanica ex Gottschedianis
libris collecta . . . Per I/osephum/ E/rnestum M/atthievich/ de s. Dioec. Zagr . . . sacerdotem . . .
Deutsche Sprachlehre aus der Gottschedischen Anleitung zur deutschen Sprache gesammelt
(Zagreb, 1800, 18062). At this time Serbs also published their first German grammar: Stefan
Vujanovski, Nemeckaja grammatika iz razlicnych avtorov, najpaceze gotscedovych knig
sobranna [A German grammar compiled from different authors, primarily from Gottschied]
(Vienna, 1772).
88. Cf. Marijan Lanosović, Neue Einleitung zur Slavonischen Sprache (Osijek, 1778, 1789, 1795);
Franz Kornig, Kroatische Sprachlehre oder Anweisung für Deutsche, die kroatische Sprache in
kurzer Zeit gründlich zu erlernen, nebst beygefügten Gesprächen und verschiedenen Übungen.
Herausgegeben von Franz Kornig, Lehrer der bürgerlichen Erziehungsschule an der
K. Hauptschule zu Agram (Zagreb, 1790, 1795, 1810); [Anonym], Horvaczka gramatika oder
Kroatische Sprachlehre zum Gebrauche aller jener, besonders der deutschen Kroatiens
Einwohner, welche Lust haben, die kroatische Sprache gründlich zu erlernen. Von einem
Menschenfreunde (Zagreb, 1810).
89. Cf. e.g. Živković, “Die deutschsprachige Buch- und Zeitschriftenproduktion,” 92– 105, Fried,
“Funktion,” 139– 57, and Bódy-Markus, “Deutschsprachige Periodika,” 125–36.
90. Kostić, “Pokušaji,” 256.
91. Cf. the importance which the Croatian economist Josip Šipuš assigns to linguistic purity for
economic progress: ‘Besides, to whatever extent some illustrious leader of our glorious nation
will be able to provide some support or [issue] an order for increasing our scholarship, for
advancing the purity of speaking, for dividing sciences, for collecting wealth and strength,
[in that case] we will see and meet the foreign state of that kind with us as well
[emphasis added].’ Šipuš, “Preface,” 11.
92. Cf. Croatian spelling handbooks: Kratki navuk za pravopiszanye horvatzko za potrebnozt
narodnih skol [A short teaching of Croatian spelling for the need of national schools] (1779);
Napuchenye vu horvatzko pravopiszanye [An instruction in Croatian spelling] (1780);
Uputjenje k”slavonskomu pravopisanju za potribu narodnih ucsionicah u Kraljevstvu Slavonie
[An instruction in Slavonian spelling for the need of national schools in the Kingdom of
Slavonia] (1810).
93. Kostić, “Attempts,” 259– 60.
96 T.S. Brnardić
Notes on contributor
Teodora Shek Brnardić is Associate Researcher at the Croatian Institute of History and a visiting
professor at the Department of History at the Philosophical Faculty in Zagreb, Croatia. She
graduated in classics and got her MA degree in history at the University of Zagreb. She earned her
PhD degree at the Central European University in 2004, with the thesis “The Enlightened Officer at
Work: The Educational Projects of the Bohemian Count Franz Joseph Kinsky (1739 – 1805),” for
which she won the third prize in the category of the Best Dissertation Award at the CEU for the year
2004/2005. Among her articles, most of which are in the field of Enlightenment studies, are
“Intellectual Movements and Geo-Political Regionalisation: the Case of the East European
Enlightenment,” East Central Europe/L’Europe du Centre Est. Eine Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift,
32 (2005): 147– 178 and “The Enlightenment in Eastern Europe: Between Regional Typology and
Particular Microhistory,” European Review of History, 13, 3 (2006): 411– 435. Dr Shek Brnardić is
also the author of “Modalities of Enlightened, Monarchical Patriotism in the Mid-Eighteenth
Century Habsburg Monarchy,” in Whose Love of Which Country? Composite States, National
Histories and Patriotic Discourses in Early Modern East Central Europe, edited by Balázs
Trencsényi and Márton Zászkaliczky (Lwiden: Brill, 2009, fortchoming). Her current research
interests are religion and Enlightenment, and Enlightenment in the Habsburg Monarchy.
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European Review of History—Revue européenne d’histoire

Vol. 16, No. 1, February 2009, 79–99

Exchange and commerce: intercultural communication in the age

Croatian Institute of History, Zagreb, Croatia

In the framework of Enlightenment studies, topics dealing with sociability and

ISSN 1350-7486 print/ISSN 1469-8293 online

The ‘East European Enlightenment’ and intercultural communication

Diffusion of enlightened knowledge: books, institutions and circumstances

programme of the Habsburg enlightened monarchs. Joseph II’s endeavour to ensure

Franco Venturi’s Enlightenment: the interplay of patriotism and cosmopolitanism

Sociability and communication: the model of the Scottish urban Enlightenment(s)

The policy of improvement and intercultural communication

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