The Concept of "Early Modern"

The editors of this journal have posed a series of questions the answers to which would hopefully offer a more comprehensive understanding of what we mean by that catch-all concept, the "early modern." Given the very fact that the questions asked are so varied both temporally and conceptually, hopefully I will be forgiven for couching my own thinking in terms that are both general and personal. Although it would be intellectually more satisfying to be able to pin down so broad a concept as the "early modern," I am afraid that my own inability to do so cogently is directly tied to what I perceive to be the defining mark of the concept, its inherent ambiguity.

To my mind, the concept of the "early modern" is elusive in a temporal sense (where do we situate it historically—beginning in the sixteenth century and extending up to the French Revolution of 1789, or is it more limited in time, say from the mid-sixteenth to the late-seventeenth centuries?) And is it not a concept whose temporal limits can shift depending on its geo-political location? (Elizabethan England, Neo-Classical, i.e., mid-seventeenth century, France, or "baroque" Rome, Madrid [Mexico City!], or Vienna?) Are the different socio-cultural productions across Europe part of the same phenomenon? What of the differences in religious expression and persecutions, scientific discoveries, extra-European exploration, exploitation, and colonization?

It would appear at first hand that any over-riding conceptual framework is intellectually risky especially when we are faced with the often contradictory academic disagreements between historians, literary scholars, philosophers, sociologists, theologians, anthropologists, and many others whose differences about any single definition of the concept are varied and heated.

Unable to find any one definition that would embrace so large a socio-cultural phenomenon, I rely on what appears to me to be a common thread among all these varied phenomena and that thread is double. Although almost any historical period may be described as inherently traumatic, I find that the period between 1550 and 1700 is marked by both a generalized European fear that chaos is about to descend upon the world and a desire for some force, some leader who would be able to waylay that chaos, establish order and put things that seem askew, aright. We hear echoes of this fear resounding across the European continent from England to Poland, from Paris to Naples in what historians have called the "crisis of the Seventeenth Century" (Trevor-Roper).

So, for starters I would start by circumscribing the concept of the "early modern" as a generalized crisis of European civilization and the various responses, political, social, and aesthetic that arose in a limited historical period (1550 to 1700) as an attempt to deal with this crisis, and in so doing ushered in new ways of configuring the place of the human subject in a radically changing symbolic system—a system that eventuates in reformulating those parameters of subjectivity that we now define as our own.

It would appear that when we talk about the "early modern" for however extended or narrow our definition of it may be, it is the seventeenth century that figures as the pivotal, transitional moment where those systems of representation that had dominated, that had coalesced into a "master narrative" that had defined the period from the late Middle Ages up to and through the Renaissance, were gradually being transformed into what was to emerge in the eighteenth century as a new configuration of subjectivity that would be the mark of the "modern."

In his seminal early study Les Mots et les Choses, Michel Foucault argued for seeing the seventeenth century as a liminal period separating and joining one representation of the configurations of human subjectivity—the analogical—that, he claims, was the principal episteme up to and through the Renaissance, to the "transparency of Classical representation," which established its firm hold on the West in the eighteenth century. The seventeenth century would figure the moment of passage between these two epistemes, participating in both, seeing (but not, of course, in any clearly articulable fashion) the gradual, inexorable disappearance...