December the Second Post

The Importance of the Narrator -- How Do the Narrator's Comments Affect the Reader's Experience?

"With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them." -- Austen, Pride and Prejudice, page

"Juxtaposed against the clipped conversation, this description announces the omniscient narrator's analytic seriousness, showing us that the novel will not be concerned simply with presenting surface appearances but will scrutinize its characters' essential qualities. To read such a complex, intimate appraisal of a character so early in a novel is jarring -- the reader is forced to pause and try to figure out what it means to describe a human being as a "mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve and caprice." . . . But we also have to slow down because of what the language is describing, because of the startling way in which the narrator presents a human being, encapsulating such a complicated person in only ten words when "three and twenty years" is insufficient to reveal his "character" to his wife. The formal qualities of the sentence are a reflection of the narrator's insistence on accurately presenting the inner nature of Mr. Bennet's character." -- Woloch, The One vs. The Many, page 50

I focused on this section of Woloch particularly because I'm interested in how different points of views in novels affect the reader's experience and comprehension -- for instance, I want to investigate this in my final paper, because both Sterne and Defoe present their novels through a first person narrative that is structured similarly to streams of consciousness. Is this more or less representative of real life than narrating through a third person? Why do authors decide to do either in the first place? What is their intent?
I also found Woloch's explanation of such a "jarring" experience for the reader (when the narrator makes such a flippant "appraisal" of a "complicated person"), although he just spent the prior pages saying how Elizabeth Bennet operates within a network of minor, "lesser" characters to promote her own worth. What exactly does it insinuate that the narrator provides us as readers with such a concise description of this character, while it doesn't elucidate others? Is our intelligence doubted? Or, does Austen just want to focus more on developing other, more important characters? The latter seems most plausible to me. Either way, I feel that the most interesting aspect of this passage was the comment on and appraisal of the reader's reaction, especially in light of Zunshine's work, and that recent study on empathy as influenced by fiction. What kind of narrative and rhetorical tricks make the human brain respond?

November the Twenty Fifth Post

Does Money Buy Happiness?

" . . . But it does capture nicely how well the emerging commercial economies of the eighteenth century coincided with the new ethics of pleasure announced by Locke and his many continental admirers. By buying and selling luxury items and services with the explicit aim of enhancing pleasure and reducing pain, men and women pursued happiness in the manner that both Locke and Hobbes had described -- as a 'continual progress of the desire, from one object to another, the attaining of the former being still but the way to the latter.' " --McMahon, Happiness: A History, page 206

" . . . But his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mein; and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year." - Austen, Pride and Prejudice, page 49


In regards to the question above, it certainly appears to be the case. Notice how the room as a collective unit appreciates Mr. Darcy much more than Mr. Bingley, the friendly gentleman, after the knowledge circulated that Darcy makes much more than Bingley. This is a theme in a myriad of eighteenth and nineteenth century novels, especially in regards to single women looking for prospects. I found it incredibly interesting how McMahon paralleled the emergence of happiness with the growing economy. It's fascinating how aspects of life intersect. What is it about money that makes us happy? It would seem to me to be the stability. It certainly makes sense in regards to the aforementioned single women, who weren't able to make a living for themselves. There's an interesting quote from Luce Irigaray, a French feminist, speaking on how since women were more or less seen as the "scene of rival exchange" between men, it made sense that these goods were unable to relate to other such goods on the market with anything other than "aggressive jealousy." Even something as complex as a human being can be reduced into economic terms.

November the Eighteenth Post

What Signs Exist to Indicate Intention in a Novel?

"We all learn, whether consciously or not, that the default interpretation of behavior reflects a character's state of mind, and every fictional story that we read reinforces our tendency to make that kind of assumption first.

It seems to me that our unease on this occasion stems from our intuitive realization that on some level our evolved cognitive architecture indeed does not fully distinguish between real and fictional people." -- Lisa Zunshine, pages 4 & 19, Why We Read Fiction

This is one of the questions that I'll be exploring in my research paper on attention and interest, especially with how a reader can follow along a character's often unspoken mental track. Zunshine's whole article on cognitive psychology and theory of mind is extremely interesting, and I'm hoping to be able to check it out to see if it will have relevance to my particular topic. Last semester, I took a Neuroscience of Child Development course, and we actually spent a fair amount of time on theory of mind, as well as reading Simon Baren-Cohen's articles. To read this article was a very nice refresher, and got me excited thinking about continuing study in a similar area. For instance, there is a point in Tristram Shandy when he laments how long it will take him to write his life story, especially since he was already at four volumes and still hadn't been born yet. How familiar would this feel to a college student at final exam time? The reader knows, intrinsically, because of their own theory of mind, that he is lamenting the brevity of time when faced with a daunting task. It is moments like these that I would like to investigate.

November the Eleventh Post

Representation of Madness: How Did Sex Affect Diagnosis?

"The illness of 'the Spleen', characterized by moodiness, irritability, depression and nightmares, was prevalent, even fashionable, at the beginning of the century, and Anne Finch was a notable sufferer. Its alternative name, 'the Vapours', linked it to the melancholy humour whose mists the organ of the spleen was meant to dispel. In the grip of 'the Spleen' imagination tended to function in neurotic, unstable and self-deceiving ways, and Finch's lively diagnosis exploits these possibilities." -- Anne Finch, page 22

"The nature of his mental problems cannot be diagnosed with certainty, but there may have been violent mood swings ('For I have a greater compass both of mirth and melancholy than another', he says in Jubilate Agno, I32); one unstable element was a religious fervour that caused him to pray loudly in public places whenever the need took him." -- Christopher Smart, page 426

I find it extremely interesting that the descriptions of these instabilities differ depending on which sex they're referring to. It seems like Smart's illness is seen as more plausible or credible, while Finch's is referred to in the context of being "fashionable." It reminded me of the origin of "hysteria" ( side note: what if my paper was on the nature//history of hysteria? That could incorporate my feminist literary theory class as well, aka I have a little more background//I've been primed to note instances of inequality. At the very least, would it be implausible to treat that as my presentation topic Thursday? ), especially with how it was typically seen as a women's disease. Silly uterus, making women crazy! Also, the reference to the four humors was intriguing. Finding out when that myth was dispelled would be a compelling subject, as well.

November the Fourth Post

"Satire shou'd, like a polish'd Razor keen,
Wound with a Touch, that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an Oyster-Knife, that hacks and hews;
The Rage, but not the Talent to Abuse; . . .
Sure 'tis as fair to beat who cannot fight,
As 'tis to libel those who cannot write."
-- Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, "Verses Address'd to the Imitator of Horace," pages 189-90

"and that women, in particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes . . . . One cause of this barren blooming I attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this subject by men who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring mistresses than affectionate wives and rational mothers; and the understanding of the sex has been so bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect." -- Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, page 258

Final Paper Proposal

For my final research paper, I'd like to investigate the connection or relationship between boredom, interest and attention//distraction. I'd like to look at Robinson Cruseo and Tristram Shandy, particularly in how Cruseo meticulously quantitifies everything on his island, and marks his time religiously. As to Tristram Shandy, I would look for instances when he attempts to organize his thoughts. How the brain quantitifies and organizes things is of particular interest, and I'm hoping to find evidence for these things in these novels. 

October the Twenty Eighth Post

What Triggers Increased Cognitive Awareness, Represented Through Time?

"In the year one thousand seven hundred and eighteen, when this happened, it was extremely difficult; so that when my uncle Toby discovered the transverse zig-zaggery of my father's approaches towards it, it instantly brought into his mind those he had done duty in, before the gate of St. Nicolas;—the idea of which drew off his attention so intirely from the subject in debate, that he had got his right hand to the bell to ring up Trim to go and fetch his map of Namur, and his compasses and sector along with it, to measure the returning angles of the traverses of that attack,—but particularly of that one, where he received his wound upon his groin. . . .
Any man, I say, Madam, but my uncle Toby, the benignity of whose heart interpreted every motion of the body in the kindest sense the motion would admit of, would have concluded my father angry, and blamed him too. My uncle Toby blamed nothing but the taylor who cut the pocket-hole;—so sitting still till my father had got his handkerchief out of it, and looking all the time up in his face with inexpressible good-will—my father, at length, went on as follows." -- Sterne, Tristram Shandy, pages 114 and 116

"Time, with all its celerity, moves slowly to him whose whole employment is to watch its flight." -- Johnson, The Idler No. 21

The amount of time that is spent describing how Walter Shandy reaches into his jacket pocket, and how much time is said to pass while Toby is observing it, recalled this quote of Samuel Johnson's. It's interesting how one specific act so captures the attention of Tristram's uncle, and leads him to a completely unrelated association. Of course, any question of attention, whether divided or not, and related distractions are interesting in the context of this . . . novel. Thing. Especially when Tristram acknowledges how long it is taking him to write his autobiography, and how the pacing will quickly overwhelm him, he advertises the celerity of time when a man is anticipating something, which is intriguing when contrasted to how slowly time is said to move when one is completely engrossed in something. It's a mess of contradictions. The central question that this raises, for me, is the question of perception. How did people perceive time? Were they like me, and they simply cannot fit everything they wish to accomplish in a day, a week, a lifetime? The Idler was particularly enlightening with this, especially since I identified with it. For how much I stress over being so busy, I can't imagine being idle. Stagnation is to deteriorate. 

October the Twenty First Post

What Constitutes "Memory"?

"And who, of all mean in the world, troubled his brain the least with abstruse thinking;  ---the ideas of time and space, --- or how we came by those ideas, --- or of what stuff they were made, --- or whether they were born with us, --- or we pick'd them up afterwards as we went along, -- or whether we did it in frocks, --- or not till we had got into breeches, ---- with a thousand other inquiries and disputes about infinity, presence, liberty, necessity, and so forth . . ." -- Sterne, Tristram Shandy, page 138

"One accomplishment which seems always to have been greatly admired by both ancient and medieval writers was the ability to recite a text backwards as well as forwards, or to skip around in it in a systematic way, without becoming lost or confused. The ability to do this marked the difference between merely being able to imitate something (to reproduce it by rote) and really knowing it, being able to recall it in various ways." -- Carruthers, The Book of Memory, page 21

The historical reading for this week was exceptionally interesting, mostly because I am most fascinated by memory, as well as the distinction between memory and reminiscence. Immediately when I read my quote from that piece, I thought of Tristram Shandy and how he skips around his narrative, yet always brings his tale back full circle to continue the story. In general, it is just an interesting read with its ideas on Locke, the progression of time, and of course the distraction of the mind. It's difficult to read it without becoming distracted one's self, though one can usually just settle into a skimming mode. How that affects retention of the book remains to be seen. 

October the Fourteenth Post

Does a Link Exist Between Distraction and Following Curiosity?

"I find it necessary to consult every one a little in his turn; and therefore must beg pardon for going on a little further in the same way: For which cause, right glad I am, that I have begun the history of myself in the way I have done; and that I am able to go on tracing every thing in it, as Horace says, ab Ovo. . . . To such, however, as do not choose to go so far back into these things, I can give no better advice, than that they skip over the remaining part of this Chapter; for I declare beforehand, 'tis wrote only for the curious and inquisitive." -- Tristam Shandy, page 4

"Cavendish never really fitted into polite society. In Worlds Olio (1655), a broadly philosophical work, she explored a wide-ranging number of topics, but a tendency to veer off at bizarre tangents clouded her message. . . .  Like the Duchess of Newcastle, Tryon found it hard to stay focused in his writing, and his asides sometimes confuse his arguments." -- Cockayne, "The City in a Hubbub," pages 3 and 4

The "City in a Hubbub" piece was a particularly interesting read, focusing on the viewpoints of others to gain a sense of life from a specific period. The piece exhibited thirteen amusing people of note, all complete with entertaining biographies. One in particular stuck out to me, as she has been referenced already in class: Margaret Cavendish. She wrote a brilliant poem that we talked about in class, yet this description of her alluded to a more scattered author than I would have supposed from that work. This tendency to "veer off at bizarre tangents" reminded me of how Sterne began Shandy's narration in Tristam Shandy, and how confused I was myself at the narrative. This seemed like a point of pride to Shandy, and a good thing: to follow each line of inquiry was written for "the curious and inquisitive." From earlier discussions and investigations into the origin of the word "curious," this was especially striking. Had the transition already occurred, then, from a otherworldly thing to a noble quest for knowledge? Had it shaken its negative connotation? Or was this suggesting that to be distracted was to be curious and thus unnatural?
I'm curious to follow this line of inquiry, and to see how exactly distraction fit in with being curious, if a link exists at all. And how does attention, our other state of mind for this week, factor in? Is being attentive to particular things like being curious? And how dimensional are these states? It seems to me that to be singularly attentive to something is like being obsessed, and as the previous weeks suggest, that also alludes to being absorbed by the thought of something. Everything is connected.

October the Seventh Post

Quality Over Quantity: How Could the Quality of Books Read Affect Impressionable Readers?

"Oh! Oh! their History! interrupted the Knight! What, I warrant you, they are to be found in the Fairy Tales, and those sort of Books! Well, I never could like such Romances, not I; for they only spoil Youth, and put strange Notions into their Heads. . . 
Upon my Word, resumed Arabella, all the Respect I owe you cannot hinder me from telling you, that I take it extremely ill you should, in my Presence, rail at the finest Productions in the World: I think, we are infinitely obliged to these Authors, who have, in so sublime a Style, delivered down to Posterity the heroic Actions of the bravest Men, and most virtuous of Women: But for the inimitable Pen of the famous Scudery, we had been ignorant of the Lives of many great and illustrious Persons." -- The Female Quixote, pages 61-2

"But the fear of not being approved as just copyers of human manners, is not the most important concern that an author of this sort ought to have before him. These books are written chiefly to the young, the ignorant, and the idle, to whom they serve as lectures of conduct, and introductions into life. They are the entertainment of minds unfurnished with ideas, and therefore easily susceptible of impressions; not fixed by principles, and therefore easily following the current of fancy; not informed by experiences, and consequently open to every false suggestion and partial account." -- Johnson, The Rambler  

From Arabella's upbringing, it's clear how she came to idolize the romance novels as she does, and incorporate them so completely into her everyday life. With her sequestered upbringing, it's commendable that she still became so intelligent, yet that makes it all the more unfortunate that her life was so corrupted by her false ideals. Her devotion and addiction to her subpar romance novels is interesting in the context of our class readings this week on the neuroscience and history of reading, in relation to absorption. We discussed this in class, as well: is it because Arabella so absorbed by her romance novels that they have permeated her thoughts? Or is she past the absorption stage, and obsessed with projecting the situations that she read about onto her own life? I believe that it is the latter, and it is because they were the only reading material available to her for pleasure, as opposed to the mandated coursework readings that her father may have given her for her instruction, that she came to form such a positive association with them, and wanted to model her own lackluster life after such illustrious examples. Johnson's The Rambler is correct here when he asserts that these works of fiction "with which the present generation seems particularly delighted" were written "to the young, the ignorant, and the idle," although Arabella is only socially ignorant; her father removed her from society, and any hope of interaction that would embellish her blank slate with accurate archetypal experiences. Even though Arabella is extremely well read, she made the mistake of accepting her favorite genre as factual. As Johnson suggests, and the Female Quixote sets to prove, this is extremely hazardous to societal life, as it renders her extremely susceptible to such flights of fancy that we have already seen endanger her and embarrass her tenacious admirer.
It's striking that a satire from 1750 about the danger of the impracticability of romance novels through exploiting the "clash between literary illusion and mundane reality" still seems a relevant issue today, with such fodder as Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey. However, like Johnson admits, "while readers could be procured, the authors were willing to continue it."

September the Thirtieth Post

A Diagnosis for Fantomina: Is it Love or Monomania?

"TRAYTOR! (cry'd she,) as soon as she had read them, 'tis thus our fond, silly, believing Sex are serv'd when they put Faith in Man: So had I been deceiv'd and cheated, had I like the rest believ'd, and sat down mourning in Absence, and vainly waiting recover'd Tendernesses. -- How do some Women (continued she) make their Life a Hell, burning in fruitless Expectations, and dreaming out their Days in Hopes and Fears, then wake at last to all the Horror of Despair? -- But I have outwitted even the most Subtle of the deceiving Kind, and while he thinks to fool me, is himself only the beguiled Person.  . . .

INDEFATIGABLE in the Pursuit of whatsoever her Humour was bent upon, she had no sooner left her new-engag'd Emisssties, than she went in search of a House for the compleating of her Project." -- Fantomina, pages 59 and 62

"The self will only be convinced of its own worth by the faultless devotion of another. Jealous monomaniacs hold themselves and their victims to impossibly high standards. The severity with which the jaloux berates the alleged infidel explodes with the violence of a religious inquisition. Aggressive jealousy can be a great cover up for the self's actual loss of control. While a majority of forsaken individuals bear their fate stoically, monomaniacal lovers devise rigid strategies to trump their relationship's breakdown and make it look like somebody else's failure or weakness. These strategies, themselves powerful idée fixes, are terrific diversions against the intolerable act of waiting, of not knowing. A full-time operation, they involve setting up multiple tricks and traps to contain or confront the fugitive, great focal points that will end up deflecting energy from the self onto the other. Born out of anxiety, the acts of stalking or trailing, eavesdropping, or spying, end up alleviating restlessness and grant a sense of mission or purpose. So this detective work gives birth to an alternative world, an ordered universe that is structured and nourished by the very doubts that had undermined it. The dread of not knowing makes way for the desire to know something for sure." -- Zuylen, Monomania, PDF page 11

Whether or not Fantomina was actually in love with Beauplaisir has been a central argument in the analysis of her extreme motives in that text. The alternative, of course, is that she was obsessed. Obsessed with what, though? With Beauplaisir himself? Or was she addicted to the feeling of being desirous, new, and exciting? I would argue that it's a combination of the two. She was obsessed with feeling desirous to Beauplaisir specifically, chiefly because he was such a conquest. Time and time again, Fantomina proved the transience of male affection, and how little control she actually had over his "love." Thus, she devised several "tricks and traps" to bolster her own feelings of control and allure, in part in retaliation to the discovery of Beauplaisir's infidelity. In this case, the "impossibly high standards" that she holds herself and Beauplaisir to stem from her naive assumption that Beauplaisir would have had any lasting relationship with her under her initial guise of Fantomina. In that setting, social hierarchies and reputation were everything, and Beauplaisir would have been all too aware of the impractiability of continuing a relationship with an unheard of, mysterious girl in society, especially one who masqueraded [ if she wasn't lying about that, of course ] as a prostitute, the lowest of the low. Her disguises and traps became more and more intricate in proportion to how much she felt control slipping from her. 

Zuylen's description of monomania and the jealous lover immediately evoked the tale of Fantomina, and helpfully so: Fantomina could not be considered a love story by any means, so this definition of a fixation "in an otherwise sound mind" helps to pardon Fantomina's extreme behavior, and give credibility to Haywood. 

September the Twenty Third Post

Does The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless Correspond to Haywood's "Reflections on the Various Effects of Love"?

"''Tis strange,' said she to herself, 'that a woman cannot indulge herself in the liberty of conversing freely with a man, without being perswaded by him to do every thing he would have her.' . . . 'People,' cried she, 'have naturally an inclination to do what they are most forbid. The poor girl had a curiosity to hear herself addressed, and having no opportunity of gratifying that passion, but by admitting her lover at so odd a time and place, was indeed too much in his power to have withstood her ruin, even if she had been mistress of more courage and resolution than she was.' On meditating on the follies which women are sometimes prevailed upon to be guilty of . . ." Haywood, Miss Betsy Thoughtless, page 121

"When Love finds Entrance in a Mind, such as these Ladies were possest of, it becomes indeed a most vile and wicked Passion, and its Effects are dreadful to Earth, and detestable to Heaven, and when it takes Possession of a Heart all Gentleness and Softness, it then grows fatal to itself.-- Women shou'd, therefore, but with the utmost Caution entertain it; not all the Dictates of Religion, Reason, Virtue, Interest or Fame, being seldom of sufficient Force to combat with that more prevailing Tenderness, which seems inherent to the very Nature of her Sex: . . ." Haywood, "Reflections on the Various Effects of Love, page 121

The context of the above passage of Miss Betsy Thoughtless displays Betsy's reflections on her friend, Miss Forward's, recent troubles concerning the other sex. It is the outcome of this scenario, as well as inferences drawn from Haywood's Fantomina, that really connected these two quotes for me. The outcome for Fantomina and Miss Forward are the same in both situations: the men are able to get away with indecent behavior, while the women are found out because casual sex doesn't have the same repercussions for men as it does for women. Haywood repeatedly mentions that "how much greater Force that Passion influences the Minds of Women" ("Reflections," 115), and I believe that is what leads her to her ultimate conclusion on the last page that women should only entertain passion and love with the "utmost Caution." Of course, it is curious to note how closely linked passion and love are, though I would consider love and lust inspired passion to be quite different. Haywood mentions this earlier in her "Reflections," that when a man is found to fall for a woman "who boasts no other Merit than her Beauty," people are apt to "lay the Fault on Love" (109). Personally, I took this as the basest form of attraction, or what contemporary society would term as lust. It's interesting to see the differences in eighteenth century norms contrasted to the views of modern society, especially in terms of gender inequality. 

Though our class has not yet finished Betsy Thoughtless, I'm eager to read on and see how Betsy's love life and multiple suitors play out, especially in context to these other works that we have been exposed to. In addition to that, I wouldn't be opposed to reading more autobiographically on Haywood -- what was her own love life like, to inspire such situations? Did she believe in love? Or was she of the "third Sort," who "believe the Passion nothing but a Name, the Chimera of a distemper'd Imagination," on the grounds of having never felt it ("Reflections," 107)? I find it extremely appropriate that this quote mentions a "mental imbalance," especially in light of how far neuroscience has come. In the jargon of firing neurons and hormonal imbalance, it's fitting that love was described this way so early.    

September the Sixteenth Post

The Evolution of Etymology -- Curiosity as the Search for Sinful Knowledge?

"She still thought of it, however; and the longer she reflected on it, the greater was her Wonder, that Men some of whom she knew were accounted to have Wit, should have Tastes so very depraved. -- This excited a Curiosity in her to know in what Manner these Creatures were address'd:" -- Fantomina, page 41

"Curiosity is the mark of discontent, the sign of the pursuit of something beyond what you have. In ancient literary culture, curiosity betrays the desire to know and therefore to be more than you are . . . Early modern texts represent this desire as a passion that turns the inquirer into either a savior or a monster, for both trample the conventions of nature, culture, and society." -- Benedict, Curiosity, pages 2-3

In the opening lines of Fantomina, and especially in the context of last class's discussion on the etymology of the word "curious," it was exceptionally appropriate to see that the perverse doings of men excited a "curiosity" in the title character. Also relevant was the second reference to these men as "creatures," echoing Benedict's Introduction from Curiosity, in which he notes that "passion turns the inquirer into . . . a monster." Obviously, this interpretation is skewed from the inquirer as Fantomina to the men as objects of inquiry, but it would follow from early, god-fearing thought that all passion was sinful, and thus the men were transformed into monsters, as well. Besides, the depraved tastes of these men were a sort of curiosity in themselves -- this desire to know about the lower class women that Fantomina is sitting with at the start of the story. Related to that, sex and desire were commonly seen as animalistic or instinctual passions, uncontrollable like those of beasts, which links together curiosity with desire and its synonyms in interesting ways. Even more intriguing is Haywood's continued use of "curiosity" in context. She goes on to say that Fantomina was easily swayed by her whims and that her most recent was to "dress herself as near as she cou'd in the Fashion of those Women who make sale of their Favours, and set herself in the Way of being accosted as such a one, having at that Time no other Aim, than the Gratification of an innocent Curiosity" ( page 42 ). Again, the search for knowledge is associated with sin, as the women are characterized by their unfavorable profession. It's also worth noting that Haywood includes the adjective "innocent" to describe the "Curiosity," befitting of the connotation of the word in then contemporary times. Her readers would have rightly interpreted curiosity as immoral without the clarification.

Etymology has always been extremely thought provoking, and seeing its importance in the context of analyzing early literary texts just fuels my own curiosity to learn more about commonplace words and their origins. 

September the Ninth Post

Was Robinson Crusoe Right? Could Anyone in his Predicament have Accomplished the Same Things?

"So I went to work; and here I must needs observe, that as Reason is the Substance and Original of the Mathematicks, so by stating and squaring every thing by Reason, and by making the most rational Judgment of things, every Man may be in time Master of every mechanick Art. I had never handled a Tool in my Life, and yet in time by Labour, Application, and Contrivance, I found at last that I wanted nothing but I could have made it, especially if I had had Tools; however, I made abundance of things, even without Tools, and some with no more Tools than an Adze and Hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way before, and that with infinite Labour." -- Robinson Crusoe, pages 50-1

"Man, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything. Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left of itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions." Francis Bacon, The Portable Enlightenment Reader, page 39

Immediately after I read Bacon's assertion, Crusoe's claim that any man could have built the same provisions and such that he had came to mind. Could one have, really? There's a basic premise of intelligence and familiarity that, I would suspect, needs to be established before anyone in Crusoe's position could have come close to creating what he did. An interesting point was brought up early on in our classroom that Crusoe's narrative before being marooned on the island served only to ascertain that Crusoe had had some worldly experience, if only to establish credibility for the tale. There seems to be some truth to this, if only to bolster Bacon's argument. Man as the servant and interpreter of nature, who can do and understand only so much as he has observed? Crusoe spent his life in middle class ease until forsaking a lax lifestyle and heading out to sea. From there, he spent considerable time on ships, as well as in ship related accidents: he had to flee a capsizing vessel, was captured by pirates, commandeered a boat to escape said pirates, and then had the fortune ( skill? ) to be the only survivor of a shipwreck. That seems to imply familiarity with ships and their fittings, as shown by how thoroughly he disemboweled the wreck when it washed up on the island's shore. Also, his time in Brasil certainly served him well when it came to planting and harvesting his crops. He had a successful plantation there that he had built from the ground up, which mirrored his inspiration: he had seen many other men accumulate wealth quickly through these plantations.
The one constant in Crusoe's life ( before fifteen plus years on the same island, performing a variation of the same routine each and every day ) is a desire for more, and for expansion. However, this seems to always lead to trouble for Crusoe: on an expedition to gather slaves to expand his and others' plantations, he is marooned in the first place. All of the tools that Crusoe builds are imitations of useful commodities from his past life, and he admits to being at a loss to inventing anything that he has not had prior experience with -- as well as he shouldn't, if Bacon is to be believed. Personally, I believe that Bacon's declaration is fully supported by Crusoe's actions -- Crusoe was able to give form to many inventions like wicker baskets and earthen pots on the island because he had had prior experience with such things. Another man in his place would not have fared so well, unless he had similar or otherwise applicable knowledge and experience.

September the Third Post

The Head or the Heart?

“Well, go said I; so the Boy jump’d into the Water, and taking a little Gun in one Hand swam to Shoar with the other Hand, and coming close to the Creature, put the Muzzle of the Piece to his Ear, and shot him into the Head again which dispatch’d him quite.” – Robinson Crusoe, 22

“As for the movements of our passions . . . it is . . . very clear that they do not depend on thought, because they often occur in spite of us. Consequently they can also occur in animals, even more violently than they do in human beings . . . I do not deny life to animals and I do not even deny sensation, insofar as it depends on a bodily organ.” Descartes, “Brain and Mind,” page 17

The passage when Xury kills the creature ( which I believe is a lion ) on the shore became particularly interesting to me after reading “Brain and Mind in the ‘Long’ Eighteenth Century,” especially after coming across Descartes’s views on the separation of thought and action, in both humans and animals. I found it significant that people once thought that Descartes regarded animals as “unfeeling automata,” and was pleased that this was apparently not the case; however, I found it curious that Xury shot the animal in the head, and not in the general area of the heart. It is interesting that Defoe understood that life primarily originated from the brain, and thus the head, so that even the character of an uneducated slave boy knew that to kill a living entity, it must be wounded in the head. This is especially compelling since Defoe’s own time frame puts the story in the same era as when Descartes published L’Homme.