CURIOSITY AND CURIOSITIES. THE IMPERIAL ROAD

TO DISENCHANTMENT

 

PETRUTA-OANA NAIDUT

 

And men go about to wonder at the heights of the mountains, and the mighty waves of the sea, and the wide sweep of rivers, and the circuit of the ocean, and the revolutions of the stars, but themselves they consider not.

(St. Augustine, Confessions)

 

Any endeavour to trace the link between curiosity and curiosities beyond the overt linguistic connection has to acknowledge the fact that there is an apparently hidden sliding of meaning of the term that designates, on the one hand, a passion, and on the other, a product. Such an attempt amounts, in spite of the constraints which have to be imposed on the richness and variety of sources, to the history of an idea, that of curiosity, and of its relations with secrecy and knowledge against the backdrop of the British imperial enterprise. Mention should be made, however, of the fact that the approach has been restricted to 16^th and 17^th-century efforts to turn a ‘paper empire’ into an actual one.[1] Within this framework, it is my intention to analyse the subtle interaction between concealment and revelation with respect to the production of knowledge of the world and taking possession of that world. In doing so, I draw upon cartographic representations and texts outside the literary canon.

In the early modern period, the idea of curiosity as a transgression of cultural boundaries starts changing under the pressure of wealth brought form the colonies, which produces a shift of perception and practice  as cultural objects are reified.[2] Edward Peters claims that the propensity for travel and the interest in curiosities has much to do with the history of the idea of ‘curiosity’. Thus, he maintains that words such as periergia, poluprgmosune, historein, zetein, and tolma, meaning “fussiness, overattention to detail, pointless wondering purely for personal distraction, interference in the affairs of others, to investigate, to do research, and especially a kind of shameless audacity that verges on sacrilege” reveal the lack of a term designating curiosity.[3] Within the Christian framework, the word does not enjoy great popularity when denoting either intellectual pride or the desire to seek new worlds. As such, it ranks among the common vices. But, since the sacred territory of Christianity is located emphatically elsewhere, pilgrimage to the Holy Land becomes a locus of Christian identity and travel, from which curiosity cannot be separated. Peregrinatio as a religious practice as well as the essence of existence and the idea of a spiritual conquest of the world play a decisive role in the perception of legitimate curiosity. Together with the rediscovery of the classical authors, whose re-reading provides incentives for imperial expansion, commercial interests pave the way to a disenchanted worldview according to which, in spite of the initial claims that God alone can provide certain and effective knowledge and that ‘every science doth bring unto man some divinity’, the pre-rationalist view of the world slowly gives way to the mathematization of nature in late 17^th century.[4] The desire to know what was formerly forbidden may seem transgressive at first and thus render curiosity rather expansionist and ultimately imperialistic, but what is of utmost importance is the actual revaluation of the idea itself. The curiosities of distant lands seen as objects of fear and desire face the perceiving subject with a problem of understanding for he is not familiar with them. One way to interpret them would be to classify them as marvels and signs of God, which renders the category of the known ‘inadequate, incorrect’ and probably insufficient.[5] Consequently, curiosities are mere secrets waiting to be disclosed and interpreted, not only to be seen, but to be perceived, not only to be heard of, but to be understood.

At this point, one can forge a connection between territorial and scientific discoveries, between the imperial enterprise and the empiricist tradition. In Benedict’s own terms, ‘the matrix of the wonderful’, the marvelous enables travellers and advocates of a British empire, on the one hand, and natural philosophers, on the other, to explore and reveal the secrets of the universe and expand the physical and conceptual boundaries of the known. Within the limits of empirical knowledge, the laws that govern nature can be discovered. At the same time, one cannot ignore that such knowledge is no longer merely derived from books, but also from the observation of the outer world. If curiosity starts as an appetite of the mind, in the Age of Reconnaissance, as some have called it, or the Age of Plunder, as others have suggested, it becomes an appetite of the eye. In 1605, Bacon buttresses this claim in The Advancement of Learning with a quotation form the Bible: “the eye is never satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing” [Ecclesiastes, 1: 8] and goes on arguing against ignorance while rejecting the theological prohibitions against curiosity:

God has framed the mind of man as a mirror or glass, capable of the image of the universal world, and joyful to receive the impression thereof, as the eye joyeth to receive light; and not only delighted in beholding the variety of things and vicissitudes of times, but raised also to find out and discern the ordinances and decrees, which throughout all those changes are infallibly observed. […] For that nothing parcel of the world is denied to man’s inquiry and invention, he doth in another place rule over, when he saith: the spirit of man is as the lamp of God, wherewith he searcheth the inwardness of all secrets [Proverbs, 20.27]. If then such be the capacity and receipt of the mind of man, it is manifest that there is no danger at all in the proportion of quantity of knowledge, how large so ever, lest it should make it swell or outcompass itself. […] If any man shall think by view and inquiry into these sensible and material things to attain that light whereby he may reveal unto himself the nature or will of God, then indeed is he spoiled by vain philosophy: for the contemplation of God’s creatures and works produceth (having regard to the works and creatures themselves) knowledge; but having regard to God, no prefect knowledge, but wonder, which is broken knowledge. And therefore it was most aptly said by one of Plato’s school that the sense of man carrieth a resemblance with the sun, which (as we see) openeth and revealeth all the terrestrial globe; but then again it obscureth and concealeth the stars and celestial globe: so doth the sense discover natural things, but it darkeneth and shutteth up divine… To conclude therefore, let no man […] think or maintain that a man can search too far, or be too well studied in the book of God’s word, or in the book of God’s works, divinity or philosophy but rather let men endeavour an endless progress or proficience in both.[6]

Bacon is, however, decades away from the time when the habit of curiosity leading to occult investigation is doubled by the ambition to create an overseas empire. John Dee’s quest for the secrets of natural philosophy reveals the coexistence and interdependence of magic and scientific discoveries. Hard as it may be to distinguish between the magus and the scientist, it seems easier to identify him as the ideological architect of the British Empire, advocating the advancement of British sea power. Nonetheless, Dee’s secret legacy, consisting, among others, of maps through which he contributed to the development of Tudor cartography, is overshadowed by the public legacy left by Hakluyt, Drake and Ralegh.[7] His contacts with continental cosmographers enable him to substantiate his discovery and recovery enterprise in which maps are assigned a central role. In full awareness of the fact that geographical knowledge ensures the political domination of space, Dee insists on the secrecy of maps while, at the same time, he produces cartographic representations of the Northern Hemisphere as well as more or less cryptic images of Britain as a sea power. The iconography he resorts to is indicative of a nascent ideology which precedes the actual conquest of the world. His symbols of divine and earthly power carry messages with hegemonic potential. In the illustrated title page of his General and Rare Memorials Pertayning to the Perfect Arte of Navigation, Dee forges a close connection between the decorative phase of cartography and Hermetism. The Latin motto that surrounds the title – “Plura Latent quam Patent” (“More things are concealed than revealed”)[8] – together with the skull on the right as a Hermetic symbol for man, all seem to hint at the importance of England emerging as an imperial power. In this engraving, Elisabeth commands the ship of state, labelled Europa. The royal coat of arms on the rudder indicates Dee’s claim to England’s supremacy and leadership of Europe. While receiving her advisors, Elisabeth looks toward a naked lady – Occasion or Fortuna – who stands on the fortress to the left. As Lesley Cormack points out, Elisabeth holds out her right hand to grasp Fortune’s forelock and the laurel wreath she holds. Kneeling on the shore, Britannia wishes Elisabeth to seize her opportunity with a “fully equipped expeditionary force,” as her scroll states. The navy is to begin the divinely sanctioned creation of an English Empire. God, Elisabeth and St. Michael fight back the darkness, as the naval force will soon capture the foreign ships at sea. The General and Rare Memorials was intended as the first volume of a tetralogy that would go under the title The British Monarchy, and which also contained The British Complement of the Perfect Arte of Navigation and Of Famous and Rich Discoveries, a rambling collection of materials on geography, mostly dealing with the areas to be explored in the voyages to Cathay.

Dee’s intended “Geographic Reformation” raises the question concerning the use of maps. There is little doubt that these may be used as rhetorical tools. The representation of distant places creates a cartographic space which renders itself to interpretation. Moreover, maps have not only to be drawn, but also to be justified and enforced. Most of them are far from representations of the actual geography of a country. The cartographer undertakes the task of reconciling the incomplete and sometimes inconsistent data and producing pictures that please the eye, pretend to be complete, and serve a nationalist ideology. When dealing with the mimetic problem raised by maps, one needs to take into account the fact that, as conventional configurations of the real world and, to a certain extent, imitations of it, they create another realm which prefigures the rise of an empire.[9] Dee himself was aware of the central role they played in the substantiation of imperial claims. The text, which might even appear on the other side of the map, served as an illustration or justification that created the illusion of resistance to any kind of interpretation, and of a practical purpose. And in a way, it did fulfill this role. Ralegh’s Discovery of Guyana concealed the disenchantment that followed his travels and functioned as a pacifying strategy for the investors’ thwarted ambitions. Somehow, failures of conquest are deemed as impossible enterprises and located in the unknown territories together with the riches that are not to be found. In cartographic terms, Dee refers to these secrets that cannot be revealed as ‘meta incognita’ whose wonders are not to be appropriated and domesticated for the time being.

Perhaps a completely explicit vision of Dee both as a magus and a geographer emerges as he concludes the first section of Brytanici Imeprii Limites. His anthropomorphic and imperial cartography of the body politic may be a reminder of the famous Marcus Gheeraert portrait in which the queen is shown standing on a map of England, yet, it seems to outdo it as Dee maps the Asian and American regions to be explored onto Elisabeth’s body:[10]

The single little black circle on the left hand side of your Majesty’s throne represents Cambalu, the capital of Cathay. But by a wonderful fortune… the City of Heaven (that is, of course, Quinsay) happens to be located at the middle joint of the index finger which encloses the hilt of your sword. And there are other things extremely noteworthy, which, as if by Divine will, adorn the surroundings of your imperial seat. For under your Crown… is concealed an island; once known as Chryse, but now commonly called Japan… Thirdly, at the right side of your Majesty, the coast of Atlantis is pleased to have its place – almost opposite Quinsay. But about the feet of your supreme highness lies the Straight of Anian… And if those things are true which we have hitherto heard reported, those four places which I have named have their geographical symmetry.[11]

If one considers the meaning of the phrase ‘to rule the world’, a connection can be easily forged between the systematic measurement of the world and the kind of knowledge that enables people to control it. Dee was, in a way, aware of the implications and aim of his cartographic endeavours, as shown by his Preface to Henry Billingsley’s translation of Euclid’s Elements. As a practitioner of natural and mathematical science, he could not ignore its importance with regard to the virtues, nature, properties and forms of all creatures, its hidden connection with the spirit, with both visible and invisible, mortal and immortal things. He thus suggests that anthropography is simply a consequence of the correspondences that may be traced between the microcosm and the macrocosm, and of the harmonious relation between the two. His explicit reference to Albrecht Dürer’s De symmetria humani corporis is thus echoed by the closing lines of the first section of his Brytanici Imperii Limites.

However, Dee seems to be wondering at the virtues of numbers when used in the art of navigation, which emphasises, once more, the importance he assigns to sea-charts in the making of an empire by unveiling the secrets of the universe. The theme of forbidden knowledge touches upon three realms: the natural, the sociopolitical, and the divine, which interact in the creation of early modern identities.

By way of conclusion, I would suggest that the study be moved to the conceptual level, that of cognitive mapping, at which symbolic, imaginary and real bonds with the mapped territories are established. It is precisely here that the mechanism of representational practices and imperialism as a complex and heterogenous phenomenon may be explored.

 

CURIOZITATE SI CURIOZITATI

Rezumat

În contextul încercarilor din Anglia secolelor XVI-XVII de a trasa ,,un imperiu pe hârtie”, lucrarea de fata îsi propune sa analizeze printr-o prisma cartografica perceptia unei epoci privind cunoasterea secreta. Punctul de plecare al acestui demers îl reprezinta curiozitatea înteleasa atât ca atitudine fata de cunoastere, cât si ca produs al unei cercetari care îsi depaseste limitele admise. Într-o perioada care preceda ceea ce în mod traditional, si poate eronat, s-a numit ,,revolutia stiintifica”, documentele cartografice evidentiaza o atitudine ambivalenta fata de cunoastere: pe de o parte, hartile sunt dovada unei dorinte de a dezvalui lumea si, astfel, de a o stapâni, iar pe de alta, caracterul lor secret dictat de interese imperialiste aduce în prim-plan o traditie în care se face o distinctie clara între doua tipuri de cunoastere – publica si secreta. Demersul initiat de John Dee privind posibilitatea de a construi un imperiu britanic la sfârsitul secolului XVI exemplifica relatia subtila care se stabileste între necesitatea de a revela secretele unui univers deschis si dorinta de a controla fluxul de informatii din Lumea Noua. 

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aughterson, Kate (ed.), The English Renaissance: An Anthology of Sources and Documents, London and New York: Routledge, 2002.

BENEDICT, BARBARA M., Curiosity: A Cultural History of Early Modern Inquiry, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2001.

CORMACK, LESLEY B., “Britannia Rules the Waves? Images of Empire in Elizabethan England”, in Early Modern Literary Studies, 4.1/Special Issue 3, September 1998, 10.1-20.

HALLIWELL, STEPHEN, The Aesthetics of Mimesis. Ancient Texts and Modern Problems, Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2002.

JENSEN ADAMS, ANN, “Competing Communities in the ‘Great Bog of Europe’: Identity and Seventeenth-Century Dutch Landscape Painting”, in Mitchell (ed.), Landscape and Power, Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 2002, pp. 35-77.

MITCHELL, W. J. T., “Imperial Landscape”, in Mitchell (ed), Landscape and Power, Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 2002.

PETERS, EDWARD, “The Desire to Know the secrets of the World”, in Journal of the History of Ideas, 62.4, 2001, pp. 593-610.

SHERMAN, WILLIAM, “Putting the British Seas on the Map: John Dee’s Imperial Cartography”, in Cartographica, 1998, pp. 1-10.