In language similarly inaccessible
to that used by Keats in his poem When I Have Fears, yet discussing a matter equivalently relatable, as
it pertains to the human condition and basic human nature, Margaret Cavendish’s
poem, The Circle of the Brain Cannot be Squared, discusses the inherent desire to uncover that,
which is fundamentally unknowable. In her own words, she describes the futility
of an investigation “for that, which is hardest to find.” For Keats, the topic
of discussion is the inevitable demise we all face, a mystery that rests at the
end of each of our lives. Yet, for Cavendish, the quagmire being discussed
involves the unfathomable inner-workings of the human mind. Cavendish uses
several mathematic, and specifically geometric references to characterize the
complex notions surrounding the mind and the root of its unattainable
functions. It seems as though the “Circle of the Brain,” being the primary
representation of how the mind works, is cleverly apt, given the infinite
possibilities available to its beholder. In his article, Brain and
Mind in the Long Eighteenth Century, C.U.M.
Smith elaborates on the many different theories proposed by such noble minds as
Plato, Descartes, Newton, and many others, each offering variations as to the
medical explanation of the seamless interactions of the mind, soul and body. In
what would appear a similarly scientific and geometric characterization of each
proposed rationalization, Cavendish uses the imagery of triangles and squares,
along with division and subtraction to indicate the implausibility of managing
to “Square a Circle round,” or to explain that which is simply unexplainable.
So, just as Keats concludes his sonnet with an admission that he cannot escape
the scythe of death, it looks as though Cavendish has similarly succumbed to
the realization that the mind cannot, and never will, be fully grasped by any
of the hard sciences. While we can continue to divide and subtract, to break
down elements that we believe to be true in search of answers to the ultimate
questions, there is little hope of transforming our limited knowledge of a
boundless, circular phenomenon, like the mind, into a rigid, calculated
machine-like instrument.
Hi, Jack—
ReplyDeleteA solid first post, with exciting combinations emerging in bringing together Keats, Cavendish, and the secondary reading from Smith.
A few questions to invite further close reading down the line... What is it about these two shapes that works for Cavendish to convey meaning in her poem? Why does the circle work to connote infinity while the square conveys mathematical precision, if indeed they do? One extension, the other boundedness? Both, literally speaking, are geometrically contained, but I think you’re right that this is the final effect. Can you dig deeper into the poetic devices at work here—word choice, metaphors, rhyme set ups, etc…--that help guide us toward this concluding interpretation?
Your link to Keats raises a number of interesting questions as well: Do you see Keat’s reference to the “teaming brain” (raising the mind’s ultimate unknowability or uncontainability), as preparing us for his final couplet re: the mystery of what happens after death? i.e. the unknowability of the brain becomes a metaphor for the unknowability of life’s final end? Any interesting parallels between the difficulty Keats speaks of in getting the contents of his ‘teeming brain’ down onto the page (into ‘charactry’) and Cavendish’s frustration with pinning the brain down to lines and shapes?
In future weeks, see if you can weave in an actual quote from one of the two secondary readings. Here, perhaps, most relevant would be something from the C.U.M. Smith article re: the attempt to define whether nerves were fibrous or hollow? Questions about the materiality of mind—whether embodied in ethereal psychic pneuma, airy animal spirits, neural hydraulics, electricity, etc…are crucial to this question you raise about Cavendish and the potential limitations of anatomical imaging of the brain/mind. How these connections were imagined in geometric space had great importance: Was it to be Descartes’ pineal gland? A dual system part material, part immaterial? A branched nervous system? A series of interlinked circular, hollow tubes, connected to the brain at large? This might add intricacy, I think, to your idea about the difficulty ‘pinning’ down the mind in space. What does it mean to use geometric metaphors, as Cavendish does, to talk about the mind in the first place? (Can soul/spirit/mind be either a circle or a square?)
A strong start…
I really like the connections you make between Cavendish and Keats, didn't similar things come up in class? The inevitable and the impossible both are recurring themes in poetry, it would be interesting to see if we could unearth them in Enlightenment poetry to bridge the gap between Cavendish's Reconstruction (is that right?) and Keats's Romantic. I have to disagree with you on one point, though. You say that Cavendish has "succumbed" to the idea that the brain can never be fully analyzed, but I feel no sense of defeat in the poem. It seems to me more that she is chiding the scientists for trying, than expressing a desire to give up. I'd love to hear you thoughts on this!
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