The Panopticon

The architecture incorporates a tower central to a circular building that is divided into cells, each cell extending the entire thickness of the building to allow inner and outer windows. The occupants of the cells are thus backlit, isolated from one another by walls, and subject to scrutiny both collectively and individually by an observer in the tower who remains unseen. Toward this end, Bentham envisioned not only venetian blinds on the tower observation ports but also maze-like connections among tower rooms to avoid glints of light or noise that might betray the presence of an observer

—Ben and Marthalee Barton [5]

How might the text of a novel be like a panopticon? How might Defoe’s Crusoe be like one?


Critiquing the Enlightenment Project

5 Perspectives


The function of Crusoe’s diary, it seems, is not to anatomize the self, but rather to keep track of it in the modern fashion that Riesman [David Riesman, author of The Lonely Crowd] describes: “The diary-keeping that is so significant a symptom of the new type of character may be viewed as an inner time-and-motion study by which the individual records and judges his output day by day. It is evidence of the separation between the behaving and observing self.”

–Leopold Damrosch, Jr., “Myth and Fiction in Robinson Crusoe”


One might compare the effects of listening to a Gospel passage read from the pulpit with reading the same passage at home for oneself.  In the first instance, the Word comes from a priest who is at a distance and on high; in the second it seems to come from a silent voice that is within . . . . I think that the ‘deep penetration of new controls’ to all departments of life becomes more explicable when we note that printed books are more portable than pulpits, more numerous than priests, and the messages they contain are more easily internalized.  . . . In so far as they were internalized by silent and solitary readers, the voice of individual conscience was strengthened.

–Elizabeth Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), pp. 428-9.


Crusoe reflects the progressive desacralizing of the world that was implicit in Protestantism, and that ended (in Weber’s phrase) by disenchanting it altogether. Defoe’s God may work through nature, but he does so by “natural” cause and effect (the seeds that sprout), and nature itself is not viewed as sacramental. Rather it is the workplace where man is expected to labor until it is time to go to a heaven too remote and hypothetical to ask questions about.

–Leopold Damrosch, Jr., p. 179.


Defoe’s narratives array the old prisons [characterized by misery and hilarity, punishment and immorality that roused initiative in prisoners rather than making them conform] on detailed representational grids of elapsed time, causal sequence, perceptual registration, and associative psychology [features that suggest the new “penitentiary,” which emphasizes regimes, schedules, and disciplines meant to reshape prisoners]. Under these circumstances the  . . .  prototype of [the old prisons] gives way to an ideal of confinement as the story of isolated self-consciousness shaped over time, within precise material circumstances, and under the regime of narrative discipline—what I call the “penitentiary idea.”

Of all the major genres only the novel is younger than writing and the book: it alone is organically receptive to new forms of mute perception, that is, to reading.” The novel, the genre of writing par excellence, formally embodies the fabric of urban culture: the very self-consciousness concerning the fabric of concrete particulars that defines it not merely as an awareness of being watched but the technical ability to keep track by writing and to retrieve by reading. Compilation, investigation, justification, adjudication, letters, lists, receipts, journals, records, evidentiary detail, testimony—the written traces of merchandise and manners—here is the stuff of both cities and novels.

“From the beginning,” as Lewis Mumford says, “the city exhibited an ambivalent character it has never lost: it combined the maximum amount of protection with the greatest incentives to aggression: it offered the widest possible freedom and diversity, yet imposed a drastic system of compulsion and regimentation.” My stance necessarily stresses the subordination of diversity to civic rule and, in the case of the novel, to narrative order.

–John Bender, “The Novel and the Rise of the Penitentiary,” p. 392, p. 398, p. 401.


Just as “Moloch” London depended upon a fresh influx of bodies to grow faster than its death rate, England depended upon its colonized bodies to feed its “necessary” needs that resulted from its expansion. Defoe, ostensibly the professional booster of such a vigorous economy of expansion, points repeatedly to its cost, its dependence on slavery, upon violence, upon death.

Crusoe does his part to stock the island with “Supplies” including “seven Women, being such as I found proper for Service, or for Wives to such as would take them: as to the English Men, I promis’d them to send them some women from England, with a good Cargoe of Necessaries (220).

Slavery—physical and sexual-becomes “Necessary” here, sustaining not just life, but Crusoe’s jaunts around the world. While Defoe repeatedly presents the rigors of the slavery system . . . he remains oddly outside of his own analysis of the system. Peter Earle ruefully notes that Defoe “went so far as to hope that one day all Englishmen might be masters, wishing for his country’s good ‘that it might please God that all our people were masters and able to keep servants, tho’ they were obliged to buy their servants, as other nations do.’”

–Carol Houlihan Flynn, “Consumptive Fictions: Cannibalism and Defoe,” p. 424 and pp. 430-1.

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From Restoration to Progress

From Restoration to Progress

Frontispiece of Sir Francis Bacon’s Instauratio Magna (“Great Renewal”), 1620, the foreword to his Novum Organuum, 1620.

See the bottom section of

The image depicts a ship sailing through the Pillars of Hercules. They were the end of the known world, which supposedly bore the warning “ne plus ultra” (nothing further), a warning no to go beyond them. The motto along the base of Bacon’s frontispiece offers the optimistic promise Multi pertransibunt et augebitur scientia (“Many will pass through and knowledge will be the greater”).

What are all the contradictions here (between the title of the text, the motto, and the legend about the Pillars of Hercules)?

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Screens and Life 2

In 1960, Life magazine featured a “spare room” converted to family fallout shelter that was designed, at the request of the American government, by the American Institute of Decorators, and presented in a cutaway model to onlookers who gaze through the cinderblock wall into a room intended to house an American family of five in the event of nuclear war. The shelter is filled with objects intended to reassure onlookers of normality and stability, for instance a child’s rag doll and a coffee pot, and the exercise bicycle that suggests mobility, fitness, and even youthful insouciance. The global wall map indicates that the world outside is geographically intact and retains its political divisions, and the animals on the wallpaper (buffalo, horses) tell the public that the flora and fauna are growing and grazing in the world beyond the cinderblocks of their bunker . . .

And the television?—“battery-powered” says the caption, and in the Life photograph the eye moves to locate the television as the central focus of the room.

From Cecelia Ticchi, Electronic Hearth: Creating an American Television Culture. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.

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Screens and Life I

[Ad from the DuMont Corporation, 1944, reprinted in Ticchi, p. 15]

You’ll be an armchair Columbus! You’ll sail with television through vanishing horizons into exciting new worlds. You’ll be an intimate of the great and near-great. You’ll sit at speakers’ tables at historic function, down front at every sporting event, at all top-flight entertainment. News flashes will bring you eye-coverage of parades, fires and floods; of everything odd, unusual and wonderful, just as though you were on the spot. And far-sighted industry will show you previews of new products, new delights ahead.

All this—the world actually served to you on a silver screen—will be most enjoyably yours when you possess a DuMont Television-Radio Receiver. It was DuMont who gave really clear picture reception to television. It will be DuMont to whom you will turn in peacetime for the finest television receiving sets and the truest television reception . . . the touchstone that will make you an armchair Columbus on ten-thousand-and-one thrilling voyages of discovery. P. 15

From Cecelia Ticchi, Electronic Hearth: Creating an American Television Culture. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.


The Printing Press part II

The Tempest and Improvement as Restoration to the Past and to Nature:

Eisenstein, 290:

“The assumption that ‘the ancientest must needs be the right, as nearer to the Fountain the purer the streams and the errors sprang up as the ages succeeded’ conformed so completely to the experience of the learned man throughout the age of scribes that it was simply taken for granted. Only after that age came to an end would the superior position of the ancients require a defense.”

Eisenstein, 292-3:

For a period during the Renaissance, then, “’Back to the classics and ‘back to nature’ [were] . . . seen as two separate themes which the humanists managed to intertwine . . . . Retrieving the writings of the ancients went together with the idea of restoring forms to their natural state.”

Petrarch, quoted in Eisenstein, 296:

“The slumber of forgetfulness will not last forever. After the darkness has been dispelled, our grandsons will be able to walk back into the pure radiance of the past.”

Eisenstein, 292:

“What had been ‘unknown to previous generations’ was so obscured before printing that finding [it—i.e. what had been lost and thus become unknown–] . . . was often equivalent to devising ‘a new solution” . . . .  Even the ‘invention’ of central perspective may have been sparked by efforts to reconstruct lost illustrations to an ancient Alexandrian text. Only after ancient texts had been more permanently fixed to printed pages would the  . . . search for primary sources” come to seem a restraint on new writers and thinkers rather than an inspiration to them.


Gawain and the Printing Press

Gawain and the Green Knight, Medieval Romance, and the World of Adventures and Wonders.

Since the siege and the assault was ceased at Troy . . .

More marvels have happened in this merry land

Than in any other I know, since that olden time,

But of those that here built, of British kings,

King Arthur was counted the most courteous of all,

Wherefore an adventure I aim to unfold,

That a marvel of might some men might think it,

And one unmatched among Arthur’s wonders.

l. 1 and ll. 23-28


But Arthur would not eat till all were served;

So light was his lordly heart, and a little boyish;

His life he liked lively—the less he cared

To be lying for long, or long to sit,

So busy his young blood, his brain so wild.

And also a point of pride pricked him in heart,

For nobly he had willed, he would never eat

On so high a holiday, till he had heard first

Of some fair feat or fray some far-borne tale,

Of some marvel of might, that he might trust,

By champions of chivalry achieved in arms,

Or some suppliant came seeking some single knight

To join with him in jousting, in jeopardy each

To lay life for life, and leave it to fortune

To afford him on field fair hap or other.

l. 85ff


Response to the challenge and beheading and departure of the green knight:

The king and Gawain gay

Make game of the Green Knight there,

Yet all who saw it say

‘Twas a wonder beyond compare.


Gawain riding out on his quest: he

Comes over at Holy Head, and enters next

The Wilderness of Wirral—few were within

That had great good will toward God or man.

And earnestly he asked of each mortal he met

If he had heard aught of a knight all green,

Or of a Green Chapel, on ground thereabouts,

And all said the same, and solemnly swore

They had seen no such knight all solely green in hue.

Over country wild and strange

The knight sets off anew;

Often his course must change

Ere the Chapel comes in view.

Many a cliff must he climb in country wild;

Far off from all his friends, forlorn must he ride;

At each strand or stream where the stalwart one passed

‘Twere a marvel if he met not some monstrous foe,

And that so fierce and forbidding that fight he must.

So many were the wonders he wandered among

That to tell but the tenth part would tax my wits.

Now with serpents he wars, now with savage wolves,

Now with wild men of the woods, that watched from the rocks,

Both with bulls and with bears, and with boars besides,

And giants that came gibbering from the jagged steeps.

l. 700ff


Medieval Scribal Maps vs. Renaissance Printed, Compass-Plotted Maps


Charta Cosmographica, 1544,

(Go to for a brief historical survey of maps)

Elizabeth Eisenstein, op. cit., p. 227

Whether or not the medieval mentality was peculiarly childlike or credulous is in my view an unedifying question. I would prefer instead to stress the common acceptance on the part of otherwise hard-headed, intelligent and literate adults  . . . of what has been described elsewhere as fantastic history and imaginary geography. An inability to discriminate between Paradise and Atlantis on the one hand, Cathay and Jerusalem on the other, between unicorns and rhinoceroses, the fabulous and the factual, does seem to separate earlier mentalities from our own in a way that requires explanation. . . . When considering how veils were lifted, the publication programs of map makers should not be ignored.

Thus, the two different “programs”:

Scribal Maps:

Lloyd Brown quoted in Eisenstein, p. 479:

More than 600 maps and sketches made between 300 and 1300 have survived the ravages of time . . . regardless of size and the quality of workmanship, it is impossible to trace in them a developmental process, a progression of thought . . . . It is also impossible to grade them in terms of accuracy and utility.

In the scribal era moreover (p. 482):

The best maps, indeed, were often carefully hidden from view”—both due to the secretiveness of early scribal libraries (which, if they catalogued their libraries at all, did so in secret fashion) and due to the fact that every time a precious manuscript (especially one so delicately rendered as a map) was used, it deteriorated.

Only when multiple copies of a map were made by print would its data be preserved and disseminated. Even more, the early capitalists who ran print shops sold maps to eager buyers, and this competition put enormous pressure on them to continually improve their maps by making them more accurate. Thus one found printers like “Blaeu and his rivals jostling each other at the docks of Amsterdam while waiting for the return of an expedition, and plotting to secure the ship’s log or its pilot or captain in order to place new data on their maps and globes. We are thus provided with a glimpse how the process of ‘feedback’ [a process only possible once print had stabilized, standardized, and disseminated information publicly] . . . had begun to accelerate in the early seventeenth century.” (p. 481

A last quote here from Eisenstein, p. 481:

Even then it took many centuries and cost many lives to achieve the absolute confidence a modern atlas provides. The story of the prolonged impossible quest for a northwest passage indicates how difficult it was to achieve a final closure of geographic space and how important was the role played by communications in the process.

The printing press, in short, put the space fully on the map, crystallized it, stabilized it, standardized it, and made it widely public.


If the printing press was a major means to change people’s perceptions of space, it also changed their perceptions of time and their ways of thought.

1. If space was stabilized, standardized, and made publicly known, so was time. Key to that process was the fact that print stabilized memory—fixed peoples’ records of the past. Exact determination of what came when “must have been impossible before printing. Given drifting [scribal] texts, localized chronologies, multiform maps, there could be no systematic forward movement, no accumulation of stepping stones enabling a new generation to begin where a previous one left off” (Eisenstein, 124, my emphasis).

Indeed, medieval scrolls were jumbled together in libraries, often uncatalogued; individual scrolls often held several different texts (ones often wildly different in type and period from each other); tables of contents did not exist, and even paragraphing and punctuation were only slowly developed. Only by the end of the middle ages did scholars have the “idea of systematically reconstructing a past civilization” as well as “adequate equipment for such an undertaking . . . . It took at least a century of printing before the multiform maps and tangled chronologies inherited from scribal records were sorted out, data reworked, and more uniform system for arranging materials were developed. Before then, there was no fixed spatio-temporal reference frame which men of learning shared.” (187)

The medieval temporal context was “an amorphous spatio-temporal context that was . . . fundamentally different from the modern one. Within this context some portions of the past might appear to be very close at hand, even while others might be placed at a great distance.” (187)

In fact, one could argue that the printing press was a major factor in crystallizing a dramatically new sense of space and of time for the modern world. Space and time were both stabilized, standardized, and made into grids that provided the essential (and rational framework) for art, thought, and the development of science. Geography as we know it began; history as we know it also began. Early scientists, indeed, conceived of themselves as trying to “read” “book of nature” which Galileo described as “the grand book of the universe which stands continually open to our gaze . . . written in the language of mathematics.”  (Eisenstein, 458).


Further world-altering effects of print:

1. The development of silent reading and internalization of what was silently read. Coupled with the reformation and the rise of Protestantism, this changed psyches.

2. The creation of national cultures and nationalism as communities in which the vernacular language (which varied greatly from region to region, locality to locality) was stabilized by print into a national tongue and print provided people a common body of material to read (separately, silently) together, thus creating a common culture by changing local identities and cultures into national ones. This changed societies.


Space and time in a medieval visual text:

From the Duc de Berry’s Book of Hours:

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Nova Reperta,-Jan-van-der-%28Giovanni-Stradano%29/Frontispiece-to-Nova-Reperta-New-Discoveries-engraved-by-Theodor-Galle-1571-1633-c.1600.html

Johannes Stradanus [Jan van der Straet]

Nova Reperta [New Discoveries] (c.1580)

This series of 24 engravings celebrated the new discoveries—both technological and geographical—that made the Renaissance world modern and distinguished it from that of the ancients.  Stradanus devoted no less than 9 images to the ‘discovery’ of the New World, and his encyclopedic frontispiece contained most of the other inventions depicted in the remaining plates, including gunpowder, the printing press, the compass, the clock, stirrups, (al)chemical distillation, the cultivation of silkworms, and the treatment of syphilis with the tropical wood guaiacum.

Francis Bacon, from Novum Organuum (Aphorism 29), 1620

We should note the force, effect, and consequences of inventions which are nowhere more conspicuous than in those three which were unknown to the ancients, namely, printing, gunpowder, and the compass. For these three have changed the appearance and the state of the whole world . . .

The Printing  Press, from Nova Reperta (The printing press was invented by Johannes Gutenberg, c 1440-50.),-Jan-van-der-%28Giovanni-Stradano%29/The-Development-of-Printing,-plate-5-from-Nova-Reperta-New-Discoveries-engraved-by-Philip-Galle-1537-1612-c.1600.html

From Elizabeth Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979.

Some ideas about why medieval inventions did not make a large cumulative impact on society, as did the ones after the printing press:

New techniques or inventions might be mentioned in writing, but this was usually in a sermon . . .  Before the advent of printing, events of significance, when reported at all, were usually conveyed from the pulpit. [For example] ‘Lenses were already known in the thirteenth century . . . . For three centuries a kind of conspiracy of silence was entered into concerning them . . . they became an object of theoretical study only in the sixteenth century.” [But] News of the invention of spectacles was not suppressed by ‘a conspiracy’ in the later middle ages [though guilds did try to keep secret the secrets of their trades]. [Rather] it was conveyed by word of mouth . . . . It was not that such technical inventions were despised or even undervalued until a new class of capitalists came along; it was rather that in the late fifteenth century, functions of the pulpit [used to spread news as well as religion] began to be taken over by the press. The advent of printing lessened reliance on oral transmission even while providing powerful new incentives to . . . publicize the tricks of various trades. The result was an avalanche of technical treatises and teach-yourself books . . . .



Modern technological culture: what most helped produce it? The emergence of a particular mentality? Developments in social history? Or a history of specific inventions?

Gawain, l. 1846 ff:

“Now does my present displease you,” she promptly inquired,

“Because it seems in your sight so simple a thing?

And belike, as it is little [i.e. less rich and costly], it is less to praise,

But if the virtue hat invests it were verily known

It would be held, I hope, in higher esteem.

For the man that possesses this piece of silk,

If he bore it on his body, belted about,

There is no hand under heaven that could hew him down,

For he could not be killed by any craft on earth.”

Then the man began to muse, and mainly he thought

It was a pearl for his plight, the peril to come

When he gains the Green Chapel to get his reward:

Could he escape unscathed? The scheme were noble!

Then he bore her words and withstood them no more,

And she repeated her petition and pleaded anew,

And he granted it, and gladly she gave him the belt,

And besought him for her sake to conceal it well,

Lest the noble lord should know—and the knight agrees

That not a soul save themselves shall see it thenceforth

With sight.

He thanked her with fervent heart,

As often as ever he might;

Three times, before they part,

She has kissed the stalwart knight.

“The print-made split between head and heart is the trauma that affects Europe from Machiavelli to the present.”

–Marshall McLuhan, The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographical Man (Toronto, 1964), p 170.

“[Jacob] Burckhardt connects the [Renaissance] ‘awakening of personality’ with a new spirit of independence and a new claim to shape one’s own life—apart from one’s ‘parents and ancestors.’

–Elizabeth Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change (New York: Cambridge U.P., 1979) 243

“[T]he sixteenth century saw a flood of treatises come off the new presses which were aimed at encouraging diverse forms of self-help and self-improvement . . .  . The chance to master new skills without undergoing a formal apprenticeship or schooling also encouraged a new sense of independence on the part of many who became self-taught.”

–Eisenstein, 243-4