certain castes like the Marwari and Gujerati v a n i s , and they were shaped by the commercial style of these social groups. The Gujerati v a n i s , of whom there was a large concentration in Supa near Poona, had migrated into Maharashtra during the first quarter of the seventeenth century, when Surat was the chief centre of trade in western India. They first came as itinerant dealers in foreign spices, but after a time settled down, and took to moneylending, and became rich and influen tial. Two centuries later, they were still regarded as aliens by the k u n b i s , and for their own part went back to Gujerat to contract marriages or to perform important religious ceremonies. Except for a few rich bankers and traders in Poona, most vanis from this caste were widely dispersed in the country districts^®.
lunaire and Stravinsky’s Le sacre de printemps. The late 1840s marked a
significant moment with the deaths of Chopin and Mendelssohn and the emergence of Brahms and Wagner.
In my own history of nineteenth-century music, partly for practical reasons of space and partly to coordinate with adjacent books in the series, I opt for a “short” nineteenthcentury, which also has plausible musical and historical boundaries. I begin in about 1815, with the Congress of Vienna, when representatives of various European states and nations assembled to reconstruct the continent after the disruptions of the Napoleonic Wars. This is when Schubert arrives on the scene and Beethoven begins to retreat from public view. It is also a time when, broadly speaking, Enlightenment values give way to the more mundane priorities of Biedermeier, middle- class culture. Music in the NineteenthCentury concludes in the early 1890s, at a time when urbanization and industrialization are changing the cultural landscapes in both the U.S. and Europe, and when Richard Strauss, Puccini, Debussy, Ives, and Mahler are all emerging as major figures. Romanticism
B £ c h e - d e - m e r , the h o l o t h u r i a n w h i c h was thickly d i s t r i b u t e d on the reefs of south-east V a n u a L e v u and the islands of the K oro sea, att r a c t e d a n umber of capital investors to Fiji and was the basis of L e v u k a ’s development from the 1820s to the early '50s. Salem traders first collected it in large quantities in 1819 but it was not until the smoke-drying technique of curing the fish was taught to the A m e r i c a n s in 1827» by the crew who had m u t i n i e d from the S p a nish ship C o n c e p t i o n , that the trade became fully established and expanded r a p i d l y .63 L e v u k a residents were hired as interpreters and agents b e t ween the F i j ians and the traders and he l p e d to repair vessels. E a g l e s t o n ’s ship, the Peru, was caulked by two L e v u k a carpenters
callejon sin salida — la historia de los primeros cuarenta años del siglo XIX’ (1847: 39). So, while the narrator fakes surprise at the extravagant customs and practices of the twenty-first century, they are familiar to him precisely because Spanish society is the same as it was in his own day. Indeed, before he and his servant land in Madrid after their dreamlike flight, ‘ Una voz misteriosa nos dijo entonces — Hé ahí tu patria: allá abajo no hay mas que voces; alguna que otra vez un trastorno; nunca un cambio’ (1847 : 37). In this way, the story builds towards its concluding question: ‘¿El Madrid del siglo XXI era un retrato ó una parodia de la
Sperber’s book: ‘a nineteenth-century life’. The guiding theme and clear emphasis of Sperber’s biography is the need to present Marx squarely in his historical context. The problem Sperber addresses is that the name of Karl Marx has become entwined with the experience of state socialism in the 20th century. Marx has been for over a decade alternately celebrated or condemned as the prophet of 20th-century communism. Even more than 20 years after the collapse of the Eastern Bloc and the end of the Cold War, the association of Marx with the Soviet experience remains strong. Some undergraduates, encountering the subject for the first time, are even surprised to hear that Marx did not actually live in the 20th century.
It was not just nineteenth-century galleries of ‘Old Masters’ that saw an expan- sion of trecento imagery. Trecento works often exerted real impact on new artistic commissions, though not always in determining ways. Alan Crookham observes that the painters Cimabue, Giotto, and Orcagna were all included among figures of worthy artists from the past on London's Albert Memorial (completed in 1876), and its mosaics are Italianate and trecento in inspiration. The Gothic cross, howev- er, is self-evidently not: there was no compunction about combining aesthetics. Martina Beccatini's study of the collections and spaces of display conceived by the Anglo-Florentine Frederick Stibbert (1838-1906), again shows that the inter- ventions of the painter and restorer Gaetano Bianchi (1819-1892) could be rem- iniscent of numerous trecento schemes yet at the same time also driven by his own imagination.
declared the first allied ship had come up to PetropavIovsk under an American flag and that the Russians had been taken by surprise * 4. Californian news told of a claim of Habeas Corpus from some Russian residents of San Francisco to secure the release of the Russian prisoners who had been taken on the S i t k a , a merchant-vessel 'J . Hawaiian news reported that the Russian prisoners (there were under two dozen of them) had been taken to Tahiti*^, and later a report was in the Hera Id that shortly after their arrival the Russian prisoners were placed on parole and were well pleased with their treatment*7 . As well they might be, to be in that favourite Paradise of the South Seas so soon after their forced marches across the Siberian post-road and subsequent tribuI a t ions. Other Californian news told how in January some Russian seamen jumped ship from the Russian-American Company's fur-ship, Coronetion, which had then been unsuccessfully pursued by another Russian-American Company's ship, the Kamchatka, and this in its turn had been the origin of the rumour of an armed encounter between English and Russian navaI vesseI s * ^ .
R. R. Madden, a civil servant and a literary figure in nineteenthcentury Ireland, 11 was a longstanding secretary of the LFB from 1850 until 1880. 12 Madden wrote a number of volumes on the loan fund system in Ireland and he traced the origins of the loan fund system to Italy and the Lombard system of lending money on pledges and personal security. 13 This system diffused throughout continental Europe and Madden believed that it was a similar version of the Lombard system operating in Amsterdam that influenced early loan fund practitioners in Ireland. Madden in his writings on the origins of the loan fund system in Ireland highlighted two pamphlets which he felt were important to the early philosophical development of loan fund principles in Ireland. 14 These were Henry Maxwell’s Reasons offer’d for erecting a bank in Ireland 15 and David Bindon’s A scheme for supplying industrious men with money to carry on their trade and for better providing for the poor of Ireland. 16 Maxwell’s pamphlet argued for the creation of a national bank in Ireland. He argued that if a bank was established in Ireland, among its benefits would be an increase in employment through an expansion of credit. 17 Bindon’s pamphlet argued for the creation of lending institutions along similar principles to the Amsterdam bank. Bindon, through comparing the rate of interest in Ireland to that in Holland, believed that the lower rate of interest in Holland gave Dutch traders an unfair advantage over those in Ireland as they had cheaper access to capital. Bindon’s argument was that the export of specie from Ireland caused by absentee landlords and spending of money abroad decreased the money supply in Ireland. 18 Bindon believed that ‘the scarcity of money in Ireland, deprives the common people of a great part of the necessary means of their subsistence: And this encreases (sic.) the number of beggars and idle people
While not ubiquitous, for indigenous people in the late nineteenthcentury the practice of covering books with nontraditional materials—barks, hides—and embellishing those covers with quills, beads, and grasses seems to have been quite common. The practice, as a natural extension of similar artistry on baskets and other domestic objects, lent itself to the souvenir market and to more intimate transactions. Many, including the Dakota-language example above, are hymnals or Bibles. Often these were given as gifts by indigenous believers to missionaries or, in other cases, by the missions themselves to particular devotees. Despite their prevalence, as compared to other quillworked objects these books have garnered little attention from scholars. In part, this neglect can be understood as a measure of the relative cultural importance of quillwork in different tribal cultures. Quillwork, while prized by the Anishinaabeg, had an intensely spiritual significance for some other indigenous societies. As Jeffrey Anderson explains, “while quillwork was an art form throughout indigenous cultures of the northern half of the continent, it was a sacred practice only . . . among the Arapaho, Gros Ventre, Blackfoot, and Cheyenne peoples” (6). 24 For these groups, the decoration of particular objects—cradles, tipis, robes—was a ritualized activity, one that was taught to remarkable women by select elders and expressive of religious beliefs that transcended its role as a form of decoration or inscription (Bol 33–47). Quillwork in the Great Lakes, though expressive of Anishinaabe beliefs and values, did not command the same level of veneration.
‘[s]he was thus descended from an old country family, the oldest in Warwickshire, and had inherited the traditions of gentle birth and good breeding. Her ancestors are traced back, not only to Norman, but to Anglo-Saxon times.’ 63 Baynes does more than antiquate Shakespeare’s lineage however; he goes on to make Shakespeare’s ancestors the quintessence of what makes an English person. So Shakespeare’s mother had ‘descendants, who retained the name, multiplied the shire, and were united from time to time with the best Norman blood of the Kingdom. The family of Arden thus represented the union, under somewhat rare conditions of original distinction and equality, of the two great race elements that have gone to the making of the modern Englishman.’ 64 This can be seen to be fulfilling a number of nationalistic aims: firstly, it shows that Shakespeare’s blood-line stretched back into antiquity making him both indisputably English and also entwining his past with that of England in order to link them inextricably. Secondly, having Mary Arden’s ancestors ‘multiply the shire’ means that the blood line of Shakespeare becomes diffused throughout many other residents of the country and serves to link the inhabitants of England both with Shakespeare and each other. This means, in an article which obviously regards such issues as genealogy as important, that Shakespeare, the ‘greatest dramatist that modern Europe has produced,’ is potentially part of anyone’s family tree, so representing the whole nation, uniting them, and elevating their status in, if not the world, certainly Europe. 65 The final point to notice in Baynes’ rather fanciful description of the heritage of Mary Arden is the uniting of Anglo-Saxon and Norman blood; this portrays Shakespeare as a receptacle for the two races which Baynes feels make up the ‘modern Englishman.’ Indeed, it is almost as though Shakespeare engendered the nation himself by the mingling of the two
In the secularizing discourses of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, rationality was attributed to men; irrationality to women. It was men’s brain that represented the seat of their presumed rationality. (This despite questions raised by scientists and phrenologists alike about its integrity as a singular organ) 8 . The brain was at once the concrete embodiment and the elusive site of men’s conscious rationality, the locus for their self-mastery and their ability to possess women’s bodies. Women were “the sex,” the repository of all that was irrational. The inner tensions Weber described were in this way displaced outward onto the bodies of women. Durkheim, citing Le Bon, articulated this fantasy when he reported that “with the progress of civilization the brain of the two sexes differentiates itself more and more. According to Le Bon this progressive chart would be due both to the considerable development of masculine crania and to a stationary or even regressive state of female crania. ‘Thus,’ he says, ‘though the average cranium of Parisian men ranks among the greatest known crania, the average of Parisian women ranks among the smallest observed, even below the crania of the Chinese, and hardly above those of the women of New Calendonia’” (Durkheim, 60). (I can’t go into the ‘civilizational’ aspects of this comment here; suffice it to say that the question of ‘whose was bigger’ was racialized as well as gendered) 9 . Jules Michelet (about whom more in a minute), upon seeing drawings of the female reproductive system, concluded that “Man is the brain, woman the uterus” (Borie, 1980, 157-8). To her, the actual reproductive function, to him the management of her and so of life itself.
Cole’s position as father of American landscape rests in part on American landscape being considered the first national art movement. The notion of nineteenth- century landscape art defining America has itself traveled a bumpy critical road. For a good portion of the past half-century, scholars thought of Cole’s work as a lens through which the United States could chart its cultural development and follow the mood and philosophy of our nation during its early years. That notion has been challenged more recently, either as insufficiently nuanced, biased toward the Northeast, or incorrectly assuming that Cole’s work was an accurate symbol of American culture given the upheaval of the time—or all three. Truettner has argued that scholarship “for the most part has failed to recognize how effectively the design of [Hudson River] landscapes masks national conflict. Instead we are told ‘that idyllic views of nature represent the
This idea is extended further by the enclosure of certain parts of individual racecourses. Most racecourses across the nineteenthcentury, even the ones which remained unenclosed as a whole, had a paddock enclosure and betting ring in front of the grandstand which commanded a separate entrance fee. Doncaster, by 1896, had no less than six stands and two separate enclosures despite still being unenclosed and free to enter (see appendix five). By the end of the century The English Turf (1901) noted that ‘the modern enclosure has caused the average race-goer to expect comfort, luxury, and ease’. 23 A far cry from the images of wonton excess formally associated with the racecourse carnival. The average race- goer for such a publication was inevitably of the more privileged classes, consequently this demand for comfort undermined the notions of an all-inclusive carnival upturning social hierarchies. The ‘average’, predominately middle-class attendees now sought and expected a form of entertainment which was removed from the excesses of the carnival, and significantly a level of comfort which was often outside the availability of the working classes. Appendices six, seven and eight shows the exclusive members’ enclosures at Lingfield, Manchester and Sandown in the latter part of the nineteenthcentury, all of which would have