“Nero, the mustard!”

Author(s):  
Margaret Williamson

This chapter considers the renaming of enslaved people in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Jamaica. Using plantation records and narrative accounts, it focuses on the classical names that made up 10–15% of inventory listings. Those who renamed newly acquired slaves after powerful historical and mythological figures from antiquity added a cruel irony to the physical practices of enslavement. They also laid claim to the cultural capital of high European culture, while mocking those denied access to it. But their claim was bogus, resting on the physical and legal power to enslave rather than on any deep knowledge of antiquity. The claim to civilizational and racial purity that underpinned it was also undercut by new meanings, including the perceptions of the enslaved: deployed in the service of racial purity, Classics became creolized. The implications can be traced in an early-nineteenth-century Johnny Newcome print and in the fiction of Charles W. Chesnutt.

The texts collected here describe late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century Appalachia as a geographical and political frontier and include Cherokee narratives, works by pioneers and frontiersmen and Native Americans who assimilated into European culture, revealing how this borderland became a cultural, rhetorical, and mythical frontier. The selections also include Enlightenment, Euro-American views of Appalachia from men such as Thomas Jefferson and William Bartram.


2000 ◽  
Vol 34 (2) ◽  
pp. 307-331 ◽  
Author(s):  
P. J. Marshall

Late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century Calcutta was the setting for the first sustained encounter between Asian intellectuals and the west. An Indian intelligentsia living in Calcutta responded in a most creative way to aspects of European culture that became available to them in the city. Much about this response is now contentious. If the term Bengal Renaissance is still generally applied to it, the implications of that term are disputed. It is no longer necessarily assumed that ‘modern’ India was born in early nineteenth-century Calcutta by a fusing of what was western and what was ‘traditional’. Assumptions that Indian cultures in general and that of Hindu Bengal in particular lacked a capacity to change and to develop on their own internal dynamics, whatever the input from the west, now look more than a little ‘orientalist’. Furthermore, even if the Bengal Renaissance can be shown to have had its roots in its own culture, to some recent critics it was still a movement whose impact was severely limited by the very narrow base on which it rested: an elite group enclosed in a colonial situation. Yet, however the Renaissance may be reassessed, there can still be no doubt that Calcutta under the East India Company contained Indian intellectuals of exceptional talent, who absorbed much from the west. ‘The excitement over the literature, history and philosophy of Europe as well as the less familiar scientific knowledge was deep and abiding’, Professor Raychaudhuri has recently written.


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Jamie Garrick

<p>Studies of virtuosity in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries have tended to focus on the piano and the violin. These instruments were obviously virtuosic and lent themselves to visual and aural displays of power, most notably in the case of Liszt and Paganini. These virtuosi crafted spectacles that were often described with metaphors of power and violence. These spectacles came to characterise the virtuosity of the early nineteenth century. However, the guitar has been largely neglected in scholarship dealing with virtuosity from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. This is due, in large part, to the status of the guitar within that period. Though popular as an accompanying instrument and in the home, the guitar struggled to find a secure position as a legitimate solo instrument in the public arena. While guitarists such as Dionisio Aguado and Mauro Giuliani were described as ‘virtuosi’, their instrument, unlike the piano and the violin, did not give itself to a spectacle that conveyed notions of power and violence. Rather, the guitar is an intimate instrument, quieter than the piano or the violin, and utilising small movements in the hands. These aspects of the instrument, so often perceived as ‘limitations’ led many writers to dismiss it as an inappropriate instrument for performance in the public spheres occupied by the piano and the violin. Guitarist-composers sought to play to the guitar’s strengths in ways that contrasted with the conventional metaphors of power and violence. Some of these attempts rhetorically aligned the guitar with genres and instruments that carried greater cultural capital. Composers used orchestral metaphors and emphasised the guitar’s ability to imitate other instruments. Other guitarist-composers sought to create a greater spectacle both in and beyond the music itself by emphasising physical movements within the music and writing extra-musical gestures into the music. The rhetoric of transformation was used either by or about the guitarist-composers Fernando Sor, Dionisio Aguado, Johann Kaspar Mertz, and Giulio Regondi, all of whom this exegesis focuses on, demonstrating a desire to legitimise the guitar at a time when it struggled not only to find traction as a ‘serious’ classical instrument, but also a place amongst more obviously virtuosic instruments.</p>


Author(s):  
James Moore

The impact of William Roscoe’s circle in Liverpool is re-examined and, in particular, his particular interpretation of the ‘Florentine model’ which continued to be so influential in the city in the early nineteenth century. The chapter explores the various manifestations of this cultural legacy and, in particular, the development of key art institutions and associations. While these were important in promoting Liverpool as a centre of high culture, they also limited the cultural perspective of Liverpool’s merchant class and created an essentially elitist view about the purpose of cultural capital assembly.


2017 ◽  
Vol 4 (2) ◽  
pp. 7 ◽  
Author(s):  
Taras Koznarsky

At the end of the eighteenth century through the first decades of nineteenth century, as the last vestiges of Ukrainian autonomy were abolished, Ukrainian elites and intelligentsia embarked on a diverse range of projects (addressing geography, history, ethnography, travel writing, journalism, and literature) aimed at privileging and promoting their cultural capital within the Russian imperial field of cultural production. The Ukrainian language and its origins, nature, and status came to the fore in these projects as Ukrainian literati carefully gauged their messages for both Ukrainian and metropolitan audiences in order to engage playfully and polemically with imperial perceptions of Ukraine and to further the cause of the Ukrainian language as a distinctive linguistic system, cultural legacy, and literary medium. These often cautious and purposefully ambiguous characterizations, classifications, and applications prepared the ground for the romantic generation of writers who dramatically expanded the stylistic and generic range of Ukrainian in their literary works and translations, and forcefully argued for the language’s autonomy, dignity, and expressive potential. While early romantic Ukrainian writings were seen as colourful linguistic and ethnographic regional variants useful for the development of Russian imperial and national culture, the growth of Ukrainian literature alarmed both Russian critics and administrators, who began to see in these developments not only unproductive and anachronistic vexations, but also a culturally and ideologically subversive agenda that had to be discouraged. By surveying and examining diverse classifications and discussions of the Ukrainian language by Ukrainian and Russian literati, the article questions the limits of so-called “Ukrainophilia” in Russian imperial culture of the early nineteenth century.


2018 ◽  
Vol 8 (3) ◽  
pp. 261-288
Author(s):  
Olav Hammer

The Book of Mormon, first published in 1830, presents a detailed account of the migration of several groups from the ancient Near East to the Americas, and how these groups became the ancestors of the Native Americans. The description of these migrations fits well with common early nineteenth-century beliefs about the origins of the indigenous populations of America, but contradicts in numerous ways the scientific consensus that emerged roughly a century ago. Key apologists have constructed a range of arguments for the literal truth of the Book of Mormon account. This article examines the structure of a number of common apologetic arguments, and shows how interpretive commentary can project new meanings on a canonical text.


2006 ◽  
Vol 3 (1) ◽  
pp. 167-178
Author(s):  
MATTHEW LEVINGER

John Edward Toews, Becoming Historical: Cultural Reformation and Public Memory in Early Nineteenth-Century Berlin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. pp. xxiv + 466.George S. Williamson, The Longing for Myth in Germany: Religion and Aesthetic Culture from Romanticism to Nietzsche. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. pp. xiv + 428.Peter Fritzsche, Stranded in the Present: Modern Time and the Melancholy of History. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. pp. 268.Each generation chooses its own objects of historical inquiry. Over the past decade or two, many historians have moved away from perennial topics in social and political history, turning their gaze on more ethereal questions in the realm of “memory studies.” The three splendid books under review here examine elusive phenomena in nineteenth-century Europe: the transformation of historical consciousness, the invention of national myths, and the emergence of nostalgia as a prominent element of European culture after the French Revolution and the Napoleonic age. Taken together, these works vividly illustrate both the value and the challenges of scholarship on the modern historical imagination.


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Jamie Garrick

<p>Studies of virtuosity in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries have tended to focus on the piano and the violin. These instruments were obviously virtuosic and lent themselves to visual and aural displays of power, most notably in the case of Liszt and Paganini. These virtuosi crafted spectacles that were often described with metaphors of power and violence. These spectacles came to characterise the virtuosity of the early nineteenth century. However, the guitar has been largely neglected in scholarship dealing with virtuosity from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. This is due, in large part, to the status of the guitar within that period. Though popular as an accompanying instrument and in the home, the guitar struggled to find a secure position as a legitimate solo instrument in the public arena. While guitarists such as Dionisio Aguado and Mauro Giuliani were described as ‘virtuosi’, their instrument, unlike the piano and the violin, did not give itself to a spectacle that conveyed notions of power and violence. Rather, the guitar is an intimate instrument, quieter than the piano or the violin, and utilising small movements in the hands. These aspects of the instrument, so often perceived as ‘limitations’ led many writers to dismiss it as an inappropriate instrument for performance in the public spheres occupied by the piano and the violin. Guitarist-composers sought to play to the guitar’s strengths in ways that contrasted with the conventional metaphors of power and violence. Some of these attempts rhetorically aligned the guitar with genres and instruments that carried greater cultural capital. Composers used orchestral metaphors and emphasised the guitar’s ability to imitate other instruments. Other guitarist-composers sought to create a greater spectacle both in and beyond the music itself by emphasising physical movements within the music and writing extra-musical gestures into the music. The rhetoric of transformation was used either by or about the guitarist-composers Fernando Sor, Dionisio Aguado, Johann Kaspar Mertz, and Giulio Regondi, all of whom this exegesis focuses on, demonstrating a desire to legitimise the guitar at a time when it struggled not only to find traction as a ‘serious’ classical instrument, but also a place amongst more obviously virtuosic instruments.</p>


2003 ◽  
Vol 30 (2) ◽  
pp. 299-316 ◽  
Author(s):  
Hans-JüRgen Lechtreck

Two early nineteenth century texts treating the production and use of wax models of fruit reveal the history of these objects in the context of courtly decoration. Both sources emphasise the models' decorative qualities and their suitability for display, properties which were not simply by-products of the realism that the use of wax allowed. Thus, such models were not regarded merely as visual aids for educational purposes. The artists who created them sought to entice collectors of art and natural history objects, as well as teachers and scientists. Wax models of fruits are known to have been collected and displayed as early as the seventeenth century, although only one such collection is extant. Before the early nineteenth century models of fruits made from wax or other materials (glass, marble, faience) were considered worthy of display because contemporaries attached great importance to mastery of the cultivation and grafting of fruit trees. This skill could only be demonstrated by actually showing the fruits themselves. Therefore, wax models made before the early nineteenth century may also be regarded as attempts to preserve natural products beyond the point of decay.


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