Barrack-Building, Mapping, and Settlement in Eighteenth-Century Ireland

Visitors who dcribed the Lake District in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries saw its society as distinctively different from the rest of England and were struck by the survival of a numerous group of small, independent owner-occupiers. These farmers were often called ‘statesmen’, a term applied by outsiders rather than locals and not of great antiquity. Lakeland owner-occupiers preferred to use ‘yeomcn’. A good deal has been written about this social group. However, much of this relates to the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries or has focused on problems of nomenclature. Research on parliamentary enclosure in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries has established some general trends regarding changing numbers of small proprietors, while census enumerators' books have provided the basis for work on Cumbrian owner-occupiers in the second half of the nineteenth century. Less attention has been paid to, how this society changed in the later eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when the Lake District was drawn into the mainstream of English society and economic life. The use of the term ‘peasant’ in the title of this article is deliberately contentious as there has been considerable debate on whether the term can be justified for English society after medieval times. Marshall has suggested that one has to go back to the early eighteenth century to find a real peasant society in the Lake District. but Searle has claimed that a peasantry with a near subsistence economy, little penetration of market forces, much mutual assistance and collective regulation of assets survived until the end of the eighteenth century.

British Logwood Extraction from the Mosquitia: The Origin of a Myth

Print, Manuscript, and Oral Literary Cultures:The Case of Eighteenth-Century Irish Song Moyra Haslett (bio) When the "Meeting of the Harpers" was organized in Belfast in the summer of 1792, its principal aim was to record and thus preserve Irish tunes that might otherwise disappear with the deaths of the harpers themselves. While the impetus was shaped by antiquarian interests of the late century, the context of the 1790s provided obvious political motives too. (The meeting was held in the Belfast Exchange Rooms from 11–13 July so as to coincide with commemorative celebrations of the fall of the Bastille.) The Irish language tutor who was to transcribe the lyrics of the songs did not attend (we don't know why), but the musician who transcribed the tunes, Edward Bunting, would go on to publish three volumes of what he called the "ancient music of Ireland" (1796, 1809, 1840), the product of many decades of research transcribing and notating Irish melodies from performances in rural Ireland and the first sustained attempt to document Irish-language song. Beyond the three published volumes, then, are the more extensive manuscripts, held by Special Collections in the library of Queen's University Belfast, and beyond those manuscripts the vanished performances themselves, which the print and manuscript records shadow. This essay reflects on issues arising directly from the Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded "Irish Song Project" conducted at Queen's [End Page 349] University (2012–2015), which, in seeking to investigate the historical development of the different repertoires of Irish song, drew upon the evidence offered by print and manuscript cultures and supplemented these with an attempt to catch something of oral culture through performance practice as late as the emergence of audio technology in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.1 As full a survey as possible of song before 1850, with a particular focus on song-tunes, was made in order to see if there were continuities of tradition and cultural practice between songs and song traditions. Although the Bunting collection at Queen's University provided the core resource, a systematic survey of songs in manuscript and print held in many libraries was attempted. The resulting online database (www.irishsongproject.qub.ac.uk) offers an indicative sample of just over two hundred songs. Selecting songs for inclusion brought difficult issues of weighting and balance into question. How could we ensure that the vibrant culture of Irish-language song in particular would be properly represented? Stretching the parameters of the survey to 1850 allowed the project to draw upon early-nineteenth-century interest in Irish song, represented most significantly in the collections by Bunting, James Hardiman, George Petrie, William Forde, Henry Hudson, John Edward Pigot, and James Goodman. Quite a few songs got published by wending their ways into Anglophone culture, particularly in the form of ballad operas or in collections of song-tunes in the eighteenth century. The tune specification for "Eibhlin Aruin" in Charles Coffey's ballad opera The Beggar's Wedding (Dublin, 1729) indicates its existence thirty years before its first appearance in a Gaelic manuscript. The popular song "Come haste to the wedding" was included in the Dublin-performed pantomime A Trip to the Dargle or the Irish Wedding (1762).2 And the tune "Cremona" is one of many Irish airs included in the London-printed Aria di Camera (c. 1730). Since musical notation is rare in early manuscripts, certainly until Bunting's project of transcribing traditional airs, these sources are particularly significant. Engraved sheets of musical notation were often too costly for Dublin printers: while prestige publications of psalms and several notable prints of Irish tunes did include printed music, the vast majority of song-texts, including ballad opera texts, appeared without their accompanying melodies. And no Dublin printer in the early eighteenth century owned a Gaelic font, so Irish-language texts had to be anglicized unless they were published abroad. Increased attention to bilingual crossings in eighteenth-century Ireland is evident in a number of recent works.3 But while previous studies of music in eighteenth-century Ireland have noted a number of songs and airs that traverse the traditionally perceived divisions of religion and...

“Special Feature: The Achievements of John Dennis,” ed. Claude Willan. <i>1650–1850: Ideas, Aesthetics, and Inquiries in the Early Modern Era, ed. Kevin L. Cope</i>

Throughout the Middle Ages cultivated readers in Ireland were aware of intellectual developments in Europe, currents in French thought reaching Ireland through England, or directly from continental sources. However, the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries saw a noticeable increase in the educated readership interested in French literature: works in French were imported by Dublin booksellers in the last two decades of the seventeenth century, and there is also evidence that books from England, Holland and France passed through the other major Irish ports before 1700 (Pollard, p. 160). Thus, by the early eighteenth century a varied diet of French-language works in areas such as literature, religion, history, voyages, architecture, antiquities, music, medicine and the sciences could be obtained in Ireland. French Enlightenment texts became available through the Dublin and London book trades, forming an identifiable strand in imported French-language material, especially after 1750.

The consumption of food and drink, luxury items and even cultural activities became highly-charged issues in eighteenth-century Ireland, but it was the more general topic of commerce that really exercised political commentators. From the late seventeenth-century the importation of merchandise from Britain became a politically sensitive matter, as acts had been introduced preventing the export of Irish goods. The system of trade restrictions was introduced by government in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, partly as a means of assuaging commercial groups from ports like Bristol and Glasgow. Once in place the mercantilist system operated in such a way that goods that might compete with British interests were prohibited, whilst goods required by the British economy received a bounty. The Navigation Act of 1663, the Cattle Act of 1667 and the Woollen Act of 1699 were the keystones of this English policy.KeywordsFree TradeBritish GovernmentTrade RestrictionForeign GoodForeign ManufactureThese keywords were added by machine and not by the authors. This process is experimental and the keywords may be updated as the learning algorithm improves.

Crazy Rich Asians

In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries we have grown used to using the term “fellow creatures” to refer to non-human animals — from dogs and cats to horses and hippopotamuses. In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries the term was also used to refer to non-human animals. But from the late eighteenth century (when the term began to be used for several decades with much greater frequency), through the nineteenth century, and through most of the twentieth century too, “fellow creature” was a term used to connect like to like — horses to horses, sheep to sheep, or, much more commonly, humans to other humans. Why the change in the late eighteenth century? And why the further change in the late twentieth century? This paper argues that political activism played a key role — and that the activism of those leading the fight against cruelty towards animals in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries was implicitly in competition with the struggles to improve the lot of black Africans, the poor, women, and other oppressed categories of humans — causes that sought to end the treatment of these groups as “no better than animals.”

Modern historiography has a consensus over Edirne’s well-established socio-spatial and political position that reached its peak during the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. In this period, the city gained a de facto capital status as consecutive Ottoman sultans permanently resided in Edirne. While the physical presence of the Ottoman sultans and imperial institutions in Edirne brought about a spatial and demographic stability to the city until the late eighteenth century, Edirne witnessed major transformations through new imperial implementations throughout the nineteenth century. Furthermore, the new reforms brought about the proportional participation of city dwellers in the city’s governance, including the non-Muslims. Based on Ottoman archival sources and Muslim court registers of Edirne, the present paper investigates how the reforms of the nineteenth century transformed this “imperial city” vis-à-vis its urban governance. The paper suggests that in the nineteenth century Edirne was not the same imperial city governed in a more autonomous way in the eighteenth century anymore. However, while centralization efforts meant that military, administrative and financial responsibilities in the administration of provinces were converged, now as a provincial center, Edirne maintained its position in the Tanzimat era when a more participatory system in this ethno-religiously diverse city formed.

Sea Changes:Maritime Men and the Law in the Global Atlantic World Molly A. Warsh (bio) Mark G. Hanna. Pirate Nests and the Rise of the British Empire, 1570–1740. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press for the Omohundro Institute, 2015. ix + 448 pp. Illustrations, maps, bibliography, and index. $45.00. Kevin P. McDonald. Pirates, Merchants, Settlers, and Slaves: Colonial America and the Indo-Atlantic World. Oakland: University of California Press, 2015. xii + 206 pp. Illustration, maps, appendices, notes, bibliography, and index. $60.00. Nathan Perl-Rosenthal. Citizen Sailors: Becoming American in the Age of Revolution. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2015. 372 pp. Illustrations, maps, appendix, notes, bibliography, and index. $29.95. Empires, religion, spices, slaves. Disease and death. Crusaders, traders, renegades, dissenters. Hybridity, metropoles, and peripheries. These are some of the keywords of three decades of pathbreaking Atlantic World scholarship in works that have revealed how the exchanges of the period from 1500 to 1800 knit together the people, places, and practices brought into contact by these disparate actors and impulses. Historians have traced how early Iberian imperial momentum gave way to the incursions of ambitious Northern European powers. The centrality of the trade in enslaved Africans; the devastation and, in places, recovery, of America’s indigenous people; the explosive politics and revolutions of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries—these are all well-established narratives in our understanding of the emergence of the Atlantic World. What remains to be discovered? The answer provided by the three books under review here can be broadly characterized as twofold: first, “illegal” activity at sea—by so-called “pirates” or by press gangs unlawfully seizing mariners—played a critical role in the elaboration of politics and economies on land. Second, these seagoing men forged global pathways and practices that broaden our understanding of the boundaries of the Atlantic World. Although these books are very different in style and approach, each embraces seafarers as political actors. As Hanna and McDonald tell it, pirates are not renegades but colonial service providers; Perl-Rosenthal’s sailors are [End Page 524] rough and tumble diplomats at the forefront of citizenship debates. Through his consideration of the legality of various types of actions at sea, each author asks us to consider how the maritime world was both distinct from, and critical to, the development of the societies along its shores. Hanna and McDonald both focus on global piracy and colonial commerce from the perspective of the seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century British Atlantic. McDonald’s embrace of world history as a meaningful challenge to the Atlantic World paradigm opens the door to questions of greater scope than his brief text (130 pages plus appendices) allows him to explore. Hanna offers a lengthy study of the centrality of illicit maritime activity to the economies and politics of colonial British America, leaving little doubt that “piracy” was business as usual by another name until the imperial goals and function of the British Empire shifted in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. In tracing this trajectory, neither Hanna nor McDonald departs from Roy Ritchie’s classic study of Captain Kidd and the changing politics of piracy in England in the early eighteenth century; indeed, both acknowledge their debt to him. Perl-Rosenthal also looks at maritime men on the wrong side of ineffective laws, but in his case, the drama is neither imperial tensions nor global trade rivalries, but rather nation building and citizenship claims in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. His protagonists are not pirates, per se, but seafarers determined to prove their allegiance to the new American nation on the fraught waters of post-Revolutionary years. In his telling, U.S. sailors forced the elaboration of new forms of national identification amidst impressment controversies in the wake of the American Revolution. Determined to claim nationality based on personal politics rather than birth or native language, U.S. mariners helped forge an unprecedentedly broad view of citizenship on land that was expressed in maritime passports for American citizens regardless of race. McDonald’s book is the most global-minded of the three, and his explicit intellectual engagement with world history...

Shifting ontologies, changing classifications: plant materials from 1700 to 1830

The<i>Gazette</i>, the<i>Tatler</i>, and the Making of the Periodical Essay: Form and Genre in Eighteenth-Century News

Reviewed by: Pirrhus ed. by Lisa Goode Crawford Lois Rosow Pancrace Royer. Pirrhus. Édition de Lisa Goode Crawford. (Patrimoine musical français. Anthologies: Musique de scène, IV, 3.) Versailles: Centre de musique baroque de Versailles, 2015. [Table of contents, p. iii; introd. in Fre., Eng., p. v–xcvii; texts and translations, p. xcix–cxxxvii; facsims., p. cxxxix–clxv; score, p. 1–213; crit. commentary in Eng., p. 215–34; appendix, p. 235–48. ISMN 979-0-707034-66-8; pub. no. CMBV066. i175.] Pancrace Royer (1705–1755) was a composer, keyboard player, and administrator, who in the course of his career held important supervisory and teaching positions at [End Page 139] the Paris Opéra, the French royal court, and the Concert Spirituel. We know him best for two successful operas from his mature years—Zaïde, reine de Grenade (1739) and Le pouvoir de l'Amour (1743)—as well as a collection of adventuresome harpsichord pieces. His first composition for the Opéra, the tragédie en musique Pirrhus (1730), is another matter. Pirrhus failed: despite star singers and dancers, and sets by the important stage designer Giovanni Niccolò Servandoni—in short, considerable institutional support for the young composer—the production closed after only seven performances. Critics, then and now, blame the libretto, attributed to an obscure poet named Fermelhuis. The choice of genre cannot have helped: the tragédie en musique was on life-support in the late 1720s, barely hanging on until 1733, when Jean-Philippe Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie gave it a shot in the arm. In any case, Pirrhus contains a good deal of music that is well worth our attention. The publication of an excellent critical edition is a welcome development. The libretto concerns an episode in the aftermath of the Trojan War, a popular subject in French drama of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. The principal protagonists include Pirrhus (bass), son of Achilles; his prisoner, the Trojan princess Polixène; his kinsman Acamas (haute-contre); and his former fiancée, the sorceress Ériphile. Pirrhus loves Polixène though she rejects him; Acamas betrays Pirrhus by taking Polixène for himself; and the jealous Ériphile, in desperation, engineers a civil war. In the end Polixène sacrifices herself to save her captor's kingdom; as she dies, she confesses her love for Pirrhus. This web of personalities and relationships allows for the variety of conventional episodes and scene types Opéra audiences had come to expect: monologues and dialogues, scenes for the chorus and ballet troupe, and supernatural actions. The musical style mingles conservative passages with others using surprisingly adventuresome textures and harmonies. Much later in the eighteenth century, administrators at the royal court and the Opéra borrowed selected portions of the score for other purposes: the splendid chaconne (act 2), the divertissement for demons and magicians (act 3), and the divertissement for the nymphs of Thetis (act 4). This edition is generous, in both layout and content. Apart from the relatively brief enumeration of variant readings at the back of the volume, given only in English, all scholarly prose is bilingual. The libretto, too, is given in both the original French and an English translation. Just as the score is annotated with scene descriptions and stage directions taken from the libretto, so the separate transcription of the libretto is annotated to show the location of dances and other instrumental movements as found in the score. Lisa Goode Crawford's substantial scholarly introduction—comprising a well-researched historical overview, a thorough discussion of the musical and poetic sources, and sensitive and informative treatment of relevant performance practices—is accompanied by seventeen pages of source facsimiles, and supplemented with an essay by Michael Greenberg on the literary context for the libretto. Finally, François Francoeur's revised version of Royer's chaconne, created for a suite performed at the wedding of the Count of Artois in 1773, is given in an appendix. One happy by-product of the work's failure is a nearly complete set of legible surviving source materials in the Bibliothèque de l'Opéra in Paris. Had there been later revivals, these materials would have...

Reviewed by: Plotting Power: Strategy in the Eighteenth Century by Jeremy Black Neil Guthrie Jeremy Black, Plotting Power: Strategy in the Eighteenth Century. Bloomington: Indiana, 2017. Pp. xiv +312. $45. Jeremy Black, Plotting Power: Strategy in the Eighteenth Century. Bloomington: Indiana, 2017. Pp. xiv +312. $45. Mr. Black's subject did not exist for much of the century, at least as a matter of terminology. While "strategy" is a coinage [End Page 201] of the later eighteenth century, strategy as a practice and perhaps also as a concept existed long before that. The Romans certainly thought and acted strategically. In the period of the Scriblerians, examples come readily to mind to anyone whose research has even touched on matters of war and peace. The possessions of the Hanoverian dynasty in Germany involved Britain in strategic choices about Bremen and Verden that would have concerned no one under the reign of a Stuart. On a grander scale, the prospect of a Bourbon on the thrones of both France and Spain determined the direction of military action, foreign policy, and domestic politics across Europe in the early part of the century. Mr. Black, disagreeing with some military historians, argues that strategy was never limited to the battlefield; it encompassed social policy, politics, diplomacy, and trade. It is difficult to argue with his lucid exposition of this point. As he says in a postscript on military history, "Strategy precedes the term, and unsurprisingly so." Without making the concept so elastic as to be meaningless, he admits that "a looser definition" of strategy is both "valuable but beside the point." Examples are taken not just from Europe and North America, but also from China, Japan, Russian expansion into central Asia, the Mughals, and Persia. The second half of the book deals largely with material that is beyond our immediate interests: the strategy of continental empires in the late eighteenth century and of the non-European "barbarians," the rise of republican strategies from 1775 to 1800, and "imperial imaginings" in the same period. The initial chapters are, however, of direct relevance for Scriblerian readers. In a somewhat rueful preface, Mr. Black reminds us of the failures of strategy (or perhaps that is "strategery") in the last twenty years or so, suggesting that the present can "guide and equip questions and thoughts about the past," provided we do not judge solely with the benefit of ahistorical hindsight. A general introduction sets out Mr. Black's overall project, including his definitional challenges and his points of departure from other historians. Mr. Black then focuses on strategy in England and France, mostly in the early eighteenth century, before examining the specific origins of the term "strategy" as it emerged in the flow of French ideas following their defeat by the British in 1763. He concludes with some thoughts on modern historians of strategy. Mr. Black's grasp of historical material is assured, but there are times when the discussion can be a bit fuzzy: a little more than a page on the "tone" and "style" of strategy is not enough to tell us what those mean, for example. There is also the odd prose train wreck: "As part of this process, but also separate to it, the building blocks of strategic culture, strategic debate, and policy, for example glory, honor, and natural interests, or Thucydides's fear, honor, and interests, were not uniform or unchanging in their impact." Mr. Black's book is short (only about 220 pages of actual text without the references), so there was room to flesh out the vague and the overcompressed in an otherwise well-argued book. Neil Guthrie University of Toronto Copyright © 2019 W. B. Gerard, E. Derek Taylor, Kellye Corcoran, Melanie Holm, J. T. Parnell, David Venturo, and Donald R. Wehrs

Fairy Tales, Telemachus, and Young Misses Magazine:Moderns, Ancients, Gender, and Eighteenth-Century Children's Book Publishing Ruth B. Bottigheimer (bio) Culture Wars A culture war between the Moderns and the Ancients marked the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, particularly in France and England. One side held up modern stories such as fairy tales with their simple diction and their ethical moralities as a superior ideal; the other admired the noble content, elegant style, and aesthetic values of the ancient world's literature and art. In France, heated polemical, and often personally abusive, partisan exchanges took place, until the Moderns—ed by Charles Perrault—carried the day. Perrault's ideological victory, together with a longstanding predilection among historians of children's literature to privilege the history of fairy tales within the history of children's books, led to erroneous conclusions about the importance of Perrault's tales as recreational reading between 1729 and the 1760s. At that time their real success was not as recreational reading, but as a dual-language textbook for schoolboys that was printed four times in eighteenth-century England: 1737, 1741, 1750, 1764=1765 (Bottigheimer "Misperceived"). Perrault's tales comprised one of many French-English texts for eighteenth-century English schoolboys. There were also editions of fables (1732 and 1741);1 the 1757 Young Ladies Geography [sic], a dual-language volume, which—despite its title—was also meant for boys;2 natural histories;3 national histories;4 and Bible histories.5 English girls did indeed read about fairies in the early eighteenth century: we know from the oft-cited quotation in Richard Steele's Tatler6 that the goddaughter of "Isaac Bickerstaff" preferred fairies to the knightly heroes favored by her brother. The goddaughter's "fairies" might perhaps denote the supernaturals of Mme d'Aulnoy's newly, and turgidly, translated narratives in the unwieldy thick volumes published the previous year,7 but it is more likely that they stood for the bawdily humorous English chapbook imps and fairies against whom John Locke had so recently inveighed in his Thoughts on Education (1693). Around the middle of the eighteenth century, some English girls of refined taste began reading in earnest what we think of as fairy tales. Old copies of Arabian Nights—printed eight times between 1706 and 1728—were lying around and so were newly printed ones (1748, 1753). Mlle L'Héritier's outrageously immoral Discreet Princess was also on the market. Then, in 1753, Mary Cooper brought fairies to the fore in the d'Aulnoy tales in The Court of Queen Mab; the book's design suggests that she probably intended it more for adult than for child readers,8 but such books often fell into children's hands. In 1754 much the same material was directed at the "Ladies of Great Britain" (as its title stated) in History of the Tales of the Fairies published by a London consortium.9 Shortly afterward, Mme Leprince published her Magasin des Enfans (1756), soon translated as Young Misses Magazine.10 The fairy tales she included came not from Perrault's little collection, and certainly not from Mlle L'Héritier, but were instead thoroughly edited and moralized reworkings of other French authors' fairy tales. Mme Leprince patently disapproved of fairy tales, which she identified pejoratively as "untrue stories." Nonetheless, she included such tales in her Magazine, interleaving them with "true [Bible] histories," little lessons on geography, and other schoolroom subjects (1756, 16). Fairy Tales in Historical Context In France of the 1690s fairy tales represented modernity: modernists such as Perrault used them as a vehicle for modern visions and versions of personal morality to counterbalance and to replace what they regarded as an anachronistic and oppressive reliance on Greek diction and Roman virtue as educational and artistic models. Their own century, as Perrault argued in La Siècle de Louis le Grand, offered equally valid models for civic grandeur and personal morality.11 Sixty years later, in 1750s England, fairy tales were a marker of a different kind. The utility of Perrault's fairy tales as a language-based educational reading for boys was fading away; however, in mid-eighteenth century England, fairy tales became...