French Style Research Articles

Carol I Park in Bucharest at the Beginning of the 20th Century

The first stage of the evolution of Carol I park is important for the history of Romanian landscape architecture and also stands as an example for the design of parks nowadays. Carol I park was conceived at the beginning of the 20thcentury, as a national park, to host the “General Romanian Exhibition”, a jubilee exhibition celebrating 40 years since Carol the II became king of Romania, 25 years since the proclamation of the Kingdom and 1,800 years since Trajan‟s conquest of Dacia. The authorities invited the French landscape architect Edouard Redont to design this park - inaugurated in 1906. Redont worked in a mixed style, with an important part of romantic style, French landscape style, and a geometrical part in the entrance zone. These styles compounded a belle epoque park, with a lot of pavilions for the exhibition. The composition of the park was centred on an important, large axis cadenced by lots of pavilions and geometrical vegetation and water elements with a hill over a lake as its perspective end. On this hill, the Palace of the Arts, and below it, an elegant romantic cascade and grotto decorated with a sculptural ensemble. The alleys and the vegetation near the lake and on the hill were designed in the French landscape style, in contrast with the geometry of the axis zone and the alleys on its side, with alignments of trees, pruned shrubs and flower platbands.

Morten A. Skydsgaard, Ole Bang og en Brydningstid i Dansk Medicin (Århus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag, 2006), pp. 333, Kr348.00, paperback, ISBN: 87-7934-228-0.

Morten Skydsgaard’s biography of the Danish physician Ole Bang (1788–1877) is an informative and important book about a period of transition in nineteenth-century Danish medicine. Bang held several of the most significant posts available to physicians in Denmark. He was a professor at the university of Copenhagen, and he was the chief physician at the largest hospital in the capital, Frederik’s Hospital. Among the prominent patients in Bang’s lucrative private practice were the Danish and Russian royal families. Throughout his career he advocated a medicine grounded on careful observation at the bedside. He reformed medical education, putting clinical teaching into practice at the medical faculty. His methods of treatment became influential among Danish medical practitioners, and he was famous for his clinical skills. Bang was also engaged in health politics, and played an important role in the formation of a common curriculum for surgeons and physicians, thus putting an end to a long rivalry between the medical faculty and the surgical academy. During his long and active professional life (he retired in 1874, aged eighty-six), Bang was respected and recognised as one of Denmark’s leading medical figures. However, soon after his death he was branded a reactionary and accused of opposing new ideas, thereby hampering progress in Danish medicine—a view which has been generally accepted in Danish historiography until now. In this carefully researched book a more complicated picture is painted. Skydsgaard confirms that Bang remained faithful throughout his life to the Hippocratic doctrine of vis medicatrix nature, or the healing powers of nature. He believed that the organism did not accept disease passively but counteracted it by trying to rectify the disturbed equilibrium. Nature was, therefore, the best physician, but the human physician could help nature to fulfil its goal by removing obstacles to its action, thus assisting in the organism’s own attempt to recover. Bang employed traditional remedies like purgatives, emetics, diapnoic drugs, sialagogues and bloodletting. However, as Skydsgaard shows, he also participated fully in the new medical debates, and, early in his career particularly, he was a proponent of change in many areas. He introduced the stethoscope to Denmark, and studied in the French style pathological changes of the bowels during typhoid fever. He also engaged in medical meteorology, trying to generate new knowledge about epidemics based on an analysis of meteorological data. Furthermore, he advocated the use of statistics in medicine, and regularly published data on morbidity and mortality from Frederik’s Hospital. Later in life, however, he became sceptical of the increasing technicality of medicine, which, he held, distanced the physician from the patient. Consequently Bang found himself in opposition to younger colleagues, who emphasised the importance of autopsies, microscopy and animal experiments. For him, medicine was centred on the individual, carefully tailored to each patient, whereas for younger doctors objectivity and regularity took precedence over the individual. The most interesting chapter is that in which Skydsgaard analyses this period of change in Danish medicine by looking at how various physicians worked with one single disease—typhoid. He demonstrates well that new and, in retrospect, ‘correct’ ideas do not spread without friction. Also, it allows him to compare treatment methods. Bang’s younger colleagues, more favourably received in Danish historiography due to their introduction of ‘modern’ methods such as microscopy and laboratory tests, basically treated typhoid fever no differently than did Bang himself. Nevertheless, while overall this is a well-constructed and interesting piece of research work, it is not without its flaws. Perhaps most importantly, Skydsgaard’s selection of sources is too limited. He has studied published articles and books, as well as newspapers and letters from the period, but omitted hospital records. It is difficult to understand why this vital primary source of therapeutic data is ignored, and second- and third-hand descriptions of such treatment used instead. Additionally, Skydsgaard is not very comfortable or convincing when it comes to medical philosophy. His discussions of nosology and diagnostics are confusing, perhaps owing to insufficient knowledge of the important change from medical semiotics to medical diagnostics in the early nineteenth century. Finally, this is very much a book about Denmark, and, if more of Bang’s professional life had been placed in an international context, the work would have gained from a wider view. But, despite these flaws, there is no doubt that Skydsgaard has written a well-researched book about this interesting period in Danish medicine.

Viollet-le-Duc and the body: the metaphorical integrations of race and style in structural rationalism

At first glance, it might seem counterintuitive to insist upon Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc's (1814-79) critical interest in the human body as a metaphor for style in architecture. Not only did he oppose the anthropomorphic metaphors for style touted by Neo-Classical theorists at the École des Beaux-Arts, but he was most widely known in the nineteenth century for his preoccupation with the monumental and structural potential of modern materials such as iron. This reception of Viollet-le-Duc's thought persisted in the twentieth century with Sir John Summerson's estimation of Frank Lloyd Wright and Le Corbusier's debt to the constructive principles of his architectural organicism. Such accounts have made it possible to interpret construction and/or structure as the main ‘body’ of Viollet-le-Duc's architecture theory. However, this reading confuses the eclipse of Neo-Classical anthropomorphic metaphors for style - which translated the proportional relationships between the human body's constituent parts into a compositional system of design - with the complete eclipse of critical references to the human body in the French style debates of the nineteenth century. As we trace the role of the human body in Viollet-le-Duc's style theory, it becomes clear that the principles of human variation in biology and ethnography enabled him to account for the cultural variations of national peoples in his conception of style.

The Role of Meter in Compositional Style in 19th Century French and German Art Song

This study extends prior research on the influence of linguistic rhythm on musical rhythm to 19th century French and German art songs. Results indicate that the measurement of rhythmic variability used in prior studies, the nPVI, or normalized Pairwise Variability Index, may be of use in studying individual compositional style even when a significant correlation with spoken language characteristics is not present in the repertoire. By modifying and focusing the results of the nPVI, and studying the relationship between rhythmic variability and notated meter, it is possible to determine musically meaningful information about individual composer's rhythmic characteristics.

Hard-Boiled French Style: Boris Vian Disguised as Vernon Sullivan (Authorship and Pseudonymy)

Boris Vian's publication of a hard-boiled novel, J'irai cracher sur vos tombes , under an invented identity (Vernon Sullivan, a Black American veteran of WWII) provokes condemnation from the French press and the courts. But these institutions sanction not so much the erotic and violent content as they do the pseudonymous trap laid for readers. The latter fail to recognize that Vian's masked identity is itself a mise en abyme using the genre of detective fiction to focus attention on how racial identities are constructed. In an attempt to clarify his intentions, Vian provides a second Sullivan offering, Les Morts ont tous la même peau , whose series of inversions and reversals further highlight the processes that produce the identities in question. Vian also seizes the opportunity to call into question the moral authority of Daniel Parker, the figure at the origin of the lawsuits weighing upon the French author.

A Comparative Study of the Composition and Transformation of the Facilities in Fuxing Park and Zhongshan Park, Shanghai

This paper aims to compare two processes of fusion in design-the fusion between French and Chinese landscape styles and that between English and Chinese landscape styles-via a comparison of the facilities and transformations in Fuxing Park and Zhongshan Park, Shanghai. The period studied includes the period of concessions (Period I ) and that of the Peoples Republic of China (Period II ). Through a literature survey tracing the development of the facilities and features and quantitative analysis based on the plan drawings of elements such as hills, water bodies, flowerbeds, lawns, architectural installations, and pathways, this paper describes a comparison of the facilities and transformations in the two parks. Conclusions: (1)As former settlement parks, both have a diverse landscape style, because of the eclectic landscape style popular in the 1920s. (2)As modern Chinese parks in the stage before the Cultural Revolution and the stage after Economic Reform, both parks developed recreation facilities with Chinese elements. (3)In Period II, Zhongshan Park made more changes to its English style landscaping facilities than Fuxing Park made to its French style landscaping facilities; thus, the increase in Chinese style landscaping features was more marked in Zhongshan Park than in Fuxing Park.

Vaux and Versailles: The Appropriations, Erasures, and Accidents that Made Modern France (review)

Reviewed by: Vaux and Versailles: The Appropriations, Erasures, and Accidents that Made Modern France Chandra Mukerji Claire Goldstein , Vaux and Versailles: The Appropriations, Erasures, and Accidents that Made Modern France (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008). Pp. viii, 270. $55.00. In her historically rich book, Vaux and Versailles, Claire Goldstein tries to account for the formation of a distinctive French style in the 1660s. She argues that the site of this cultural break was not Versailles, but rather Vaux. The latter estate was built by the Minister of Finance, Nicolas Fouquet. Louis XIV famously had him imprisoned and expropriated Vaux's artworks, library, and orange trees for Versailles. Cultural life at Vaux had become an incubator of French style, a vibrant site of a new commodité, and a collaborative and human-scale center for thought and aesthetics built on Fouquet's patronage. When Vaux's style of French culture was expropriated for Versailles, the authority for its brilliance was attributed to Louis XIV. The liberal culture of artists and intellectuals nurtured at Vaux was not just left behind, Goldstein argues, but rather erased from memory. The move from Vaux to Versailles entailed a submerged change of cultural "seasons" as modern forms were expropriated and refashioned for political ends. Goldstein compares Vaux and Versailles across cultural domains they shared: fêtes, tapestries, gardens, and waterworks. She studies the production of these forms in the four sections of the book, and—in intermezzos between the sections—analyzes texts that pertained to them. In a nice weaving of material culture study and literary analysis, she presents readers with tangible artworks seen through the eyes of period writers. They describe Vaux as a paradise of the arts and also acknowledge their role in the political constitution of Louis XIV's France. Vaux and Versailles is a fascinating piece of scholarship, but like any book, this one has problems. It is not a new idea that Fouquet shaped French culture profoundly before Louis XIV or that the minister was a bourgeois individualist who brought a humanist and commercial sensibility to (northern) France through his patronage. This history of Vaux is not a matter of dispute. Neither is the idea that Versailles was indebted to Vaux, since Le Brun, Le Nôtre, La Quintinie, and others were brought from Vaux to Versailles. Still, Goldstein's contrast of Vaux and Versailles is fascinating. As the artifacts change contexts, we can follow the genealogical threads between them. In the patient details of Goldstein's history, we can see French culture emerging less as a style than a line of cultural descent. [End Page 625] The major flaw of this book is the limited political history that Goldstein brings to her analysis. She speaks of absolutism as though it were a form of government, not a claim that was continually tested and problematic in the period. She also speaks of a French culture in the 1660s as though "France" were an uncomplicated political unit. French culture in the modern sense could not exist at Vaux because France was far from a integrated kingdom at the time that Fouquet lived there. And Louis XIV did not so much politicize French culture as build a state that could have a "French" cultural identity. The story of pollution that she wants to tell in the move from Vaux to Versailles is too easy. Goldstein's view of patronage is similarly flawed. She contrasts Fouquet's "good" patronage at Vaux (egalitarian, collaborative, human scale, full of commodité) with Louis XIV's "bad" patronage at Versailles (political, centralized, inhumanly grand, absolutist) without considering the historical dynamics of patrimonialism. Patronage at Versailles was part of a failing effort to maintain the patrimonial networks that Fouquet had cultivated so assiduously. Rather than expressing absolute power, patronage at Versailles was a technique to address political limits. In spite of these problems, Vaux and Versailles is a revealing look into the 1660s in France and, more than that, a brilliant and empirically rich study of cultural descent. It traces a shift in "usage" of cultural forms and shows with intricate detail the dynamics behind this important change of "season." Chandra Mukerji University of California, San Diego Copyright...

:The Melodramatic Thread: Spectacle and Political Culture in Modern France.(Interdisciplinary Studies in History.)

This book is both fascinating and frustrating: fascinating in its analysis of the consistent power of melodramatic narratives across two centuries in arenas of French public life as apparently separate as civic festivals, public funerals, political trials, parliamentary debates, popular plays, classic movies, avant-garde theater, and experimental film; frustrating because it never quite fulfills its opening promise to demonstrate the causal connections linking the use of melodrama in any one of these arenas to its subsequent appearance in any of the others. James R. Lehning stresses the power of what he calls the “melodramatic thread” in the process of creating French republican national identity, claiming that “the discourses of French culture that divided the world into a conflict of good and evil, that sought to rescue threatened virtue, and that continually hovered on the edge of exposure helped assemble the elements of French political culture into images of the world and, through them, created the processes of social, economic, and political life for French men and women” (p. 19). While the parallels that Lehning identifies between theatrical and political rhetoric are certainly provocative, his argument that the presence of the melodramatic thread can explain the persistent polarities of French political culture is not completely convincing because the causal relationship between the popularity of melodramatic plays and the republican use of melodramatic rhetoric remains unclear. In addition, Lehning's argument does not account for the popularity of melodrama in other countries whose political cultures do not share the French style.

The Discovery of an Architect: Duke University and Julian F. Abele

In 1937, distinguished visitor touring the United States, the English novelist Aldous Huxley, was traveling through North Carolina by auto one hot summer day. He described a pleasant but unexciting land when all of sudden, astonishingly, whole of gray Gothic stone emerged from the warm pine forest. He was thrilled by the academic city with the dominating leaping tower of the huge cathedral and the spreading succession of quadrangles. He called the campus genuinely beautiful, the most successful essay in neo-Gothic that know. (1) Huxley, like generations of succeeding travelers, had come upon the campus of Duke University. Like most visitors through the years, Huxley was unaware that the dramatic new campus had been designed by the architectural firm of Horace Trumbauer of Philadelphia, where Julian F. Abele, an African American, was chief designer. The Philadelphia Inquirer devoted only three paragraphs to Abele's death in 1950, but it covered weekend of celebration honoring him in June 2002, Oh the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Free Library of Philadelphia, at which Abele [pronounced able] received posthumous credit for the design of the central section. During the construction of Duke University in the 1920s few administrators knew Abele was chief designer in the firm, but his race was not common knowledge. By 2000, however, Abele and his achievements as an African American were the centerpiece of the university's seventy-fifth anniversary celebration. How these celebrations came to be is story of unusual interest. Neither the Trumbauer firm nor Julian Abele left an archive. Scattered sources, infrequent newspaper articles, and reminiscences by family and friends created over decades constitute the primary sources of information about Abele. His story was one discovered bit by bit, looking backward. The Duke University component, outlined in this essay, was an exercise in archival practice and historical discovery over time. (2) Julian Francis Abele (1881-1950) was born into respected and talented African American family in Philadelphia. His father, born freedman, worked in the U. S. Treasury Customs House and thus had the means to give his children valued education. In 1897 Abele graduated from Philadelphia's Institute for Colored Youth, prestigious Quaker institution, where his Aunt Julia Jones, who taught drawing, steered him toward career in architecture. In 1898 he earned Certificate in Architectural Design from the Pennsylvania Museum and School of Industrial Arts. In 1902, Abele graduated from the School of Architecture of the University of Pennsylvania, and in 1903, he received Certificate of Completion in Architectural Design from the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. In the latter three institutions Abele was the first of his race to earn certificate or degree, magnificent achievement, though, as Abele noted later in his life, I lived in the shadows. The shadows of practice, custom, and personality would claim Abele for decades. (3) [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Horace Trumbauer (1868-1938), Philadelphia native, was heard to say, I hire my brains. Acknowledged as premier builder of Gilded Age palaces, often in the grand French style, Trumbauer had no higher education, having dropped out of school in his teens. He learned the profession as an apprentice draftsman and through voracious reading. When he began his own firm in 1890, he hired exceptionally qualified personnel and held them to very high standards. Extremely self-conscious about his lack of education, he deliberately sought anonymity, preferring to work one-on-one with his wealthy clients and relying on their recommendations for commissions. The firm had reputation for designing statement homes for wealthy patrons in the expanding Philadelphia suburbs and at their summer residences in Newport, Rhode Island, and New York City. Talented but aloof, Trumbauer gained accolades in New York City before he did in his hometown, where his colleagues did not elect him to membership in the Philadelphia chapter of the American Institute of Architects (AIA) until 1931. …

Tipologías: una mirada al paisajismo del cono Sur Americano

Geograficamente, se denomina Cono Sur al area de Sudamerica mas al sur del continente que, en forma de cono invertido abarca Argentina, Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay y el Sur del Brasil. En este trabajo omitire al Brasil pues mis colegas brasilenos estan mejor preparados que yo para hablar sobre su territorio. Aunque con diferencias geograficas acentuadas, estos paises o zonas presentan rasgos comunes en su evolucion cultural debido principalmente a la sustitucion de la mayoria poblacional original por una inmigracion netamente europea. Debo aclarar que persisten algunas zonas con fuerte presencia de los pueblos originarios en algunos sectores de Chile y en casi todo el Paraguay, pero ello no obstaculizo la materializacion de ese paradigma europeo. Esa sustitucion comenzo con la conquista espanola misma a partir del s. XVI, produciendose una incipiente transformacion del paisaje original. Luego, esta accion se acentuo de manera dramatica durante el s. XIX con la llegada de millones y millones de nuevos pobladores de todos los rincones de Europa. Con esta nueva poblacion llegaron nuevos usos, costumbres e ideas urbanos, y sus dirigentes eligieron mayoritariamente copiar el modelo haussmanniano frances que cambio la fisonomia de las ciudades y, por ende, transformo por segunda vez el paisaje cultural de la region, pero a una escala mucho mayor. Esta adscripcion al paradigma del espacio verde publico frances - sumado al jardin privado ingles - caracterizo e igualo los paisajes construidos por el hombre en toda la region. He tratado de sintetizar las diferentes tipologias que se materializaron en las distintas epocas desde la Colonia hasta nuestros dias.

Pink and blue: the color of gender

Assigning color to gender is mostly a twentieth-centurytrait. It should be noted that it is a practice limited mostoften to Western Europe and the Americas. It would alsoseem that the effect of color-coded gender differences (pinkfor girls, blue for boys) existed oppositely initially [10].In fact, this reversal of what we consider “normal” wasconsidered conventional, even in the early twentiethcentury. The debate of when and why pink and blue cameinto fashion to designate gender rages on, but almost everyargument alludes to a passage in the novel Little Women,published in 1868: “Amy ties a pink bow and a blue bowon Meg’s twins Daisy and Demi, so people will know thedifference between the girl and the boy.” This is said to bedone in the “French style,” suggesting that it might havebeen possible in France that pink and blue were alreadygender-specific.However, there is evidence that this practice was notalways common or always done throughout much ofEurope. In fact, in the nineteenth century, parents dressedinfants in white dresses, suggesting that color and dresseswere not used to distinguish between girls and boys [3].At one point, pink was considered more of a boy’s color,as a watered-down, bold, dramatic red, which is a fiercecolor. Instead, blue was considered more for girls. Probablythis choice was affected by the fact that blue, especiallydark blue, was associated with the Virgin Mary in ChristianEurope. In fact, painters often mixed lapis lazuli into paintsto depict what was considered the most sacred feminineicon.The Sunday Sentinal, an American newspaper, in 1914advised mothers: “If you like the color note on the littleone’s garments, use pink for the boy and blue for the girl, ifyou are a follower of convention” (March 29, 1914).Similarly, Ladies Home Journal informed: “There has beena great diversity of opinion on the subject, but the generallyaccepted rule is pink for the boy and blue for the girl. Thereason is that pink being a more decided and stronger coloris more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is moredelicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl” (June, 1918).The current pink for girls and blue for boys was notuniform until the 1950s [11]. It would seem that NaziGermany had something to do with the association of pinkwith femininity: catholic traditions in Germany andneighboring countries reverse the current color coding,because of the strong association of blue with the VirginMary; the Nazis in their concentration camps use a pinktriangle to identify homosexuals. The Nazi’s choice of pinksuggests that, by the 1930s, it was a color that in Germanyhad become associate with girls.Thus, Dress Maker Magazine stated: “The preferredcolor to dress young boys in was pink! Blue was reservedfor girls as it was considered the paler, more dainty of thetwo colors, and pink was thought to be the stronger (akin tored). It was not until WWII that the colors were reversedand pink was used for girls and blue for boys...”After World War II, blue was used extensively for men’suniforms. Therefore, blue became associated as more of amasculine color. From the 1940s onward, pink was pushedas a woman’s color. “Think pink” was the marketing sloganto convince women to embrace their femininity.The 1950s featured a virtual color explosion, not only inclothing, but also in things like appliances and furniture.Dressing children in pink and blue to specifically denotegender suggested the rising middle class and above. In

‘Eine Liebliche/Von Vielen Violen Bestehende Music’. Ballet Instrumentation at German Protestant Courts, 1650–1700: A Study of Libretti in Wolfenbüttel and Stuttgart Libraries

German court ballet of the early modern period is mentioned only rarely in musicological discourse. The present study examines the question of instrumentation in this genre (which incorporated poetry, song and dance), taking as its primary evidence 83 printed libretti from 1650–1700 held by the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbiittel, the Wiirttembergische Landesbibliothek and the Hauptstaatsarchiv Stuttgart. With their occasional references to specific instruments, these constitute an important source of information on the development of the orchestra, supplying evidence of the continuation of European-wide traditions of instrumental associations with certain theatrical topoi (also confirmed in contemporary German dance manuals), and offering clues regarding the means through which French compositional and performance styles were disseminated throughout the German-speaking lands. The libretti also provide information on the use of costumed musicians, on the widespread employment of a distinctive type of music referred to as ‘lieblich’ (sweet) and of collaboration between dancing masters employed at diverse courts.

Hamlet [Vol. 1.] by Ann Thompson and Neil Taylor, and: Hamlet: The Texts of 1603 and 1623 [Vol. 2.] by Ann Thompson and Neil Taylor (review)

YES, 38.I & 2, 2008 279 Stepping herway throughdance forms that may have been used forantimasques, for royal and aristocratic main masquers, and for social dances used in the revels that followed, she emphasizes the strong influence of Queen Anne and Queen Henrietta Maria, the latter importing French styles of dance to enhance native traditions. Discussing costume, she draws on Henrietta Maria's household accounts, demonstrat inga complex industryof preparation, maintenance and storage. She identifies'discreet cost-saving, which interfered as little as possible with the ostentation of luxury in performance' (p. I56). Some garmentsmight be recycled,but theQueen stipulated that masque costumes she had used were exclusively royal and should not be subsequently 'prostitutedupon anyMercenary stage' (p. I65). There are case studies of twoJonsonian masques (TheMasque of Queensand Oberon), one Carolingean (Coelum Britannium), and a record of an English wedding masque devised by Robert Bargrave, 'LevantMerchant' in Constantinople in i650. She shows how evidence of dancing, with itsaccompanying music, and of colourful costume, topped off withmask ormake-up and enhanced by lighting,can present amore vivid, albeit blurred, image of the theatrical impact and cultural significanceof theearly Stuartmasque than either InigoJones's designs,which were intended asworking drawings forscene painters and costume makers, or textual records intended, particularly inBen Jonson's case, to celebrate theprintedword asmuch as the event itcommemorated. Framing her studywith an account by a foreignvisitor of a Stuart masque and with themasque devised in Turkey,Ravelhofer creates a Verfrerndungseffekt inwhich we re evaluate how dimly-litmoving figures, obscure texts, arcane symbolism, creaking scenery, and backstage interference combine to create multimedia pieces, uniquely reflectingthe sometimes glorious, sometimes tottering,state of the early Stuarts. Occasionally, Ravelhofer's enthusiasm forcontextual exploration leads her intoeccen tricity, aswhen she explores the relevance of theambigram to InigoJones's experiments with perspective (p. 96). Once, her scholarship leads her to condemn as 'amateur and historicallyuninformed' (p. 7) amodern adaptation of historical dance (in the filmEliz abeth)inwhich thedance consultant, drawing freelyon authentic sources to realize the director's interpretation,actually showed an unpedantic theatricalprofessionalism that perhaps had itsroots in theStuart masque. Ravelhofer claims her work as 'a tribute to early studies by Allardyce Nicoll, Enid Welfor and Lily Campbell' (p.268). It isaworthy tribute,restoringemphasis to the 'living spectacle' (p. 269) of the early Stuart masque through robust evaluation of a dazzling array of familiar and unfamiliarmaterial. GUILDHALL SCHOOL OFMUSIC & DRAMA, LoDmON DIANA DEVLIN Hamlet. Ed. by ANN THOMPSON and NEIL TAYLOR. [Vol. i.]Arden Shakespeare: Third Series. 3rd edition. London: Arden Shakespeare. 2006. xxii + 6I3 pp. ?8.99. ISBN: 978-1-904271-33-8. Hamlet: The Textsof I603 and i623. Ed. byANN THOMPSON and NEIL TAYLOR. [Vol. 2.] London: Arden Shakespeare. 2007. xvi + 368 pp. ?I2.99. ISBN: 978-1-90427I-80-2. Editors of Shakespeare are oftenJekylland Hyde figures; they may talkat lengthabout the rational principles thatunderlie theirprocedures in their introductions, but their 280 Reviews practice ischaracterized by deeply subjective, literaryjudgements. Ann Thompson and Neil Taylor's edition has no such darker side; itsgreat achievement is topresent three texts,consistently and conservatively edited. Essentially, Thompson and Taylor deliver the texts that the arguments in favourof Shakespeare as reviser,and so against confla tion,demand. On those terms, their twovolumes provide themost accurate editions of theQi, Q2, and Folio texts(the firstand last in the second volume). Such consistent and conservative editorial practice produces quite radical effects:the Q2 Prince Hamlet now addresses his "'Seems", madam' speech tohis 'coldmother' and not his 'good mother'(I. 2. 77); while the Folio prince, apologizing to Laertes in the fencing scene, talksof shooting his arrow over thehouse and hurting his 'mother' and not his 'brother' (v. 2. I9I). Some will relish the changes; some, who have previously argued against conflated texts,may, I suspect, want to reconsider their positions. Thompson and Taylor have catered for such second thoughts; they lay out neatly the arguments fora conflated text. (Indeed, the thoroughness and intellectualmodesty with which theysurvey thevarious editorial arguments todate isremarkable.)Might theynot have provided such a conflated edition? As theypoint out, theyhad no need: Harold Jenkins's edition, itseems,might be considered the thirdvolume of theArden Hamlet. In the real world of the undergraduate market, almost no...

Wagner and Wagnerism in Nineteenth-Century Sweden, Finland, and the Baltic Provinces: Reception, Enthusiasm, Cult (review)

Wagner and Wagnerism in Nineteenth-Century Sweden, Finland, and Baltic Provinces: Reception, Enthusiasm, Cult. By Hannu Salmi. (Eastman Studies in Music.) Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2006. [x, 310 p. ISBN 1-58046-207-3. $65.] Maps, illustrations. Hannu Salmi's work on Wagnerism in Baltic region documents phenomenon with extraordinary detail. This book not only enlarges understanding of Wagnerism in general in nineteenth century, it also supplements music histories of Baltic countries with wealth of information and copiously detailed references. The text is delightfully illustrated with historical postcards, drawn primarily from author's own collection. Salmi claims that Wagner's relationship to Baltic Europe was not limited to his years as conductor in Konigsberg and Riga at start of his career. Neither were these places insignificant in larger Wagner phenomenon that engulfed Europe in later nineteenth century, with Riga perpetually emerging as leading center of interest in Wagner. In his Prelude, Salmi notes potential problems in researching Wagner reception in this region. Countries on Baltic coastline differ culturally, linguistically, and aesthetically, making this book collection of several reception histories rather than single, monolithic documentary. The choice of countries may seem somewhat arbitrary at first. Including Sweden but omitting Norway and Denmark, for example, focuses on Baltic coast region as geo-cultural unit at expense of real discussion of pan-Scandinavian Wagnerism. Why focus on Baltic coast countries, then? In first of eight chapters, Salmi maintains that musical links between coastal towns of Baltic Sea remained close up until middle of nineteenth century (p. 13), and that emergence of Wagnerism as phenomenon coincided almost exactly with critical shift in cultural relationships between these countries, facilitated by telegraph, steamboat, and railway. When Wagner was in Konigsberg and Riga, he was already becoming aware of local folk culture, but even more importantly was recognizing the dramatic possibility of myth (p. 18). Salmi argues, with considerable evidence to back him up, that Wagner's Baltic years should not be considered as a kind of prehistory (p. 30) to Paris and Dresden Wagner. Many of features of Wagner's later music have their roots in these early experiences. The second chapter discusses commoditization and distribution of Wagner's music in region, through publication of scores, arrangements, and extracts from operas. These low-brow arrangements introduced Baltic audiences to Wagner's music before they heard any of his operas performed, with Tannhauser becoming particular favorite through excerpts. The next chapter opens with an account of Riga's centrality in Baltic Wagnerism. It was, for example, first city after Dresden to stage performance (in 1843) of Der fliegende Hollander. Salmi claims (p. 60) that tremendous success of this opera in Riga may even have convinced Wagner to follow more Germanic style of Dutchman rather than French style of his earlier opera, Rienzi. A summary of Wagner's 1863 tour to Russia is not really part of this story, but is smuggled in as separate chapter under author's claim that this tour influenced Wagner reception in neighboring Finland. He also examines in some detail rumor (now almost certainly debunked) that Wagner visited famous Imatra rapids in Finland during his Russian tour. Wagnerism in Sweden followed very different path than in other Baltic countries. In chapter 5, Salmi tracks Sweden's relatively unenthusiastic response to Wagner, which he notes was partly due to Rienzi (rather than one of later operas) being first Wagner opera performed in Sweden. Influential Swedish critics like Wilhelm Bauck were also repeatedly critical of Wagner's work. …

Muting the image: lighting and photochemical techniques of Bresson's cinematographers

The practical accomplishments of Robert Bresson's collaborators have rarely been acknowledged. This paper argues that Bresson's productions were the site of creative solutions to unique photographic problems that led his cinematographers to develop bounce light and flashing techniques, as well as to use the 50 mm lens. Research into these aspects of Bresson's cinema not only grants one access to the dynamics of Bresson's unique mode of production, but starts us on our way to placing Bresson's films and the work of his technicians in the history of French film style.

Toile de Jouy. Printed Textiles in the Classic French Style * Toiles for All Seasons. French and British Printed Textiles

Toile de Jouy. Printed Textiles in the Classic French Style * Toiles for All Seasons. French and British Printed Textiles

The French Style and the Period

Click to increase image sizeClick to decrease image size Notes 1. Carlo Blasis, The Code of Terpsichore, trans. R. Barton (London: James Bulcock, 1828; reprint New York: Dance Horizons, n.d.), p. 110. 2. John Ebers, Seven Years of the King's Theatre (London: William Harrison Ainsworth, 1828), pp. 128–9. 3. Blasis, Code, p. 65. 4. Castil-Blaze, Le Journal des Débats, August 3, 1827. As quoted in John V. Chapman, “August Vestris and the Expansion of Technique,” Dance Research Journal, Vol. 19, No. 1, Summer 1987, pp. 16–7. 5. See Blasis, Code, pp. 65–6 and also E. A. Théleur, Letters on Dancing (London: Sherwood, 1831), republication in Studies in Dance History (Pennington, NJ: Princeton Periodicals, 1990), p. 7. In the frontispiece of his book, Théleur asserted that he had studied at l'Académie Royale de Danse de Paris in the class taught by Coulon Père [Jean-François]. 6. Blasis, Code, pp. 58–9; Théleur, Letters pp. 7, 58–9. 7. Blasis, Code, pp. 59, 69. 8. Théleur, Letters, pp. 7, 38. 9. Théleur, Letters, p. 37; Blasis, Code, pp. 70–1. 10. Théleur, Letters, pp. 12, 14, 24, 25. 11. See Blasis, Code, 99–101; Théleur, Letters, pp. 95–7; G. Léopold Adice, Théorie de la gymnastique de la danse théâtrale (Paris: Chais, 1859), pp. 71 (where he quotes Blasis), 73–5. Adice was a dancer and later a teacher at the ballet school of the Paris Opéra. 12. See Sandra Noll Hammond, “International Elements of Dance Training in the Late Eighteenth Century,” in The Grotesque Dancer on the Eighteenth-Century Stage: Gennaro Magri and His World, ed. Rebecca Harris-Warrick and Bruce Alan Brown (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2005), pp. 109–50, especially, pp. 119–28. 13. Adice, Théorie, pp. 72, 76. 14. See Sandra Noll Hammond, “Clues to Ballet's Technical History from the Early Nineteenth-Century Ballet Lesson,” Dance Research (Journal of the Society of Dance Research, London), Vol. 3, No. 1, Autumn 1984, pp. 53-66. 15. Michel St. Léon, “Cahier d'Exercices de 1829,” fol. 2r–3v. See also Hammond, “Steps Through Time: Selected Dance Vocabulary of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” Dance Research (Journal of the Society of Dance Research, London), Vol. 10, No. 2, Autumn 1992, pp. 94–5. 16. See Adice, Théorie, p. 76, and St. Léon, ibid. 17. Adice, ibid. 18. See Hammond, “Clues,” pp. 54–8. 19. See St. Léon, “Cahier 1829,” fol. 3r–4v. 20. The image of Gosselin is reproduced in Ivor Guest, Ballet under Napoleon (London: Dance Books, 2002), illustration no. 46. 21. See Hammond, “Clues,” pp. 56–8; St. Léon, “Cahier 1829,” fol. 3r–4v; Adice, Théorie, pp. 77–8. 22. For summaries of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century foités/fouettés, see Hammond, “Clues,” pp. 61–3. 23. St. Léon, “Cahier 1829,” fol. 16v–17r. 24. See Arthur Saint-Léon, La Sténochorégraphie, ou Art d'écrire promptement la danse (Paris: Chez l'Auteur and chez Brandus, 1852), preface p. 15; Adice, Théorie, pp. 11, 46. 25. The Bournonville School—The Dance Programme (Copenhagen: The Royal Danish Theatre, 2005), pp. 152–3. 26. St. Léon, “Cahier 1829,” fol. 18v–19v; “1830a,” fol. 39v–39r. 27. St. Léon, untitled manuscript (section is probably from c. 1832), fol. 20–2. 28. Guest, Ballet Under Napoleon, pp. 270–2. 29. See Sandra Noll Hammond, “Windows into Romantic Ballet: Content and Structure of Four Nineteenth-Century Pas de Deux,” Proceedings, Society of Dance History Scholars conference, Barnard College, New York, June 1997, pp. 137–44, and “Windows into Romantic Ballet, Part II: Content and Structure of Solo Entrées from the Early Nineteenth Century,” Proceedings, Society of Dance History Scholars conference, University of Oregon, June 1998, pp. 47–53. 30. Guest, Ballet Under Napoleon, pp. 270–1. 31. For this opinion, see Vivi Flindt and Knud Arne Jürgensen, Bournonville Ballet Technique: Fifty Enchaînements (London: Dance Books, 1992), p. 107.

Archaeological evidence for dental innovation: an eighteenth century porcelain dental prosthesis belonging to Archbishop Arthur Richard Dillon

During archaeological investigation by Gifford of St Pancras Old Church burial ground, on the eastern edge of Somers Town, London, in advance of construction of the new London terminus for the Channel Tunnel Rail Link, a full porcelain denture was discovered. The high quality porcelain dentures, manufactured in the late eighteenth century French style, may have been brought with their owner, Archbishop Arthur Richard Dillon, on his journey into exile. There is evidence of prolonged use, not only for cosmetic or vocal functions but also in mastication. The dentures are unique archaeological artefacts and represent a pivotal time in dental history, with the adoption of new materials and methods of manufacture. They reflect a period of significant social and economic change for the upper echelons of French society. This paper outlines the development of porcelain dentures, discusses the prosthesis, their owner, and a possible provenance.

IGNAZ HOLZBAUER AND THE ORIGINS OF GERMAN OPERA IN VIENNA

Ignaz Holzbauer (1711–1783) is best known for his singspiel Günther von Schwarzburg (1777), a work that deeply impressed Mozart during his sojourn in Mannheim. A much earlier German opera by Holzbauer, however, has gone virtually unnoticed. In the summer or autumn of 1741 the composer’s full-length, three-act teutsche Opera entitled Hypermnestra was performed at the Kärntnertortheater in Vienna. Following the death of Emperor Charles VI and the accession of Maria Theresia, the Kärntnertortheater Intendant Joseph Selliers commissioned a German-language opera, selecting Holzbauer, who had recently returned to Vienna from Moravia, to compose the music and the court printer Johann Leopold van Ghelen to write the libretto.Although it is widely known that Holzbauer composed several operas in Italian before 1741, Hypermnestra appears to be the earliest opera by the composer for which a score survives. The music provides ample evidence of a mature composer in full command of opera seria style. Although Holzbauer had not yet found a satisfactory solution to the problem of narrative recitative, the opera nevertheless illustrates many of the virtues found in Günther von Schwarzburg: outstanding accompanied recitatives, a great variety in the treatment of da capo aria form and a rich array of orchestral colours.Apart from the music, Hypermnestra is remarkable for historical reasons. It reveals that the composer had received a commission to compose an opera in the German language long before Günther von Schwarzburg. On the basis of current research it appears to hold the distinction of being one of the earliest, if not the first, full-length German opera produced in Vienna. Maria Theresia soon re-established the dominance of French and Italian styles. Nevertheless, Hypermnestra is an early example of an idea that would gradually gain acceptance and blossom during the reign of Joseph II.

Vive la Difference: Behavioural Ecology French Style

EthologyVolume 112, Issue 3 p. 308-309 Vive la Différence: Behavioural Ecology French Style First published: 14 February 2006 https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1439-0310.2006.01208.xRead the full textAboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinked InRedditWechat No abstract is available for this article. Volume112, Issue3March 2006Pages 308-309 RelatedInformation