Journal articles on the topic 'French literature 18th-19th centuries Criticism'

Up until the 1960s, before scientific courses attracted the best performing students, the Queen’s highway of secondary education was paved with Latin declensions. For centuries, from the very birth of «secondary» education until the disappearance of Latin in the sixth grade in 1968, Latin literature imposed its dominance. At the same time, however, it attracted criticism and opposition, the vast majority of students were facing great difficulties in the learning process, and Latin was the focal point for recurrent debate regarding the modernisation of education. Throughout this article, the «Latin question», subject of many controversies of the late 19th century, takes the form of the «Latin enigma» directed at History. This «enigma» is discussed from a perspective linking together the status of secondary education within general educational provision, its uses in society, the educational methods used and its function in the world of secondary education. The author particularly focuses on the constructed and ingrained forms and legitimacies characterizing the monopoly - until the 1860s – and then the hegemony of Latin literature not only on French literature but also on science, modern languages and more generally, on modern disciplines. Nevertheless, the teaching of the latter could have met the constantly renewed socio-political and economic requirements more appropriately.

In his Bibliotheca historica, Diodorus Siculus described a peculiar Egyptian custom of judging all the dead (including the pharaohs) before their burial. The Greek historian saw it as a guarantee of Egypt’s prosperity, since the fear of being deprived of the right to burial served as a moral imperative. This story of an Egyptian custom fascinated the early modern authors, from lawyers to novelists, who often retold it in their own manner. Their interpretations varied depending on the political context: from the traditional “lesson to sovereigns” to a reassessment of the role of the subject and the duties of the orator. This article traces several intellectual trajectories that show the use and misuse of this Egyptian custom from Montaigne to Bossuet and then to Rousseau—and finally its adaptation by Pushkin and Vyazemsky, who most likely became acquainted with it through the mediation of French literature. The article was written in the framework (and with the generous support) of the RANEPA (ШАГИ РАНХиГС) state assignment research program. KEYWORDS: 16th to 19th-Century European and Russian Literature, Diodorus Siculus (1st century BC), Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712—1778), Alexander Pushkin (1799—1837), Prince Pyotr Vyazemsky (1792—1878), Egyptian Сourt, Locus communis, Political Rhetoric, Literary Criticism, Pantheonization, History of Ideas.

Abstract This paper addresses the grammaticalization of Spanish en definitiva as a discourse marker. The objectives are threefold: to enquire about previous changes and discourse traditions that took place, to outline the path to the new values that were acquired, and to ascertain whether the French construction en définitive had an influence on the Spanish one during the grammaticalization process. To do so, we examined the cases found in Frantext for French, while for the Spanish data, we used Corpus del Diccionario histórico de la lengua española and Corpus diacrónico del español. Additionally, Gallica and Hemeroteca Digital were used to fill the gaps in the documentation for the 18th and 19th centuries. The results show that en definitiva might have undergone a vernacular evolution fixing as a ritual formula that gave rise to a modal construction and later assimilated new discourse uses as loan translations from the French construction en définitive. This finding leads to deeper consideration of the evolution of Modern French discourse markers and 19th century Spanish press.

This paper on intellectual history aims to describe the phenomenon of Morlaquism, a fascinating subject for men of letters in the 18th and 19th centuries. Starting from the fi rst introduction of Morlachs in French literature, we will try to demonstrate how the Morlach theme obtains a warm welcome from the metropolitan public. We shall also see how the same points to the danger of creating ideas about the Other based on alleged Western cultural superiority; beliefs that led to the justifi cation of the colonization of South Slavic and African countries (Michelet; Ferry, Hugo), thus opening new research perspectives in the context of postmodernist and postcolonial critiques.

While the antagonism of modernism to realism has often been commented upon, its equally vehement rejection of romanticism has not been as widely discussed. Yet, if modernism compromised at times with realism or, at least, with a "naturalistic" version of realism, its total antipathy to the fundamentals of romanticism has been absolute. This was a modernist trend that covered both literature and criticism and a modernist characteristic that extended from German philosophers, French poets to British and American professors of literature. Names as diverse as Paul Valery, Charles Maurras and F.R. Leavis shared a common anti-romantic outlook. Many of the important modernist literary trends like the Anglo-American imagism, French surrealism, German expressionism and Italian futurism have been antagonistic not only to ordinary realism as a relic of the 19th century, but also, and fundamentally, to that century's romanticism. In nihilistically breaking with everything from the past, or at least the immediate past, they were by definition anti-romantics. Even writers like Bernard Shaw or Bertolt Brecht and critics like Raymond Williams or George Lukacs, who would generally be regarded as in the pro-realist camp, have, at times, exhibited, to the extent that they were afflicted with the modernist ethos, strong anti-romantic tendencies.

Introduction. Noble society traditions are not simply a base for Russian multilingual culture; they remain the historical basis of the reproduction of human intellectual capital as a basis of the world organization. In this connection the mechanisms of linguistic personality educational processes within the framework of the noble society are of considerable interest for modern researchers and, in our opinion, they require certain elucidation and some comments. The purpose of the article is to analyse communicative process in the noble environment of the 18th – the 19th centuries as a specific model of personality upbringing. Materials and Methods. The material of the research is Russian fiction, autobiographical literature and memoirs of the 18th and the 19th centuries. The methods used in the article are: method of system analysis of sources, content-analysis method, sociocultural, axiological, phenomenological, hermeneutical and comparative-historical approaches to the study of cultural phenomena. Results. The hypothesis that specific character of linguistic personality upbringing of the second half of the 18th – the beginning of the 19th centuries was closely connected with the tutorship institute as well as with the large scale of home education is empirically confirmed and corroborated. Didactic approach to the noble heirs, aimed at multilingual personality formation quite often came to the readiness of of-springs to freely master both oral and written forms of speech in a foreign language (mainly the French language). Moreover, the aspiration of the pupils to fix and pass their speech and thinking experience in a foreign language as well as the examples of its use in the practice of speech culture and behaviour become the standard of educational processes. Discussion and Conclusions. The results of the research can be used for the development of the syllabuses connected with the history of bilingual teachings, the history of pedagogy and the theory of education, which, from the practical point of view, will be of use for the perfection of the syllabus for institutions of higher education and the improvement of the quality of literary works analysis. The value of the research is in the context analysis.

Tocqueville, in his book “Democracy in America”, talked about the concept of sexual morality, introduced it into his newpolitical science, and reflected on the situation of social morality before and after the French Revolution with the help of hisinvestigation of American social morality. From the end of the 19th century to late 20th century, the development of sexualmorality in the US and France has undergone different changes. In France before and after the Revolution, sexual ethicsshowed a very different picture, from palace porn culture and pornography before the Revolution to revolutionary moralethics during the revolutionary period and to sexual ethics after the revolution. The US turned from the Puritans' sexualmorality in the early 18th century to the sexual liberation movement in the 19th and 20th centuries. From the historicalexperience of the US and France, we can see three basic forms of sexual morality: the state of greed, the state of politics, andthe state of holy love. The revolutions were not only initiating the construction of democracy, but also changed the definitionof its most basic figure that is the individual. This paper places sexual morality in the three dimensions of reality, politics andreligion. Taking The United States and France as examples, with the help of textual analysis and comparison, thedevelopment course, different forms and contemporary values of sexual morality will be explored.

SummaryThe study is focused on the reception of the then-popular Dialogues of the Dead / Conversations by Syrian philosopher and rhetorician Lucian of Samosata (120 AD-180 AD) in Czech literature on the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, with occasional insight into the intermediary French and German reception. Thanks to their linguistic refinement, Lucian’s dialogues quickly became a popular reading for the learning of Greek at the time, and in the 18th century, they contributed significantly to the development of journalism. This tendency was also present in the revivalist journal Hlasatel český during the period of 1806–1808 when it featured translations of several of Lucian’s dialogues alongside Jungmann’s conversation On the Czech Tongue (1808). The said conversations evoke the form of Lucianesque dialogues of the dead, which was to be the model of antiquity for the Czech classicism of the time, and they fill this form with thoughts of enlightenment and contemporary nationalism while capitalizing on the models of contemporary educational practices at Prague universities.

A religious theory that may be utilized to construct an Islamic criticism of English literature according to Islamic principles is Wordsworth’s pantheism. Pantheism may encourage academics whose ultimate objective is to understand God via the study of natural objects of the universe found in English literature, despite the fact that it is fundamentally antithetical to God’s oneness. We were therefore enthralled by Wordsworth’s interpretation and comprehension of nature. However, we tried to reconstruct the idea from an Islamic perspective utilizing Quranic text after learning that his idea of God’s partial presence as a being within each natural element violates Islamic monotheism. The romantic poets like such as Wordsworth, Keats, and Shelley in Britain; transcendentalists Emerson and Thoreau in the United States; and Goethe and Hegel in Germany all contributed to the idea’s rise in popularity in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. It emerged as the preeminent literary form dedicated to praising nature in the nineteenth century. Philosophers and poets from all eras and stages manifest pantheism in a variety of languages.

The aim of this article is to analyse the transition period in the history of illustrating children’s educational books on the material of Russian-language publications. It is the period in which the function of an intermedial representation gradually develops from emblematic to encyclopedic and narrative-figurative images. This process is related to the literary history of children’s books and their genre transformations. In the last third of the 18th century, children’s literature in Russia was formed as an independent direction with its special goals, and the basis for further search for specific methods of children’s book design, including educational ones, was laid. In the first quarter of the 19th century, the children’s book had a typical European visual design and continued the trends inherited from the 18th century: translations, borrowings, and revised texts in publications often copied illustrations rather than made new ones. A new stage came at the end of the 1820s, when Russia was actively developing independent children’s literature, and professional authors and criticism appeared. It was the time of the pedagogical experiments of Vasily Zhukovsky. This article does not claim to analyse Zhukovsky’s pedagogical activity comprehensively, but this activity is significant for the subject-matter of the study. In his pedagogy, Zhukovsky went to a new level when searching for intermedial ways of transmission of the universal coherence of phenomena, the systemic representation of knowledge about the world, and the ideas of the world as a system. The search, though much slower, was also observed in contemporary children’s books. The integration of cognitive and didactic functions in the Russian-language children’s book of the 18th century resulted in a mix of different principles of illustration in one publication. These principles are: (1) emblematic: the title, image, and text form a three-part structure; (2) encyclopedic: the sheet contains separate numbered images of the same type of objects excluded from the visual context; (3) narrative: the plot, expressive and figurative, including caricature, illustrations are readily used in an educational book due to their persuasiveness. Each of these principles has its own ways of displaying coherence. An encyclopedic illustration shows an object in a series of similar ones, in an enumeration, shows the structure of the object. An emblem gives its symbolic and allegorical interpretation. A narrative illustration shows its functions and its involvement in causal relations, depicting the environment of events and objects. The children’s book of the studied period tends to integrate all these ways. While the emblem as an independent intermedial genre degrades, certain elements of the emblematic tradition are actively borrowed by new forms of publications. The emblem gives the European book of modern times the most important intermedial tools for displaying universal coherence, the world as a system. The change of the epochs leads to an inevitable blurring of the meaning of the emblematic sign. The transitive nature of the analysed period is expressed in the search for a new intermedial form of coherence, similar to the lost emblematic bimediality of the text and illustration in terms of effectiveness. In the search for such a form, encyclopedic publications that claimed to be all-encompassing use the emblematic and narrative principles of illustration. In turn, the narrative illustration, driven by a similar desire for inclusiveness, consistency, and universality, absorbs the emblematic and encyclopedic principles.

“Love is the eminence grise of history”, – once one of the greats of the past said. Few doubt that history is driven by human, more or less conscious interests – economic, political, religious, etc. As for feelings, passions and instincts, their role in the historical process is not so obvious, particularly of those that are connected with policy or economy indirectly. The objective necessity to rehabilitate the position of Eros in the political life of 18th-century Russia determines the significance of the current research. The article aims to analyse how the feeling of love and/or the underpinning instincts of procreation and self-preservation affect the political life and the course of history. The most important task is to examine some of the poetic texts of the 18th – early 19th centuries, the authors of which are the part of this still non-trivial historiosophical paradigm. So, it is mainly going to be about love, but not always – about love poems. The novelty of the conducted research lies in the fact that mythological and political issues of Anacreonic poetry have already become the matter of literary criticism [1, 2], while the hidden historiosophical senses have been still neglected. Certain creative works of the 18th-century poets: M.V. Lomonosov, G.R. Derzhavin, S.S. Bobrov served as research material. The practical significance of the investigation consists in the fact that the results can be used for further studying of 18th-century literature and historiosophical problems as well as to develop special courses in historical poetry.

The article presents the forgotten book “The Model of Children, or the Life of the Little Count Platon Zubov” (1801), written in French by A. S. Vsevolozhskaya and translated into Russian by S. Sokovnin. The son of General Valerian Zubov (a favorite of Catherine II) died in 1800 at the age of 4 and a half years and is presented in the book as an ideal child. The text is examined in the context of literature about children of the 18th — early 19th centuries. We can see here the influence of A.-F.-J. Freville’s “Life of the famouses children”. Compared with most of the texts, “Model of Children”, although it contains canonical features of hagiographic and didactic works, demonstrates an attempt to introduce elements of psychologism and reality, to capture a specific image of a little aristocrat of his time. It combines elements of a sensitive nature as a result of female upbringing and the traits inherited from little count’s father as a courtesan with class prejudices. This image anticipates the characters of Nokolai Karamzin’s later prose.

The article presents the forgotten book “The Model of Children, or the Life of the Little Count Platon Zubov” (1801), written in French by A. S. Vsevolozhskaya and translated into Russian by S. Sokovnin. The son of General Valerian Zubov (a favorite of Catherine II) died in 1800 at the age of 4 and a half years and is presented in the book as an ideal child. The text is examined in the context of literature about children of the 18th — early 19th centuries. We can see here the influence of A.-F.-J. Freville’s “Life of the famouses children”. Compared with most of the texts, “Model of Children”, although it contains canonical features of hagiographic and didactic works, demonstrates an attempt to introduce elements of psychologism and reality, to capture a specific image of a little aristocrat of his time. It combines elements of a sensitive nature as a result of female upbringing and the traits inherited from little count’s father as a courtesan with class prejudices. This image anticipates the characters of Nokolai Karamzin’s later prose.

Abstract This paper examines 17th-century descriptions of Algonquian and Iroquoian languages by French and British missionaries as well as their subsequent reinterpretations. Focusing on such representative studies as Paul Le Jeune’s (1592–1664) sketch of Montagnais, John Eliot’s (1604–1690) grammar of Massachusett, and the accounts of Huron by Jean de Brébeuf (1593–1649) and Gabriel Sagard-Théodat (c.1600–1650), I discuss their analysis of the sound systems, morphology, syntax, and lexicon. In addition, I examine the reception of early missionary accounts in European scholarship, focusing on the role they played in the shaping of the notion of ‘primitive’ languages and their speakers in the 18th and 19th centuries. I also discuss the impressionistic nature of evaluations of phonetic, lexical, and grammatical properties in terms of complexity and richness. Based on examples of the early accounts of the lexicon and structure of Algonquian and Iroquoian languages, I show that even though these accounts were preliminary in their character, they frequently provided detailed and insightful representations of unfamiliar languages. The reception and subsequent transmission of the linguistic examples they illustrated was however influenced by the changing theoretical and ideological context, resulting in interpretations that were often contradictory to those intended in the original descriptions.

AbstractThis study deals with two notable Dutch book collectors: Johannes F. M. Scheepers (1893-1942) and his friend Michiel Buisman (1891-1986), two men of simple origin. Since their meeting in 1929, they applied themselves, in a spirit of friendly rivalry, to the study of an area of Dutch bibliophily which had hitherto been ignored: the so-called popular prose of the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Relying on the pioneer work of the Amsterdam firm of Frederik Muller & Co., Scheepers and Buisman, despite modest means, assembled an enormous collection which was to form the basis of Buisman's bibliography Populaire Prozaschrijvers van 1600 tot 1815 (Amsterdam 1960). From the more than 200 remaining letters which Scheepers wrote to Buisman, we gain an impression of the way in which these two men actually set about their work. We learn of their lucky finds, their criticism of the notable scholars of literature and their growing self-awareness. The Dutch world of antiquarian bookshops and auctioning between the wars is also reflected in the correspondence. Scheepers's death in a German concentration camp abruptly ended the pact between these two men.

The article introduces into scientific use an analytical note on Freemasonry addressed to Alexander I. In Europe in the 18th – 19th centuries, there was extensive anti-Masonic literature. In Russia, such works were rare. Reputedly, the greatest Russian extirpator of Freemasonry was Archimandrite Photius (Spassky). The ban of Masonic lodges in 1822 is attributed to his influence on Alexander I. Photius was one of the leaders of the social movement of the Russian Orthodox opposition. Among other objects of its criticism were the Masonic lodges. However, a consolidated anti-Masonic action failed to materialize. Now it has been made possible to explain the opposition’s restraint in its attitude to Freemasonry. Four volumes of documents belonging to archimandrite Photius have been found in the Russian State Historical Archive. These are the materials from 1817-1832. The collection includes personal documents of Photius, messages and letters of Metropolitan Seraphim (Glagolevsky), A.A. Arakcheev, A.S. Shishkov, Metropolitan Filaret (Drozdov). Many of these documents were handed over to Emperor Alexander I and influenced his change of heart in the politics. An anonymous note on Freemasonry from the Photius collection is included in the article in its entirety as a rare example of an anti-Masonic message to the Emperor. The note gives a retrospective of the Masonic movement in Russia. It describes what influence the masons of the 18th century had on Freemasonry of the 19th century. Most mentioned Masonic leaders belonged to the “Rosicrucian” system of Freemasonry (Order of the Golden and Pink Cross). The author of the note assured the emperor that there were Rosicrucians in his inner circle. He named Senator I.V. Lopukhin, publisher and translator A.F. Labzin, R.A. Koshelev, and the tsar’s friend, Minister A.N. Golitsyn. Photius’s documents show that criticism of Freemasonry was not the focus of the Russian Orthodox opposition activities. Among the opposition there were people who shared the idea of a worldwide Masonic conspiracy: S.I. Smirnov, M.L. Magnitsky. In Archimandrite In the Photius’s documents references to Freemasonry are very rare. At the time of the opposition’s action in 1824, the issue of Freemasonry was no longer relevant, since Freemasonry was subjected to a government ban in 1822.

Introduction. The boudoir as a concept of a peculiar female room originated at the beginning of the 18th century, when the Turkish was just beginning to enter European fashion. Among the factors that influenced this fashion, more than anything else is the publication of the first French translation of the fairy tales «One Thousand and One Nights» (1704-1717). France was a trendsetter in those years, and the development of fashion greatly helped by letters from travelers. Materials and methods. The intensification of FrancoTurkish diplomatic relations also contributed: after the arrival in Paris of the Ottoman Embassy of the Sultan Ahmed III (1720-1721) Turkish at the peak of popularity in various fields: in music and in the stagearts, in literature and painting. One of the manifestations of the «à la Turk» fashion was the «Turkish» decoration of boudoirs that came into fashion in the early reign of Louis XV, together with the fashion for a private rather than ceremonial lifestyle. Results. This problem, which has not previously come to the attention of domestic Turquerie researchers, addressed through a study of the earliest known boudoirs «a la Turk» by Louis XV's favorite, the Marquise de Pompadour, at Bellevue (1748-1750). Conclusion. The author comes to the conclusion that it was the Turkish boudoir that was the heart of Bellevue. Here, the marquise, like the fabulous Scheherazade, entertained the king and his friends, "terribly suffering from unbearable boredom." Such boudoirs in the conventional Turkish style will become more common in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, when many European aristocrats will have the opportunity to try on the role of an oriental beauty. The boudoir of the Marquise de Pompadour, whose well-known strength was the ability to surprise, each time finding something new in the ordinary, became one of the first, opening a series of relatively oriental specific female interiors.

ABSTRACT In 1868, Wilhelm Ambros lauded a number of compositions by Johannes Ockeghem, including the triple canon Prenez sur moy. Emphasizing the expressive qualities of this music, he suggested that its composer had breathed into it a ““singing soul.”” Some decades earlier, Johann Forkel also focused on Prenez sur moy, dismissing it, however, as ““unsingable.”” The present study examines the cultural and intellectual forces that gave rise to these strikingly contradictory assessments. Enlightenment historians are generally thought to have charted the flow of history according to a progressive paradigm. Late medieval music often fared poorly viewed from this perspective, drawing criticism for its failure to reflect the refinements of modern music. Initially, Forkel toed this line, but his comments about examples of 15th-century music in the Allgemeine Geschichte der Musik also reveal his capacity to strike a relativist pose regarding some of them, and even to offer unqualified praise. The changes in Forkel's position are traced to philosophical writings known to have been part of his library, and to his conviction that the music of Johann Sebastian Bach was superior to that of his own time. Taking that stand surely must have raised questions in his mind about his earlier commitment to the progressive view of history. Forkel's openness to new historiographical approaches suggests that he, of all Enlightenment writers on music, might have found value in Ockeghem's music, all the more so because he was better informed about Ockeghem's preeminent stature in his own day than anyone else at the time, and owing to his awareness of a current German tradition that regarded Ockeghem as ““the Bach of his day.”” Yet Forkel's deprecation of Ockeghem's music is among the strongest in the literature. His negative stand can be traced to his admiration for a 16th-century tract on teaching music, the Compendium musices by Adrian Petit Coclico, who demonizes Ockeghem as an icon of the scholastic approach to music. Forkel's own commitment to a humanistic orientation in music pedagogy surely led him to view Coclico as a kindred spirit.

The article deals with the presence of reflections on emancipation and women’s rights in alternative and steampunk stories. The author points out that in both of the above‑mentioned genres of fantasy literature, these issues are not an overarching theme, despite the fact that criticism and subversive rewriting of past eras from the point of view of the present is inherent in these genres. The analysis shows that anachronically conceived emancipation of women takes place mainly in novels set in historical eras far removed from the present (deep antiquity and, far less frequently, the Middle Ages). Novels closer to contemporaneity, set in the 18th and 19th centuries, generally do not subject emancipation and women’s rights to alternative reflection. This is all the more astonishing if one bears in mind the fact that the 19th century was time of the birth of the feminist and suffragette movements. This reluctance to rework the nineteenth century from the point of view of women’s emancipation is due to the still active cultural memory of the period. The author’s thesis is that the unwillingness to rework the issues of emancipation and women’s rights in an alternative way is related to the still active cultural paradigm, founded, among others, on the Judeo‑Christian tradition. Another reason is the domination of ‘hegemonic masculinity’ in alternative and steampunk, which is a literary, phantasmatic reaction to the dynamic processes of women’s emancipation taking place in the actual world.

Introduction. Studying culture and art in the formation of the Cossacks, designing its estate status is carried out in the perspective of current ideas about cultural policy contributing to more complete systemic reconstruction of the process. The novelty consists in showing the interaction of artistic and traditional household culture, the transformation of the latter. The purpose and objectives were analyzing the role of art in integrating the Cossacks into the Russian state, identifying the direction of changes in the culture; historical periodization of perception and adaptation of new art forms; establishing the specificity of the selected periods and the results achieved. Methods and materials. Research methods include the historical one, which allows considering changes in culture based on facts of social history, and cultural one, which gives approaches to studying regulation of the integration process in accordance with the principles of cultural policy. The source base consists of published official documents (letters, laws, decrees) containing reliable information, and art criticism, historical and ethnographic literature, which describes specific phenomena of culture and art. Analysis. The supreme power used effective and relevant for a particular historical period institutions and resources: religion and church (17th c.); service in the army and military education system (18th c.); reforming of social organization (incorporation into the estate structure of the state) and the control system of the Army (separation of the military and civilian system of administration) (19th c.). Results. By creating infrastructure, developing church and secular education, the government promoted systemic renewal of culture and Cossacks’ digestion of its forms that were perceived in Russia and Europe as close, identical and related (architecture, painting, choral singing and orchestra music, drama and musical theater). At the early stage of integration into the Russian state, contact forms and democratic nature of the cultural interaction process prevailed. Cultural expansion of the 18th – 19th centuries had a systemic nature and was determined by purposeful influence of the institutions (church, army, school and social elite) that contributed to renewal of culture according to the Western European model.

In the process of the formation of the “black novel” poetics in French literature at the turn of the 18th–19th centuries, along with its Baroque and sentimentalist origins, both translations of English Gothic novels and various stylizations for them play a significant role. The appeal of describing novelistic “horrors” determines their growing popularity among readers. Paradoxically, it turns out that parodies of such works arise almost immediately — both in England and in France, testifying more to the viability of this genre than to its decline. Unlike the English Gothic plots, which involve mandatory departure to the Middle Ages and other countries, in France, the plot of such novels can also become post-revolutionary modernity. One of the first parodies of the “horror novel”, English Night by Bellen de la Liborliere, is a kind of medley of borrowings from various Gothic works, the reading of which brings pleasure to the main character, who became rich on the confiscation of the property of aristocratic emigrants, bourgeois Dabo, and becomes a means of obtaining from him consent to the marriage of his son Roger with his beloved noblewoman Ursula. The play of imagination, the concentration of romantic cliches, the psychologization of Gothic fears becomes a way of combining the ridiculous and the frightening in the poetics of the “black novel”.

The article is a review of the monograph “Russian Mass Culture: From Baroque to Post-Modernism” by Doctor of Philosophy, Professor of the Russian State University for the Humanities, Academician of the Russian Academy of Natural Sciences I.V. Kondakov. The book, which consists of seven chapters, is devoted to the history of the emergence and development of mass culture in Russia from ancient times to the beginning of the 20th century. Studying its ori­gins dating back to antiquity, the author proves that Russian mass culture received an “impulse of indepen­dence” in the 17th century, as the culture was becoming personified, which means a personal principle was coming forward in it. It was during that period, associated with the emergence of Russian Baroque, that two paradigms appeared — Pre-Renaissance and Pre-Enlightenment, which led to the subsequent juxtaposition of “mass” and “elite” cultures in Russia first before Peter the Great and then after his period. The author gives an interesting assessment to the period of the Russian Enlightenment of the 18th century, when there happened a demarcation of the noble culture into libe­ral-democratic and conservative directions. Moreover, the former contributes to “massification”, and the latter – to “individualization” of Russian culture. The crisis of the classical paradigm in the 19th century, including the “literature-centrism” and “critical-centrism” of Russian culture, ultimately led to the formation of new artistic movements, new genres and styles, that is, to the modernization of Russian culture at the turn of the 19th—20th centuries. In this regard, the Silver Age turned out to be an “exquisite and ephemeral construction of the Russian Renaissance” in paradoxical forms of symbolism and modernism.The review reflected the structural and substantive aspects of I.V. Kondakov’s monograph, the features of his theoretical analysis, the specifics of style and language. The article evaluates the publication, reveals its uniqueness and scientific significance for modern humanitarian science, including history and cultural studies, literary criticism and philosophy, art criticism and aesthetics.

In 1802, the first issue of the literary and critical magazine “The Edinburgh Review” was published. Detailed anonymous reviews quickly gained popularity among the reading public and provoked the appearance of similar reviews. At the same time, statesmen, scientists, writers and publicists were behind the publications. The founders of the new magazine were young Edinburgh lawyers F. Jeffrey, F. Horner, H. Brougham and the Anglican priest S. Smith. Most of the reviewers were Scots who studied at local universities, where their teachers were often prominent representatives of the Scottish Enlightenment. They attended scientific societies and clubs, sympathized with the Whigs, and pursued careers in law, politics, universities, and literature. Many were well acquainted with representatives of the political establishment, and some, like S. Smith, even had family ties with them. The reviewers were united by the bonds of long-term friendship, often common views on socio-political processes, as well as participation in various joint ventures in addition to book criticism. Although this did not cancel out possible disagreements, which, however, did not make the critics sworn enemies. These circumstances make it possible to see in the group of authors a kind of community, which is based on similar ideas and numerous social connections, in addition to the formal writing of reviews. The common features in the biographies of the founders of the review and its authors allow us to take a broader look at the social, political and cultural processes in Great Britain at the end of the 18th — first third of the 19th centuries.

The literature of travel is considered as an art form by many nations. During the 18th and 19th centuries there were an abundance of visits to the Middle East by Western travelers, some of whom were famous and influential. These visits engendered a variety of published documentation in Oriental literary and cultural values. The West had become interested in the Eastern World, specifically the Middle East, following the French Revolution and subsequent to the translation of the Holy Quran and of classical Arabic texts in literature, science, and philosophy such as 1001 nights and Calileh va Demneh. Napoléon Bonaparte's 1798 invasion of Egypt had hugely increased interaction on numerous levels between the two civilizations. A number of travelers have significantly contributed to the image of the Orient in general and of Arabs in particular, some of which are inaccurate, stereotypical or exaggerated. Edward Saeed considered these trips and their reporting as constituting "an authoritarian discourse." Such journeys to the Orient and their reporting have increased in number and frequency and have increasingly acquired political, social, military, ideological, scientific, and even imaginative aspects and impact. Gerard de Nerval's novel, "A Trip to the Orient" was a summary of his travel to Egypt. The author recorded each detailed event that occurred in what he perceived to be this exotic world. It was a wonderful example of implicit eloquence mixed with legendary imagination.

From the 17th century onwards, the French language dominated international communication and the exchange of current information within educated Europe, strengthening its position in the 18th century with the spread of Enlightenment ideas. The importance of French literature of this period can also be seen by observing the shelves of libraries. In the range of resources offered by the reading library of the city of Liepāja, founded in 1777, books in French occupy second place (second only to books in German, which was the dominant language of the educated part of society at the time studied) according to their number, including those intended for language learning: grammars, reading books, phrasebooks, and other dictionaries. The article studies and analyses the range of 17th–19th centuries monolingual French dictionaries, bilingual and multilingual dictionaries with a French section from the collection of the Liepāja library, a total of 20 units. The research area chronologically covers the period from the oldest dictionary, published in 1674, to the last dictionary, published in 1847. In the context of the study, the status and place of the French language in international circulation and on the local scale of Courland are discussed to study what the mentioned dictionaries say about the social and cultural space of Liepāja. The research does not belong to the field of lexicography, as it does not offer an analysis of dictionary creation methods; it focuses on social and cultural practices possibly linked to the use of dictionaries and uses research methods of intellectual history and cultural transfer. The research results reflect the development trends of language use in Liepāja and provide insight into the interaction of the French language with other languages. Monolingual dictionaries, French sections of bilingual and multilingual dictionaries integrate specific elite cultural knowledge and emphasise accuracy of expression. Travellers’ dictionaries show the importance of mobility and communication with European French-speaking elites, but the dynamic rhythm of Liepāja, a port city, is illustrated by dictionaries for businessmen and sailors, in which the French language is not predominant, but is only one of the possible means of communication.

The Pegon script has long and massively been used as a medium for the transmission of Islamic knowledge, primarily in Java at least up to both 18th-19th centuries AD. In the 20th century AD, its use in general nevertheless declined, except in the pesantren world such as Pesantren Babakan Ciwaringin Cirebon. More than that, KH Muhammad Sanusi, one of its prime leaders, produced works in Javanese by using the Pegon script. This article focuses on three research problems including 1) the position of K.H. M. Sanusi in the network of Islamic intellectuals in Cirebon; 2) The role of K.H. M. Sanusi in the transmission of Islamic sciences through the Pegon script; and 3) the continuity of the use of the Pegon script up to the present. This article uses a qualitative approach based on the historical method comprising of four steps namely heuristics, source criticism, interpretation, and historiography. Data collection technique is carried out by literature study, observation, and interviews. The results of the research show that K.H. M. Sanusi is the main companion of K.H. Amin Sepuh and through the chain of the latter is he connected to the Cirebon based Islamic intellectual networks; K.H. M. Sanusi composed a number of books using the Pegon script and taught them to his pupils as a form of continuing the transmission of Islamic knowledge; The use of the pegon script continues to this day in the pesantren world as being proven in Pesantren Babakan Ciwaringin where a number of newly religious works using the Pegon script are existent and those works are even still used as sources for teaching Islamic knowledge.

The Pegon script has long and massively been used as a medium for the transmission of Islamic knowledge, primarily in Java at least up to both 18th-19th centuries AD. In the 20th century AD, its use in general nevertheless declined, except in the pesantren world such as Pesantren Babakan Ciwaringin Cirebon. More than that, KH Muhammad Sanusi, one of its prime leaders, produced works in Javanese by using the Pegon script. This article focuses on three research problems including 1) the position of K.H. M. Sanusi in the network of Islamic intellectuals in Cirebon; 2) The role of K.H. M. Sanusi in the transmission of Islamic sciences through the Pegon script; and 3) the continuity of the use of the Pegon script up to the present. This article uses a qualitative approach based on the historical method comprising of four steps namely heuristics, source criticism, interpretation, and historiography. Data collection technique is carried out by literature study, observation, and interviews. The results of the research show that K.H. M. Sanusi is the main companion of K.H. Amin Sepuh and through the chain of the latter is he connected to the Cirebon based Islamic intellectual networks; K.H. M. Sanusi composed a number of books using the Pegon script and taught them to his pupils as a form of continuing the transmission of Islamic knowledge; The use of the pegon script continues to this day in the pesantren world as being proven in Pesantren Babakan Ciwaringin where a number of newly religious works using the Pegon script are existent and those works are even still used as sources for teaching Islamic knowledge.

The paper analyzes the generation gap in the Russian literature of the second part of 1850s. Our research is based on works published in magazines: short stories, novelettes, and novels by L. N. Tolstoy, E. P. Novikov, P. I. Melnikov-Pecherskii, S. T. Slavutinskii, S. A. Ladyzhenskii, N. M. Pavlov, etc. The generation gap in Russian literature of the second part of 1850s hasn’t yet been made an object of special research. It is traditionally touched upon in relation to the novel Fathers and Sons (1862) by I. S. Turgenev and fiction ‘generated’ by this novel. However, variants of 1850s and of 1860s differ from each other in significant ways: these variants linked by various ideas, heroes, plots and other. The paper features two variants of the generation gap formed in the Russian literature of the second part of 1850s: great-grandfather / grandfather versus children, fathers versus children. The paper contains a detailed analysis of characterology and plot functions of protagonists that collide with each other, as well as structural-semantic plot organization. First generation gap formed in the middle of 1850s. Short stories, novelettes, and novels have similar plot-composition structures: a story from the distant Russian past forms the plot core; as a rule, events take place in the 18th century (the so-called grandfather’s time); most often, the story is told by a servant of an old lord or is written down after his words; the audience of the story is meant to be from the middle of the 19th century; in some cases, he is also the narrator, a young man who compares generation values of the 18th and 19th centuries. The paper asserts that, in spite of the fact that events take place in the past, the generation are identified through the turn towards social processes of the second half of the 1850s, particularly the emancipation reform. Literature and criticism emphasize the arrival of the new educated follower of democratic reforms instead of the hot-tempered landowner of the old type. The type of the educated landowner gained prominence in 1850–1860s during the active discussion of the emancipation reform. The main narrative function of such protagonists is to prove the effectiveness of democratic theories in practice. At the core of the plot there is the conflict with the generation of fathers, the opponents of reform. We propose that the generation of children, as well as the generation of fathers, is needy: in spite of their education, the young men are shown to be petty and unable to act upon their words or understand the peasant way of life. The protagonists explain their lack of success by other reasons: the new generation was too hasty in their actions. In conclusion, we maintain that Russian literature reflects an important social process of second part of 1850s, namely the anticipation of a ‘new’ man able to act upon popular democratic theories. This type formed ex adverso: writers and critics show a kind of behavior that differs from that of great-grandfathers, grandfathers, or fathers. However, the problem of rearrangement of the social system is beyond the abilities of the ‘fifties’ protagonist’. Much as he differs from his ancestors, he remains their descendant. A demonstrative devotion to democratic theories does not negate his aristocratic privileges. As a result, the plot turns stemming from popular ideas do not work as expected in the end.

By the end of the 18th century, Italy was under Napoleon’s dominance. It was the time when centuries-long European values were being changed due to the Industrial, but also French revolution. The outcome of these enormous changes was an emergence of two artistic movements – neoclassicism and preromanticism that co-existed in Italy at the time. The most renowned Italian author of the 19th century, Ugo Foscolo, is a representative of both of these movements in the Italian literature. Neoclassicism and preromanticism emerged in the attempt to find an alternative to the same issues and, therefore, they co existed in the same period of time, the elements of which are often present in the same authors, or even in one work of art. Foscolo is the author of Grazie, a neoclassical masterpiece of Italian literature, but also of the most significant work of the Italian preromanticism, the novel titled The Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis. Both of these works present an attempt to escape the disappointing circumstances of the period in question. What is relevant is not the different directions at which these attempts of escapism were pointed, but the very need to do so. Culturally, in both cases, the rejection of the reality is evident. Both tendencies may be observed as a quest for an alternative to the existing conditions that are depressing: for neoclassicism, the alternative is found in the ideal of beauty and harmony, distant from the historical horrors and defeats. For preromanticism, it is the depths of one’s own self, in the union with nature, pastorally viewed as the centre of life’s authenticity. The different directions of escapism are no longer of any importance, but the very need to escape, which is what these two movements have in common. What we are about to explore in the present paper are the characteristics of neoclassicism and preromanticism in Italian literature, primarily in the works of Ugo Foscolo, the most influential Italian author of that period.

The Ivan Lutskevich Belarusian Museum was established in Vilnius over a century ago, in 1921. It was based on the documentary heritage of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania collected by Ivan Lutskevich (1881–1919), historian, archaelogist and bibliophile, who also was a prominent activist in the Belarusian community in Vilnius. The holdings of the museum also contained various artifacts acquired by Lutskevich in archaeological expeditions and donated to the Belarusian Scientific Society in 1916. The reorganization of Vilnius museums that began in 1939 caused the complete liquidation of the Ivan Lutskevich Belarusian Museum in 1945. At that time print publications and manuscripts from the holdings of the museum were handed over to the then Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences. The museum’s library contained over 14 thousand volumes, with the collection of early print books (15th–18th centuries) consisting of about 600 items. The two-part Belarusian-language catalogue compiled in 1943 by the art scholar Vladas Drėma, museum custodian, contains 411 numbered entries for the books passed on to the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences. Based on this catalogue, which is now kept in the Library’s Manuscripts Department and on other sources, the article aims to examine the heritage of 15th–18th-century books kept in the Rare Books Department of the Wroblewski Library. The Drėmaʼs catalogue lists the old publications by century: one book from the 15th century, 24 from the 17th century; 293 from the 18th century (several of which might actually belong to the 19th century). There are 411 books in total. At present, we have been able to identify 224 15th–18th-century books (208 titles) that come from library of the Belarusian Museum: eight books from the 15th century, 21 books from the 16th century, 47 from the 17th century, and 144 from the 18th century. These statistical data, however incomplete, show that not all old publications have been described in Drėma’s catalogue. The collection includes rare printing masterpieces such as eight incunabula, the earliest of which is the Czech-language Biblia Bohemica published in Prague in 1488 and Biblia Latina printed in Basel in 1491 (these and other five incunabula are not listed in Drėma’s catalogue). The first entry in the catalogue is Pentecostarion (Триодь цветная), a liturgical book published in Cracow about 1493 by Schweipolt Fiol, pioneer of Cyrillic printing. Other notable entries are printing masterpieces of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania such as Part 4 of Бивлия руска published by Francysk Skaryna in Prague in 1519, the Slavonic grammar by Meletius Smotrytsky published in Vievis at the printing house of the Holy Spirit Brotherhood in 1619, extremely rare publications by the Vilnius Jesuit Academy, Basilian, and other printing houses of those times. The Belarusian Museum’s collection of old books is notable for its linguistic and thematic diversity. Most of the books, about 45 per cent, are in Polish; 25 per cent (53 publications) are in Church Slavonic, Old Slavic and Russian; 15 per cent (30 publications) are in Latin; several publications each are in French (six) and German (two), one incunabulum is in Czech. The content of the books is discussed after dividing them into two groups of equal quantity: religious and secular literature. A list of so-far identified old books is provided at the end of the article. Keywords: Ivan Lutskevich Belarusian Museum; heritage of old books; Vladas Drėma; manuscript catalogue; The Wroblewski Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences; Rare Books Department.

The article examines the activities of the Russian diplomatic mission in Naples in 1802-1808 based on the correspondence between brothers Alexander and Konstantin Bulgakov. In accordance with the tropological methodology of the historian Hayden White, tragic and novel metanarratives are distinguished in describing the relationship between the Kingdom of Naples, Russia, and the countries of Western Europe at the beginning of the 19th century. The narration of the events in accordance with the tragic plot reveals the confrontation between the hero and the world, Napoleon and the coalition of European states led by Austria, Britain, and Russia. At the same time, the transformation of the tragedy into the novel in historical terms presupposes a change in the established world order after the end of the era of the Napoleonic Wars, which the decisions of the Congress of Vienna consolidated in 18141815. The basis of the plot in the selected metanarratives is the life of Ferdinand IV, the king of Naples, and his family; Napoleon’s military actions in Italy; diplomatic and military assistance to Naples from Russia and the life of Russians in Naples and Palermo; the events of the Patriotic War of 1812; the messianic role of Emperor Alexander in the victory over Napoleon’s army. The influence of the actions of the allied forces in 1813-1815 and the decisions of the Congress of Vienna on the emergence of national liberation movements in Italy and the subsequent unification of the country is revealed. The spatial centers of the Bulgakovs’ epistolary works are Naples, Palermo, Rome, the capitals of four empires (Paris, Vienna, London, Petersburg), and related historical figures (King Ferdinand IV and his wife Maria Carolina of Austria (sister of Marie Antoinette, the French queen), Napoleon, Joseph Bonaparte, Joachim Murat, Austrian Emperor Francis II, Russian Emperor Alexander I, Pope Pius VII, Admiral and Secretary of State of the Kingdom of Naples John Acton, Russian envoys in Naples and Rome A.Ya. Italinsky and sine, and others. The article analyzes the conceptual sphere and poetics of the “Neapolitan” text of Russian literature. In the letters, the image of Naples is presented through the situation of a meeting of Southern and Northern Europe, Naples and Petersburg, monarchy and republic, Catholicism and Orthodoxy, history and modernity. Naples is perceived as a special communicative space associated with the diplomatic activities of both brothers, with their circle of communication, and aesthetically with a private letter as a kind of an ego-document. The perception of Naples as an island state, as an “earthly paradise at the foot of a volcano”, as a city of the Lazzaroni and carnival culture brings the correspondence between the Bulgakov brothers close with descriptions of this city in Russian travelogues of the late 18th - first third of the 19th centuries. The author declares no conflicts of interests.

The issue of the journal opens with an article dedicated to the formation of metrology as government regulated activity in France. The article has discussed the historical process of development of metrological activity in France. It was revealed that the history of metrology is considered as an auxiliary historical and ethnographic discipline from a social and philosophical point of view as the evolution of scientific approaches to the definition of individual units of physical quantities and branches of metrology. However, in the scientific literature, the little attention is paid to the process of a development of a centralized institutional metrology system that is the organizational basis for ensuring the uniformity of measurements. The article by Irena Grebtsova and Maryna Kovalska is devoted to the of the development of the source criticism’s knowledge in the Imperial Novorossiya University which was founded in the second half of the XIX century in Odesa. Grounding on a large complex of general scientific methods, and a historical method and source criticism, the authors identified the stages of the formation of source criticism in the process of teaching historical disciplines at the university, what they based on an analysis of the teaching activities of professors and associate professors of the Faculty of History and Philology. In the article, the development of the foundations of source criticism is considered as a complex process, which in Western European and Russian science was the result of the development of the theory and practice of everyday dialogue between scientists and historical sources. This process had a great influence on the advancement of a historical education in university, which was one of the important factors in the formation of source studies as a scientific discipline. The article by Tetiana Malovichko is devoted to the study of what changes the course of the probability theory has undergone from the end of the 19th century to our time based on the analysis of The Theory of Probabilities textbook by Vasyl P. Ermakov published in 1878. The paper contains a comparative analysis of The Probability Theory textbook and modern educational literature. The birth of children after infertility treatment of married couples with the help of assisted reproductive technologies has become a reality after many years of basic research on the physiology of reproductive system, development of oocyte’s in vitro fertilization methods and cultivation of embryos at pre-implantation stages. Given the widespread use of assisted reproductive technologies in modern medical practice and the great interest of society to this problem, the aim of the study authors from the Institute for Problems of Cryobiology and Cryomedicine of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine was to trace the main stages and key events of assisted reproductive technologies in the world and in Ukraine, as well as to highlight the activities of outstanding scientists of domestic and world science who were at the origins of the development of this area. As a result of the work, it has been shown that despite certain ethical and social biases, the discovery of individual predecessor scientists became the basis for the efforts of Robert Edwards and Patrick Steptoe to ensure birth of the world's first child, whose conception occurred outside the mother's body. There are also historical facts and unique photos from our own archive, which confirm the fact of the first successful oocyte in vitro fertilization and the birth of a child after the use of assisted reproductive technologies in Ukraine. In the next article, the authors tried to consider and structure the stages of development and creation of the “Yermak”, the world's first Arctic icebreaker, and analyzed the stages of preparation and the results of its first expeditions to explore the Arctic. Systematic analysis of historical sources and biographical material allowed to separate and comprehensively consider the conditions and prehistory for the development and creation of “Yermak” icebreaker. Also, the authors gave an assessment to the role of Vice Admiral Stepan Osypovych Makarov in those events, and analyzed the role of Sergei Yulyevich Witte, Dmitri Ivanovich Mendeleev and Pyotr Petrovich Semenov-Tian-Shansky in the preparation and implementation of the first Arctic expeditions of the “Yermak”icebreaker. The authors of the following article considered the historical aspects of construction and operation of train ferry routes. The article deals with the analysis and systematization of the data on the historical development of train ferry routes and describes the background for the construction of train ferry routes and their advantages over other combined transport types. It also deals with the basic features of the train ferries operating on the main international train ferry routes. The study is concerned with both sea routes and routes across rivers and lakes. The article shows the role of train ferry routes in the improvement of a national economy, and in the provision of the military defense. An analysis of numerous artefacts of the first third of the 20th century suggests that the production of many varieties of art-and-industrial ceramics developed in Halychyna, in particular architectural ceramic plastics, a variety of functional ceramics, decorative tiles, ceramic tiles, facing tiles, etc. The artistic features of Halychyna art ceramics, the richness of methods for decorating and shaping it, stylistic features, as well as numerous art societies, scientific and professional associations, groups, plants and factories specializing in the production of ceramics reflect the general development of this industry in the first half of the century and represent the prerequisites the emergence of the school of professional ceramics in Halychyna at the beginning of the 20th century. The purpose of the next paper is to analyze the formation and development of scientific and professional schools of art-and-industrial ceramics of Halychyna in the late 19th – early 20th centuries. During the environmental crisis, electric transport (e-transport) is becoming a matter for scientific inquiry, a subject of discussion in politics and among public figures. In the program for developing the municipal services of Ukraine, priorities are given to the development of the infrastructure of ecological transport: trolleybuses, electric buses, electric cars. The increased attention to e-transport on the part of the scientific community, politicians, and the public actualizes the study of its history, development, features of operation, etc. The aim of the next study is to highlight little-known facts of the history of production and operation of MAN trolleybuses in Ukrainian cities, as well as to introduce their technical characteristics into scientific circulation. The types, specific design solutions of the first MAN trolleybus generation and the prerequisites for their appearance in Chernivtsi have been determined. Particular attention has been paid to trolleybuses that were in operation in Germany and other Western European countries from the first half of the 1930s to the early 1950s. The paper traces the stages of operation of the MAN trolleybuses in Chernivtsi, where they worked during 1939–1944 and after the end of the Second World War, they were transferred to Kyiv. After two years of operation in the Ukrainian capital, the trolleybuses entered the routes in Dnipropetrovsk during 1947–1951. The purpose of the article by authors from the State University of Infrastructure and Technologies of Ukraine is to thoroughly analyze unpaved roads of the late 18th – early 19th century, as well as the project of the first wooden trackway as the forerunner of the Bukovyna railways. To achieve this purpose, the authors first reviewed how railways were constructed in the Austrian Empire during 1830s – 1850s. Then, in contrast with the first railway networks that emerged and developed in the Austrian Empire, the authors made an analysis of the condition and characteristics of unpaved roads in Bukovyna. In addition, the authors considered the first attempt to create a wooden trackway as a prototype and predecessor of the Bukovyna railway.

Canon and oblivion. The memorials of archaeologyThe article takes its point of departure in the sun chariot; the find itself and its find site at Trundholm bog where it was discovered in 1902. The famous sun chariot, now at the National Museum in Copenhagen, is a national treasure included in the Danish “Cultural Canon” and “History Canon”.The find site itself has alternated bet­ween experiencing intense attention and oblivion. A monument was erected in 1925; a new monument was then created in 1962 and later moved in 2002. The event of 1962 was followed by ceremonies, speeches and songs, and anniversary celebrations were held in 2002, during which a copy of the sun chariot was sacrificed.The memorial at Trundholm bog is only one of several memorials at archaeological find sites in Denmark. Which finds have been commemorated and marked by memorials? When did this happen? Who took the initiative? How were they executed? Why are these finds remembered? What picture of the past do we meet in this canon in stone?Find sites and archaeological memorials have been neglected in archaeology and by recent trends in the study of the history of archaeology. Considering the impressive research on monuments and monumentality in archaeology, this is astonishing. However, memorials in general receive attention in an active research field on the use of history and heritage studies, where historians and ethnologists dominate. The main focus here is, however, on war memorials. An important source of inspiration has been provided by a project led by the French historian Pierre Nora who claims that memorial sites are established when the living memory is threatened (a thesis refuted by the many Danish “Reunion” monuments erected even before the day of reunification in 1920).Translated into Danish conditions, studies of the culture of remembrance and memorials have focused on the wars of 1848-50 and 1864, the Reunion in 1920, the Occupation in 1940-45 and, more generally, on conflicts in the borderland bet­ween Denmark and Germany.In relation to the total number of memorials and public meeting places in Denmark, archaeological memorials of archaeology are few in number, around 1 % of the total. However, they prompt crucial questions concerning the use of the past, on canon and oblivion.“Canon” means rule, and canonical texts are the supposed genuine texts in the Bible. The concept of canon became a topic in the 1990s when Harold Bloom, in “The Western Canon”, identified a number of books as being canonical. In Denmark, canon has been a great issue in recent years with the appearance of the “Danish Literary Canon” in 2004, and the “Cultural Canon” and the “History Canon”, both in 2006. The latter includes the Ertebølle culture, the sun chariot and the Jelling stone. The political context for the creation of canon lists is the so-called “cultural conflict” and the debate concerning immigration and “foreigners”.Canon and canonization means a struggle against relativism and oblivion. Canon means that something ought to be remembered while something else is allowed to be forgotten. Canon lists are constructed when works and values are perceived as being threatened by oblivion. Without ephemerality and oblivion there is no need for canon lists. Canon and oblivion are linked.Memorials mean canonization of certain individuals, collectives, events and places, while others are allowed to be forgotten. Consequently, archaeological memorials constitute part of the canonization of a few finds and find sites. According to Pierre Nora’s thesis, memorials are established when the places are in danger of being forgotten.Whether one likes canon lists or not, they are a fact. There has always been a process of prioritisation, leading to some finds being preserved and others discarded, some being exhibited and others ending up in the stores.Canonization is expressed in the classical “Seven Wonders of the World”, the “Seven New Wonders of the World” and the World Heritage list. A find may be declared as treasure trove, as being of “unique national significance” or be honoured by the publication of a monograph or by being given its own museum.In practice, the same few finds occur in different contexts. There seems to be a consensus within the subject of canonization of valuing what is well preserved, unique, made of precious metals, bears images and is monumental. A top-ten canon list of prehistoric finds from Denmark according to this consensus would probably include the following finds: The sun chariot from Trundholm, the girl from Egtved, the Dejbjerg carts, the Gundestrup cauldron, Tollund man, the golden horns from Gallehus, the Mammen or Bjerringhøj grave, the Ladby ship and the Skuldelev ships.Just as the past may be used in many different ways, there are many forms of memorial related to monuments from the past or to archaeological excavations. Memorials were constructed in the 18th and 19th centuries at locations where members of the royal family had conducted archaeology. As with most other memorials from that time, the prince is at the centre, while antiquity and archaeology create a brilliant background, for example at Jægerpris (fig. 2). Memorials celebrating King Frederik VII were created at the Dæmpegård dolmen and at the ruin of Asserbo castle. A memorial celebrating Count Frederik Sehested was erected at Møllegårdsmarken (fig. 3). Later there were also memorials celebrating the architect C.M. Smith at the ruin of Kalø Castle and Svend Dyhre Rasmussen and Axel Steensberg, respectively the finder and the excavator of the medieval village at Borup Ris.Several memorials were erected in the decades around 1900 to commemorate important events or persons in Danish history, for example by Thor Lange. The memorials were often located at sites and monuments that had recently been excavated, for example at Fjenneslev (fig. 4).A large number of memorials commemorate abandoned churches, monasteries, castles or barrows that have now disappeared, for example at the monument (fig. 5) near Bjerringhøj.Memorials were erected in the first half of the 20th century near large prehistoric monuments which also functioned as public meeting places, for example at Glavendrup, Gudbjerglund and Hohøj. Prehistoric monuments, especially dolmens, were also used as models when new memorials were created during the 19th and 20th centuries.Finally, sculptures were produced at the end of the 19th century sculptures where the motif was a famous archaeological find – the golden horns, the girl from Egtved, the sun chariot and the woman from Skrydstrup.In the following, this article will focus on a category of memorials raised to commemorate an archaeological find. In Denmark, 24 archaeological find sites have been marked by a total of 26 monuments (fig. 6). This survey is based on excursions, scanning the literature, googling on the web and contact with colleagues. The monuments are presented chronological, i.e. by date of erection. 1-2) The golden horns from Gallehus: Found in 1639 and 1734; two monu­ments in 1907. 3) The Snoldelev runic stone: Found in c. 1780; monument in 1915. 4) The sun chariot from Trundholm bog: Found in 1902; monument in 1925; renewed in 1962 and moved in 2002. 5) The grave mound from Egtved: Found in 1921; monument in 1930. 6) The Dejbjerg carts. Found in 1881-83; monument in 1933. 7) The Gundestrup cauldron: Found in 1891; wooden stake in 1934; replaced with a monument in 1935. 8) The Bregnebjerg burial ground: Found in 1932; miniature dolmen in 1934. 9) The Brangstrup gold hoard. Found in 1865; monument in 1935.10-11) Maglemose settlements in Mulle­rup bog: Found in 1900-02; two monuments in 1935 and 1936. 12) The Skarpsalling vessel from Oudrup Heath: Found in 1891; monument in 1936. 13) The Juellinge burial ground: Found in 1909; monument in 1937. 14) The Ladby ship: Found in 1935; monument probably in 1937. 15) The Hoby grave: Found in 1920; monument in 1939. 16) The Maltbæk lurs: Found in 1861 and 1863; monument in 1942. 17) Ginnerup settlement: First excavation in 1922; monument in 1945. 18) The golden boats from Nors: Found in 1885; monument in 1945. 19) The Sædinge runic stone: Found in 1854; monument in 1945. 20) The Nydam boat: Found in 1863; monument in 1947. 21) The aurochs from Vig: Found in 1904; monument in 1957. 22) Tollund Man: Found in 1950; wooden stake in 1968; renewed inscription in 2000. 23) The Veksø helmets: Found in 1942; monument in 1992. 24) The Bjæverskov coin hoard. Found in 1999; monument in 1999. 25) The Frydenhøj sword from Hvidovre: Found in 1929; monument in 2001; renewed in 2005. 26) The Bellinge key: Found in 1880; monument in 2003.Two monuments (fig. 7) raised in 1997 at Gallehus, where the golden horns were found, marked a new trend. From then onwards the find itself and its popular finders came into focus. At the same time the classical or old Norse style of the memorials was replaced by simple menhirs or boulders with an inscription and sometimes also an image of the find. One memorial was constructed as a miniature dolmen and a few took the form of a wooden stake.The finds marked by memorials represent a broader spectrum than the top-ten list. They represent all periods from the Stone Age to the Middle Ages over most of Denmark. Memorials were created throughout the 20th century; in greatest numbers in the 1930s and 1940s, but with none between 1968 and 1992.The inscriptions mention what was found and, in most cases, also when it happened. Sometimes the finder is named and, in a few instances, also the person on whose initiative the memorial was erected. The latter was usually a representative part of the political agency of the time. In the 18th and 19th centuries it was the royal family and the aristocracy. In the 20th century it was workers, teachers, doctors, priests, farmers and, in many cases, local historical societies who were responsible, as seen on the islands of Lolland and Falster, where ten memorials were erected between 1936 and 1951 to commemorate historical events, individuals, monuments or finds.The memorial from 2001 at the find site of the Frydenhøj sword in Hvidovre represents an innovation in the tradition of marking history in the landscape. The memorial is a monumental hybrid between signposting and public art (fig. 8). It formed part of a communication project called “History in the Street”, which involved telling the history of a Copenhagen suburb right there where it actually happened.The memorials marking archaeological finds relate to the nation and to nationalism in several ways. The monuments at Gallehus should, therefore, be seen in the context of a struggle concerning both the historical allegiance and future destiny of Schleswig or Southern Jutland. More generally, the national perspective occurs in inscriptions using concepts such as “the people”, “Denmark” and “the Danes”, even if these were irrelevant in prehistory, e.g. when the monument from 1930 at Egtved mentions “A young Danish girl” (fig. 9). This use of the past to legitimise the nation, belongs to the epoch of World War I, World War II and the 1930s. The influence of nationalism was often reflected in the ceremonies when the memorials were unveiled, with speeches, flags and songs.According to Marie Louise Stig Sørensen and Inge Adriansen, prehistoric objects that are applicable as national symbols, should satisfy three criteria. The should: 1) be unusual and remarkable by their technical and artistic quality; 2) have been produced locally, i.e. be Danish; 3) have been used in religious ceremonies or processions. The 26 archaeological finds marked with memorials only partly fit these criteria. The finds also include more ordinary finds: a burial ground, settlements, runic stones, a coin hoard, a sword and a key. Several of the finds were produced abroad: the Gundestrup cauldron, the Brangstrup jewellery and coins and the Hoby silver cups.It is tempting to interpret the Danish cultural canon as a new expression of a national use of the past in the present. Nostalgia, the use of the past and the creation of memorials are often explained as an expression of crisis in society. This seems reasonable for the many memorials from 1915-45 with inscriptions mentioning hope, consolation and darkness. However, why are there no memorials from the economic crisis years of the 1970s and 1980s? It seems as if the past is recalled, when the nation is under threat – in the 1930s and 40s from expansive Germany – and since the 1990s by increased immigration and globalisation.The memorials have in common local loss and local initiative. A treasure was found and a treasure was lost, often to the National Museum in Copenhagen. A treasure was won that contributed to the great narrative of the history of Denmark, but that treasure has also left its original context. The memorials commemorate the finds that have contributed to the narrative of the greatness, age and area of Denmark. The memorials connect the nation and the native place, the capital and the village in a community, where the past is a central concept. The find may also become a symbol of a region or community, for example the sun chariot for Trundholm community and the Gundestrup cauldron for Himmerland.It is almost always people who live near the find site who want to remember what has been found and where. The finds were commemorated by a memorial on average 60 years after their discovery. A longer period elapsed for the golden horns from Gallehus; shortest was at Bjæverskov where the coin hoard was found in March 1999 and a monument was erected in November of the same year.Memorials might seem an old-fashioned way of marking localities in a national topography, but new memorials are created in the same period as many new museums are established.A unique find has no prominent role in archaeological education, research or other work. However, in public opinion treasures and exotic finds are central. Folklore tells of people searching for treasures but always failing. Treasure hunting is restricted by taboos. In the world of archaeological finds there are no taboos. The treasure is found by accident and in spite of various hindrances the find is taken to a museum. The finder is often a worthy person – a child, a labourer or peasant. He or she is an innocent and ordinary person. A national symbol requires a worthy finder. And the find occurs as a miracle. At the find site a romantic relationship is established between the ancestors and their heirs who, by way of a miracle, find fragments of the glorious past of the nation. A paradigmatic example is the finding of the golden horns from Gallehus. Other examples extend from the discovery of the sun chariot in Trundholm bog to the Stone Age settlement at Mullerup bog.The article ends with a catalogue presenting the 24 archaeological find sites that have been marked with monuments in present-day Denmark.Jes WienbergHistorisk arkeologiInstitutionen för Arkeologi och ­Antikens historiaLunds Universitet

The interest in political crime has been growing in the Polish doctrine of penal law and criminology of the 1980's. In 1982, the Institute of Penal Law of Warsaw university organized a conference dealing with the problems of political crime and the status of political prisoners. In 1984, the works of J. Kubiak and S. Hoc were published, with those of T. Szymanowski and S. Popławski to follow during the next two years. In 1986, articles by Z. Ciepiński and S. Pawela appeared in the organ of the Academy’s of Internal Affairs Institute of Law, and the Learned Society for Penal Law devoted one of its 1987 session to the problems of political crime. The present paper formulates and develops the main threads of the lectures delivered in 1982 and 1987 by the present authors. Accepting the opinions of O. Kirchheimer and S. Schafer, classical in a sense, as to the extreme complexity of political crime and the impossibility of formulating a universal criterion basing on which such crime might be distinguished, we give an outline of the chief elements of that interesting social phenomenon. The oldest Roman legal constructions of proditio and perduellio were transformed during the period of empire into crimen leasae maiestatis, an institution that was to persist for centuries to come in the shape of offences against state or the ruler. The origins of the modern history of political crime as a separate legal category date back to the end of the 18th century and the changes brought about by the French Revolution. In the early half of the 19th century, France and Belgium were the first to grant to political offences a privileged status among prohibited acts, introducing the competence of assizes, a separate system of penalties, and abolishing death penalty towards political offenders; this also took place in several other European countries. The privilege of political offences was based mainly on their distinct motives and their perpetrators personality traits. The 19th-century optimism and romanticism of approach towards political crime paled in the late half of the century as the surge of anarchistic and revolutionary movements grew. The legal status of a political offender started to worsen; the great 20th-century dictatorships were tragic to their real and supposed antagonists, treated with particular severity so as to terrify the citizens. In about two centuries of modern history, the legal category of political offence went through all possible extremes: now the time has come to reconsider it. A general, universal and timeless definition of political offence does not seem possible, even the most extreme of its forms being relativistic. Offenders called by some ,,terrorists’’ are ,,fighters for liberty’’ in the eyes of others. On the other hand, state terror is sometimes given the neutral name of ,,special operation’’ or ,,new policy’’. Last of all, one might also say quoting the extreme section of radical criminology that there is a political entanglement to all offences, administration of justice being an instrument of politics. Also the opposite is sometimes contended, namely, that political crime does not exist at all, enemies of the system being common criminals or madmen. There is also a marked trend to exclude terrorism, war crimes, and genocide from the discussed definition. In international law, the notion of political crime is purely functional: the separate states base on it when refusing extradition and granting political asylum. As regards the internal penal legislation, some states only distinguish political offence as a legal notion. There are in the doctrine of penal law three basic methods of defining that notion. According to the objective approach, the kind good being assaulted constitutes the essence of political crime: thus the group of such acts is restricted to direct attempts against the state's basic political interests only. According to the second conception, the subjective one political crime is any prohibited act committed for political motives or to political end. The third, mixed theory consists in taking both these aspects into account: the interest protected by law and the perpetrator's ideological motivation or aims which cannot be recognized as censurable. Additionally, the preponderance or domination theory allows for a punishable act to be recognized as a political offence if political elements prove to have predominated in the given circumstances, aims, and motives. Robert Merton's was the most successful attempt to characterize a political (nonconformist) offender. Contrary to the common offender, his political counterpart 1) makes no effort whatever to hide his infringement of norms he repudiates or questions as to their legal validity; 2) he wants to replace the norms he considers wrong with other norms based on a different moral foundation; 3) his aims are completely or largely disinterested; 4) he is commonly perceived as quite different a person than a common offender. If we broaden the notion of ,,nonconformist" by adding adjectives like ,,religious" and ,,ethical" to it, we bring it closer to that of ,,convictional criminal" used by Schafer and of ,,prisoner of conscience" used by the Amnesty International. The radical trends in sociology and criminology of the recent decades brought an important element to change the aproach to political crime: an opinion is promoted that the state itself is the main source of that crime as it may use every possible legal norm and institution to fight its opponents. As opposed to the two countries where the conception of political criminals separate status was born, France and Belgium - discussed particularly broadly by the authors of lectures - the United States repudiate in their law and law courts decisions the existence of political crime. Instead, there is ,,civil disobedience'' which, together with the specifically American constitutional mechanisms, constitutes an instrument of the struggle for the protection of civil rights and liberties. The fact is stressed in the legal and criminological literature that a refusal to recognize the political character of acts that deserve such recognition contributes to the discredit of administration of justice as the establishment's political instrument. At the same time, various methods of illegal ,,neutralization" of political opponents are brought to light, including the so-called dirty tricks of the FBI and the different forms of abuse of authority by the CIA. In Great Britain, there is according to the official standpoint no political crime in the light of penal law. But the problem itself does exist in practice which is evidenced among others by the quest - a feverish one at times - after the measure to control the difficulties resulting from it; among such measures, there are administrative acts or on appropriate interpretation of the existing regulations, e.g. rules of imprisonment. The doctrine of penal law and criminology do not seem too interested in the discussed problem; its treatment by L. Radzinowicz and R. Hood is no doubt an exception, particularly if we consider the fates of the activists of the three socio-political movements before World War I: Chartists who fought for workmen’s rights, Fenians who demanded the grant of rights to the Irish, and suffragists. Despite the fact that the problem is only treated in its historical aspect, materials of immediate interest can be drawn from its analysis. In the Federal Republic of Germany, political crime lacks a separate status: yet a growth in the interest in such crime can be observed. This was particularly true in the seventies and was due to the activities of terrorist groups and to students protests. Also G. Radbruch’s conception of ,,convictional criminal’’ plays a certain part there, among intellectuals with leftist tendencies above all. Also in that country, the discussion grows especially important about the relation between the powerful and the powerless. Another significant point is H. J. Schneider’s demand for the problems of political crime to be granted a privileged position in criminological research. Considering the aspects of that crime in their broad interpretation, Schneider found it possible to include both terrorism and genocide in his discussion; thus, for the first time ever, a profound treatment of Nazi crimes was included in the West-German criminology. In Poland, after the country regained independence in 1918, several different laws were in force for over ten years concerning political crime and prisoners, in a difficult internal situation. In 1931, uniform rules of imprisonment entered into force which provided for no mitigation for political prisoners. The penalty of arrest, introduced by the 1932 penal code admittedly included certain elements of the status of a political prisoner, but the opposition’s struggle for its proper formulation went on till the outbreak of World War II. After the war, ,,counter-revolutionaries’’ and ,,traitors of the nation’’ were treated with utmost severity. This situation in which political opponents were so treated on a mass scale ended with the fall of Stalinism. The recent Polish discussion about the notion and status of political prisoner dates from the events of 1980-1981. Many were not aware at that time that there had been in the 1970’s in Poland a partial legal regulation of the special status of persons defined as perpetrators of political offences. It followed from the fact that Poland ratified in 1958 the ILO Convention No. 105 and that in consequence, the Minister of Justice issued an appropriate order. In the provisions of the decree (issued on the imposition of martial law on December 13, 1981) on remittal and forgiveness of certain offences, those ,,committed for political reasons’’ were mentioned amond others. Thus the lawyers could argue that the notion of political offence was know to the legislator, the only problem consisting in providing a more detailed legal regulation of that sphere. But the authorities chose a different solution. At the beginning, those convicted of the sc-called ,non-criminal" acts were granted an actual (and not legal) status of political prisoners. Later on, most of such persons were released from prison by the terms of the succeeding amnesty acts. in 1986, the Act on ,,decriminalization'' transferred the competence to decide in most of those cases to misdemeanour courts. The interest in the problems of political crime, increased since 1982, still persists in the circles of the Polish doctrine of penal law and criminology. There is a general trend to give that notion a broader interpretation as compared with the present doctrine of penal law which practically limits its range to offences against the state's basic political and economic interests only. We believe the Polish doctrine of penal law; criminology and legislation in Poland now face at least three basic questions: 1) whether to introduce into the law a special status of political offenders and prisoners in its traditional construction; 2) whether to recognize similarly a privileged legal situation of a larger group of ,,ideological nonconformists" mentioned by the ILO Convention No. 105;3) whether and to what extent to include in the notion of political offence the prohibited acts committed by state functionaries while exercising authority.

After the text-based editorial approach of the 17th and 18th centuries, from the end of the 19th century, and even more from the middle of the nineteen-seventies, more and more scholars turned towards the study of stage directions. They started to discover their origins, their meanings, and their impact on the understanding of Shakespeare's plays. These researches led to the fact that Shakespeare criticism could no longer remain within the limited realms of literature, but it had to involve other disciplines such as cultural studies and theatre history in its researches too. The traditions of Elizabethan theatre and the relationship between theatre and literature came into the focus of research. This paper gives a comparative analysis of stage directions in one particular scene, the ballroom-scene (I.iv) of Romeo and Juliet, as they are presented in six prominent 20th-century editions. This study is to prove that nearly all the problems an editor has to face are theatrical in nature and therefore it is necessary to re-establish the relation between page and stage and to make performance-based editions that are useful to theatrical personnel as well as academics.

Abstract Acne rosacea is a common skin condition that affects people with Fitzpatrick skin types I–III and is characterized by flushing, erythema, telangiectasia, pustules, papules and phyma (Jansen T. Clinical presentations and classification of rosacea. Ann Dermatol Venereol 2011; 138:3). This condition has been around for centuries and is referred to in literature and art throughout history. The earliest reference to acne rosacea can be traced back to the third century Bc, where it was mentioned in the writings of Greek poet Theocritus. It has also been referred to in various forms of literature, including the character of Summoner in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and Bardolf in Shakespeare’s Henry VI (Cribier B. Histoires de visages rouges. Ann Dermatol Venereol 2011; 138:2). In art, the condition is famously depicted in Italian Renaissance painter Domenico Ghirlandaio’s ‘The Old Man and His Grandson’, now housed in the Louvre. The colour red, a prominent characteristic of acne rosacea, has had a significant role in literature, symbolizing everything from love and passion to anger and violence. French novelists Balzac and Proust used it as a motif in ‘The Red Face’ or ‘Le Visage Rouge’ to denote violence and as a marker of the working classes. In the 14th century, French surgeon Guy de Chauliac was the first to document clinically the condition, referring to it as goutterose or ‘pink droplet’. It was in the 18th and 19th centuries that significant strides were made in understanding the nature of acne rosacea. Dr Jean Astruc, known as the father of venereal diseases, characterized the condition as ‘erythematous, varicose and scaly’. In 1812, the official term ‘acne rosacea’ first appeared in a medical text by English dermatologist Dr Thomas Bateman. Further references to the condition can be found in the 1817 publication On Cutaneous Diseases by dermatology pioneer Dr Robert Willan. In 1834, physician Robert Macnish explicitly linked acne rosacea to alcohol consumption in his book Anatomy of Drunkenness. The differentiation between acne vulgaris and acne rosacea was firmly established following the work of Austrian dermatologist Hebra and French dermatologist Darier. In the past, treatments for acne rosacea included salves containing mercury, sulfur, bull’s blood, blood-letting and leeches. Today, topical and oral antibiotics are the standard treatments, a far cry from the remedies of yesteryear. In conclusion, the history of acne rosacea, which is so much more than just le visage rouge, is a captivating journey that spans centuries, from its earliest references in literature and art to the contemporary understanding and treatment of the condition.

Relevance. For many centuries, infectious complications have been one of the most pressing problems of surgical practice. In modern medicine, a wide range of aseptic and antiseptic methods is presented, which, without harm to the body, can destroy pathogenic microorganisms and prevent the development of purulent complications that significantly aggravate the patient's condition and increase the duration of treatment. However, this was not always the case. In the era of the formation of surgery, interventions in a significant majority of cases ended with the development of purulent and septic complications, which inevitably led to death.The purpose of this study was to study the main points that play a key role in the history of the formation of modern asepsis and antiseptics.Material and methods. In the course of the study, an analysis of domestic and foreign literature on the history of the development of aseptics and antiseptics was carried out. When compiling the work, the biographical method of historical research was used. Articles and historical sketches of the period of the described events were also used as materials.Results. The formation of the principles of asepsis and antisepsis is a long historical process in which many of the greatest minds of mankind have been involved. At the same time, like the development of any scientific worldview, the development of asepsis and antiseptics was based on previous knowledge, as well as on knowledge obtained, mainly empirically. From time immemorial, physicians have already had an idea of the antibacterial properties of a number of compounds. The first mentions of attempts to prevent contamination of wounds and their disinfection date back to the time of Hippocrates. In the Middle Ages, for the purpose of disinfecting wounds, cauterization with a red-hot iron and boiling oil was widely used. From the middle of the 18th century, the first antiseptics entered the practice of surgeons. From the middle of the 19th century, a significant contribution to the development of asepsis and antiseptics was made by the Russian surgeon N.I. Pirogov, and his follower N.V. Sklifosovsky. A breakthrough in the development of asepsis and antiseptics in the late 19th – early 20th centuries was the scientific discovery of the French scientist Louis Pasteur, who proved that the processes of fermentation and decay are caused by microorganisms. This discovery formed the basis of J. Lister's antiseptic method. At the end of the 19th century, E. von Bergmann developed the aseptic method. One of the last significant events in the history of antiseptics was A. Fleming antibiotics.Conclusions. Thanks to the work of great scientists and doctors, there are many lifethreatening postoperative complications that claimed the lives of many people, if they did not remain in the past, then their incidence and intensity of manifestations have noticeably decreased, and asepsis and antiseptics have become an integral component of surgical practice.

One of the mirrors that best reflects the definition, meaning, feeling, course, change, and transformation of the image of women, which is hidden and censored in the subconscious of social memory, is literary literature. In pend-nāmas, one of the genres that show the view of classical Turkish literature on things, women, and society, the ideal society is imagined, and what the individual should do for this is explained in a simple and understandable style. This study aims to determine the perspective of the poet, the commentator, and thus the society on women, to try to read the place of women in society and to identify the masculine language used in these texts based on the commentaries made by the commentators of the classical Turkish literature period on Pend-nāme-i Attâr, one of the essential works of Persian literature. Although feminist research and gender studies have developed since the 1970s-1980s, it is possible to trace women in texts written in much earlier periods, considering that women are the mothers of society and the generation begins with her. Thus, it will be easier to follow the development of the centuries-long story of women and the changing perspective over time. In this study, in which the document analysis method, one of the qualitative research methods, was used, the largest Pend-nāme-i Attâr commentaries written in the 18th and 19th centuries in Turkish literature were preferred. The commentaries of the commentators on the source couplets in which women are in question were determined, and the intention was read. As a result, based on these commentaries, it was understood that it was not "women" but "women with bad morals" who were criticized. It has been concluded that the view that women with bad morals are beings who cause men to fall into heedlessness and, therefore, should be avoided has gained weight. The reason for the heavy criticism is that women have a high transformative and transformative effect on men and, thus, on society. In short, a woman is a man's weakness, and resisting her requires a strong will. Being aware of this, the masculine mentality actually appeals to its own ego by giving her advice. This emphasizes the fact that men and women are complementary beings and that the degradation of one inevitably leads to the degradation of the other. It is scientifically unsatisfactory to draw general conclusions from a few texts. For this reason, other texts of classical Turkish literature, which has a wide range of genres, should be analyzed one by one, and different perspectives, if any, should be identified. Subsequently, the reasons for the exclusion of women, their being regarded as half-witted, and their being regarded as passive being who must be constantly taken care of and managed will be explained with more concrete and realistic justifications.

Every concept has its own history and its own prehistory, without which it is impossible to understand both complex and simple phenomena of life, and this article provides a brief overview of the development of rhetoric and stylistics from antiquity to the present day. It focuses on the formation and development of stylistics and rhetoric in Lithuania. Rhetoric, as one of the most important liberal arts, was still taught in Lithuania in the 16th and 18th centuries, together with dialectics and logic, the most famous works being: “Oratoriaus praktika, arba retorikos meno taisyklės” [The Practice of the Orator, or the Rules of the Art of Rhetoric] by Žygimantas Liauksminas, “Poetika” [ Poetics] by Motiejus Kazimieras Sarbievijus, “Apie taisytinas iškalbos ydas. Apie meną gerai mąstyti, būtiną gebėjimui gerai kalbėti” [On the Correctable Faults in Eloquence. On the Art of Good Thinking Necessary for Good Speaking] by Stanislovas Konarskis, “Apie iškalbą ir poeziją” [On eloquence and Poetry] by Pilypas Nerijus Golianskis and others. In Lithuania, works on stylistics in the national language appeared later, only at the end of the 1910s. The first Lithuanian work on stylistics was written in 1918 by Kazys Bizauskas under the title “Raštijos bei literatūros teorija” [Theory of Writing and Literature]. The second author, Motiejus Gustaitis, called his “Stilistika” [Stylistics] (1923) “a textbook for the theory of literature” in its subtitle. Juozas Ambrazevičius gave a similar title to his work “Literatūros teorija. Poetika” [Literary Theory. Poetics] (1930, second edition in 1936). During the Soviet period, quite a number of writers wrote on stylistic issues, including Kazimieras Župerka, Audronė Bitinienė and Juozas Abaravičius. The most extensive and comprehensive “Lietuvių kalbos stilistika” [Stylistics of the Lithuanian Language] by Juozas Pikčilingis was also prepared at that time. After the restoration of independence, rhetoric thrived. In 1999, Regina Koženiauskienė wrote her fundamental work on rhetoric “Retorika: Iškalbos stilistika” [Rhetoric: The Stylistics of Elocution]; “Juridinė lingvistika” [Legal Linguistics] was published in 2005; and, in 2013, “Rhetorical and Stylistic Analysis of Publication Texts” was released. Referring to the revival of rhetoric, it is necessary to mention Irena Buckley, Professor at Vytautas Magnus University. She is the author of the monographs “Retorikos tradicija XIX amžiaus lietuvių literatūroje” [The Rhetorical Tradition in 19th-Century Lithuanian Literature] (2006) and “L’Eden lituanien et la Babylone française: les contacts culturels franco-lituaniens au XIXe siècle” [Lithuanian Eden and French Babylon: Franco-Lithuanian Cultural Contacts in the 19th Century] (co-author with Marie-France de Palacio, 2012). The first monograph presents a clear conception of rhetoric, applying rhetorical analysis principles to 19th-century Lithuanian literature and updating the tradition of rhetorical culture in Lithuania. Teaching of rhetoric adheres to the classical canon rediscovered during the global revival of rhetoric. However, evident changes are occurring, as everything in the world undergoes reevaluation, from social relations and value systems to language. The established understanding within the rhetoric canon is being disrupted, and new rules and traditions are taking shape. These innovations are noted to initially emerge in the USA, then spread to Europe, eventually reaching Lithuania.

IntroductionThis essay will focus on some of the connections between digitally transmitted stories, games, narrative processes, and the discipline whose ostensible job is the study of storytelling, namely literature. My observations will be limited to the specific case of computer games, storytelling, and what is often unproblematically referred to as “literature,” in order to focus attention on historical and contemporary features of the development of the relationship between the two that remain largely unexamined. Therefore, one goal of this essay is to re-think this relationship from a fresh perspective, whose “freshness” derives from reopening the past and re-examining what is overlooked when games scholars talk about “narrative” and “literature” as though they were interchangeable.Further, I will discuss the dissemination of narrative on/through various platforms before mass-media, such as textually transmitted stories that anticipate digitally disseminated narrative. This will include specific examples as well as a more general a re-examination of claims made on the topic of literature, narrative and computer games, via a brief review of disciplinary insights from the study of digital games and narrative. The following is therefore intended as a view of games and (literary) narrative in pre-digital forms as an attempt to build bridges between media studies and other disciplines by calling for a longer, developmental history of games, narrative and/or literature that considers them together rather than as separate territories.The Stakes of the Game My reasons for re-examining games and narrative scholarship include my desire to discuss a number of somewhat less-than-accurate or misleading notions about narrative and literature that have been folded into computer game studies, where these notions go unchallenged. I also want to point out a body of work on literature, mimesis and play that has been overlooked in game studies, and that would be helpful in thinking about stories and some of the (digital) platforms through which they are disseminated.To begin by responding to the tacit question of why it is worth asking what literary studies have to do with videogames, my answer resides in the link between play, games and storytelling forged by Aristotle in the Poetics. As a function of imitative play or “mimesis,” he claims, art forms mimic phenomena found in nature such as the singing of birds. So, by virtue of the playful mimetic function ascribed to the arts or “poesis,” games and storytelling are kindred forms of play. Moreover, the pretend function common to art forms such as realist fictional narratives that are read “as if” the story were true, and games played “as if” their premises were real, unfold in playfully imitative ways that produce possible worlds presented through different media.In the intervening centuries, numerous scholars discussed mimesis and play from Kant and Schiller in the 18th century, to Huizinga, and to many scholars who wrote on literature, mimesis and play later in the 20th century, such as Gadamer, Bell, Spariousu, Hutchinson, and Morrow. More recently, games scholar Janet Murray wrote that computer games are “a kind of abstract storytelling that resembles the world of common experience but compresses it in order to heighten interest,” hence even Tetris acts as a dramatic “enactment of the overtasked lives of Americans in the 1990’s” allowing them to “symbolically experience agency,” and “enact control over things outside our power” (142, 143). Similarly, Ryan has argued that videogames offer micro stories that are mostly about the pleasure of discovering nooks and crannies of on-line, digital possible worlds (10).At the same time, a tendency developed in games studies in the 1990s to eschew any connection with narrative, literature and earlier scholarship on mimesis. One example is Markku Eskelinen’s article in Game Studies wherein he argued that “[o]utside academic theory people are usually excellent at making distinctions between narrative, drama and games. If I throw a ball at you I don’t expect you to drop it and wait until it starts telling stories.” Eskelinen then explains that “when games and especially computer games are studied and theorized they are almost without exception colonized from the fields of literary, theatre, drama and film studies.” As Eskelinen’s argument attests, his concern is disciplinary territorialisation rather than stories and their transmedial dissemination, whereas I prefer to take an historical approach to games and storytelling, to which I now direct my attention.Stepping Back Both mimesis and interactivity are central to how stories are told and travel across media. In light thereof, I recall the story of Zeuxis who, in the 5th century BC, introduced a realistic method of painting. As the story goes, Zeuxis painted a boy holding a bunch of grapes so realistically that it attracted birds who tried to enter the world of the painting, whereupon the artist remarked that, were the boy rendered as realistically as the grapes, he would have scared the birds away. Centuries later in the 1550s, the camera obscura and mirrors were used to project scenery as actors moved in and out of it as an early form of multimedia storytelling entertainment (Smith 22). In the late 17th century, van Mieris painted The Raree Show, representing an interactive travelling storyboard and story master who invited audience participation, hence the girl pictured here, leaning forward to interact with the story.Figure 1: The Raree Show (van Mieris)Numerous interactive narrative toys were produced in the 18th and 19th, such as these storytelling playing cards sold as a leaf in The Great Mirror of Folly (1720). Along with the plays, poems and cartoons also contained in this volume dedicated to the South Sea Bubble crisis of 1720, the cards serve as a storyboard with plot lines that follow suits, so that hearts picks up one narrative thread, and clubs, spades and diamonds another. Hence while the cards could be removed for gaming they could also be read as a story in a medium that, to borrow games scholar Espen Aarseth’s terminology, requires non-trivial physical or “ergodic effort” on the part of readers and players.Figure 2: playing cards from The Great Mirror of Folly (1720) In the 20th century examples of interactive and ergodic codex fiction abound, including Hesse’s Das Glasperlenspiel [Glass Bead Game] (1943, 1949), Nabokov’s Pale Fire (1962), Saporta’s Composition No. 1 (1962), and Winterson’s PowerBook (2001) that conceptually and/or physically mimic and anticipate hypertext. More recently, Chloé Delaume’s Corpus Simsi (2003) explicitly attempts to remediate a MMORPG as the title suggests, just as there are videogames that attempt, in various ways, to remediate novels. I have presented these examples to argue for a long-continuum view of storytelling and games, as a series of attempts to produce stories—from Zeuxis grapes to PowerBook and beyond—that can be entered and interacted with, at least metaphorically or cognitively. Over time, various game-like or playful interfaces from text to computer have invited us into storyworlds while partially impeding or opening the door to interaction and texturing our experience of the story in medium-specific ways.The desire to make stories interactive has developed across media, from image to text and various combinations thereof, as a means of externalizing an author’s imagination to be activated by opening and reading a novel, or by playing a game wherein the story is mediated through a screen while players interact to change the course of the story. While I am arguing that storytelling has for centuries striven to interpolate spectators or readers by various means and though numerous media that would eventually make storytelling thoroughly and not only metaphorically interactive, I want now to return briefly to the question of literature.Narrative vs LiteratureThe term “literature” is frequently assumed to be unambiguous when it enters discussions of transmedia storytelling and videogames. What literature “is” was, however, hotly debated in the 1980s-90s with many scholars concluding that literature is a construct invented by “old dead white men,” resulting in much criticism on the topic of canon formation. Yet, without rehearsing the arguments produced in previous decades on the topic of literariness, I want to provide a few examples of what happens when games scholars and practitioners assume they know what literature is and then absorb or eschew it in their own transmedia storytelling endeavours.The 1990s saw the emergence of game studies as a young discipline, eager to burst out of the crucible of English Departments that were, as Eskelinen pointed out, the earliest testing grounds for the legitimized study of games. Thus ensued the “ludology vs narratology” debate wherein “ludologists,” keen to move away from literary studies, insisted that games be studied as games only, and participated in what Gonzalo Frasca famously called the “debate that never happened.” Yet as short-lived as the debate may have been, a negative and limited view of literature still inheres in games studies along with an abiding lack of awareness of the shared origins of stories, games, and thinking about both that I have attempted to sketch out thus far.Exemplary of arguments on the side of “ludology,” was storytelling game designer Chris Crawford’s keynote at Mediaterra 2007, in which he explained that literariness is measured by degrees of fun. Hence, whereas literature is highly formulaic and structured, storytelling is unconstrained and fun because storytellers have no rigid blueprint and can change direction at any moment. Yet, Crawford went on to explain how his storytelling machine works by drawing together individual syntactic elements, oddly echoing the Russian formalists’ description of literature, and particularly models that locate literary production at the intersection of the axis of selection, containing linguistic elements such as verbs, nouns, adjectives and so on, and the axis of combination governed by rules of genre.I foreground Crawford’s ludological argument because it highlights some of the issues that arise when one doesn’t care to know much about the study of literature. Crawford understands literature as rule-based, rigid and non-fun, and then trots out his own storytelling-model based or rigid syntactical building blocks and rule-based laws of combination, without the understanding the irony. This returns me to ludologist Eskelinen who also argued that “stories are just uninteresting ornaments or gift-wrappings to games”. In either case, the matter of “story” is stretched over the rigid syntax of language, and the literary structuralist enterprise has consisted precisely in peeling back that narrative skin or “gift wrap” to reveal the bones of human cognitive thought processes, as for example, when we read rhetorical figures such as metaphor and metonymy. In the words of William Carlos Williams, poetry is a machine made out of words, from whose nuts and bolts meaning emerges when activated, similar to programing language in a videogame whose story is eminent and comes into being as we play.Finally, the question of genre hangs in the background given that “literature” itself is potentially transmedia because its content can take many forms and be transmitted across diverse platforms. Importantly in this regard the novel, which is the form most games scholars have in mind when drawing or rejecting connections between games and literature, is itself a shape-shifting, difficult-to-define genre whose form, as the term novel implies, is subject to the constant imperative to innovate across media as it has done over time.Different Approaches While I just highlighted inadequacies in some of the scholarship on games and narrative (or “literature” when narrative is defined as such) there is work on interactive storytelling and the transmedia dissemination of stories explicitly as games that deals with some of these issues. In their article on virtual bodies in Dante’s Inferno (2010), Welsh and Sebastian explain that the game is a “reboot of a Trecento poem,” and discuss what must have been Dante’s own struggle in the 14th century to “materialize sin through metaphors of suffering,” while contending “with the abstractness of the subject matter [as well as] the representational shortcomings of language itself,” concluding that Dante’s “corporeal allegories must become interactive objects constructed of light and math that feel to the user like they have heft and volume” (166). This notion of “corporeal allegories” accords with my own model of a “body hermeneutic” that could help to understand the reception of stories transmitted in non-codex media: a poetics of reading that includes how game narratives “engage the body hapitically” (Goggin 219).Likewise, Kathi Berens’s work on “Novel Games: Playable Books on iPad” is exemplary of what literary theory and game texts can do for each other, that is, through the ways in which games can remediate, imitate or simply embody the kind of meditative depth that we encounter in the expansive literary narratives of the 19th century. In her reading of Living Will, Berens argues that the best way to gauge meaning is not in the potentialities of its text, but rather “in the human performance of reading and gaming in new thresholds of egodicity,” and offers a close reading that uncovers the story hidden in the JavaScript code, and which potentially changes the meaning of the game. Here again, the argument runs parallel to my own call for readings that take into account the visceral experience of games, and which demands a configurative/interpretative approach to the unfolding of narrative and its impact on our being as a whole. Such an approach would destabilize the old mind/body split and account for various modes of sensation as part of the story itself. This is where literary theory, storytelling, and games may be seen as coming together in novels like Delaume’s Corpus Simsi and a host of others that in some way remediate video games. Such analyses would include features of the platform/text—shape, topography, ergodicity—and how the story is disseminated through the printed text, the authors’ websites, blogs and so on.It is likewise important to examine what literary criticism that has dealt with games and storytelling in the past can do for games. For example, if one agrees with Wittgenstein that language is inherently game-like or ludic and that, by virtue of literature’s long association with mimesis, its “as if” function, and its “autotelic” or supposedly non-expository nature, then most fiction is itself a form of game. Andrew Ferguson’s work on Finnegan’s Wake (1939) takes these considerations into account while moving games and literary studies into the digital age. Ferguson argues that Finnegan’s Wake prefigures much of what computers make possible such as glitching, which “foregrounds the gaps in the code that produces the video-game environment.” This he argues, is an operation that Joyce performed textually, thereby “radically destabilizing” his own work, “leading to effects [similar to] short-circuiting plot events, and entering spaces where a game’s normal ontological conditions are suspended.” As Ferguson points out, moreover, literary criticism resembles glitch hunting as scholars look for keys to unlock the puzzles that constitute the text through which readers must level up.Conclusion My intention has been to highlight arguments presented by ludologists like Eskelinnen who want to keep game studies separate from narrative and literary studies, as well as those game scholars who favour a narrative approach like Murray and Ryan, in order to suggest ways in which a longer, historical view of how stories travel across platforms might offer a more holistic view of where we are at today. Moreover, as my final examples of games scholarship suggest, games, and games that specifically remediate works of literature such as Dante’s Inferno, constitute a rapidly moving target that demands that we keep up by finding new ways to take narrative and ergodic complexity into account.The point of this essay was not, therefore, to adapt a position in any one camp but rather to nod to the major contributors in a debate which was largely about institutional turf, and perhaps never really happened, yet still continues to inform scholarship. At the same time, I wanted to argue for the value of discussing the long tradition of understanding literature as a form of mimesis and therefore as a particular kind of game, and to show how such an understanding contributes to historically situating and analysing videogames. Stories can be experienced across multiple platforms or formats, and my ultimate goal is to see what literary studies can do for game studies by trying to show that the two share more of the same goals, elements, and characteristics than is commonly supposed.ReferencesAristotle. Poetics, Trans. J. Hutton. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1982.Aarseth, Espen. Cybertext: Perspectives on Ergodic Literature. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2007.Behrens, Kathi. “‘Messy’ Ludology: New Dimensions of Narrator Unreliability in Living Will.” No Trivial Effort: Essays on Games and Literary Theory. Eds. Joyce Goggin and Timothy Welsh. Bloomsbury: Forthcoming.Bell, D. Circumstances: Chance in the Literary Text. Lincoln: Nebraska UP, 1993. Delaume, Chloé. Corpus Simsi. Paris: Éditions Léo Scheer, 2003.Eskelinen, Markku. “The Gaming Situation”. Game Studies 1.1 (2011). <http://www.gamestudies.org/0101/eskelinen/>. Ferguson, Andrew. “Let’s Play Finnegan’s Wake.” Hypermedia Joyce Studies 13 (2014). <http://hjs.ff.cuni.cz/archives/v13_1/main/essays.php?essay=ferguson>. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method, Trans. Barden and Cumming. New York: Crossroad, 1985.Goggin, Joyce. “A Body Hermeneutic?: Corpus Simsi or Reading like a Sim.” The Hand of the Interpreter: Essays on Meaning after Theory. Eds. G.F. Mitrano and Eric Jarosinski. Bern: Peter Lang, 2008. 205-223.Hesse, Hermann. The Glass Bead Game [Das Glasperlenspiel]. Trans. Clara Winston. London: Picador, 2002.Huizinga, Johann. Homo Ludens. Groningen: Wolters-Noordhoff cop, 1938.Hutchinson, Peter. Games Authors Play. New York: Metheun, 1985.James, Joyce. Finnegan’s Wake. London: Faber and Faber, 1939.Morrow, Nancy. Dreadful Games: The Play of Desire and the 19th-Century Novel. Ohio: Kent State UP, 1988.Murray, Janet H. Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. Cambridge: MIT UP, 1997.Nabokov, Vladimir. Pale Fire. New York: Putnam, 1962.Ryan, Marie-Laure. Narrative as Virtual Reality: Immersion and Interactivity in Literature and Electronic Media. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2001.Saporta, Marc. Composition No. 1. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1962.Smith, Grahame. Dickens and the Dream of Cinema. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2003.Spariosu, Mihai. Literature, Mimesis and Play. Tübigen: Gunter Narr Verlag, 1982.Winterson, Janette. The PowerBook. London: Vintage, 2001.Wittgenstein, Ludwig. The Philosophical Investigations. Trans. G.E.M. Anscombe. New York: Macmillan: 1972.

IntroductionIn the wine world, authenticity is not just desired, it is actively required. That demand comes from a complex of producers, distributors and consumers, and other interested parties. Consequently, the authenticity of wine is constantly created, reworked, presented, performed, argued over, contested and appreciated.At one level, such processes have clear economic elements. A wine deemed to be an authentic “expression” of something—the soil and micro-climate in which it was grown, the environment and culture of the region from which it hails, the genius of the wine-maker who nurtured and brought it into being, the quintessential characteristics of the grape variety it is made from—will likely make much more money than one deemed inauthentic. In wine, as in other spheres, perceived authenticity is a means to garner profits, both economic and symbolic (Beverland).At another level, wine animates a complicated intertwining of human tastes, aesthetics, pleasures and identities. Discussions as to the authenticity, or otherwise, of a wine often involve a search by the discussants for meaning and purpose in their lives (Grahm). To discover and appreciate a wine felt to “speak” profoundly of the place from whence it came possibly involves a sense of superiority over others: I drink “real” wine, while you drink mass-market trash (Bourdieu). It can also create reassuring senses of ontological security: in discovering an authentic wine, expressive of a certain aesthetic and locational purity (Zolberg and Cherbo), I have found a cherishable object which can be reliably traced to one particular place on Earth, therefore possessing integrity, honesty and virtue (Fine). Appreciation of wine’s authenticity licenses the self-perception that I am sophisticated and sensitive (Vannini and Williams). My judgement of the wine is also a judgement upon my own aesthetic capacities (Hennion).In wine drinking, and the production, distribution and marketing processes underpinning it, much is at stake as regards authenticity. The social system of the wine world requires the category of authenticity in order to keep operating. This paper examines how and why this has come to be so. It considers the crafting of authenticity in long-term historical perspective. Demand for authentic wine by drinkers goes back many centuries. Self-conscious performances of authenticity by producers is of more recent provenance, and was elaborated above all in France. French innovations then spread to other parts of Europe and the world. The paper reviews these developments, showing that wine authenticity is constituted by an elaborate complex of environmental, cultural, legal, political and commercial factors. The paper both draws upon the social science literature concerning the construction of authenticity and also points out its limitations as regards understanding wine authenticity.The History of AuthenticityIt is conventional in the social science literature (Peterson, Authenticity) to claim that authenticity as a folk category (Lu and Fine), and actors’ desires for authentic things, are wholly “modern,” being unknown in pre-modern contexts (Cohen). Consideration of wine shows that such a view is historically uninformed. Demands by consumers for ‘authentic’ wine, in the sense that it really came from the location it was sold as being from, can be found in the West well before the 19th century, having ancient roots (Wengrow). In ancient Rome, there was demand by elites for wine that was both really from the location it was billed as being from, and was verifiably of a certain vintage (Robertson and Inglis). More recently, demand has existed in Western Europe for “real” Tokaji (sweet wine from Hungary), Port and Bordeaux wines since at least the 17th century (Marks).Conventional social science (Peterson, Authenticity) is on solider ground when demonstrating how a great deal of social energies goes into constructing people’s perceptions—not just of consumers, but of wine producers and sellers too—that particular wines are somehow authentic expressions of the places where they were made. The creation of perceived authenticity by producers and sales-people has a long historical pedigree, beginning in early modernity.For example, in the 17th and 18th centuries, wine-makers in Bordeaux could not compete on price grounds with burgeoning Spanish, Portuguese and Italian production areas, so they began to compete with them on the grounds of perceived quality. Multiple small plots were reorganised into much bigger vineyards. The latter were now associated with a chateau in the neighbourhood, giving the wines connotations of aristocratic gravity and dignity (Ulin). Product-makers in other fields have used the assertion of long-standing family lineages as apparent guarantors of tradition and quality in production (Peterson, Authenticity). The early modern Bordelaise did the same, augmenting their wines’ value by calling upon aristocratic accoutrements like chateaux, coats-of-arms, alleged long-term family ownership of vineyards, and suchlike.Such early modern entrepreneurial efforts remain the foundations of the very high prestige and prices associated with elite wine-making in the region today, with Chinese companies and consumers particularly keen on the grand crus of the region. Globalization of the wine world today is strongly rooted in forms of authenticity performance invented several hundred years ago.Enter the StateAnother notable issue is the long-term role that governments and legislation have played, both in the construction and presentation of authenticity to publics, and in attempts to guarantee—through regulative measures and taxation systems—that what is sold really has come from where it purports to be from. The west European State has a long history of being concerned with the fraudulent selling of “fake” wines (Anderson, Norman, and Wittwer). Thus Cosimo III, Medici Grand Duke of Florence, was responsible for an edict of 1716 which drew up legal boundaries for Tuscan wine-producing regions, restricting the use of regional names like Chianti to wine that actually came from there (Duguid).These 18th century Tuscan regulations are the distant ancestors of quality-control rules centred upon the need to guarantee the authenticity of wines from particular geographical regions and sub-regions, which are today now ubiquitous, especially in the European Union (DeSoucey). But more direct progenitors of today’s Geographical Indicators (GIs)—enforced by the GATT international treaties—and Protected Designations of Origin (PDOs)—promulgated and monitored by the EU—are French in origin (Barham). The famous 1855 quality-level classification of Bordeaux vineyards and their wines was the first attempt in the world explicitly to proclaim that the quality of a wine was a direct consequence of its defined place of origin. This move significantly helped to create the later highly influential notion that place of origin is the essence of a wine’s authenticity. This innovation was initially wholly commercial, rather than governmental, being carried out by wine-brokers to promote Bordeaux wines at the Paris Exposition Universelle, but was later elaborated by State officials.In Champagne, another luxury wine-producing area, small-scale growers of grapes worried that national and international perceptions of their wine were becoming wholly determined by big brands such as Dom Perignon, which advertised the wine as a luxury product, but made no reference to the grapes, the soil, or the (supposedly) traditional methods of production used by growers (Guy). The latter turned to the idea of “locality,” which implied that the character of the wine was an essential expression of the Champagne region itself—something ignored in brand advertising—and that the soil itself was the marker of locality. The idea of “terroir”—referring to the alleged properties of soil and micro-climate, and their apparent expression in the grapes—was mobilised by one group, smaller growers, against another, the large commercial houses (Guy). The terroir notion was a means of constructing authenticity, and denouncing de-localised, homogenizing inauthenticity, a strategy favouring some types of actors over others. The relatively highly industrialized wine-making process was later represented for public consumption as being consonant with both tradition and nature.The interplay of commerce, government, law, and the presentation of authenticity, also appeared in Burgundy. In that region between WWI and WWII, the wine world was transformed by two new factors: the development of tourism and the rise of an ideology of “regionalism” (Laferté). The latter was invented circa WWI by metropolitan intellectuals who believed that each of the French regions possessed an intrinsic cultural “soul,” particularly expressed through its characteristic forms of food and drink. Previously despised peasant cuisine was reconstructed as culturally worthy and true expression of place. Small-scale artisanal wine production was no longer seen as an embarrassment, producing wines far more “rough” than those of Bordeaux and Champagne. Instead, such production was taken as ground and guarantor of authenticity (Laferté). Location, at regional, village and vineyard level, was taken as the primary quality indicator.For tourists lured to the French regions by the newly-established Guide Michelin, and for influential national and foreign journalists, an array of new promotional devices were created, such as gastronomic festivals and folkloric brotherhoods devoted to celebrations of particular foodstuffs and agricultural events like the wine-harvest (Laferté). The figure of the wine-grower was presented as an exemplary custodian of tradition, relatively free of modern capitalist exchange relations. These are the beginnings of an important facet of later wine companies’ promotional literatures worldwide—the “decoupling” of their supposed commitments to tradition, and their “passion” for wine-making beyond material interests, from everyday contexts of industrial production and profit-motives (Beverland). Yet the work of making the wine-maker and their wines authentically “of the soil” was originally stimulated in response to international wine markets and the tourist industry (Laferté).Against this background, in 1935 the French government enacted legislation which created theInstitut National des Appellations d’Origine (INAO) and its Appelation d’Origine Controlle (AOC) system (Barham). Its goal was, and is, to protect what it defines as terroir, encompassing both natural and human elements. This legislation went well beyond previous laws, as it did more than indicate that wine must be honestly labelled as deriving from a given place of origin, for it included guarantees of authenticity too. An authentic wine was defined as one which truly “expresses” the terroir from which it comes, where terroir means both soil and micro-climate (nature) and wine-making techniques “traditionally” associated with that area. Thus French law came to enshrine a relatively recently invented cultural assumption: that places create distinctive tastes, the value of this state of affairs requiring strong State protection. Terroir must be protected from the untrammelled free market. Land and wine, symbiotically connected, are de-commodified (Kopytoff). Wine is embedded in land; land is embedded in what is regarded as regional culture; the latter is embedded in national history (Polanyi).But in line with the fact that the cultural underpinnings of the INAO/AOC system were strongly commercially oriented, at a more subterranean level the de-commodified product also has economic value added to it. A wine worthy of AOC protection must, it is assumed, be special relative to wines un-deserving of that classification. The wine is taken out of the market, attributed special status, and released, economically enhanced, back onto the market. Consequently, State-guaranteed forms of authenticity embody ambivalent but ultimately efficacious economic processes. Wine pioneered this Janus-faced situation, the AOC system in the 1990s being generalized to all types of agricultural product in France. A huge bureaucratic apparatus underpins and makes possible the AOC system. For a region and product to gain AOC protection, much energy is expended by collectives of producers and other interested parties like regional development and tourism officials. The French State employs a wide range of expert—oenological, anthropological, climatological, etc.—who police the AOC classificatory mechanisms (Barham).Terroirisation ProcessesFrench forms of legal classification, and the broader cultural classifications which underpin them and generated them, very much influenced the EU’s PDO system. The latter uses a language of authenticity rooted in place first developed in France (DeSoucey). The French model has been generalized, both from wine to other foodstuffs, and around many parts of Europe and the world. An Old World idea has spread to the New World—paradoxically so, because it was the perceived threat posed by the ‘placeless’ wines and decontextualized grapes of the New World which stimulated much of the European legislative measures to protect terroir (Marks).Paxson shows how artisanal cheese-makers in the US, appropriate the idea of terroir to represent places of production, and by extension the cheeses made there, that have no prior history of being constructed as terroir areas. Here terroir is invented at the same time as it is naturalised, made to seem as if it simply points to how physical place is directly expressed in a manufactured product. By defining wine or cheese as a natural product, claims to authenticity are themselves naturalised (Ulin). Successful terroirisation brings commercial benefits for those who engage in it, creating brand distinctiveness (no-one else can claim their product expresses that particularlocation), a value-enhancing aura around the product which, and promotion of food tourism (Murray and Overton).Terroirisation can also render producers into virtuous custodians of the land who are opposed to the depredations of the industrial food and agriculture systems, the categories associated with terroir classifying the world through a binary opposition: traditional, small-scale production on the virtuous side, and large-scale, “modern” harvesting methods on the other. Such a situation has prompted large-scale, industrial wine-makers to adopt marketing imagery that implies the “place-based” nature of their offerings, even when the grapes can come from radically different areas within a region or from other regions (Smith Maguire). Like smaller producers, large companies also decouple the advertised imagery of terroir from the mundane realities of industry and profit-margins (Beverland).The global transportability of the terroir concept—ironic, given the rhetorical stress on the uniqueness of place—depends on its flexibility and ambiguity. In the French context before WWII, the phrase referred specifically to soil and micro-climate of vineyards. Slowly it started mean to a markedly wider symbolic complex involving persons and personalities, techniques and knowhow, traditions, community, and expressions of local and regional heritage (Smith Maguire). Over the course of the 20th century, terroir became an ever broader concept “encompassing the physical characteristics of the land (its soil, climate, topography) and its human dimensions (culture, history, technology)” (Overton 753). It is thought to be both natural and cultural, both physical and human, the potentially contradictory ramifications of such understanding necessitating subtle distinctions to ward off confusion or paradox. Thus human intervention on the land and the vines is often represented as simply “letting the grapes speak for themselves” and “allowing the land to express itself,” as if the wine-maker were midwife rather than fabricator. Terroir talk operates with an awkward verbal balancing act: wine-makers’ “signature” styles are expressions of their cultural authenticity (e.g. using what are claimed as ‘traditional’ methods), yet their stylistic capacities do not interfere with the soil and micro-climate’s natural tendencies (i.e. the terroir’sphysical authenticity).The wine-making process is a case par excellence of a network of humans and objects, or human and non-human actants (Latour). The concept of terroir today both acknowledges that fact, but occludes it at the same time. It glosses over the highly problematic nature of what is “real,” “true,” “natural.” The roles of human agents and technologies are sequestered, ignoring the inevitably changing nature of knowledges and technologies over time, recognition of which jeopardises claims about an unchanging physical, social and technical order. Harvesting by machine production is representationally disavowed, yet often pragmatically embraced. The role of “foreign” experts acting as advisors —so-called “flying wine-makers,” often from New World production cultures —has to be treated gingerly or covered up. Because of the effects of climate change on micro-climates and growing conditions, the taste of wines from a particular terroir changes over time, but the terroir imaginary cannot recognise that, being based on projections of timelessness (Brabazon).The authenticity referred to, and constructed, by terroir imagery must constantly be performed to diverse audiences, convincing them that time stands still in the terroir. If consumers are to continue perceiving authenticity in a wine or winery, then a wide range of cultural intermediaries—critics, journalists and other self-proclaiming experts must continue telling convincing stories about provenance. Effective authenticity story-telling rests on the perceived sincerity and knowledgeability of the teller. Such tales stress romantic imagery and colourful, highly personalised accounts of the quirks of particular wine-makers, omitting mundane details of production and commercial activities (Smith Maguire). Such intermediaries must seek to interest their audience in undiscovered regions and “quirky” styles, demonstrating their insider knowledge. But once such regions and styles start to become more well-known, their rarity value is lost, and intermediaries must find ever newer forms of authenticity, which in turn will lose their burnished aura when they become objects of mundane consumption. An endless cycle of discovering and undermining authenticity is constantly enacted.ConclusionAuthenticity is a category held by different sorts of actors in the wine world, and is the means by which that world is held together. This situation has developed over a long time-frame and is now globalized. Yet I will end this paper on a volte face. Authenticity in the wine world can never be regarded as wholly and simply a social construction. One cannot directly import into the analysis of that world assumptions—about the wholly socially constructed nature of phenomena—which social scientific studies of other domains, most notably culture industries, work with (Peterson, Authenticity). Ways of thinking which are indeed useful for understanding the construction of authenticity in some specific contexts, cannot just be applied in simplistic manners to the wine world. When they are applied in direct and unsophisticated ways, such an operation misses the specificities and particularities of wine-making processes. These are always simultaneously “social” and “natural”, involving multiple forms of complex intertwining of human actions, environmental and climatological conditions, and the characteristics of the vines themselves—a situation markedly beyond beyond any straightforward notion of “social construction.”The wine world has many socially constructed objects. But wine is not just like any other product. Its authenticity cannot be fabricated in the manner of, say, country music (Peterson, Country). Wine is never in itself only a social construction, nor is its authenticity, because the taste, texture and chemical elements of wine derive from complex human interactions with the physical environment. Wine is partly about packaging, branding and advertising—phenomena standard social science accounts of authenticity focus on—but its organic properties are irreducible to those factors. Terroir is an invention, a label put on to certain things, meaning they are perceived to be authentic. But the things that label refers to—ranging from the slope of a vineyard and the play of sunshine on it, to how grapes grow and when they are picked—are entwined with human semiotics but not completely created by them. 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IntroductionFirmly located within the discourse of visible culture as the lofty preserve of art exhibitions and museum artefacts, the noun “curate” has gradually transformed into the verb “to curate”. Williams writes that “curate” has become a fashionable code word among the aesthetically minded to describe a creative activity. Designers no longer simply sell clothes; they “curate” merchandise. Chefs no longer only make food; they also “curate” meals. Chosen for their keen eye for a particular style or a precise shade, it is their knowledge of their craft, their reputation, and their sheer ability to choose among countless objects which make the creative process a creative activity in itself. Writing from within the framework of “curate” as a creative process, this article discusses how the state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II, hosted by Irish President Mary McAleese at Dublin Castle in May 2011, was carefully curated to represent Ireland’s diplomatic, cultural, and culinary identity. The paper will focus in particular on how the menu for the banquet was created and how the banquet’s brief, “Ireland on a Plate”, was fulfilled.History and BackgroundFood has been used by nations for centuries to display wealth, cement alliances, and impress foreign visitors. Since the feasts of the Numidian kings (circa 340 BC), culinary staging and presentation has belonged to “a long, multifaceted and multicultural history of diplomatic practices” (IEHCA 5). According to the works of Baughman, Young, and Albala, food has defined the social, cultural, and political position of a nation’s leaders throughout history.In early 2011, Ross Lewis, Chef Patron of Chapter One Restaurant in Dublin, was asked by the Irish Food Board, Bord Bía, if he would be available to create a menu for a high-profile banquet (Mahon 112). The name of the guest of honour was divulged several weeks later after vetting by the protocol and security divisions of the Department of the Taoiseach (Prime Minister) and the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Lewis was informed that the menu was for the state banquet to be hosted by President Mary McAleese at Dublin Castle in honour of Queen Elizabeth II’s visit to Ireland the following May.Hosting a formal banquet for a visiting head of state is a key feature in the statecraft of international and diplomatic relations. Food is the societal common denominator that links all human beings, regardless of culture (Pliner and Rozin 19). When world leaders publicly share a meal, that meal is laden with symbolism, illuminating each diner’s position “in social networks and social systems” (Sobal, Bove, and Rauschenbach 378). The public nature of the meal signifies status and symbolic kinship and that “guest and host are on par in terms of their personal or official attributes” (Morgan 149). While the field of academic scholarship on diplomatic dining might be young, there is little doubt of the value ascribed to the semiotics of diplomatic gastronomy in modern power structures (Morgan 150; De Vooght and Scholliers 12; Chapple-Sokol 162), for, as Firth explains, symbols are malleable and perfectly suited to exploitation by all parties (427).Political DiplomacyWhen Ireland gained independence in December 1921, it marked the end of eight centuries of British rule. The outbreak of “The Troubles” in 1969 in Northern Ireland upset the gradually improving environment of British–Irish relations, and it would be some time before a state visit became a possibility. Beginning with the peace process in the 1990s, the IRA ceasefire of 1994, and the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, a state visit was firmly set in motion by the visit of Irish President Mary Robinson to Buckingham Palace in 1993, followed by the unofficial visit of the Prince of Wales to Ireland in 1995, and the visit of Irish President Mary McAleese to Buckingham Palace in 1999. An official invitation to Queen Elizabeth from President Mary McAleese in March 2011 was accepted, and the visit was scheduled for mid-May of the same year.The visit was a highly performative occasion, orchestrated and ordained in great detail, displaying all the necessary protocol associated with the state visit of one head of state to another: inspection of the military, a courtesy visit to the nation’s head of state on arrival, the laying of a wreath at the nation’s war memorial, and a state banquet.These aspects of protocol between Britain and Ireland were particularly symbolic. By inspecting the military on arrival, the existence of which is a key indicator of independence, Queen Elizabeth effectively demonstrated her recognition of Ireland’s national sovereignty. On making the customary courtesy call to the head of state, the Queen was received by President McAleese at her official residence Áras an Uachtaráin (The President’s House), which had formerly been the residence of the British monarch’s representative in Ireland (Robbins 66). The state banquet was held in Dublin Castle, once the headquarters of British rule where the Viceroy, the representative of Britain’s Court of St James, had maintained court (McDowell 1).Cultural DiplomacyThe state banquet provided an exceptional showcase of Irish culture and design and generated a level of preparation previously unseen among Dublin Castle staff, who described it as “the most stage managed state event” they had ever witnessed (Mahon 129).The castle was cleaned from top to bottom, and inventories were taken of the furniture and fittings. The Waterford Crystal chandeliers were painstakingly taken down, cleaned, and reassembled; the Killybegs carpets and rugs of Irish lamb’s wool were cleaned and repaired. A special edition Newbridge Silverware pen was commissioned for Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip to sign the newly ordered Irish leather-bound visitors’ book. A new set of state tableware was ordered for the President’s table. Irish manufacturers of household goods necessary for the guest rooms, such as towels and soaps, hand creams and body lotions, candle holders and scent diffusers, were sought. Members of Her Majesty’s staff conducted a “walk-through” several weeks in advance of the visit to ensure that the Queen’s wardrobe would not clash with the surroundings (Mahon 129–32).The promotion of Irish manufacture is a constant thread throughout history. Irish linen, writes Kane, enjoyed a reputation as far afield as the Netherlands and Italy in the 15th century, and archival documents from the Vaucluse attest to the purchase of Irish cloth in Avignon in 1432 (249–50). Support for Irish-made goods was raised in 1720 by Jonathan Swift, and by the 18th century, writes Foster, Dublin had become an important centre for luxury goods (44–51).It has been Irish government policy since the late 1940s to use Irish-manufactured goods for state entertaining, so the material culture of the banquet was distinctly Irish: Arklow Pottery plates, Newbridge Silverware cutlery, Waterford Crystal glassware, and Irish linen tablecloths. In order to decide upon the table setting for the banquet, four tables were laid in the King’s Bedroom in Dublin Castle. The Executive Chef responsible for the banquet menu, and certain key personnel, helped determine which setting would facilitate serving the food within the time schedule allowed (Mahon 128–29). The style of service would be service à la russe, so widespread in restaurants today as to seem unremarkable. Each plate is prepared in the kitchen by the chef and then served to each individual guest at table. In the mid-19th century, this style of service replaced service à la française, in which guests typically entered the dining room after the first course had been laid on the table and selected food from the choice of dishes displayed around them (Kaufman 126).The guest list was compiled by government and embassy officials on both sides and was a roll call of Irish and British life. At the President’s table, 10 guests would be served by a team of 10 staff in Dorchester livery. The remaining tables would each seat 12 guests, served by 12 liveried staff. The staff practiced for several days prior to the banquet to make sure that service would proceed smoothly within the time frame allowed. The team of waiters, each carrying a plate, would emerge from the kitchen in single file. They would then take up positions around the table, each waiter standing to the left of the guest they would serve. On receipt of a discreet signal, each plate would be laid in front of each guest at precisely the same moment, after which the waiters would then about foot and return to the kitchen in single file (Mahon 130).Post-prandial entertainment featured distinctive styles of performance and instruments associated with Irish traditional music. These included reels, hornpipes, and slipjigs, voice and harp, sean-nόs (old style) singing, and performances by established Irish artists on the fiddle, bouzouki, flute, and uilleann pipes (Office of Public Works).Culinary Diplomacy: Ireland on a PlateLewis was given the following brief: the menu had to be Irish, the main course must be beef, and the meal should represent the very best of Irish ingredients. There were no restrictions on menu design. There were no dietary requirements or specific requests from the Queen’s representatives, although Lewis was informed that shellfish is excluded de facto from Irish state banquets as a precautionary measure. The meal was to be four courses long and had to be served to 170 diners within exactly 1 hour and 10 minutes (Mahon 112). A small army of 16 chefs and 4 kitchen porters would prepare the food in the kitchen of Dublin Castle under tight security. The dishes would be served on state tableware by 40 waiters, 6 restaurant managers, a banqueting manager and a sommélier. Lewis would be at the helm of the operation as Executive Chef (Mahon 112–13).Lewis started by drawing up “a patchwork quilt” of the products he most wanted to use and built the menu around it. The choice of suppliers was based on experience but also on a supplier’s ability to deliver perfectly ripe goods in mid-May, a typically black spot in the Irish fruit and vegetable growing calendar as it sits between the end of one season and the beginning of another. Lewis consulted the Queen’s itinerary and the menus to be served so as to avoid repetitions. He had to discard his initial plan to feature lobster in the starter and rhubarb in the dessert—the former for the precautionary reasons mentioned above, and the latter because it featured on the Queen’s lunch menu on the day of the banquet (Mahon 112–13).Once the ingredients had been selected, the menu design focused on creating tastes, flavours and textures. Several draft menus were drawn up and myriad dishes were tasted and discussed in the kitchen of Lewis’s own restaurant. Various wines were paired and tasted with the different courses, the final choice being a Château Lynch-Bages 1998 red and a Château de Fieuzal 2005 white, both from French Bordeaux estates with an Irish connection (Kellaghan 3). Two months and two menu sittings later, the final menu was confirmed and signed off by state and embassy officials (Mahon 112–16).The StarterThe banquet’s starter featured organic Clare Island salmon cured in a sweet brine, laid on top of a salmon cream combining wild smoked salmon from the Burren and Cork’s Glenilen Farm crème fraîche, set over a lemon balm jelly from the Tannery Cookery School Gardens, Waterford. Garnished with horseradish cream, wild watercress, and chive flowers from Wicklow, the dish was finished with rapeseed oil from Kilkenny and a little sea salt from West Cork (Mahon 114). Main CourseA main course of Irish beef featured as the pièce de résistance of the menu. A rib of beef from Wexford’s Slaney Valley was provided by Kettyle Irish Foods in Fermanagh and served with ox cheek and tongue from Rathcoole, County Dublin. From along the eastern coastline came the ingredients for the traditional Irish dish of smoked champ: cabbage from Wicklow combined with potatoes and spring onions grown in Dublin. The new season’s broad beans and carrots were served with wild garlic leaf, which adorned the dish (Mahon 113). Cheese CourseThe cheese course was made up of Knockdrinna, a Tomme style goat’s milk cheese from Kilkenny; Milleens, a Munster style cow’s milk cheese produced in Cork; Cashel Blue, a cow’s milk blue cheese from Tipperary; and Glebe Brethan, a Comté style cheese from raw cow’s milk from Louth. Ditty’s Oatmeal Biscuits from Belfast accompanied the course.DessertLewis chose to feature Irish strawberries in the dessert. Pat Clarke guaranteed delivery of ripe strawberries on the day of the banquet. They married perfectly with cream and yoghurt from Glenilen Farm in Cork. The cream was set with Irish Carrageen moss, overlaid with strawberry jelly and sauce, and garnished with meringues made with Irish apple balsamic vinegar from Lusk in North Dublin, yoghurt mousse, and Irish soda bread tuiles made with wholemeal flour from the Mosse family mill in Kilkenny (Mahon 113).The following day, President McAleese telephoned Lewis, saying of the banquet “Ní hé go raibh sé go maith, ach go raibh sé míle uair níos fearr ná sin” (“It’s not that it was good but that it was a thousand times better”). The President observed that the menu was not only delicious but that it was “amazingly articulate in terms of the story that it told about Ireland and Irish food.” The Queen had particularly enjoyed the stuffed cabbage leaf of tongue, cheek and smoked colcannon (a traditional Irish dish of mashed potatoes with curly kale or green cabbage) and had noted the diverse selection of Irish ingredients from Irish artisans (Mahon 116). Irish CuisineWhen the topic of food is explored in Irish historiography, the focus tends to be on the consequences of the Great Famine (1845–49) which left the country “socially and emotionally scarred for well over a century” (Mac Con Iomaire and Gallagher 161). Some commentators consider the term “Irish cuisine” oxymoronic, according to Mac Con Iomaire and Maher (3). As Goldstein observes, Ireland has suffered twice—once from its food deprivation and second because these deprivations present an obstacle for the exploration of Irish foodways (xii). Writing about Italian, Irish, and Jewish migration to America, Diner states that the Irish did not have a food culture to speak of and that Irish writers “rarely included the details of food in describing daily life” (85). Mac Con Iomaire and Maher note that Diner’s methodology overlooks a centuries-long tradition of hospitality in Ireland such as that described by Simms (68) and shows an unfamiliarity with the wealth of food related sources in the Irish language, as highlighted by Mac Con Iomaire (“Exploring” 1–23).Recent scholarship on Ireland’s culinary past is unearthing a fascinating story of a much more nuanced culinary heritage than has been previously understood. This is clearly demonstrated in the research of Cullen, Cashman, Deleuze, Kellaghan, Kelly, Kennedy, Legg, Mac Con Iomaire, Mahon, O’Sullivan, Richman Kenneally, Sexton, and Stanley, Danaher, and Eogan.In 1996 Ireland was described by McKenna as having the most dynamic cuisine in any European country, a place where in the last decade “a vibrant almost unlikely style of cooking has emerged” (qtd. in Mac Con Iomaire “Jammet’s” 136). By 2014, there were nine restaurants in Dublin which had been awarded Michelin stars or Red Ms (Mac Con Iomaire “Jammet’s” 137). Ross Lewis, Chef Patron of Chapter One Restaurant, who would be chosen to create the menu for the state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II, has maintained a Michelin star since 2008 (Mac Con Iomaire, “Jammet’s” 138). Most recently the current strength of Irish gastronomy is globally apparent in Mark Moriarty’s award as San Pellegrino Young Chef 2015 (McQuillan). As Deleuze succinctly states: “Ireland has gone mad about food” (143).This article is part of a research project into Irish diplomatic dining, and the author is part of a research cluster into Ireland’s culinary heritage within the Dublin Institute of Technology. The aim of the research is to add to the growing body of scholarship on Irish gastronomic history and, ultimately, to contribute to the discourse on the existence of a national cuisine. If, as Zubaida says, “a nation’s cuisine is its court’s cuisine,” then it is time for Ireland to “research the feasts as well as the famines” (Mac Con Iomaire and Cashman 97).ConclusionThe Irish state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II in May 2011 was a highly orchestrated and formalised process. From the menu, material culture, entertainment, and level of consultation in the creative content, it is evident that the banquet was carefully curated to represent Ireland’s diplomatic, cultural, and culinary identity.The effects of the visit appear to have been felt in the years which have followed. Hennessy wrote in the Irish Times newspaper that Queen Elizabeth is privately said to regard her visit to Ireland as the most significant of the trips she has made during her 60-year reign. British Prime Minister David Cameron is noted to mention the visit before every Irish audience he encounters, and British Foreign Secretary William Hague has spoken in particular of the impact the state banquet in Dublin Castle made upon him. Hennessy points out that one of the most significant indicators of the peaceful relationship which exists between the two countries nowadays was the subsequent state visit by Irish President Michael D. Higgins to Britain in 2013. This was the first state visit to the United Kingdom by a President of Ireland and would have been unimaginable 25 years ago. The fact that the President and his wife stayed at Windsor Castle and that the attendant state banquet was held there instead of Buckingham Palace were both deemed to be marks of special favour and directly attributed to the success of Her Majesty’s 2011 visit to Ireland.As the research demonstrates, eating together unites rather than separates, gathers rather than divides, diffuses political tensions, and confirms alliances. It might be said then that the 2011 state banquet hosted by President Mary McAleese in honour of Queen Elizabeth II, curated by Ross Lewis, gives particular meaning to the axiom “to eat together is to eat in peace” (Taliano des Garets 160).AcknowledgementsSupervisors: Dr Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire (Dublin Institute of Technology) and Dr Michael Kennedy (Royal Irish Academy)Fáilte IrelandPhotos of the banquet dishes supplied and permission to reproduce them for this article kindly granted by Ross Lewis, Chef Patron, Chapter One Restaurant ‹http://www.chapteronerestaurant.com/›.Illustration ‘Ireland on a Plate’ © Jesse Campbell BrownRemerciementsThe author would like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their feedback and suggestions on an earlier draft of this article.ReferencesAlbala, Ken. The Banquet: Dining in the Great Courts of Late Renaissance Europe. 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The ideas put forth here do not fit perfectly or entirely into the genre and form of what has established itself as the scholarly journal article. What is put forth, instead, is a juxtaposition of lines of thinking about the scholarly and popular in publishing, past, present and future. As such it may indeed be quite appropriate to the occasion and the questions raised in the call for papers for this special issue of M/C Journal. The ideas put forth here are intended as pieces of an ever-changing puzzle of the making public of scholarship, which, I hope, may in some way fit with both the work of others in this special issue and in the discourse more broadly. The first line of thinking presented takes the form of an historical overview of publishing as context to consider a second line of thinking about the current status and future of publishing. The historical context serves as reminder (and cause for celebration) that publishing has not yet perished, contrary to continued doomsday sooth-saying that has come with each new medium since the advent of print. Instead, publishing has continued to transform and it is precisely the transformation of print, print culture and reading publics that are the focus of this article, in particular, in relation to the question of the boundaries between the scholarly and the popular. What follows is a juxtaposition that is part of an investigation in progress. Presented first, therefore, is a mapping of shifts in print culture from the time of Gutenberg to the twentieth century; second, is a contemporary snapshot of the editorial mandates of more than one hundred member journals of the Canadian Association of Learned Journals (CALJ). What such juxtaposition is able to reveal is open to interpretation, of course. And indeed, as I proceed in my investigation of publishing past, present and future, my interpretations are many. The juxtaposition raises a number of issues: of communities of readers and the cultures of reading publics; of privileged and marginalised texts (as well as their authors and their readers); of access and reach (whether in terms of what is quantifiable or in a much more subtle but equally important sense). In Canada, at present, these issues are also intertwined with changes to research funding policies and some attention is given at the end of this article to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) of Canada and its recent/current shift in funding policy. Curiously, current shifts in funding policies, considered alongside an historical overview of publishing, would suggest that although publishing continues to transform, at the same time, as they say, plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. Republics of Letters and Ghosts in Machines Republics of Letters that formed after the advent of the printing press can be conjured up as distant and almost mythical communities of elite literates, ghosts almost lost in a Gutenberg galaxy that today encompasses (and is embodied in) schools, bookshelves, and digital archives in many places across the globe. Conjuring up ghosts of histories past seems always to reveal ironies, and indeed some of the most interesting ironies of the Gutenberg galaxy involve McLuhanesque reversals or, if not full reversals, then in the least some notably sharp turns. There is a need to define some boundaries (and terms) in the framing of the tracing that follows. Given that the time frame in question spans more than five hundred years (from the advent of Gutenberg’s printing press in the fifteenth century to the turn of the 21st century), the tracing must necessarily be done in broad strokes. With regard to what is meant by the “making public of scholarship” in this paper, by “making public” I refer to accounts historians have given in their attempts to reconstruct a history of what was published either in the periodical press or in books. With regard to scholarship (and the making public of it), as with many things in the history of publishing (or any history), this means different things in different times and in different places. The changing meanings of what can be termed “scholarship” and where and how it historically has been made public are the cornerstones on which this article (and a history of the making public of scholarship) turn. The structure of this paper is loosely chronological and is limited to the print cultures and reading publics in France, Britain, and what would eventually be called the US and Canada, and what follows here is an overview of changes in how scholarly and popular texts and publics are variously defined over the course of history. The Construction of Reading Publics and Print Culture In any consideration of “print culture” and reading publics, historical or contemporary, there are two guiding principles that historians suggest should be kept in mind, and, though these may seem self-evident, they are worth stating explicitly (perhaps precisely because they seem self-evident). The first is a reminder from Adrian Johns that “the very identity of print itself has had to be made” (2 italics in original). Just as the identity of print cultures are made, similarly, a history of reading publics and their identities are made, by looking to and interpreting such variables as numbers and genres of titles published and circulated, dates and locations of collections, and information on readers’ experiences of texts. Elizabeth Eisenstein offers a reminder of the “widely varying circumstances” (92) of the print revolution and an explicit acknowledgement of such circumstances provides the second, seemingly self-evident guiding principle: that the construction of reading publics and print culture must not only be understood as constructed, but also that such constructions ought not be understood as uniform. The purpose of the reconstructions of print cultures and reading publics presented here, therefore, is not to arrive at final conclusions, but rather to identify patterns that prove useful in better understanding the current status (and possible future) of publishing. The Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries—Boom, then Busted by State and Church In search of what could be termed “scholarship” following the mid-fifteenth century boom of the early days of print, given the ecclesiastical and state censorship in Britain and France and the popularity of religious texts of the 15th and 16th centuries, arguably the closest to “scholarship” that we can come is through the influence of the Italian Renaissance and the revival and translation (into Latin, and to a far lesser extent, vernacular languages) of the classics and indeed the influence of the Italian Renaissance on the “print revolution” is widely recognised by historians. Historians also recognise, however, that it was not long until “the supply of unpublished texts dried up…[yet for authors] to sell the fruits of their intellect—was not yet common practice before the late 16th century” (Febvre and Martin 160). Although this reference is to the book trade in France, in Britain, and in the regions to become the US and Canada, reading of “pious texts” was similarly predominant in the early days of print. Yet, the humanist shift throughout the 16th century is evidenced by titles produced in Paris in the first century of print: in 1501, in a total of 88 works, 53 can be categorised as religious, with 25 categorised as Latin, Greek, or Humanist authors; as compared to titles produced in 1549, in a total of 332 titles, 56 can be categorised as religious with 204 categorised as Latin, Greek, or Humanist authors (Febvre and Martin 264). The Seventeenth Century—Changes in the Political and Print Landscape In the 17th century, printers discovered that their chances of profitability (and survival) could be improved by targeting and developing a popular readership through the periodical press (its very periodicity and relative low cost both contributed to its accessibility by popular publics) in Europe as well as in North America. It is worthwhile to note, however, that “to the end of the seventeenth century, both literacy and leisure were virtually confined to scholars and ‘gentlemen’” (Steinberg 119) particularly where books were concerned and although literacy rates were still low, through the “exceptionally literate villager” there formed “hearing publics” who would have printed texts read to them (Eisenstein 93). For the literate members of the public interested not only in improving their social positions through learning, but also with intellectual (or spiritual or existential) curiosity piqued by forbidden books, it is not surprising that Descartes “wrote in French to a ‘lay audience … open to new ideas’” (Jacob 41). The 17th century also saw the publication of the first scholarly journals. There is a tension that becomes evident in the seventeenth century that can be seen as a tension characteristic of print culture, past and present: on the one hand, the housing of scholarship in scholarly journals as a genre distinct from the genre of the popular periodicals can be interpreted as a continued pattern of (elitist) divide in publics (as seen earlier between the oral and the written word, between Latin and the vernacular, between classic texts and popular texts); while, on the other hand, some thinkers/scholars of the day had an interest in reaching a wider audience, as printers always had, which led to the construction and fragmentation of audiences (whether the printer’s market for his goods or the scholar’s marketplace of ideas). The Eighteenth Century—Republics of Letters Become Concrete and Visible The 18th century saw ever-increasing literacy rates, early copyright legislation (Statute of Anne in 1709), improved printing technology, and ironically (or perhaps on the contrary, quite predictably) severe censorship that in effect led to an increased demand for forbidden books and a vibrant and international underground book trade (Darnton and Roche 138). Alongside a growing book trade, “the pulpit was ultimately displaced by the periodical press” (Eisenstein 94), which had become an “established institution” (Steinberg 125). One history of the periodical press in France finds that the number of periodicals (to remain in publication for three or more years) available to the reading public in 1745 numbered 15, whereas in 1785 this increased to 82 (Censer 7). With regard to scholarly periodicals, another study shows that between 1790 and 1800 there were 640 scientific-technological periodicals being published in Europe (Kronick 1961). Across the Atlantic, earlier difficulties in cultivating intellectual life—such as haphazard transatlantic exchange and limited institutions for learning—began to give way to a “republic of letters” that was “visible and concrete” (Hall 417). The Nineteenth Century—A Second Boom and the Rise of the Periodical Press By the turn of the 19th century, visible and concrete republics of letters become evident on both sides of the Atlantic in the boom in book publishing and in the periodical press, scholarly and popular. State and church controls on printing/publishing had given way to the press as the “fourth estate” or a free press as powerful force. The legislation of public education brought increased literacy rates among members of successive generations. One study of literacy rates in Britain, for example, shows that in the period from 1840–1870 literacy rates increased by 35–70 per cent; then from 1870–1900, literacy increased by 78–261 per cent (Mitch 76). Further, with the growth and changes in universities, “history, languages and literature and, above all, the sciences, became an established part of higher education for the first time,” which translated into growing markets for book publishers (Feather 117). Similarly the periodical press reached ever-increasing and numerous reading publics: one estimate of the increase finds the publication of nine hundred journals in 1800 jumping to almost sixty thousand in 1901 (Brodman, cited in Kronick 127). Further, the important role of the periodical press in developing communities of readers was recognised by publishers, editors and authors of the time, something equally recognised by present-day historians describing the “generic mélange of the periodical … [that] particularly lent itself to the interpenetration of language and ideas…[and] the verbal and conceptual interconnectedness of science, politics, theology, and literature” (Dawson, Noakes and Topham 30). Scientists recognised popular periodicals as “important platforms for addressing a non-specialist but culturally powerful public … [they were seen as public] performances [that] fulfilled important functions in making the claims of science heard among the ruling élite” (Dawson et al. 11). By contrast, however, the scholarly journals of the time, while also increasing in number, were becoming increasingly specialised along the same disciplinary boundaries being established in the universities, fulfilling a very different function of forming scholarly and discipline-specific discourse communities through public (published) performances of a very different nature. The Twentieth Century—The Tension Between Niche Publics and Mass Publics The long-existing tension in print culture between the differentiation of reading publics on the one hand, and the reach to ever-expanding reading publics on the other, in the twentieth century becomes a tension between what have been termed “niche-marketing” and “mass marketing,” between niche publics and mass publics. What this meant for the making public of scholarship was that the divides between discipline-specific discourse communities (and their corresponding genres) became more firmly established and yet, within each discipline, there was further fragmentation and specialisation. The niche-mass tension also meant that although in earlier print culture, “the lines of demarcation between men of science, men of letters, and scientific popularizers were far from clear, and were constantly being renegotiated” (Dawson et al 28), with the increasing professionalisation of academic work (and careers), lines of demarcation became firmly drawn between scholarly and popular titles and authors, as well as readers, who were described as “men of science,” as “educated men,” or as “casual observers” (Klancher 90). The question remains, however, as one historian of science asks, “To whom did the reading public go in order to learn about the ultimate meaning of modern science, the professionals or the popularizers?” (Lightman 191). By whom and for whom, where and how scholarship has historically been made public, are questions worthy of consideration if contemporary scholars are to better understand the current status (and possible future) for the making public of scholarship. A Snapshot of Scholarly Journals in Canada and Current Changes in Funding Policies The here and now of scholarly journal publishing in Canada (a growing, but relatively modest scholarly journal community, compared to the number of scholarly journals published in Europe and the US) serves as an interesting microcosm through which to consider how scholarly journal publishing has evolved since the early days of print. What follows here is an overview of the membership of the Canadian Association of Learned Journals (CALJ), in particular: (1) their target readers as identifiable from their editorial mandates; (2) their print/online/open-access policies; and (3) their publishers (all information gathered from the CALJ website, http://www.calj-acrs.ca/). Analysis of the collected data for the 100 member journals of CALJ (English, French and bilingual journals) with available information on the CALJ website is presented in Table 1 (below). A few observations are noteworthy: (1) in terms of readers, although all 100 journals identify a scholarly audience as their target readership, more than 40% of the journal also identify practitioners, policy-makers, or general readers as members of their target audience; (2) more than 25% of the journals publish online as well as or instead of print editions; and (3) almost all journals are published either by a Canadian university or, in one case, a college (60%) or a scholarly or professional society (31%). Table 1: Target Readership, Publishing Model and Publishers, CALJ Members (N=100) Journals with identifiable scholarly target readership 100 Journals with other identifiable target readership: practitioner 35 Journals with other identifiable target readership: general readers 18 Journals with other identifiable target readership: policy-makers/government 10 Total journals with identifiable target readership other than scholarly 43 Journals publishing in print only 56 Journals publishing in print and online 24 Journals publishing in print, online and open access 16 Journals publishing online only and open access 4 Journals published through a Canadian university press, faculty or department 60 Journals published by a scholarly or professional society 31 Journals published by a research institute 5 Journals published by the private sector 4 In the context of the historical overview presented earlier, this data raises a number of questions. The number of journals with target audiences either within or beyond the academy raises issues akin to the situation in the early days of print, when published works were primarily in Latin, with only 22 per cent in vernacular languages (Febvre and Martin 256), thereby strongly limiting access and reach to diverse audiences until the 17th century when Latin declined as the international language (Febvre and Martin 275) and there is a parallel to scholarly journal publishing and their changing readership(s). Diversity in audiences gradually developed in the early days of print, as Febvre and Martin (263) show by comparing the number of churchmen and lawyers with library collections in Paris: from 1480–1500 one lawyer and 24 churchmen had library collections, compared to 1551–1600, when 71 lawyers and 21 churchmen had library collections. Although the distinctions between present-day target audiences of Canadian scholarly journals (shown in Table 1, above) and 16th-century churchmen or lawyers no doubt are considerable, again there is a parallel with regard to changes in reading audiences. Similarly, the 18th-century increase in literacy rates, education, and technological advances finds a parallel in contemporary questions of computer literacy and access to scholarship (see Willinsky, “How,” Access, “Altering,” and If Only). Print culture historians and historians of science, as noted above, recognise that historically, while scholarly periodicals have increasingly specialised and popular periodicals have served as “important platforms for addressing a non-specialist but culturally powerful public…[and] fulfill[ing] important functions in making the claims of science heard among the ruling élite” (Dawson 11), there is adrift in current policies changes (and in the CALJ data above) a blurring of boundaries that harkens back to earlier days of print culture. As Adrian John reminded us earlier, “the very identity of print itself has had to be made” (2, italics in original) and the same applies to identities or cultures of print and the members of that culture: namely, the readers, the audience. The identities of the readers of scholarship are being made and re-made, as editorial mandates extend the scope of journals beyond strict, academic disciplinary boundaries and as increasing numbers of journals publish online (and open access). In Canada, changes in scholarly journal funding by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) of Canada (as well as changes in SSHRC funding for research more generally) place increasing focus on impact factors (an international trend) as well as increased attention on the public benefits and value of social sciences and humanities research and scholarship (see SSHRC 2004, 2005, 2006). There is much debate in the scholarly community in Canada about the implications and possibilities of the direction of the changing funding policies, not least among members of the scholarly journal community. As noted in the table above, most scholarly journal publishers in Canada are independently published, which brings advantages of autonomy but also the disadvantage of very limited budgets and there is a great deal of concern about the future of the journals, about their survival amidst the current changes. Although the future is uncertain, it is perhaps worthwhile to be reminded once again that contrary to doomsday sooth-saying that has come time and time again, publishing has not perished, but rather it has continued to transform. I am inclined against making normative statements about what the future of publishing should be, but, looking at the accounts historians have given of the past and looking at the current publishing community I have come to know in my work in publishing, I am confident that the resourcefulness and commitment of the publishing community shall prevail and, indeed, there appears to be a good deal of promise in the transformation of scholarly journals in the ways they reach their audiences and in what reaches those audiences. Perhaps, as is suggested by the Canadian Centre for Studies in Publishing (CCSP), the future is one of “inventing publishing.” References Canadian Association of Learned Journals. Member Database. 10 June 2008 ‹http://www.calj-acrs.ca/>. Canadian Centre for Studies in Publishing. 10 June 2008. ‹http://www.ccsp.sfu.ca/>. Censer, Jack. The French Press in the Age of Enlightenment. London: Routledge, 1994. Darnton, Robert, Estienne Roche. Revolution in Print: The Press in France, 1775–1800. Berkeley: U of California P, 1989. Dawson, Gowan, Richard Noakes, and Jonathan Topham. Introduction. Science in the Nineteenth-century Periodical: Reading the Magazine of Nature. Ed. Geoffrey Cantor, Gowan Dawson, Richard Noakes, and Jonathan Topham. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2004. 1–37. Eisenstein, Elizabeth. The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983 Feather, John. A History of British Publishing. New York: Routledge, 2006. Febvre, Lucien, and Henri-Jean Martin. The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing 1450–1800. London: N.L.B., 1979. Jacob, Margaret. Scientific Culture and the Making of the Industrial West. New York: Oxford UP, 1997. Johns, Adrian. The Nature of the Book: Print and Knowledge in the Making. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1998. Hall, David, and Hugh Armory. The Colonial Book in the Atlantic World. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Klancher, Jon. The Making of English Reading Audiences. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1987. Kronick, David. A History of Scientific and Technical Periodicals: The Origins and Development of the Scientific and Technological Press, 1665–1790. New York: Scarecrow Press, 1961. ---. "Devant le deluge" and Other Essays on Early Modern Scientific Communication. Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2004. Lightman, Bernard. Victorian Science in Context. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1997. Mitch, David. The Rise of Popular Literacy in Victorian England: The Influence of Private choice and Public Policy. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 1991. Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. Granting Council to Knowledge Council: Renewing the Social Sciences and Humanities in Canada, Volume 1, 2004. Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. Granting Council to Knowledge Council: Renewing the Social Sciences and Humanities in Canada, Volume 3, 2005. Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. Moving Forward As a Knowledge Council: Canada’s Place in a Competitive World. 2006. Steinberg, Sigfrid. Five Hundred Years of Printing. London: Oak Knoll Press, 1996. Willinsky, John. “How to be More of a Public Intellectual by Making your Intellectual Work More Public.” Journal of Curriculum and Pedagogy 3.1 (2006): 92–95. ---. The Access Principle: The Case for Open Access to Research and Scholarship. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2006. ---. “Altering the Material Conditions of Access to the Humanities.” Ed. Peter Trifonas and Michael Peters. Deconstructing Derrida: Tasks for the New Humanities. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. 118–36. ---. If Only We Knew: Increasing the Public Value of Social-Science Research. New York: Routledge, 2000.

Introduction Utopia has always been countercultural, and ever since technological progress has allowed, utopia has been using alternative media to promote and strengthen its underpinning ideals. In this article, I am seeking to clarify the connections between counterculture and alternative media in utopian contexts to demonstrate their reciprocity, then draw together these threads through reference to a well-known figure of the Rainbow Region–Rusty Miller. His trajectory from iconic surfer and Aquarian reporter to mediator for utopian politics and ideals in the Rainbow Region encompasses in a single identity the three elements underpinning this study. In concluding, I will turn to Rusty’s Byron Guide, questioning its classification as alternative or mainstream media, and whether Byron Bay is represented as countercultural and utopian in this long-running and ongoing publication. Counterculture and Alternative Media in Utopian Contexts Counterculture is an umbrella that enfolds utopia, among many other genres and practices. It has been most often situated in the 1960s and 1970s as a new form of social movement embodying youth resistance to the technocratic mainstream and its norms of gender, sexuality, politics, music, and language (Roszak). Many scholars of counterculture underscore its utopian impulses both in the projection of better societies where the social goals are achieved, and in the withdrawal from mainstream society into intentional communities (Yinger 194-6; McKay 5; Berger). Before exploring further the connections between counterculture and alternative media, I want to define the scope of countercultural utopian contexts in general, and the Rainbow Region in particular. Utopia is a neologism created by Sir Thomas More almost 500 years ago to designate the island community that demonstrates order, harmony, justice, hope and desire in the right balance so that it seems like an ideal land. This imaginary place described in Utopia (1516) as a counterpoint to the social, political and religious shortcomings of contemporary 16th century British society, has attracted accusations of heresy (Molner), and been used as a pejorative term, an insult to denigrate political projects that seem farfetched or subversive, especially during the 19th century. Almost every study of utopian theory, literature and practice points to a dissatisfaction with the status quo, which inspires writers, politicians, architects, artists, individuals and communities to rail against it (see for example Davis, Moylan, Suvin, Levitas, Jameson). Kingsley Widmer’s book Counterings: Utopian Dialectics in Contemporary Contexts reiterates what many scholars have stated when he writes that utopias should be understood in terms of what they are countering. Lyman Tower Sargent defines utopia as “a non-existent society described in considerable detail and normally located in time and space” and utopianism as “social dreaming” (9), to which I would add that both indicate an improvement on the alternatives, and may indeed be striving to represent the best place imaginable. Utopian contexts, by extension, are those situations where the “social dreaming” is enhanced through human agency, good governance, just laws, education, and work, rather than being a divinely ordained state of nature (Schaer et al). In this way, utopian contexts are explicitly countercultural through their very conception, as human agency is required and their emphasis is on social change. These modes of resistance against dominant paradigms are most evident in attempts to realise textual projections of a better society in countercultural communal experiments. Almost immediately after its publication, More’s Utopia became the model for Bishop Vasco de Quiroga’s communitarian hospital-town Santa Fe de la Laguna in Michoacan, Mexico, established in the 1530s as a counterculture to the oppressive enslavement and massacres of the Purhépecha people by Nuno Guzmán (Green). The countercultural thrust of the 1960s and 1970s provided many utopian contexts, perhaps most readily identifiable as the intentional communities that spawned and flourished, especially in the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, and New Zealand (Metcalf, Shared Lives). They were often inspired by texts such as Charles A. Reich’s The Greening of America (1970) and Ernest Callenbach’s Ecotopia (1975), and this convergence of textual practices and alternative lifestyles can be seen in the development of Australia’s own Rainbow Region. Located in northern New South Wales, the geographical area of the Northern Rivers that has come to be known as the Rainbow Region encompasses Byron Bay, Nimbin, Mullumbimby, Bangalow, Clunes, Dunoon, Federal, with Lismore as the region’s largest town. But more evocative than these place names are the “rivers and creeks, vivid green hills, fruit and nut farms […] bounded by subtropical beaches and rainforest mountains” (Wilson 1). Utopian by nature, and recognised as such by the indigenous Bundjalung people who inhabited it before the white settlers, whalers and dairy farmers moved in, the Rainbow Region became utopian through culture–or indeed counterculture–during the 1973 Aquarius Festival in Nimbin when the hippies of Mullumbimby and the surfers of Byron Bay were joined by up to 10,000 people seeking alternative ways of being in the world. When the party was over, many Aquarians stayed on to form intentional communities in the beautiful region, like Tuntable Falls, Nimbin’s first and largest such cooperative (Metcalf, From Utopian Dreaming to Communal Reality 74-83). In utopian contexts, from the Renaissance to the 1970s and beyond, counterculture has underpinned and alternative media has circulated the aims and ideals of the communities of resistance. The early utopian context of the Anabaptist movement has been dubbed as countercultural by Sigrun Haude: “During the reign of the Münster (1534-5) Anabaptists erected not only a religious but also a social and political counterculture to the existing order” (240). And it was this Protestant Reformation that John Downing calls the first real media war, with conflicting movements using pamphlets produced on the new technology of the Gutenberg press to disseminate their ideas (144). What is striking here is the confluence of ideas and practices at this time–countercultural ideals are articulated, published, and disseminated, printing presses make this possible, and utopian activists realise how mass media can be used and abused, exploited and censored. Twentieth century countercultural movements drew on the lessons learnt from historical uprising and revolutions, understanding the importance of getting the word out through their own forms of media which, given the subversive nature of the messages, were essentially alternative, according to the criteria proposed by Chris Atton: alternative media may be understood as a radical challenge to the professionalized and institutionalized practices of the mainstream media. Alternative media privileges a journalism that is closely wedded to notions of social responsibility, replacing an ideology of “objectivity” with overt advocacy and oppositional practices. Its practices emphasize first person, eyewitness accounts by participants; a reworking of the populist approaches of tabloid newspapers to recover a “radical popular” style of reporting; collective and antihierarchical forms of organization which eschew demarcation and specialization–and which importantly suggest an inclusive, radical form of civic journalism. (267) Nick Couldry goes further to point out the utopian processes required to identify agencies of change, including alternative media, which he defines as “practices of symbolic production which contest (in some way) media power itself–that is, the concentration of symbolic power in media institutions” (25). Alternative media’s orientation towards oppositional and contestatory practices demonstrates clear parallels between its ambitions and those of counterculture in utopian contexts. From the 1960s onwards, the upsurge in alternative newspaper numbers is commensurate with the blossoming of the counterculture and increased utopian contexts; Susan Forde describes it thus: “a huge resurgence in the popularity of publications throughout the ‘counter-culture’ days of the 1960s and 1970s” (“Monitoring the Establishment”, 114). The nexus of counterculture and alternative media in such utopian contexts is documented in texts like Roger Streitmatter’s Voices of Revolution and Bob Osterlag’s People’s Movements, People’s Press. Like the utopian newspapers that came out of 18th and 19th century intentional communities, many of the new alternative press served to educate, socialise, promote and represent the special interests of the founders and followers of the countercultural movements, often focusing on the philosophy and ideals underpinning these communities rather than the everyday events (see also Frobert). The radical press in Australia was also gaining ground, with OZ in Australia from 1963-1969, and then from 1967-1973 in London. Magazines launched by Philip Frazer like The Digger, Go-Set, Revolution and High Times, and university student newspapers were the main avenues for youth and alternative expression on the Vietnam war and conscription, gay and lesbian rights, racism, feminism and ecological activism (Forde, Challenging the News; Cock & Perry). Nimbin 1973: Rusty Miller and The Byron Express The 1973 Aquarius Festival of counterculture in Nimbin (12-23 May) was a utopian context that had an alternative media life of its own before it arrived in the Rainbow Region–in student publications like Tharnuka and newsletters distributed via the Aquarius Foundation. There were other voices that announced the coming of the Aquarius Festival to Nimbin and reported on its impact, like The Digger from Melbourne and the local paper, The Northern Star. During the Festival, the Nimbin Good Times first appeared as the daily bulletin and continues today with the original masthead drawn by the Festival’s co-organiser, Graeme Dunstan. Some interesting work has been done on this area, ranging from general studies of the Rainbow Region (Wilson; Munro-Clark) to articles analysing its alternative press (Ward & van Vuuren; Martin & Ellis), but to date, there has been no focus on the Rainbow Region’s first alternative newspaper, The Byron Express. Co-edited by Rusty Miller and David Guthrie, this paper presented and mediated the aims and desires of the Aquarian movement. Though short-lived, as only 7 issues were published from 15 February 1973 to September 1973, The Byron Express left a permanent printed vestige of the Aquarian counterculture movement’s activism and ideals from an independent regional perspective. Miller’s credentials for starting up the newspaper are clear–he has always been a trailblazer, mixing “smarts” with surfing and environmental politics. After graduating from a Bachelor of Arts in history from San Diego State College, he first set foot in Byron Bay during his two semesters with the inaugural Chapman College affiliated University of the Seven Seas in 1965-6. Returning to his hometown of Encinitas, he co-founded the Surf Research accessory company with legendary Californian surfer Mike Doyle, and launched Waxmate, the first specially formulated surf wax in 1967 (Davis, Witzig & James; Warshaw 217), selling his interest in the business soon after to spend a couple of years “living the counterculture life on the Hawaiian Island of Kauai” (Davis, Witzig & James), before heading back to Byron Bay via Bells Beach in 1970 (Miller & Shantz) and Sydney, where he worked as an advertising salesman and writer with Tracks surfing magazine (Martin & Ellis). In 1971, he was one of the first to ride the now famous waves of Uluwatu in Bali, and is captured with Steven Cooney in the iconic publicity image for Albe Falzon’s 1971 film, Morning Of The Earth. The champion surfer from the US knew a thing or two about counterculture, alternative media, advertising and business when he found his new utopian context in Byron Bay. Miller and Guthrie’s front-page editorial of the inaugural issue of The Byron Express, published on 15 February 1973, with the byline “for a higher shire”, expressed the countercultural (cl)aims of the publication. Land use, property development and the lack of concern that some people in Byron had for their impact on the environment and people of the region were a prime target: With this first issue of the Byron Express, we hope to explain that the area is badly in need of a focal point. The transitions of present are vast and moving fast. The land is being sold and resold. Lots of money is coming into the area in the way of developments […] caravan parts, hotels, businesses and real estate. Many of the trips incoming are not exactly “concerned” as to what long term effect such developments might have on the environment and its people. We hope to serve as a focus of concern and service, a centre for expression and reflection. We would ask your contributions in vocal and written form. We are ready for some sock it to ya criticism… and hope you would grab us upon the street to tell us how you feel…The mission of this alternative newspaper is thereby defined by the need for a “focal point” that inscribes the voices of the community in a freely accessible narrative, recorded in print for posterity. Although this first issue contains no mention of the Aquarius Festival, there were already rumours circulating about it, as organisers Graeme Dunstan and Johnny Allen had been up to Main Arm, Mullumbimby and Nimbin on reconnaissance missions beginning in September 1972. Instead, there was an article on “Mullumbimby Man–Close to the Land” by Nicholas Shand, who would go on to found the community-based weekly newspaper The Echo in 1986, then called The Brunswick Valley Echo and still going strong. Another by Bob McTavish asked whether there could be a better form of government; there was a surf story, and a soul food section with a recipe for honey meade entitled “Do you want to get out of it on 10 cents a bottle?” The second issue continues in much the same vein. It is not until the third issue comes out on 17 March 1973 that the Aquarius Festival is mentioned in a skinny half column on page four. And it’s not particularly promising: Arrived at Nimbin, sleepy hamlet… Office in disused R.S.L. rooms, met a couple of guys recently arrived, said nothing was being done. “Only women here, you know–no drive”. Met Joanne and Vi, both unable to say anything to be reported… Graham Dunstan (codenamed Superfest) and John Allen nowhere in sight. Allen off on trip overseas. Dunstan due back in a couple of weeks. 10 weeks to go till “they” all come… and to what… nobody is quite sure. This progress report provides a fascinating contemporary insight into the tensions–between the local surfies and hippies on one hand, and the incoming students on the other–around the organisation of the Aquarius Festival. There is an unbridled barb at the sexist comments made by the guys, implicit criticism of the absent organisers, obvious skepticism about whether anyone will actually come to the festival, and wonderment at what it will be like. Reading between the lines, we might find a feeling of resentment about not being privy to new developments in their own backyard. The final lines of the article are non-committal “Anyway, let’s see what eventuates when the Chiefs return.” It seems that all has been resolved by the fifth issue of 11 May, which is almost entirely dedicated to the Aquarius Festival with the front page headline “Welcome to the New Age”. But there is still an undertone of slight suspicion at what the newcomers to the area might mean in terms of property development: The goal is improving your fellow man’s mind and nourishment in concert with your own; competition to improve your day and the quality of the day for society. Meanwhile, what is the first thing one thinks about when he enters Byron and the area? The physical environment is so magnificent and all encompassing that it can actually hold a man’s breath back a few seconds. Then a man says, “Wow, this land is so beautiful that one could make a quid here.” And from that moment the natural aura and spells are broken and the mind lapses into speculative equations, sales projections and future interest payments. There is plenty of “love” though, in this article: “The gathering at Nimbin is the most spectacular demonstration of the faith people have in a belief that is possible (and possible just because they want it to be) to live in love, through love together.” The following article signed by Rusty Miller “A Town Together” is equally focused on love: “See what you could offer the spirit at Nimbin. It might introduce you to a style that could lead to LOVE.” The centre spread features photos: the obligatory nudes, tents, and back to nature activities, like planting and woodworking. With a text box of “random comments” including one from a Lismore executive: ‘I took my wife and kids out there last weekend and we had such a good time. Seems pretty organized and the town was loaded with love. Heard there is some hepatitis about and rumours of VD. Everyone happy.” And another from a land speculator (surely the prime target of Miller’s wrath): “Saw guys kissing girls on the street, so sweet, bought 200 acres right outside of town, it’s going to be valuable out there some day.” The interview with Johnny Allen as the centrepiece includes some pertinent commentary on the media and reveals a well-founded suspicion of the mediatisation of the Aquarius Festival: We have tried to avoid the media actually. But we haven’t succeeded in doing so. Part of the basic idea is that we don’t need to be sold. All the down town press can do is try and interpret you. And by doing that it automatically places it in the wrong sort of context. So we’ve tried to keep it to people writing about the festival to people who will be involved in it. It’s an involvement festival. Coopting The Byron Express as an “involved” party effects a fundamental shift from an external reporting newspaper to a kind of proponent or even propaganda for the Aquarius festival and its ideas, like so many utopian newspapers had done before. It is therefore perhaps inevitable that The Byron Express should disappear very soon after the Aquarius festival. Fiona Martin and Rhonda Ellis explain that Rusty Miller stopped producing the paper because he “found the production schedule exhausting and his readership too small to attract consistent advertising” (5). At any rate, there were only two more issues, one in June–with some follow up reporting of the festival–and another in September 1973, which was almost entirely devoted to environmentally focused features, including an interview with Kath Walker (Oodgeroo Noonuccal). Byron Bay 2013: Thirty Years of Rusty’s Byron Guide What Rusty did next is fairly well known locally–surfing and teaching people how to surf and a bit of writing. When major local employer Walkers slaughterhouse closed in 1983, he and his wife, social geographer Tricia Shantz, were asked by the local council to help promote Byron Bay as a tourist destination, writing the first Byron guide in 1983-4. Incorporating essays by local personalities and dedicated visitors, the Byron guide perpetuates the ideal of environmental awareness, spiritual experimentation, and respect for the land and sea. Recent contributors have included philosopher Peter Singer, political journalist Kerry O’Brien, and writer John Ralston Saul, and Miller and Shantz always have an essay in there themselves. “People, Politics and Culture” is the new byline for the 2013 edition. And Miller’s opening essay mediates the same utopian desires and environmental community messages that he espoused from the beginning of The Byron Express: The name Byron Bay represents something that we constantly try to articulate. If one was to dream up a menu of situations and conditions to compose a utopia, Australia would be the model of the nation-state and Byron would have many elements of the actual place one might wish to live for the rest of their lives. But of course there is always the danger of excesses in tropical paradises especially when they become famous destinations. Australia is being held to ransom for the ideology that we should be slaves to money and growth at the cost of a degraded and polluted physical and social environment. Byron at least was/is a refuge against this profusion of the so-called real-world perception that holds profit over environment as the way we must choose for our future. Even when writing for a much more commercial medium, Miller retains the countercultural utopian spirit that was crystallised in the Aquarius festival of 1973, and which remains relevant to many of those living in and visiting the Rainbow Region. Miller’s ethos moves beyond the alternative movements and communities to infiltrate travel writing and tourism initiatives in the area today, as evidenced in the Rusty’s Byron Guide essays. By presenting more radical discourses for a mainstream public, Miller together with Shantz have built on the participatory role that he played in launching the region’s first alternative newspaper in 1973 that became albeit briefly the equivalent of a countercultural utopian gazette. Now, he and Shantz effectively play the same role, producing a kind of countercultural form of utopian media for Byron Bay that corresponds to exactly the same criteria mentioned above. Through their free publication, they aim to educate, socialise, promote and represent the special interests of the founders and followers of the Rainbow Region, focusing on the philosophy and ideals underpinning these communities rather than the everyday events. 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