Academic literature on the topic 'Mysticism – england – early works to 1800'

Evelyn Underhill (1875–1941) was a guiding light in Anglican spirituality in the twentieth century, and her best-known works, Mysticism (1911) and Worship (1936) are still read and studied today. A prolific writer—theologian, poet, novelist—she is frequently anthologized. Her early life and writings—those undertaken before she became an actively-committed member of the Church of England in the 1920s—are, with the exception of Mysticism, less well-known. This article examines the early works that treat the Virgin Mary, and explain how that subject may have influenced the pacifism she later embraced. A feminist reading of those early works also suggests biographical links to her “care for souls,” or spiritual direction, and to her own family. The dutiful child of somewhat remote and distant parents, herself in a childless marriage, Underhill's spiritual nurture by way of Mary helps explain both her spiritual growth and her role as a spiritual director to others.

Marriage and the English Reformation. By Eric Josef Carlson. Oxford: Blackwell, 1994. Pp. ix+276. ISBN 0-631-16864-8. £45.00Gender, sex and subordination in England, 1550–1800. By Anthony Fletcher. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995. Pp. xxii+442. ISBN 0-300-06531-0. £19.95.Domestic dangers: women, words, and sex in early modern London. By Laura Gowing. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Pp. 301. ISBN 0-19-820517-1. £35.00.The prospect before her: a history of women in western Europe, Volume one, 1500–1800. By Olwen Hufton. London: HarperCollins, 1995. Pp. xiv+654. ISBN 0-00255120-9. £25.00.Sex and subjection: attitudes to women in early modern society. By Margaret R. Sommerville. London: Edward Arnold, 1995. Pp. 287. ISBN 0-340-64574-1. £14.99.

A middle class ‘did not begin to discover itself (except perhaps in London) until the last three decades of the [eighteenth] century’. So wrote E. P. Thompson in the 1970s in a now-famous analysis which divided English society into patricians and plebeians, and which, along with J. H. Hexter's ‘The Myth of the Middle Class in Tudor England’, largely eliminated ‘middle class’ from the vocabulary of early modern English historians. During the past decade, however, there has been renewed focus on the middle ranks in early modern England, now commonly labelled ‘the middling sort’, and such studies explicitly or implicitly call into question Thompson's polarized portrayal of English society. A number of earlier works analyzed the middling in the countryside, particularly in the period 1540 to 1640; but recent discussions focus largely on townsmen, and most are concerned with a later period, the second half of the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries. Even in a volume such asThe Middling Sort of People: Culture, Society and Politics in England 1550–1800, a collection of essays presenting recent scholarship on the subject, the rural middling sort receive very little attention (a fact acknowledged by one of the editors). This essay will draw upon detailed evidence from several parishes to consider characteristics of the middling in the countryside during the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.

Current evaluation of the Church of England under the first four Georges follows in the main the assessment made by Norman Sykes in his monumental Church and State in England in the Eighteenth Century, published in 1934. According to that view the Church, which was lastingly cleared of the universal slackness previously imputed to it, exhibited a pervasive Latitudinarianism sympathetically portrayed by Sykes as ‘practical Christianity’, an emphasis on cdnduct and good works to the neglect of ‘organised churchmanship’ and the ‘mystical element’ in religion. R. W. Greaves detected similar features in the concept of ‘moderation’: suspicion of popery and friendship towards dissenters, a cult of plainness in theological explanation and a very general contempt of whatever was medieval. Historians have been willing to acknowledge as exceptions to this ‘mild’ quality of Anglican churchmanship the early Methodists and ‘small Evangelical and High Church minorities’, but only the two former have been taken seriously. Piety of a more traditional kind - rubrical, sacramental, Catholic - has been identified, only to be discounted. The Establishment has been seen in the light of the judgement recently summarised by Dr Anthony Russell: ‘Certainly the temper of the eighteenth century which favoured reason above all else, and was deeply suspicious of mysticism and the emotions, was against any form of sacramentalism.’

Solomon Maimon (1753–1800), one of the most significant Jewish philosophers of modern times, in his writings tried to critically approach the tradition of Jewish thought and compare its teachings with the views of European philosophers. In re­cent decades, he and his views have attracted close attention of historians of phi­losophy. Recently, seven volumes of his works were published in Russia, translated from German and Hebrew. One of his most famous books is his Lebensgeschichte (Autobiography), an autobiography written by him in the 1790s and revealing both the stages of his life path and spiritual development, as well as his understanding of various problems of philosophy, religion, ethics and mysticism. This book has en­joyed a reputation as a classic in the genre of “intellectual biography” for two cen­turies. The article discusses the main features of this book, as well as its perception in the 19th – early 20th centuries. The stereotypical image of Maimon as a free­thinker Jew, a fighter against religious superstitions and social inequality, almost overshadowed his significance as an original philosopher, whose views were ap­preciated by I. Kant and J.G. Fichte. This attitude towards Maimon was fully re­flected in the translations of his Autobiography. Our article pays special attention to the Russian translations of this book. We are publishing for the first time docu­ments related to an attempt to publish in the 1930s a complete commented transla­tion of Maimon’s book. Famous Soviet philosophers and translators participated in the preparation of this translation (Boris G. Stolpner, Isaak M. Alter, and others), but the book was never published for political reasons.

This paper examines about Romanticism or Romantic era, themes and some famous writers, poets and poems of romantic era. Romanticism is one of the repetitive topics that are connected to either creative mind, vision, motivation, instinct, or independence. The subject frequently condemns the past, worries upon reasonableness, disconnection of the essayist and pays tribute to nature. Gone before by Enlightenment, Romanticism brought crisp verse as well as extraordinary books in English Literature. Begun from England and spread all through Europe including the United States, the Romantic development incorporates well known journalists, for example, William Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, Lord Byron, Shelley, Chatterton, and Hawthorne. ‘Romantic’ has been adjusted from the French word romaunt that implies a story of Chivalry. After two German scholars Schlegel siblings utilized this word for verse, it changed into a development like an epidemic and spread all through Europe. Romanticism in English writing started during the 1790s with the distribution of the Lyrical Ballads of William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Wordsworth's "Preface" to the subsequent version (1800) of Lyrical Ballads, in which he portrayed verse as the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings", turned into the statement of the English Romantic development in verse. The first phase of the Romantic movement in Germany was set apart by advancements in both substance and artistic style and by a distraction with the mysterious, the intuitive and the heavenly. An abundance of abilities, including Friedrich Hölderlin, the early Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Jean Paul, Novalis, Ludwig Tieck, A.W. what's more, Friedrich Schlegel, Wilhelm Heinrich Wackenroder, and Friedrich Schelling, have a place with this first phase. The second phase of Romanticism, involving the period from around 1805 to the 1830s, was set apart by a reviving of social patriotism and another regard for national roots, as bore witness to by the accumulation and impersonation of local old stories, people songs and verse, society move and music, and even recently disregarded medieval and Renaissance works. The resuscitated recorded appreciation was converted into creative composition by Sir Walter Scott, who is frequently considered to have imagined the verifiable novel. At about this equivalent time English Romantic verse had arrived at its peak in progress of John Keats, Lord Byron, and Percy Bysshe Shelley.

AbstractAs was the case with silversmiths (Note 3), many more cabinet-makers were wcrking in Amsterdam during the second half of the 18th century than in any other city in the Dutch Republic, the names of 195 of them being now known as opposed to 57 in The Hague and 32 in Rotterdam (Note 2). Most of those 195 names have been culled from the few surviving documents of the Guild of St. Joseph in Amsterdam, to which the cabinet-makers belonged (Note 4), supplemented by other sources, such as printed registers of craftsmen and shopkeepers (Note 6). Another important source is the newspaper the Amsterdamsche Courant with its advertisements placed by craftsmen themselves, with notices of sales, bankruptcies, lotteries and annual fairs and with advertisements concerning subsidiary or related trades. Since these advertisements were directed at the consumer, they often contain stylistic descriptions such as are not found elsewhere. Moreover, they aford valuable clues to archival material. Hence an investigation of all the advertisements from the years 1751-1800 has formed the basis for a study of Amsterdam cabinet-making, some results of which are presented here. Such a study is doomed largely to remain theoretical. The records can hardly ever be linked with surviving pieces, as these are virtually always anonymous since Amsterdam cabinet-makers were not required to stamp or sign their work. Moreover, only a few pieces of Dutch 18th-century furniture have a known provenance, so that it is only rarely possible to link a piece with a bill or another document and identify its maker. Thus it is not yet possible to form a reliable picture of a local Amsterdam style, let alone embark on attributions to individual makers (Note 8). In this light special importance may be attached to two commodes of the third quarter of the century which are exceptional in that they bear a signature, that of Andries Bongen (Figs. 1, 2, Notes 10, 11). These commodes, being entirely French-inspired, illustrate a specific and little-known aspect of Amsterdam cabinet-making. French furniture was so sought after in Amsterdam at that period that in 1771 a strict ban was imposed on its importation in order to protect local cabinet-makers (Note 12). It had begun to be imitated even before that and the commodes by Bongen exemplify this development. Andries Bongen, who was probably born in Geldern, south of Cleves and just east of the border of the Dutch Republic, is first recorded in Amsterdam in May 1763 on his marriage to Willemina, daughter of the smith Lambert van der Beek. He registered as a citizen on 5 July 1763 and became a master cabinet-maker some time between March 1763 and March 1764 (Note 19), so that, accordirtg to the Guild regulations, he must previously have trained for two years under an Amsterdam master (Note 20). At the time of his marriage he was living in St. Jorisstraat, but by the end of 1766 he had moved to Spui and between 1769 and 1771 he moved again, to Muiderpleinlje. When he and his wife made their will in 1772, their possessions were worth something under 8000 guilders (Note 23). This suggests that the business was quite flourishing, which seems to be confirmed by the fact that Bongen received a commission from the city of Amsterdam in 1771. Two more pieces were made for the city in 1786 and 1789, but in the latter year Bongen was declared bankrupt. The inventory of his possessions drawn up then (see Appeytdix) shows how parlous his conditions had become, his goods being valued at only 300 guilders. The reference to a shop indicates that Bongen sold his own furniture, although he had no stock to speak of at that point. The mention of eight work-benches, however, sugests that his output had previously been quite large. This is confirmed by the extent of his debts, notably that to the timber merchant Jan van Mekeren (Note 27). Other creditors included 'Rudolfeus Eyk', who probably supplied iron trelliszvork for bookcases and the like (Note 28), and the glass merchants Boswel en Zonen (Note 29) No debtors are listed and the only customer who can tentatively be identified is a 'Heer Hasselaar' who might be Pieter Cornelis Hasselaer (1720-95), several times burgomaster of Amsterdam between 1773 and 1794 (Note 30). Bongen died three years after his bankruptcy, at which time he was living in Nieuwe Looiersstraat. He appears to have continued working as a cabiytet-maker up to his death and his widow probably carried on the business until her own death in 1808, but nothing is known of this later period. The clearest insight into the character of part of Bongen's output is aforded by the advertisement he placed in the Amsterdamsehe Courant of 4 December 1766, describing three pieces of furniture 'in the French manner'. This is the first announcement by an 18th-century Amsterdam cabinet-maker of work in the French style. Bongen mentions two commodes decorated with floral marquetry, a technique which had flourished in Amsterdam in the late 17th and early 18th centuries (Note 34), but which had largely fallen into disuse on the advent around 1715 of a more sober type of furniture with plain walnut veneers on the English model (Note 36). In France a form of floral marquetry reappeared in the 1740s, being further developed in the following decade under the influence of Jean-François Oeben (1721-63). From the late 1750s there are indications of the presence of pieces of French marquetry furniture in the new style in Amsterdam (Notes 42, 43). The earliest explicit description of floral marquetry appears in a sale catalogue of 5 June 1765 (Note 44), while in another of 25 March 1766 (Note 46) many French pieces are detailed. Obviously, then, Bongen was endeavouring to capture a share, of this new market. The reappearance of elaborate marquetry on Amsterdam-made furniture was the result of a desire to emulate the French examples. The two commodes described in Bongen's advertisement can be identified with the one now in Amsterdam (Fig.2) and the one sold in London in 1947 (Fig.1). The latter still had more of its original mounts at the time nf the sale (Fig. 4) and the two probably formed a pair originally. The unusual fact that they are signed indicates that Bongen intended them to serve as show-pieces to demonstrate his skill at the beginning of his career (cf. Note 51, for another craftsman from abroad who began his career in Amsterdam by similarly advertising a spectacular piece). The commode in Amsterdam, with all its original mounts, demonstrates most clearly how close Bongen came to French prototypes, although his work has many personal traits nonetheless. In the marquetry the vase on a plinth on the front and the composition of the bouquets on the sides are notable (Fig.5), as are the large, full-blown blooms. The carcase, made entirely of oak, is remarkably well constructed and has a heavy, solid character. The commodes are outstanding for the complete integration of the marquetry and the mounts, in the manner of the finesl French furniture. The mounts presenl a problem, as it is not clear where they were made. They do not appear to be French or English, but one hesitates to attribute them to Amsterdam, as it is clear from documentary material that ornamental furniture-mounts were hardly ever made there in the second half of the 18th century. The mounts advertised by Ernst Meyrink in 1752 (Note 53) were probably still of the plain variety of the early part of the century and there is no further mention of mounts made in Amsterdam in the Amsterdamsche Courant. Once, in 1768, the silversmith J. H. Strixner placed an advertisement which refers to their gilding (Note 55). There is virtually no indication either of French mounts being imported and there is little Dutch furniture of this period that bears mounts which are indisputably French. In contrast to this, a large number of advertisements from as early as 1735 show that many mounts were imported from England, while among English manufacturers who came to sell their wares in Amsterdam were Robert Marshall of London (Note 60), James Scott (Note 61), William Tottie of Rotterdam (Note 62), whose business was continued after his death by Klaas Pieter Sent (Note 64), and H. Jelloly, again of Rotterdam (Notes 66, 67). It seems surprising that in a period when the French style reigned supreme so many mounts were imported from England, but the English manufacturers, mainly working in Birmingham, produced many mounts in the French style, probably often directed expressly at foreign markets. On the two commodes by Bongen only the corner mounts and the handles are of types found in the trade-catalogues of the English manufacturers (Figs. 7, 8, Notes 65, 70). The corner mounts are of a common type also found on French furniture (Note 71), so they doubtless copy a French model. The remaining mounts, however, are the ones which are so well integrated with the marquetry and these are not found elsewhere. Recently a third commode signed by Bongen has come to light, of similar character to the first two (Fig.3). Here all the mounts are of types found in the catalogues (Figs.7-10, Note 72). Apparently Bongen could not, or did not choose to, obtain the special mounts any more, although he clearly wanted to follow the same design (Fig. 6). This third commode was undoubtedly made somewhal later than the other two. The marquetry on it is the best preserved and it is possible to see how Bongen enlivened it with fine engraving. Because this piece is less exceptional, it also allows us to attribute some unsigned pieces to Bongen on the basis of their closeness to it, namely a commode sold in London in 1962 (Fig.11, Note 73) and two smaller, simpler commodes, which may originally have formed a pair, one sold in London in 1967 (Fig.12, Nole 74) and the other in a Dutch private collection (Figs.13, 14). The first one has a highly original marquetry decoration of a basket of flowers falling down. On the sides of this piece, and on the front of the two smaller ones, are bouquets tied with ribbons. These were doubtless influenced by contemporary engravings, but no direct models have been identified. The construction of the commode in the Netherlands tallies completely with tltat of the signed example in Amsterdam. The mounts are probably all English, although they have not all been found in English catalogues (Fig.15, Note 76). A seventh commode attributable to Bongen was sold in Switzerland in 1956 (Fig.16, Note 77). It is unusual in that walnut is employed as the background for the floral marquetry, something virtually unknown in Paris, but not uncommon on German work of French inspiration (Note 78). That commodes constitute the largest group among the furniture in the French style attributable to Bongen should cause no surprise, for the commode was the most sought after of all the pieces produced by the ébénistes not only in France, but all over Europe. Two other pieces which reveal Bongen's hand are two tables which look like side-tables, but which have fold-out tops to transform them into card-tables, a type seldom found in France, but common in England and the Netherlands (Note 80). One is at Bowhill in Scotland (Figs.17, 19, 20), the other was sold in London in 1972 (Fig.18, Note 79). The corner mounts on the Bowhill table, which probably also graced the other one originally, are the same as those on the two small commodes, while the handles are again to be found in an English catalogue (Fig.21, Note 81). What sounds like a similar card-table was sold at auction in Amsterdam in 1772 (Note 82). In Bongen's advertisement of 1766 mention is also made of a secretaire, this being the first appearance of this term in the Amsterdamsche Courant and Bongen finding it necessary to define it. No secretaire is known that can be attributed to him. A medal-cabinet in the form of a secretaire in Leiden (Figs.22, 23) hasfloral marquetry somewhat reminiscent of his work, but lacking its elegance, liveliness and equilibrium. Here the floral marquetry is combined with trompe l'oeil cubes and an interlaced border, early Neo-Classical elements which were first employed in France in the 1750s, so that this piece represents a later stage than those attributable to Bongen, which are all in a pure Louis xvstyle. Virtually identical in form to the medal-cabinet is a secretaire decorated solely with floral marquetry (Fig. 24, Note 87). This also appears not to be by Bongen, but both pieces may have been made under his influence. The picture we can form of Bongen's work on the basis of the signed commodes is clearly incomplete. His secretaire was decorated with '4 Children representing Trade', an exceptionally modern and original idea in 1766 even by French standards (Note 88). His ambitions in marquetry obviously wentfar beyondflowers, but no piece has yet beenfound which evinces this, nor is anything known of the Neo-Classical work which he may have produced after this style was introduced in Amsterdam around 1770. Bongen may perhaps have been the first Amsterdam cabinet-maker to produce marquetry furniture in the French style, but he was not to remain the only one. In 1771 and 1772 furniture in both the Dutch and French mode was advertised for sale at the Kistenmakerspand in Kalverstraat, where all furniture-makers belonging to the Guild of St. Joseph could sell their wares (Note 89). The 'French' pieces were probably decorated with marquetry. Only a small number of cabinet-makers are known to have worked in this style, however. They include Arnoldus Gerritsen of Rheestraat, who became a master in 1769 and sold his stock, including a 'small French inlaid Commode', in 1772, and Johan Jobst Swenebart (c.1747 - active up to 1806 or later), who became a master in 1774 and advertised in 1775 that he made 'all sorts of choice Cabinet- and Flower-works', the last term referring to furniture decorated with floral marquetry. Not only French types of furniture, but also traditional Dutch pieces were now decorated with French-inspired marquetry,for example a collector's cabinet advertised in 1775 by Johan Jacob Breytspraak (c.1739-95), who had become a master in 1769-70; a bureau-bookcase, a form introduced in the first half of the century probably under English influence (Note 100), exhibited in 1772 (Note 99); and a display cabinet for porcelain supplied, though not necessarily made, by Pieter Uylenburg en Zoon in 1775 (Notes 101, 102). Even long-case clocks were enriched with marquetry, witness the one advertised by the clock-maker J. H. Kühn in 1775 and another by him which was sold by auction in Edam in 1777 (Note 104). The latter was, like the bureau-bookcase exhibited in 1772, decorated with musical instruments, again a motif borrowed from France, where it was used increasingly from the 1760s onwards (Note 105). A clock signed by the Amsterdam clock-maker J. George Grüning also has a case with marquetry of musical instruments. This must date from about 1775-80, but its maker is unknown (Fig. 25, Notes 106, 107). All four of the Amsterdam cabinet-makers known to have done marquetry around 1770 came from Germany and all were then only recently established in Amsterdam. In fact half of the 144 Amsterdam cabinet-makers working in the second half of the 18th century whose origins it has been possible to trace came from Germany, so the German element was even stronger there than in Paris, where Germans comprised about a third of the ébénistes (Note 108) and where they had again played an important role in the revival of marquetry. None qf the four in Amsterdam was exclusively concerned with marquetry. Indeed, for some of them it may only have been a secondary aspect of their work. This was not true of Bongen, but he too made plain pieces, witness the four mahogany gueridons he made for the city of Amsterdam in 1771 or the two cupboards also made for the city in 1786 and 1789 (Notes 111, 112).No marquetry is listed in his inventory either. Perhaps fashions had changed by the time of his bankruptcy. Such scant knowledge as we have of Amsterdam cabinet-making between 1775 and 1785 certainly seems to suggest this. In the descriptions of the prizes for furraiture-lotteries, such as took place regularly from 1773 onwards (Note 114), marquetry is mentioned in 1773 and 1775 (Notes 115, 116), but after that there is no reference to itfor about tenyears. Nor is there any mention of marquetry in the very few cabinet-makers' advertisements of this period. When the clock-maker Kühn again advertised long-case clocks in 1777 and 1785, the cases were of carved mahogany (Notes 121, 122). Certainly in France the popularity of marquetry began to wane shortly before 1780 and developments in the Netherlands were probably influenced by this. Towards the end of the 1780s, however, pieces described as French and others decorated with 'inlaid work' again appear as prizes in lotteries, such as those organized by Johan Frederik Reinbregt (active 1785-95 or later), who came from Hanover (Note 128), and Swenebart. The latter advertised an inlaid mahogany secretaire in 1793 (Note 132) and similar pieces are listed in the announcement of the sale of the stock of Jean-Matthijs Chaisneux (c.1734-92), one of a small group of French upholsterers first mentioned in Amsterdam in the 1760s, who played an important part in the spread of French influence there (Note 134). In this later period, however, reference is only made to French furniture when English pieces are also mentioned, so a new juxtaposition is implied and 'French' need not mean richly decorated with marquetry as it did in the 1760s. In fact the marquetry of this period was probably of a much more modest character. A large number of pieces of Dutch furniture in the late Neo-Classical style are known, generally veneered with rosewood or mahogany, where the marquetry is confined to trophies, medallions on ribbons, geometric borders and suchlike. A sideboard in the Rijksmuseum is an exceptionally fine and elaborately decorated example of this light and elegant style (Fig. 26) None of this furniture is known for certain to have been made in Amsterdam, but two tobacco boxes with restrained marquetry decoration (Fig.27, Note 136) were made in Haarlem in 1789 by Johan Gottfried Fremming (c.1753-1832) of Leipzig, who had probably trained in Amsterdam and whose style will not have differed much from that current in the capital. Boxes of this type are mentioned in the 1789 inventory of the Amsterdam cabinet-maker Johan Christiaan Molle (c.1748-89) as the only pieces decorated with inlay (Note 138). In the 1792 inventory of Jacob Keesinger (active 1764-92) from Ziegenhain there are larger pieces of marquetry furniture as well (Note 139), but they are greatly in the minority, as is also the case with a sale of cabinet-makers' wares held in 1794 (Note 141), which included a book-case of the type in Fig.28 (Note 142). Similarly the 1795 inventory of Johan Jacob Breytspraak, one of the most important and prosperous cabinet-makers of the day, contains only a few marquetry pieces (Note 144). The 1793 inventory of Hendrik Melters (1720-93) lists tools and patterns for marquetry, but no pieces decorated with it (Note 145). Melters seems to have specialized in cases for long-case clocks, the Amsterdam clock-maker Rutgerus van Meurs (1738-1800) being one of his clients (Note 146). The cases of clocks signed by Van Meurs bear only simple marquetry motifs (Note 147). The Dutch late Neo-Classical furniture with restrained marquetry decoration has no equivalent in France; it is more reminiscent of English work (Note 148). The pattern-books of Hepplewhite and Sheraton undoubtedly found their way to the Dutch Republic and the 'English' furniture mentioned in Amsterdam sources from 1787 probably reflected their influence. However, the introduction of the late, restrained Neo-Classical style in furniture was not the result of English influence alone. Rather, the two countries witnessed a parallel development. In England, too, marquetry was re-introduced under French influence around 1760 and it gradually became much simpler during the last quarter of the century, French influences being amalgamated into a national style (Notes 150, 151). On the whole, the Frertch models were followed more closely in the Netherlands than in England. Even at the end of the century French proportions still very much influenced Dutch cabinet-making. Thus the typically Dutch late Neo-Classical style sprang from a combirtation of French and English influences. This makes it difficult to understand what exactly was meant by the distinction made between ;French' and 'English' furniture at this time. The sources offer few clues here and this is even true of the description of the sale of the stock of the only English cabinet-maker working in Amsterdam at this period, Joseph Bull of London, who was active between 1787 and 1792, when his goods were sold (Notes 155, 156).

Ramps and scaffoldsThe lifting of large stones during antiquityUntil well into the 18th century, many scholars thought that megaliths were erected by giants. Less supernatural theories did not occur in print until the 19th century. One of these was expressed in a small pamphlet from 1857, “On the Building Manner of the Passage Graves of the Antiquity”, written by the Danish King Frederik the Seventh. Earlier (1853), the king had been convinced that first the capstones had been placed on a mound and then the uprights had been placed in holes dug out under the capstone (fig. 7). When all uprights were in place, the remaining earth was removed. This so-called mound theory is almost completely forgotten, but it surfaced sporadically in the 20th century, last when J. Osenton was reconstructing dolmens in the Cotswold Hill Quarry by Cheltenham in England in 1996-97.In 1857, Frederik the Seventh put forward the ramp theory, according to which the capstone is pulled up on a ramp to the already finished chamber (fig. 7-8). According to Frederik the Seventh’s proposal, the ramp was built from earth lengthwise covered with timber, on top of which the capstone would have been pulled up on rolls.However, the king had not invented this theory. It was known in Scandinavia and Holland already around 1800. In 1815, N. Westendorf in Holland suggested the use of earth ramps, and the following years the Dutch developed the ramp theory further.Both the early Dutch antiquarians and others referred to the fact that from the 16th to the 19th century (after the Spanish conquest), Inca workers in Peru, when erecting large buildings, used earth ramps for pulling large stones in place. During their golden age (1300-l500 AD), the Incas were masters in building with large stones that weighed up to well over 200 metric tons. Perhaps the know ledge of Inca earth ramps inspired the early European antiquarians to suggest that the megaliths had also been pulled in place by the use of ramps.In 1983, an experiment was carried out in Skånes Djurpark (Scania’s Animal Park) under G. Burenhuldt’s supervision: the building of a long barrow. The capstone was mounted on a wooden sledge and pulled in place using a rope and a 16-m long earth ramp covered with timber lengthwise (fig. 9). The gradient of the ramp was 5 degrees. It took fourteen men a mere twelve seconds to pull op the capstone.In Indonesia, the use of wooden ramps for pulling up grave capstones is well known. Such a situation was docu mented in 1910, when four hundred people pulled the stone in place without the use of rolls (fig. 10-11). In Holland, postholes suggesting the use of a similar method have been found in connection with some megalith graves (fig. 12).When using the scaffold method, one end of the stone is lifted using one or more levers while timber is being pushed under the stone. Then the other end is lifted and timber pushed underneath. The stone is then lifted again, and timber is pushed under in the opposite direction of the previous layer of timber – and so forth, until the stone has reached the planned height (fig. 13-14). The stone is lifted up on a steadily growing scaffold, so to speak. When the lever is high up, ropes are attached to it for pulling. This method was used in Denmark during the 19th century, when the National Museum was placing capstones that had fallen from their original position back onto the megalith graves. In 1897, the Danish archaeologist Sophus Müller suggested that the capstones of the megalith graves had origin ally been positioned in this way. In 1979, J.P. Mohen initiated an experiment in Bougon, France, involving the lifting of a 32-tons copy of a capstone (fig. 15).The lifting was carried out using three levers, each operated by twenty men. By pushing timber under the stone, it was easily lifted one meter. During the same experiment, twenty men easily lifted the stone using a single lever. In 1994, in Ramioul in Belgium, the scaffold method was also used for placing a capston e on a newly built alleé couverte. In Cotswold’s Hill Quarry, England, J. Osenton built three dolmens in 1996-97. A five-ton capstone was lifted one meter by two persons, one using a 3.5-meter long lever, the other pushing timber underneath.Levers are thus very effective, as heavy loads may be lifted using small effort. According to the lever principle, Kl x L1 = K2 x L2, where L1 and L2 are the long and short arm (divided by the fulcrum) respectively, Kl is the force used for pulling, and K2 is the force, which in combination with L2 has an effect on the stone itself. If using a completely regular stone, like an over-sized brick, it will be merely half of the stone’s weight that is lifted, as its edge is resting on the support. However, as the stones are usually irregular, the lifted weight in the following calculations is estimated to be 60% of the total weight.At Cotswold Hill Quarry, the relation between effort and load was 1:100, hence, one man had to pull with a mere power of 30 kg in order to lift the heavy stone. At Bou­gon, each of the 60 persons had to pull with a force of 32 kilos, if the relation was 1:10, in order to lift the 32-tons block. A capstone in the Spanish passage grave Cueva de Menga weighs 180 metric tons. It could be lifted by 72 men each pulling 50 kg, if the relation was 1:30.It appears that capstones may be easily lifted using a scaffold. When the stones reached the level of the top of the uprights, they could be pulled in over the chamber. At the experiment at Ramioul, Poissonier and Collin used a method in spired by the transportation of stones in a quarry. In the ends of the round timber just under the stone were drilled holes, in which sticks were placed. When the sticks were turned, the stones could be rolled in position over the chamber (fig. 16 ). The use of Stone’s A-frame, which will be mentioned later, would have been very effective indeed, even when very large stones had to be moved from the scaffold onto the chamber.At Stonehenge, the large sarsen stones were erected 2400 BC towards the end of the late Stone Age (fig. 17). The lintels of the large circle weigh approximately seven tons and are positioned at 4.3 meters above the earth. In the middle of the circle is the “horse shoe” consisting of five thrilitons (a thriliton is a pair of uprights carrying a lintel). These lintels weigh up to 16.5 metric tons and are raised seven meters above ground level.In 1924, the engineer E.H. Stone suggested that the lintels had been pulled up an earth ramp that had been so large that it had a platform on top. Here the final adjustment of the lintel could take place using levers.In 1935, another – simpler – technique, the scaffold method, was suggested by colonel R.H. Cunnington. The engineer C.A. Gauld later developed his idea further. He advocated the use of a rather complicated scaffold, which completely surrounded the uprights (fig. 19).In 1991, the engineer P. Pavel carried out an experiment by Strakonice in the Czech Republic (fig. 20). A copy of two uprights in the Stonehenge circle had been erected, and a lintel was to be put in position. The height was 3.5 meters, and the lintel weighed five metric tons. The procedure was surprisingly simple. Using levers and ropes, the stone was pulled up a ramp made from two heavy stems. The pulling was done in 30-cm tugs, and behind the lintel was a“brake rod”, which was moved along to prevent th e stone from sliding down. The levers were of spruce, 4.5 m long and 25 cm in diameter. The ropes were 3 cm thick. The stone was pulled up in three days by ten men.In 1994, M. Whitby was carryin g out experiments near Stonehenge. They included the placin g of lintels using both ramp and scaffold. For this purpose, concrete copies of two uprights and a lintel had been made. The lintel weighed ten metric tons and had to be lifted seven meters. First, it was lifted using the scaffold method. As this went easily, and it was obvious that it could be easily lifted in place, the experiment was called off The scaffold was a simple one, which did not surround the uprights. The lintel was pulled up a metal ramp, which served as an earth ramp. On the surface, the ramp had three tracks of timber lengthwise, and 90 people pulled up the stone in three ho urs. T he pu llin g was don e usin g an A-frame, which works as anupright lever (fig. 21). E.H. Stone had suggested this method in 1924 when the uprights were erected (fig. 22). Whitby’s experiment had the special point that the timber on the ramp surface was separated at the top, so that it would tip with the stone when it reached the top.One or the other? A ramp or a scaffold? The huge disadvantage of the earth ramp is that it would have taken a very long time to both build it and remove it. It would be faster and easier to use Pavel’s wooden ramp, strengthened and supported by timber and then pull up the stone either using Pavel’s method or an A-frame. Finally, there is the scaffold method, which Whitby and Richards found very rewarding. However, this method seems too simple and undramatic as opposed to the ramps. At any rate, many scholars have become obsessed by the ramps and will not consider the scaffold as an alternative. The theories of how Egypt’s large pyramids were erected are a fine example of this.The Great Pyramid was build for the Pharaoh Cheops, who died around 2580 BC. It is an impressive monument, which was originally 146.5 meters high, with each side measuring 230 meters. It was built from 2.300.000 box-shaped stones, each weighing approximately 2.5 metric tons or less.How the Egyptian pyramids were built is still a matter of speculation. The many suggested methods can be divided into two groups: ramps or gradual raising using levers (the scaffold method). The ramp method is preferred by most, but the shape of the ramps remains a mystery (fig. 23). Ramps have been found next to some very small and unfinished pyramids, but they were less than seven meters high. These ramps were made from limestone rubble, sand, gypsum, and clay. It seems obvious that ramps may have been used for the building of small pyramids and for the lower parts of larger pyramids. However, in the case of the great pyramids, the ramps would gradually become very steep and very long, or both, when the pyramid rose upwards.In his book, “The Complete Pyramids” (1997), Mark Lehner, one of the leading pyramid scholars, strongly advocates the ramp theory. In 1996, he took part in the building of a 6-m high pyramid “to test some of the current theories of armchair pyramid builders and try out ancient theories”. The small pyramid was built using a ramp. The scaffold method was also tested for the raising of a stone weighing two metric tons. The experiment was unsuccessful and therefore dismissed. However, elementary mistakes were made, as for instance using boards stacked in layers as a substitute for heavy timber.In spite of this, there are in fact numerous advantages of lifting the stones step by step. For instance,several teams can work simultaneously on each step; the distance is shorter; there is no long return with an empty sledge; and huge ramps do not have to be built and removed again .When Herodotus visited The Great Pyramid around 440 BC, he was told that it had been built by lifting the stones step- by-step using special devices (mechania). This information was omitted in “The Complete Pyramids”.The method used for building a large pyramid could have been a combination of the two techniques. Ramps were used at first, until they became too large or steep or both, then stones were lifted step- by-step using levers. This change may well have taken place at a height of 50 meters, when 72% of the stone mass was already in place. Also, the use of ramps and scaffolds does not have to be an either/or. Perhaps both methods were used.The heavy bluestones at Stonehenge, each weighing between 3 and 4 metric tons, were quarried in antiquity in the Preseli Mountains in Wales. The 80 bluestones were transported more than 350 km across land and water. In 2000, a group of volunteers wanted to repeat this great achievement of the past by transporting a 3-ton stone along the same route. The project, called The Millenium Stone, was a total failure and had to be given up. The participants met too many obstacles on the way and had to use modern techniques; the stone was transported far shorter distances a day than expected; a crane had to be used for lifting the stone on to a vessel, which later sank in 17 meters of water. One important reason for the poor out come was not just the lack of technical skills, but also lack of planning, expertise, and motivation among the participants. These factors are indeed the prerequi site for a successful implementation, in the past as well as now.The experiments at Bougon, Cotswold, and Strakonice showed that a few people were able to lift the stones. However, in the antiquity this would have taken place at community events, which gathered huge crowds. This was certainly the case when dolmens were built in Indonesia in modern time. Here, the presence of many people gave prestige to the organizers, who in return demonstrated their wealth and hospitality by throwing large parties where the guests were lavishly entertained. For both organizers and participants these occasions offered the possibility of making or renewing agreements and alliances.One of the many reasons behind the erection of the megalith graves was its stabilizing effect on society. The megalith builders would have been highly motivated and very determined, as the balance of their social and spiritual universe depended on a successful completion of the work with the huge stones. The muscle power of hundreds of men is not enough; it also takes a foreman with ingenuity, coordination and determination (fig. 24). The foremen of the English archaeologist, C.L. Woolley, were good at moving large stones. Once, Woolley showed his foreman, the Arab Hamoudi, the large stone, measuring 21.5 x 4.3 x 4.2 meters, which during the first century AD was placed at seven meter’s height in the wall of Acropolis in Baalbek in Syria. “He sat in silence, looking at it for perhaps twenty minutes, and then rose to his feet.‘I must go away,᾿ he said,‘my head aches᾿; and as he went, I heard him murmur: ‘By Allah, what a foreman!᾽”In this context, Woolley mentions that at his time (1953), such a stone could not be lifted that high by machines, but that the people of the antiquity were able to do it because they lacked machines!Palle EriksenRingkøbing MuseumTranslated by Annette Lerche Trolle

This article focuses on the early scientific career of George William Francis (1800–1865), a London-born botanist who later emigrated to Australia and founded the Adelaide Botanic Garden. Most scholarly works about Francis emphasize his botanical contributions or life in Australia, yet overlook his career before middle age in England as a versatile popular writer, editor and lecturer. His involvement in the venture of ‘commercial science’, or the display and exploitation of knowledge, reflects a career route for a non-elite practitioner to earn a living and build scientific reputation in early Victorian gentlemanly science. The venture included his establishment of the popular journal The Magazine of Science and School of Arts (1839–1852). He also associated himself with the network of the scientific elites by communicating to the learned, such as the pre-eminent botanist William Hooker. By examining the distinctive trajectory of Francis's career, this essay explores the potential and limits of such strategies to gain institutional recognition from the scientific community in the pre-professionalized period.

No one who knows the quality and quantity of his work will be surprised to hear that G. E. Bentley, Jr., published one more meticulous, thoughtful, and eminently readable book before his death in 2017. This one is an account of the publishing career of Thomas Macklin, patron of William Blake (and most of his colleagues in art), proprietor of the Poets’ Gallery (the name of a printshop, a gallery, and a series of publications), and the publisher of the largest and most opulent illustrated letterpress King James Bible ever produced. Little is known about Macklin beyond the public facts of his commercial activities—even the year of his birth is expressed by a span of nearly a decade—but in his day he was second in importance only to John Boydell among English publishers of prints and illustrated books. Boydell began building his publishing empire in the early 1750s, cannily introducing vertical integration into the prevailing model of printselling, in which independent engravers sold their prints and sometimes their plates to printsellers, who retailed them to the public. Except for Hogarth’s works, the English print market in the first half of the eighteenth century was dominated by portraits, landscapes, and genre subjects with only modest aesthetic pretensions, using merely functional graphic techniques. Hoping to raise the dignity of the English print, Boydell began to hire the best painters in England to create grand images of historical (that is, narrative) subjects from myth and ancient and modern history, then hired the best engravers to create large, highly polished prints, often on the scale of small paintings, using elegant graphic techniques that had been the specialty of European engravers. “History painting” was the most exalted, among critics, at least, of the pictorial modes, but had been largely avoided in the early English print market, whether because of vestigial Protestant iconoclasm, objections to the “Roman” associations of traditional religious subjects, or aversion to classical paganism. Boydell’s new English prints often appealed to patriotism (as in the large engraving of Benjamin West’s Death of Wolfe) and were marketed as fine art for those who could not afford oil paintings but could manage a few fancy prints, framed and glazed, perhaps hand colored, for their parlors. This phenomenon expanded and exalted the English print market for a while, but bourgeois parlors had limited space on the walls, and only wealthy collectors could afford to buy and store, much less display, large numbers of prints.

The English reformation, unlike that in Germany and Switzerland, evolved over a fairly long span of time. At first Luther's works were sold unchecked by English booksellers, being first prohibited in 1520. Over the next few years the advance of reforming ideas was considered so serious as to merit the further attention of the English Crown. By 1524 it was found necessary to enforce a law prohibiting the importation of theological texts into England, and efforts were made to suppress the further spread of the Protestant heresy throughout the realm. However, despite the Act of Parliament and a wave of persecutions the church was unable to stop the influx of prohibited books, which came off the printing presses of Germany and the Low Countries. With the aid of the revised version of the S.T.C. and additional catalogues of early printed writings, it has been possible to compile a list of foreign publications, all of which were intended for the English reader. These texts printed in the vernacular were written and commissioned by English writers forced into exile for their own safety, but also determined to establish Protestant Ideas In their own country. It is difficult to determine the exact numbers of Protestant books entering the country, but some Indication of their appeal can be found from the lists of prohibited books issued by the Ecclesiastical authorities. A detailed examination of these publications yields a clear picture of the theological teaching of Englands earliest Protestants. By carefully comparing these ideas with those of earlier heretics and contemporary reformers, it has been possible to assess the extent to which outside ideas has influenced the minds of these men. Further analysis has revealed the original and subtle genius of men who combined the ideas of the Continental reformers with those native to the English tradition, in order to produce a reformed theology which appealed to the unique situation in their own country.

As a large-scale international cultural phenomenon, the Jerusalem pilgrimage must be approached comparatively. This project compares the pilgrimage accounts of two Germans and two Englishmen who travelled to Jerusalem in the second half of the long fifteenth century. The texts are those of William Wey, (written c.1470), Bernhard von Breydenbach (printed 1486), Arnold von Harff (written 1499) and the 'Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde', composed by his anonymous chaplain (printed 1511). Each chapter focuses on a pilgrim, and one of four thematic topics: genre, the religious other, curiosity and print. This project treats these works as literary texts which can be approached from the perspective of cultural history, rather than as historical sources. The project, therefore, is more a consideration of how the pilgrimage is represented than it is about the events of each pilgrimage, and so it looks at the pilgrimages created in writing. Pilgrimage writings tend to focus on Jerusalem's spiritual significance, rather than its worldly position. In this sense, textual representations of travel to Jerusalem represent something of a disconnect with travel to other physical destinations, and the conceptual space of pilgrimage will be of key significance to this thesis. This has implications for practice as well as writing, and therefore the thesis will address how the writers consider their journeys, as well as the idea of virtual pilgrimage. The thesis engages with questions of identity, and how it is presented, as well as the authors' relationship with their audiences. This necessitates analysing collective identity, as well as the different audiences for printed and manuscript texts. The most important research question, bringing together these issues, considers whether the authors' different geographical origins affect their self-presentation and understanding of pilgrimage. This leads to my central contention: that pilgrimage must be portrayed as a single, unified experience.

This study provides a detailed description of eighteenth-century English merchant vessels and tests the hypothesis posed in 1962 by Professor Ralph Davis that during the eighteenth century a significantly improved merchant vessel type emerged in England that required a smaller crew but carried more cargo than previous English vessels, thus boosting England's position as one of the world's greatest maritime nations. The study also develops vessel descriptions that will assist nautical archaeologists in identifying and classifying shipwreck remains. Merchant vessels were chosen for study because of the relative scarcity of scholarly publications on commercial vessels from the age of sail and because of the wealth of new archaeological data on English merchant vessels that has emerged during the past two decades. A wide range of historical and archaeological information was reviewed and, in spite of initial indications to the contrary, it was possible to amass an incredible wealth of information on seventeenth- and eighteenth-century merchant vessels built in England or her colonies. This study presents descriptions, illustrations and draughts of a variety of eighteenth-century English merchant vessels, along with a number of archaeological examples that demonstrate a richly diverse range of hull forms and rigs. Much of the detailed archaeological information was recovered from a group of sunken vessels from the Battle of Yorktown, 1781, especially site 44YO88, which proved to be an English collier built in 1772 and leased as a naval transport. There is much evidence to suggest that the highest quality, most capacious, most efficient, most long-lived, most stable and strongest merchant vessels in England during the eighteenth century were being produced in the northern ports where the primary export was coal. Rather than representing a radical new design, those colliers appear to have embodied the best compromise of qualities for a bulk cargo carrier, qualities that were already known and appreciated a century earlier, but which may have found a new harmony in the collier. Even with the many descriptions and widespread praise focused on the flat-floored, apple-bowed colliers of northern England, there does not appear to be sufficient evidence to assert that English colliers represented, in the eighteenth century, a radically improved vessel type. However, it seems reasonable to assume that those sturdy, reliable vessels successfully satisfied the economic needs of the times and provided a new source of pride for English shipbuilders. It also seems reasonable to speculate, in retrospect, that their appearance, in the large numbers that flowed out of northern yards in the eighteenth century, improved the overall efficiency and quality of the English merchant marine.

In the period 1342-70 there were many points of contact between the Papacy and northern Britain. Papal taxes were numerous. Annates came to be the main source of revenue collected locally, but were hard to levy on account of difficulties in establishing liability; other taxes were paid with greater despatch. Examination of the careers of the papal collectors indicates both their power and the awkwardness of their position. Papal provisions were also numerous and affected a wide range of benefices. Expectative graces are examined, and success for a considerable number can be inferred. Some provisions led to bitter disputes, but many passed off smoothly, despite the existence in England of anti-papal statutes. These laws were all different in scope, but were enforced only where this suited leading laymen. Parliament was much more anti-papal than the government, even though in the 1340s diplomatic relations between England and the Holy See were poor on account of the king's actions against aliens beneficed in England. Although the powers of the royal courts were protected by this legislation, many benefice cases were heard at Avignon, and other disputes were settled by judges-delegate appointed by the pope. Analysis of papal contacts with the bishops shows how closely they were connected to the Holy See: most were appointed by the pope; they petitioned the pope for favours and were given many tasks to do in return. Even the regular clergy did not escape papal attention, although often the initiative came from monasteries who wanted confirmation of agreements or grants, or from individual religious who needed papal favour. Licences and dispensations were sought also by laymen, but more especially by clerks who were illegitimate, under-age or wanted to hold benefices in plurality. There is, however, little evidence of wantonness in the exercise of the papal dispensing power.

This thesis provides a new consideration of the late twelfth-century legal treatise commonly known as Glanvill. Detailed analysis of the extant Glanvill manuscripts has enabled a number of important new conclusions about the nature of the treatise itself and its textual history and development over time relative to the changing common law. The function and ongoing usage of the treatise are discussed in detail and conclusions are drawn about how, when and why the treatise continued to be copied and/or engaged with and what this may reveal about the history of the English common law. Some traditional views about the treatise and its textual history have been challenged, not least the general perception of its two textual traditions as monolithic. This study adds substantively to the scholarship on the two so-called 'versions' of the treatise, Glanvill Continued and Glanvill Revised, both of which have been reassessed. The traditional view that Glanvill Continued represented a significant and 'official' attempt at modernizing the treatise for a mid thirteenth-century audience has been challenged. In contrast, new study of the nature and text of Glanvill Revised has re-emphasized its importance in the treatise's history and the uniqueness of its bipartite revision and re-revision, differentiating and describing these clearly for the first time. An attempt has also been made to see the treatise in the context of the later legal literature that followed it and to link such literature back to Glanvill. It is suggested that the explosion of English legal literature in the thirteenth century at once represents the treatise's success as the written starting point of the common law and its failure, given that, with the notable exception of Bracton, such literature moves substantively away from the earlier treatise. Having said this, Glanvill arguably continued to play a role, direct and indirect, through the later literature of the law and continued to be copied, read and used alongside it. More systematic study has been undertaken of the Scottish text based upon Glanvill, the Regiam Majestatem, and it is argued that the Regiam is a much more genuine attempt at re-editing Glanvill than has traditionally been thought and that the twelfth-century English treatise may have been surprisingly applicable in early fourteenth-century Scotland. Finally, this study has involved a new assessment of the later history of Glanvill from the fifteenth century to today, considering both the later ownership and use of its manuscripts and early printed editions and its legal and political citations. Consideration of the varying function and usage of the treatise over time enables light to be thrown upon Glanvill, the later periods in which it was read and used and the beginnings of legal history.

This study seeks to disprove the reasons offered by previous scholars for the emergence of the first German grammar for the English, the High Dutch Minerva (1680), by considering biographical material on the author of this grammar, Martin Aedler (1643 - 1724), and placing the author and his work in their German and English social context. It operates on the hypothesis that Aedler, a native of Saxony, published his grammar in England for the use of the English intellectual  lite, but did so essentially to satisfy the patriotic imperatives of the German intelligentsia; namely, members of the language societies of pre—national Germany. Previous scholars have hypothesised about the emergence of the grammar based on English requirement for such a work, but have not drawn biographical material into their argument, and thus unwittingly ignored evidence suggesting influence by the language societies, and the desire to legitimate the German language for a new audience. This line of argument is conducted by means of the provision of a chapter considering the general attitudes to language learning and requirement for skills in German in England, then the interest of German intellectuals in England during the same period. This leads into a biography of Aedler in his milieu both in England and Germany. He is shown to have patriotic concerns, a high level of skill in languages and, above all, is invested in matters which he believes are for the "public good". Aedler's motive for writing the grammar are next considered: it is established here that while there is a great deal of evidence supporting an intended English readership, there is also evidence to suggest that Aedler wrote his work to be able to propagate German abroad, and to demonstrate it to be an economical and rational language, acceptable to the English. The following chapter demonstrates how Aedler conducted his defence of the language in terms of his selection of grammatical theory. The final chapter considers the reception of the High Dutch Minerva in England and Germany. This hypothesis is supported by previously unpublished manuscript correspondence and other documents, archival records, and the High Dutch Minerva itself.

Collecting recipes was an established tradition that continued in elite English households throughout the eighteenth century. This thesis is on medical recipes and advice, and it addresses the evolution of recipe collecting from the seventeenth century and throughout the eighteenth century. It investigates elite domestic medicine within a cultural history of medicine framework and uses social and material history approaches to reveal why elites continued to collect medical recipes, given the commercialisation of medicine. This thesis contends that the meaning of domestic medicine must be understood within a wider context of elite healthcare in order to appreciate how the recipe collecting tradition evolved alongside cultural shifts, and shifts within the medical economy. My re-appraisal of the meaning of domestic medicine gives elite healthcare a clearer role within the narrative of the social history of medicine. Elite healthcare was about choice. Wealthy individuals had economic agency in consumerism, and recipe compilers interacted with new sources of information and products; recipe books are evidence of this consumer engagement. In addition to being household objects, recipe books had cultural significance as heirlooms, and as objects of literacy, authority, and creativity. A crucial reason for the continuation of the recipe collecting tradition was due to its continued engagement with cultural attitudes towards social obligation, knowledge exchange, taste, and sociability as an intellectual pursuit. Positioning the household as an important space of creativity, experiment, and innovation, this thesis reinforces domestic medicine as an important part of the interconnected histories of science and medicine. This thesis moreover contributes to the social history of eighteenth-century England by demonstrating the central role domestic medicine had in elite healthcare, and reveals the elite reception of the commercialisation of medicine from a consumer perspective through an investigation of personal records of intellectual pastimes and patient experiences.

Orientador: Carlos Eduardo Ornelas Berriel
Dissertação (mestrado) - Universidade Estadual de Campinas, Instituto de Estudos da Linguagem
Made available in DSpace on 2018-08-24T21:54:37Z (GMT). No. of bitstreams: 1 Caixeta_BrunaPereira_M.pdf: 41483159 bytes, checksum: 9da2fe0848c5c1d54ac61022e851cefe (MD5) Previous issue date: 2014
Resumo: Alguns anos antes da deflagração da Revolução Inglesa de 1640, que na Inglaterra deporia o regime monárquico e daria aos puritanos o controle de um regime pretensamente republicano, ocorreria uma série de erros políticos que contribuiriam para os conflitos que levaram à Guerra Civil. Boa parte deles adveio da política pró-Espanha assumida pelos dois primeiros reis Stuart, Jaime I e Carlos I, que, entre outras ações, não apoiaram as classes protestantes nas suas empresas de comercialização e colonização de mercados no exterior, deixando a situação econômica do país negativa. Diante do iminente fenecimento do regime monárquico, da Igreja Anglicana alicerçada no sistema episcopal e de aliança ao Estado, do perigo da Inglaterra se tornar domínio espanhol, Francis Godwin compõe por volta de 1629, publicado seu texto em 1638, a ficção utópica "The Man in the Moone". Sumarizando todo o conflito religioso e os deslizes do governo dos primeiros Stuart que caracterizou a Inglaterra nos 40 primeiros anos do século XVII, o presente estudo objetivará mostrar que essa ficção do espanhol Domingo Gonsales na sua viagem à lua, na passagem pela fictícia ilha de Santa Helena e pela China ocupada por jesuítas, debatendo as teorias de Copérnico, Galileu, Gilbert e Kepler na área da astronomia, se pretendeu uma defesa e proteção da Igreja Anglicana e do regime monárquico Tudor que aliava a Igreja ao Estado e favorecia a economia. Através do exemplo disciplinado e inovador dos jesuítas em missão na China no início do século XVII, Godwin intentará advertir os confusos reis, que a saída para os conflitos internos e externos ingleses estava no livre desenvolvimento da ciência, do comércio, e, agora diferente dos jesuítas, numa política adversária à Espanha e à mentalidade medieval e obsoleta católica
Abstract: Some years before the outbreak of the English Revolution of 1640, testifying that in England the monarchy and the Puritans would control an allegedly republican regime, there were a series of errors that contribute to political conflicts that led to the Civil War. Most of them came from the pro-Spanish political assumed by the first two Stuart kings, James I and Charles I, who, among other things, did not support the Protestant classes in their trading enterprises and colonization of overseas markets, leaving the economic situation of the country negative. Faced with the imminent withering of the monarchy, the Anglican Episcopal Church founded on the alliance with the State, the danger of Britain becoming a Spanish colony, Francis Godwin composed around 1629 and his text published in 1638, the utopian fiction "The Man in the Moone". Summarizing all the religious conflict and glides early Stuart England that characterized the first 40 years of the seventeenth century, this study will aim to show that this fiction of Spanish Domingo Gonsales on your trip to the moon, in his passage by the fictional island of Santa Helena and China populated by Jesuits, debating the theories of Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler and Gilbert in the field of astronomy, sought a defense and protection of the Anglican Church and the Tudor monarchy that allied the Church to the State and favored the economy. Through disciplined and innovative example of the Jesuit mission in China in the early seventeenth century, Godwin will bring and warn the confused kings, that the output for the English internal and external conflicts was the investment in science, commerce, and now different from the Jesuits, in opposition to Spain and the Catholic medieval mentality and obsolete policy
Mestrado
Historia e Historiografia Literaria
Mestra em Teoria e História Literária