Articles de revues sur le sujet « Solomon' Palace »

AbstractReading 1 Kings 1-2, the account of the succession of Solomon, one is left with a strange impression. On the one hand, in its current telling and context it clearly seeks to offer a favourable account of the process. On the other hand, one just has to scratch the surface of this story to see an underlying and less favourable account. The paper notes the importance role that private conversations play in the story to argue that an earlier telling of the story was largely fabricated by a party opposed to the Davidic monarchy and Solomon in particular. According to this telling, a cloud stood over Solomon’s legitimacy; David was hoodwinked by Nathan and Bathsheba into believing that he had made an earlier promise that Solomon would succeed; Solomon came to the throne by means of a palace coup; Abishag was not David’s concubine and Adonijah’s request for her was quite innocent; however, his approach and private conversation with Bathsheba was manipulated by Solomon and his supporters to remove significant personal opponents.

Analysis of the story of David and Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 11:1–12:25 reveals that it possesses several layers. The report of the second Ammonite War, which represents the initial content of 2 Samuel 11:1–12:31 and serves as the basis of the original Bathsheba Affair story, glorified David as a great warrior and gracious king, who married the widow of his fallen-in-action officer, Uriah the Hittite, and adopted Uriah’s newborn son, Solomon. The later Bathsheba Affair story, written by a pro-Solomonic author during Solomon’s reign, introduced the arbitrary taking of Bathsheba, Uriah the Hittite’s wife, by David before her husband met a natural warrior’s death. According to this version, Bathsheba remained with David in his palace and conceived there. The story demonstrates that Solomon, Bathsheba’s firstborn child, was not Uriah’s son but rather, by claiming direct royal lineage to King David, was David’s legitimate successor to the Throne of Israel. The next three revisions of the story 1) introduced Nathan the Prophet’s accusations against David, presumed to have been written between the late ninth and late eighth centuries B.C.E. by a prophetic author; 2) replaced Solomon with a fictitious firstborn child, written by a Deuteronomistic writer in the exilic period; and 3) introduced David’s second transgression – the murder of Uriah – written by an anti-Davidic author in the post-exilic period.

Jerusalem has hosted many civilizations throughout its long history. Among these civilizations, Rome is one of the longest-lasting with 700 years. During the period when Jerusalem was ruled as a kingdom dependent on Rome, King Herod came to the fore with his devotion to Rome and the works he dedicated to his kingdom. King Herod was not just a manager/manager, but an engineer, city planner and entrepreneur. Knowing well the meaning it has for Jerusalem and the Jews, King Herod first built the larger and more magnificent Second Temple in Jerusalem, instead of the Temple built by King Solomon. In this way, Herod, who aimed to make the Jews happy and to get the support of his Jewish subjects, turned Jerusalem into a pilgrimage center. Herod, who had the Antonia Castle built in order to ensure the safety of the Holy Temple, had this castle built to have the characteristics of a palace. King Herod, who had his own palace built in the west of the city, displayed his fondness for luxury and splendor in this palace, as in all the palaces he had built. Adding entertainment structures such as the theater and hippodrome to the social life, Herod also showed his loyalty to Rome in the city he transformed into a Roman colony. King Herod's reign was a time of high economic prosperity for Jerusalem and its Jewish people. In addition, King Herod gained the title of "Great" with every building and project he signed and managed to write his name in history as Herod the Great.

1 Kings preserves a long and detailed description of the construction of a temple and palace in Jerusalem by King Solomon in the 10th century BCE. Previous generations of scholars accepted this description as an authentic account. Accordingly, much literature on this text and the relevant archeological discoveries has accumulated. Since the 1980s, skeptical approaches to the early part of the Kingdom of Judah, the biblical text, and the archaeological record have been expressed. Some scholars doubt whether any temple at all was constructed in Jerusalem in the 10th century BCE. In the last few years, the picture has been changed by new discoveries from two Judean sites: a building model of the early 10th century BCE from Khirbet Qeiyafa and an actual temple building of the 9th century BCE from Motza. In this article, we present the history of research, some aspects of the biblical text and the contribution of the new discoveries. These enable us to place in context both the biblical text and the building it describes.

Although it is generally thought that Muslims paid little attention to pre-Islamic antiquity, the Damascene scholar ʿAbd al-Ghanī al-Nābulusī visited and described the Roman ruins of Baalbek twice, in 1689 and 1700. He interpreted the site, however, not as a temple but as a palace built by jinns for Solomon. Nābulusī was very likely aware of the site's Roman past but purposefully played with its historicity to highlight Syria's innate sanctity. His interpretation of Baalbek reveals an antiquarian project in the Ottoman Empire that was constructed along variant but parallel lines to the better known one in Renaissance Europe.

<p>The aim of this article is to analyse the issues related to a political upheaval as a form of the succession of royal power in the monarchy of united Israel in the period that started during the reign of the first king of the Hebrews – Saul – till the last years David spent on the throne. During the period analysed in this article, there were several unsuccessful attempts to seize power through a political coup. Due to the fact that the inheritance based on the principle of primogeniture was never unambiguously introduced in the Kingdom of Israel, the most serious upheaval, described as a palace revolution, took place at the end of King David’s life. As a result, the younger son of David – Solomon – ascended to Israel’s throne, despite the fact that there were no legitimate grounds for him to take power.</p>

The synagogue in Bevis Marks in the city of London, 1700-1, is the oldest in this country. The second is in Plymouth, in Catherine Street. It was built in 1762, and is the oldest Ashkenazi synagogue in the English-speaking world. It is noteworthy for its original furnishings, which are mainly austere—the deal benches, and plain turned balusters for the enclosures, with the eight brass candle-sticks, now electrified, round the bimah. The exception is the ornately carved wooden ark, towering almost to the ceiling, with large urns on the entablature, which is supported by Corinthian columns. It is mortifying to the Hebrew congregation that its existence is mostly known not for its historic and architectural importance, but in connection with the defection of one of its ministers, Michael Solomon Alexander, in 1825. A little more than sixteen years later, Alexander was consecrated for the newly constituted Jerusalem bishopric, on 7 December 1841, in Lambeth Palace Chapel. Archbishop Howley was joined in the laying on of hands by Blomfield of London, Murray of Rochester, and Selwyn of New Zealand, who had been consecrated in the same chapel three weeks before.

The article deals with the formation of sacred music by Christians in the early Middle Ages. Basing on the historical sources and scientific literature, the authors show a connection between the musical traditions of Rome, the Western Goths of Spain and the empire of Charlemagne. The teaching of professional church singers, the birth of Mass, the complexity of the musical pattern of Christian singing, the educational ideas of Isidore of Seville and Alcuin of York, the metriz school timely opened by Christian mentors – all of it contributed to the formation of the early medieval educational process. Alcuin is the author of many (about 380) Latin instructive, panegyric, hagiographic, and liturgical poems (among the most famous are The Cuckoo (lat. De cuculo) and The Primate and Saints of the York Church (lat. De pontificibus et sanctis Ecclesiae Eboracensis )). Alcuin also wrote puzzles in poetry and prose. Alkuin conducted the extensive correspondence (with Charles the Great, Anguilbert, Pope Leo III and many others, a total of 232 letters to various people); Alcuin's letters are an important source on the history of the Carolingian society. At the Palace Academy, Alquin taught trivium and quadrivia elements; in his work On True Philosophy, he restored the scheme of the seven liberal arts, following Kassiodor’s parallel between the seven arts and the seven pillars of the temple of Wisdom of Solomon. He compiled textbooks on various subjects (some in a dialogical form). The Art of Grammar (lat. Ars grammatica) and the Slovene of the Most Noble Young Man Pipin with Albin Scholastic (Lat. Disputatio regalis et nobilissimi juvenis Pippini cum Albino scholastico) became very famous. Alcuin’s textbooks on dialectics, dogmatics, rhetoric, and liturgy are also known.

В статье уточняется атрибуция двух тронных кресел («алмазного трона» и «костяного трона») из собрания Оружейной палаты, датировка и происхождение которых до настоящего времени не были точно установлены. Материалами послужили сами изучаемые предметы мебели, архивные источники, опубликованная документация дворцовых приказов и Архива Оружейной Палаты, коронационные альбомы, а также результаты предшествовавших исследований. Выявлены обстоятельства появления «алмазного трона» в кремлевской сокровищнице, сделан вывод о датировке его создания XV–XVI вв. и первоначальном изготовлении работавшими в Иране европейскими мастерами. Появление «костяного трона» датируется периодом не ранее 1621 г. На основе источников первой половины XVII в. описывается подобный объект – «большой костяной стул», предполагается, что два данных предмета фактически являются одним и тем же артефактом, восходящим к XIV в. и за время своего бытования пережившим множественные реконструкции и изменения. The study aims to clarify the attribution of two throne chairs (“diamond throne” and “ivory throne”), which are part of the collection of the Kremlin Armoury, since their dating and origin are still objects of scientific discussion. The materials used were the furniture items themselves, documents from the Russian State Archive of Ancient Acts, published documents of palace orders and the Armoury Archive, coronation albums, as well as the results of previous historical, art history and museological studies conducted by various scientists during almost two hundred years. The author for the first time considers the studied artifacts as objects of furniture art, using the method of stylistic analysis, the comparative method, research methods used in source studies and specialized auxiliary scientific disciplines, as well as methods and techniques for establishing the text. The author substantiates the dating of the appearance of Alexei Mikhailovich’s throne chair in the Kremlin Treasury, reveals the name of the person who ordered the throne and the role of persons involved in donating the throne chair. The author analyzes references to the chair in the coronation albums and in later studies containing the image of the subject. The exhibit is considered from the point of view of the development of furniture art: the author examines its shape, decorations, miniatures placed on its body, and the dedicatory inscription. The author infers that the throne chair dates back to the 15th–16th centuries, its original manufacturers were European masters working in Persia, and that new elements were added to the decor in a later period. Analyzing the ivory throne, the author draws an analogy between this throne and the throne of Maximianus of Ravenna (6th century), tracing the two chairs back to the legendary throne of King Solomon. Based on the analysis of the decor details, the author argues that the ivory throne appeared no earlier than in 1621. She hypothesizes that the throne has a Russian origin. The author describes the decoration of the throne and proves the idea that it was not the only piece of furniture decorated with ivory decor in the royal treasury. Based on the sources of the first half of the 17th century, the author describes a similar object – a “large ivory chair”, indicates the details that distinguish it from the ivory throne. She assumes that these two items are actually the same artifact dating back to the 14th century, which, during its existence, survived multiple reconstructions and changes, and took its final shape in the 1830s.

In a thought-provoking paper presented at a conference in London in 2003, Oliver Leaman raised the problem of the all-too-sudden conversion of the Queen of Sheba as mentioned in Q. 27:44. Leaman's suggested solution to the problem was that the queen, probably analogising from her mistake of regarding the glass for water, concluded that she was mistaken, too, in regarding idolatry as the right religion. Taking a line of interpretation different from Leaman's, this paper argues that Q. 27:44 represents not a moment of ‘illumination’ leading to sudden conversion on the queen's part but a logical culmination of a process of change of heart the queen had been undergoing long before her visit to Solomon's palace. The paper is divided into four sections. The first section summarises the conversion passage in Sura 27; the second section discusses, with reference to the argument of this paper, the conversion of Pharaoh's magicians in Sura 20; the third section compares the Qur'anic account of the Queen of Sheba with the Biblical; the final section offers brief remarks about the Qur'anic mode of reasoning, an ancillary issue which the queen's conversion seems to raise.

AbstractThe painter Mattheus Terwesten, much esteemed in his own day, and highly praised by Van Gool, was born in 1670 in The Hague. He was taught by his older brother Augustinus, Willem Doudyns and Daniel Mytens. In 1695 he travelled by way of Berlin, where Augustinus was court painter, to Rome, where he became a member of the Bentyvueghels, who nicknamed him 'Arend' (eagle). Back in Berlin in 1698, he was commissioned by the Elector to design two ceilings for the palace in Charlottenburg. From 1699 on, apart from a brief sojourn in Berlin as court painter in 1710, he lived in The Hague. Many of his patrons were prominent members of the regent class. Terwesten continued to paint until a ripe old age; throughout his life he was an active member of the Pictura Confrerie and the Hague Academy. He died in 1757. The Rijksprcntenkabinet possesses a biography written by his son Pieter, based on the painter's own notes. The carliest known work is a Liberation of Andromeda in the Herzog Anton Ulrich-Museum in Brunswick, dated 1697 Berlin', a combination of location and year that cannot be correct. The ceilings painted by Augustinus and Mattheus for Charlottenburg have been lost; since 1977 however, the palace again contains four large paintings by Mattheus with scenes from the story of Aeneas and Dido, one of them signed and dated 1702. Preparatory studies, as part of a series of twelve drawings, are in the Rijksprentenkabinct in Amsterdam. The paintings probably belong to the series of twelve pieces devoted to Aeneas which Mattheus, according to Pieter's manuscript, painted in 1702 for the house of Van der Straaten in the Hoogstraat, The Hague. Terwesten's most ambitious ceiling is the cupola of Fagel, a combination of painting and painted stucco, done in collaboration with the flower painter Gaspar Peeter Verbrugghen. Restoration of the old town hall of The Hague in 1974 revealed a ceiling painted by Terwesten in 1737. ln the Drents Provinciaal Museum in Assen is a Terwestcn ceiling, regarded as an anonymous work, which has been established as coming from 22, Hooglandse Kerkgracht in Leiden. Terwesten rarely received church commissions; an exception is an altarpiece, the Transfiguration, for the Old Catholic church in the Juffrouw Idastraat, The Hague. His later works, like Solomon's first judgment in the town hall of Monster, are characterized by a certain rigidity. This also applies to an Allegory on peace, catalogued as an anonymous painting, in the Mauritshuis in The Hague, which may be attributed to Terwesten. Mattheus Terwesten not only carried out commissions but painted for the open market as well. In view of the relatively large number of religious works listed in the catalogue of his estate, which was auctioned in 1757, there seems to have been a market for biblical scenes. His paintings of children or putti at play were very popular. Many of them have been erroneously attributed over the years: an Allegory on spring in the museum at Tarbes and an Allegory on spring in the Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen in Munich arc attributed to Augustinus Terwesten. Mattheus Terwesten collaborated with various flower painters, in keeping with a Flemish tradition to which he had been introduced by Gaspar Peeter Verbrugghen, who came from Antwerp. After Verbrugghen left The Haguc (in 1732), Terwesten worked with Pieter Hardimé and Coenraet Roepel, who later taught his son Pieter. Terwesten's decorative and later somewhat mechanical style catered to the taste of the wealthy citizens of his day. It is in this light that his works mcrit attention.

This study aims to shed light on the role of Solomon ben Nathan Ashkenazi, an Ottoman Jewish physician, in Ottoman diplomacy. Despite being a German-born Jew and practicing medicine for several years, Ashkenazi played a crucial part in Ottoman relations with Venice and Poland after arriving in Istanbul. The study explores how Ashkenazi, a physician by profession, attained the position of diplomat and examines the reasons behind his involvement in Ottoman foreign relations. While it is common for Ottoman Jewish physicians to be involved in Ottoman foreign affairs, Ashkenazi's example provides valuable insight into the mechanisms and motivations behind their participation in Ottoman diplomacy. The study shows that Jewish physicians in the Ottoman Empire contributed to Ottoman medicine with their medical expertise and played a significant role in bridging the gap in Ottoman-European relations with their diplomatic skills.

Introduction Cookbooks are an exceptional written record of what is largely an oral tradition. They have been described as “magician’s hats” due to their ability to reveal much more than they seem to contain (Wheaton, “Finding”). The first book printed in Germany was the Guttenberg Bible in 1456 but, by 1490, printing was introduced into almost every European country (Tierney). The spread of literacy between 1500 and 1800, and the rise in silent reading, helped to create a new private sphere into which the individual could retreat, seeking refuge from the community (Chartier). This new technology had its effects in the world of cookery as in so many spheres of culture (Mennell, All Manners). Trubek notes that cookbooks are the texts most often used by culinary historians, since they usually contain all the requisite materials for analysing a cuisine: ingredients, method, technique, and presentation. Printed cookbooks, beginning in the early modern period, provide culinary historians with sources of evidence of the culinary past. Historians have argued that social differences can be expressed by the way and type of food we consume. Cookbooks are now widely accepted as valid socio-cultural and historic documents (Folch, Sherman), and indeed the link between literacy levels and the protestant tradition has been expressed through the study of Danish cookbooks (Gold). From Apicius, Taillevent, La Varenne, and Menon to Bradley, Smith, Raffald, Acton, and Beeton, how can both manuscript and printed cookbooks be analysed as historic documents? What is the difference between a manuscript and a printed cookbook? Barbara Ketchum Wheaton, who has been studying cookbooks for over half a century and is honorary curator of the culinary collection in Harvard’s Schlesinger Library, has developed a methodology to read historic cookbooks using a structured approach. For a number of years she has been giving seminars to scholars from multidisciplinary fields on how to read historic cookbooks. This paper draws on the author’s experiences attending Wheaton’s seminar in Harvard, and on supervising the use of this methodology at both Masters and Doctoral level (Cashman; Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Manuscripts versus Printed Cookbooks A fundamental difference exists between manuscript and printed cookbooks in their relationship with the public and private domain. Manuscript cookbooks are by their very essence intimate, relatively unedited and written with an eye to private circulation. Culinary manuscripts follow the diurnal and annual tasks of the household. They contain recipes for cures and restoratives, recipes for cleansing products for the house and the body, as well as the expected recipes for cooking and preserving all manners of food. Whether manuscript or printed cookbook, the recipes contained within often act as a reminder of how laborious the production of food could be in the pre-industrialised world (White). Printed cookbooks draw oxygen from the very fact of being public. They assume a “literate population with sufficient discretionary income to invest in texts that commodify knowledge” (Folch). This process of commoditisation brings knowledge from the private to the public sphere. There exists a subset of cookbooks that straddle this divide, for example, Mrs. Rundell’s A New System of Domestic Cookery (1806), which brought to the public domain her distillation of a lifetime of domestic experience. Originally intended for her daughters alone, Rundell’s book was reprinted regularly during the nineteenth century with the last edition printed in 1893, when Mrs. Beeton had been enormously popular for over thirty years (Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s Structured Approach Cookbooks can be rewarding, surprising and illuminating when read carefully with due effort in understanding them as cultural artefacts. However, Wheaton notes that: “One may read a single old cookbook and find it immensely entertaining. One may read two and begin to find intriguing similarities and differences. When the third cookbook is read, one’s mind begins to blur, and one begins to sense the need for some sort of method in approaching these documents” (“Finding”). Following decades of studying cookbooks from both sides of the Atlantic and writing a seminal text on the French at table from 1300-1789 (Wheaton, Savouring the Past), this combined experience negotiating cookbooks as historical documents was codified, and a structured approach gradually articulated and shared within a week long seminar format. In studying any cookbook, regardless of era or country of origin, the text is broken down into five different groupings, to wit: ingredients; equipment or facilities; the meal; the book as a whole; and, finally, the worldview. A particular strength of Wheaton’s seminars is the multidisciplinary nature of the approaches of students who attend, which throws the study of cookbooks open to wide ranging techniques. Students with a purely scientific training unearth interesting patterns by developing databases of the frequency of ingredients or techniques, and cross referencing them with other books from similar or different timelines or geographical regions. Patterns are displayed in graphs or charts. Linguists offer their own unique lens to study cookbooks, whereas anthropologists and historians ask what these objects can tell us about how our ancestors lived and drew meaning from life. This process is continuously refined, and each grouping is discussed below. Ingredients The geographic origins of the ingredients are of interest, as is the seasonality and the cost of the foodstuffs within the scope of each cookbook, as well as the sensory quality both separately and combined within different recipes. In the medieval period, the use of spices and large joints of butchers meat and game were symbols of wealth and status. However, when the discovery of sea routes to the New World and to the Far East made spices more available and affordable to the middle classes, the upper classes spurned them. Evidence from culinary manuscripts in Georgian Ireland, for example, suggests that galangal was more easily available in Dublin during the eighteenth century than in the mid-twentieth century. A new aesthetic, articulated by La Varenne in his Le Cuisinier Francois (1651), heralded that food should taste of itself, and so exotic ingredients such as cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger were replaced by the local bouquet garni, and stocks and sauces became the foundations of French haute cuisine (Mac Con Iomaire). Some combinations of flavours and ingredients were based on humoral physiology, a long held belief system based on the writings of Hippocrates and Galen, now discredited by modern scientific understanding. The four humors are blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm. It was believed that each of these humors would wax and wane in the body, depending on diet and activity. Galen (131-201 AD) believed that warm food produced yellow bile and that cold food produced phlegm. It is difficult to fathom some combinations of ingredients or the manner of service without comprehending the contemporary context within they were consumeSome ingredients found in Roman cookbooks, such as “garum” or “silphium” are no longer available. It is suggested that the nearest substitute for garum also known as “liquamen”—a fermented fish sauce—would be Naam Plaa, or Thai fish sauce (Grainger). Ingredients such as tea and white bread, moved from the prerogative of the wealthy over time to become the staple of the urban poor. These ingredients, therefore, symbolise radically differing contexts during the seventeenth century than in the early twentieth century. Indeed, there are other ingredients such as hominy (dried maize kernel treated with alkali) or grahams (crackers made from graham flour) found in American cookbooks that require translation to the unacquainted non-American reader. There has been a growing number of food encyclopaedias published in recent years that assist scholars in identifying such commodities (Smith, Katz, Davidson). The Cook’s Workplace, Techniques, and Equipment It is important to be aware of the type of kitchen equipment used, the management of heat and cold within the kitchen, and also the gradual spread of the industrial revolution into the domestic sphere. Visits to historic castles such as Hampton Court Palace where nowadays archaeologists re-enact life below stairs in Tudor times give a glimpse as to how difficult and labour intensive food production was. Meat was spit-roasted in front of huge fires by spit boys. Forcemeats and purees were manually pulped using mortar and pestles. Various technological developments including spit-dogs, and mechanised pulleys, replaced the spit boys, the most up to date being the mechanised rotisserie. The technological advancements of two hundred years can be seen in the Royal Pavilion in Brighton where Marie-Antoinin Carême worked for the Prince Regent in 1816 (Brighton Pavilion), but despite the gleaming copper pans and high ceilings for ventilation, the work was still back breaking. Carême died aged forty-nine, “burnt out by the flame of his genius and the fumes of his ovens” (Ackerman 90). Mennell points out that his fame outlived him, resting on his books: Le Pâtissier Royal Parisien (1815); Le Pâtissier Pittoresque (1815); Le Maître d’Hôtel Français (1822); Le Cuisinier Parisien (1828); and, finally, L’Art de la Cuisine Française au Dix-Neuvième Siècle (1833–5), which was finished posthumously by his student Pluméry (All Manners). Mennell suggests that these books embody the first paradigm of professional French cuisine (in Kuhn’s terminology), pointing out that “no previous work had so comprehensively codified the field nor established its dominance as a point of reference for the whole profession in the way that Carême did” (All Manners 149). The most dramatic technological changes came after the industrial revolution. Although there were built up ovens available in bakeries and in large Norman households, the period of general acceptance of new cooking equipment that enclosed fire (such as the Aga stove) is from c.1860 to 1910, with gas ovens following in c.1910 to the 1920s) and Electricity from c.1930. New food processing techniques dates are as follows: canning (1860s), cooling and freezing (1880s), freeze drying (1950s), and motorised delivery vans with cooking (1920s–1950s) (den Hartog). It must also be noted that the supply of fresh food, and fish particularly, radically improved following the birth, and expansion of, the railways. To understand the context of the cookbook, one needs to be aware of the limits of the technology available to the users of those cookbooks. For many lower to middle class families during the twentieth century, the first cookbook they would possess came with their gas or electrical oven. Meals One can follow cooked dishes from the kitchen to the eating place, observing food presentation, carving, sequencing, and serving of the meal and table etiquette. Meal times and structure changed over time. During the Middle Ages, people usually ate two meals a day: a substantial dinner around noon and a light supper in the evening (Adamson). Some of the most important factors to consider are the manner in which meals were served: either à la française or à la russe. One of the main changes that occurred during the nineteenth century was the slow but gradual transfer from service à la française to service à la russe. From medieval times to the middle of the nineteenth century the structure of a formal meal was not by “courses”—as the term is now understood—but by “services”. Each service could comprise of a choice of dishes—both sweet and savoury—from which each guest could select what appealed to him or her most (Davidson). The philosophy behind this form of service was the forementioned humoral physiology— where each diner chose food based on the four humours of blood, yellow bile, black bile, or phlegm. Also known as le grand couvert, the à la française method made it impossible for the diners to eat anything that was beyond arm’s length (Blake, and Crewe). Smooth service, however, was the key to an effective à la russe dinner since servants controlled the flow of food (Eatwell). The taste and temperature of food took centre stage with the à la russe dinner as each course came in sequence. Many historic cookbooks offer table plans illustrating the suggested arrangement of dishes on a table for the à la française style of service. Many of these dishes might be re-used in later meals, and some dishes such as hashes and rissoles often utilised left over components of previous meals. There is a whole genre of cookbooks informing the middle class cooks how to be frugal and also how to emulate haute cuisine using cheaper or ersatz ingredients. The number dining and the manner in which they dined also changed dramatically over time. From medieval to Tudor times, there might be hundreds dining in large banqueting halls. By the Elizabethan age, a small intimate room where master and family dined alone replaced the old dining hall where master, servants, guests, and travellers had previously dined together (Spencer). Dining tables remained portable until the 1780s when tables with removable leaves were devised. By this time, the bread trencher had been replaced by one made of wood, or plate of pewter or precious metal in wealthier houses. Hosts began providing knives and spoons for their guests by the seventeenth century, with forks also appearing but not fully accepted until the eighteenth century (Mason). These silver utensils were usually marked with the owner’s initials to prevent their theft (Flandrin). Cookbooks as Objects and the World of Publishing A thorough examination of the manuscript or printed cookbook can reveal their physical qualities, including indications of post-publication history, the recipes and other matter in them, as well as the language, organization, and other individual qualities. What can the quality of the paper tell us about the book? Is there a frontispiece? Is the book dedicated to an employer or a patron? Does the author note previous employment history in the introduction? In his Court Cookery, Robert Smith, for example, not only mentions a number of his previous employers, but also outlines that he was eight years working with Patrick Lamb in the Court of King William, before revealing that several dishes published in Lamb’s Royal Cookery (1710) “were never made or practis’d (sic) by him and others are extreme defective and imperfect and made up of dishes unknown to him; and several of them more calculated at the purses than the Gôut of the guests”. Both Lamb and Smith worked for the English monarchy, nobility, and gentry, but produced French cuisine. Not all Britons were enamoured with France, however, with, for example Hannah Glasse asserting “if gentlemen will have French cooks, they must pay for French tricks” (4), and “So much is the blind folly of this age, that they would rather be imposed on by a French Booby, than give encouragement to an good English cook” (ctd. in Trubek 60). Spencer contextualises Glasse’s culinary Francophobia, explaining that whilst she was writing the book, the Jacobite army were only a few days march from London, threatening to cut short the Hanoverian lineage. However, Lehmann points out that whilst Glasse was overtly hostile to French cuisine, she simultaneously plagiarised its receipts. Based on this trickling down of French influences, Mennell argues that “there is really no such thing as a pure-bred English cookery book” (All Manners 98), but that within the assimilation and simplification, a recognisable English style was discernable. Mennell also asserts that Glasse and her fellow women writers had an enormous role in the social history of cooking despite their lack of technical originality (“Plagiarism”). It is also important to consider the place of cookbooks within the history of publishing. Albala provides an overview of the immense outpouring of dietary literature from the printing presses from the 1470s. He divides the Renaissance into three periods: Period I Courtly Dietaries (1470–1530)—targeted at the courtiers with advice to those attending banquets with many courses and lots of wine; Period II The Galenic Revival (1530–1570)—with a deeper appreciation, and sometimes adulation, of Galen, and when scholarship took centre stage over practical use. Finally Period III The Breakdown of Orthodoxy (1570–1650)—when, due to the ambiguities and disagreements within and between authoritative texts, authors were freer to pick the ideas that best suited their own. Nutrition guides were consistent bestsellers, and ranged from small handbooks written in the vernacular for lay audiences, to massive Latin tomes intended for practicing physicians. Albala adds that “anyone with an interest in food appears to have felt qualified to pen his own nutritional guide” (1). Would we have heard about Mrs. Beeton if her husband had not been a publisher? How could a twenty-five year old amass such a wealth of experience in household management? What role has plagiarism played in the history of cookbooks? It is interesting to note that a well worn copy of her book (Beeton) was found in the studio of Francis Bacon and it is suggested that he drew inspiration for a number of his paintings from the colour plates of animal carcasses and butcher’s meat (Dawson). Analysing the post-publication usage of cookbooks is valuable to see the most popular recipes, the annotations left by the owner(s) or user(s), and also if any letters, handwritten recipes, or newspaper clippings are stored within the leaves of the cookbook. The Reader, the Cook, the Eater The physical and inner lives and needs and skills of the individuals who used cookbooks and who ate their meals merit consideration. Books by their nature imply literacy. Who is the book’s audience? Is it the cook or is it the lady of the house who will dictate instructions to the cook? Numeracy and measurement is also important. Where clocks or pocket watches were not widely available, authors such as seventeenth century recipe writer Sir Kenelm Digby would time his cooking by the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. Literacy amongst protestant women to enable them to read the Bible, also enabled them to read cookbooks (Gold). How did the reader or eater’s religion affect the food practices? Were there fast days? Were there substitute foods for fast days? What about special occasions? Do historic cookbooks only tell us about the food of the middle and upper classes? It is widely accepted today that certain cookbook authors appeal to confident cooks, while others appeal to competent cooks, and others still to more cautious cooks (Bilton). This has always been the case, as has the differentiation between the cookbook aimed at the professional cook rather than the amateur. Historically, male cookbook authors such as Patrick Lamb (1650–1709) and Robert Smith targeted the professional cook market and the nobility and gentry, whereas female authors such as Eliza Acton (1799–1859) and Isabella Beeton (1836–1865) often targeted the middle class market that aspired to emulate their superiors’ fashions in food and dining. How about Tavern or Restaurant cooks? When did they start to put pen to paper, and did what they wrote reflect the food they produced in public eateries? Conclusions This paper has offered an overview of Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s methodology for reading historic cookbooks using a structured approach. It has highlighted some of the questions scholars and researchers might ask when faced with an old cookbook, regardless of era or geographical location. By systematically examining the book under the headings of ingredients; the cook’s workplace, techniques and equipment; the meals; cookbooks as objects and the world of publishing; and reader, cook and eater, the scholar can perform magic and extract much more from the cookbook than seems to be there on first appearance. References Ackerman, Roy. The Chef's Apprentice. London: Headline, 1988. Adamson, Melitta Weiss. Food in Medieval Times. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood P, 2004. Albala, Ken. Eating Right in the Renaissance. Ed. Darra Goldstein. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Beeton, Isabella. Beeton's Book of Household Management. London: S. Beeton, 1861. 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