Depicting Characters and danced Narratives: Handel, 'The Italian troupe', and Marie Sallé

Handel’s London career afforded opportunities for responding to dancers working in distinct styles of movement—most notably the Italian troupe resident at the King’s Theatre in 1726-27, and Marie Sallé at Covent Garden in 1734-35. By studying the dances from Admeto (1727) and Ariodante (1735), this paper will explore Handel's response to the serious and grotesque styles, as well as to the character and narrative modes.

Religion, anti-slavery, and identity: Irish Presbyterians, the United States, and transatlantic evangelicalism, c. 1820-1914

Scholars have devoted much attention to the causes and consequences of Presbyterian emigration from Ulster to the thirteen colonies before 1776. This article moves beyond the eighteenth century to examine the continued religious links between Presbyterians in Ireland and the United States in the nineteenth century. It begins with an examination of the influence of evangelicalism on both sides of the Atlantic and how this promoted unity in denominational identity, missionary activity to convert Catholics, and revivalist religion during the first half of the century. Though Irish Presbyterians had great affection for their American co-religionists, they were not uncritical, and significant tensions did develop over slavery. The article then examines the religious character of Scotch-Irish or Ulster-Scots identity in the late nineteenth century, which was articulated in response to the alleged demoralising influence of large-scale Irish immigration during and after the Famine of the 1840s, the so-called Romanisation of Catholicism, and the threat of Home Rule in Ireland. The importance of identity politics should not obscure religious developments, and the article ends with a consideration of the origins and character of fundamentalism, perhaps one of the most important cultural connections between Protestants in Northern Ireland and the United States in the twentieth century.

Swift and Conversational Culture

Swift often noted his aversion to coffee-house conversation and to tavern talk, to gossip and company, and to being buried in Dublin in the years of his Deanship. Yet the popular myth of a morose, unsociable Swift belies both his engagement with various literary and political clubs in his early career and his participation in collaborative and experimental poetic games in his Dublin circles. This essay considers Swift’s involvement with three clubs in London (the Saturday Club, the Brothers’ Club, and the Scriblerians) and his writings on a number of fictional clubs (the Athenian Society, the Calves-Head Club, and a putative Society for the correction of the English language). While Swift wrote very little of his experience of actual clubs, the latter three, in addition to the Scriblerian Club as an imagined, rather than actual clubs, resulted in a number of defining poems and works in his career. When Swift settled in Dublin, poetry written and exchanged in a number of sociable circles characterised much of his published verse and gave glimpses of the circles and informal clubs which he formed among friends there. Although these poems are often dismissed as ‘trifles’, the essay argues that the poems are crucial for our understandings of ‘conversational culture’ or sociability in Swift’s Dublin.

Transitional Justice: Origins, Boundaries and Methods in Transitional Justice

Scholars and practitioners working in ‘transitional justice’ are concerned with remedies of accountability and redress in the aftermath of conflict and state repression. Transitional justice, it is argued, provides recognition of the rights of victims, promotes civic trust, and strengthens the democratic rule of law. As serious scholarship flourishes around this critical concept as never before, this new collection from Routledge meets the need for an authoritative reference work to map a vibrant site of research and reflection. In four volumes, Transitional Justice brings together foundational and the best and most influential cutting-edge materials, including key works produced before the term ‘transitional justice’ gained wide currency but which anticipate approaches now included under that rubric.

The collection covers themes such as: truth and history; acknowledgement, reconciliation, and forgiveness; retribution, restorative justice and reparations; and democracy, state-building, identity, and civil society

Childhood, Rights and Justice in Northern Ireland

Building on primary research and previous publications (Haydon, 2012; Haydon, 2014; Haydon and Scraton, 2008; McAlister, Scraton and Haydon, 2009; Scraton and Haydon, 2002), this chapter will provide a critical analysis of children’s rights and youth justice in Northern Ireland. More broadly, it will consider recent research concerning the criminalisation of children and young people in the United Kingdom and profound concerns regarding the policing and regulation of children raised in successive concluding observations about the UK Government’s implementation of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, 1995, 2002, 2008). From this generic context, the chapter will map the ‘particular circumstances’ of Northern Ireland - a discrete legal jurisdiction to which powers for justice and policing were devolved only in 2010. Emerging from four decades of conflict and progressing through an uneasy ‘peace’, rights-based institutions and enabling legislation have, in principle, promoted and protected human rights. Yet children and young people living in communities marginalised by poverty and the legacy of conflict continue to experience inconsistent formal regulation by the police and the criminal justice system, while enduring often brutal informal regulation by paramilitaries. The chapter will explore evident tensions between the dynamics of criminalisation and promotion/ protection of children’s rights in a society transitioning from conflict. Further, it will analyse the challenges to securing children’s rights principles and provisions within a hostile political and ideological context, arguing for a critical rights-based agenda that promotes social justice through rights compliance together with policies and practices that address the structural inequalities faced by children and young people.

Gender and Material Culture in Britain since 1600

What does material culture tell us about gendered identities and how does gender reveal the meaning of spaces and things?

If we look at the objects that we own, covet and which surround us in our everyday culture, there is a clear connection between ideas about gender and the material world. This book explores the material culture of the past to shed light on historical experiences and identities. Some essays focus on specific objects, such as an eighteenth-century jug or a twentieth-century powder puff, others on broader material environments, such as the sixteenth-century guild or the interior of a twentieth-century pub, while still others focus on the paraphernalia associated with certain actions, such as letter-writing or maintaining eighteenth-century men's hair.

Written by scholars in a range of history-related disciplines, the essays in this book offer exposés of current research methods and interests. These demonstrate to students how a relationship between material culture and gender is being addressed, while also revealing a variety of intellectual approaches and topics.

Northern Ireland: Religion and Transitional Justice

The right to practice religion is recognised as one of the universal liberties transitional justice interventions are designed to defend, and religion is often mentioned as one of the cultural factors that impact on local transitional justice practices from below. Many human rights cases of abuse, however, are motivated by religious extremism and the association of religion with conflict has largely a discouraged reflection on its positive contribution to transitional justice. This field is undeveloped and the little work that elaborates its positive role is descriptive. This paper theorises the relationship between religion and transitional justice and develops a model for understanding its potential role that better allows an assessment of its strengths and weaknesses. The model is applied to original research conducted on ex-combatants in Northern Ireland, and concludes that only in very limited circumstances can religious actors make a telling contribution to transitional justice.Understanding what these circumstances are is the purpose of the model developed here.

In the Shadows of the Old Town: Thomas Anna and 19th-century Glasgow

In 1858, a volume entitled Midnight Scenes and Social Photographs – being sketches of life in the streets, wynds and dens of the city of Glasgow was published under the pseudonym of ‘Shadow’ by Alexander Brown, a Glaswegian flâneur and reformer. Its frontispiece is an etching which depicts a theatre-like proscenium arch whose curtains have been withdrawn to reveal to the audience all the poverty, destitution and disorder that one was likely to find after dark in the insalubrious quarters of the city. At the extreme left-hand side, partly obscured by the curtain a silhouetted figure stands behind an unwieldy camera perched on a tripod. Distinctly unaffected by the mêlée, an arm is calmly raised and a finger precisely arched in the moment before the shutter is clicked and the scene committed to record. The volume, however, relies exclusively on textual descriptions to evoke the underside of the city and contains no photographs at all. Instead, the use of the word photograph in the title can be understood as a metaphor for detached scientific objectivity, a quality much celebrated by nineteenth-century reformers and investigators of social ills. As it happened, a decade after Shadow disappeared into the labyrinthine back-lands of Old Town Glasgow, he was followed there by a real photographer. In 1868, Thomas Annan was commissioned by the City Improvements Trust to take photographs of the Old Town in its last moments of existence before it was pulled down under a series of legislative acts. But perhaps paradoxically, given Shadow’s faith in the analytical properties of photography, Annan’s work seems to refute much of the material contained in Midnight Scenes and other similar tracts. Instead of the dens, shebeens, labyrinths and rowdy crowds described by Shadow, Annan’s depictions of the Old Town convey a static, calm environment, one which is often sparsely inhabited by a curious but apparently orderly population.

Taking account of the sensational tendencies of many reformists’ texts, this paper investigates the discrepancies between the two representations, focussing in particular on the constraints which operated on Annan during his commission. It argues that Annan’s compositions – which became very influential on other 19th century photographers of everyday life such as John Thomson or Jacob Riis – far from being dispassionate analytical works, emerged as a result of a matrix of factors which included: photographic and artistic precedents; Annan’s own predilections as a photographer; technological limitations; the nature of the commission from the City Improvements Trust and political climate in which it was given; the medieval urban fabric in which he had to operate; and, perhaps, most importantly, the identity of the Old Towns inhabitants themselves.

The Dublin Lock Hospital: Medicine, Morality, Disease and Sin

Anecdotal evidence has it that when Dublin’s venereal disease hospital closed its doors for the last time in the 1950s, its administrative staff began to burn its records, starting with the most recent. This attempt to conceal the results of sexual profligacy is perhaps understandable in the rarefied climate of mid-century Catholic Ireland. However, the sense of shame attached to this institution has been pervasive. For example, of all Dublin’s major hospitals, the lock hospital remains the only one without a dedicated history. And, throughout its two centuries of existence, the ‘lock’ had often been a site of controversy and approbation.

The institution began in the eighteenth century as the most peripatetic, poor relation of the city’s voluntary hospitals, wandering indiscriminately through a series of temporary premises before finally achieving a permanent home and official recognition as a military-sponsored medical hospital in 1792. It also gained architectural extensions by both Richard and Francis Johnston and in the following decades. This new-found status and a growing re-conceptualisation of venereal disease as a legitimate medical problem rather than a matter of morality was, however, somewhat compromised by the choice of site at Townsend Street. The institution occupied a hidden part of city, appropriating the vacated home of the Hospital for Incurables, another marginalised group whose presence in the city had been viewed through the lens of superstition and fear. For the rest of its existence, the lock hospital would share this experience occupying a nebulous position between medicine and morality; disease and sin.

Using what’s left of the hospital’s records and a series of original architectural drawings, this paper discusses the presence and role of the lock hospital in the city in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, tracking how changes in its administration and architectural form reflected wider attitudes towards disease, sexuality and gender in Georgian Dublin.

Protestantism, Spectacle, Motherhood and Vice: Dublin's New Pleasure Gardens

In 1748, Bartholomew Mosse, a curious combination of surgeon, obstetrician and entertainment impresario, established a pleasure garden on the northern fringes of Dublin. Ostensibly designed to fund the construction of a maternity hospital to be located adjacently, Mosse’s New Pleasure Gardens became one of the premier leisure resorts in Dublin. This was to have a profound effect on the city’s urban form. Within a few years the gardens became an epicentre of speculative development as the upper classes jostled to build their houses in the vicinity. Meanwhile, the creation nearby of Sackville Mall, a wide and generous strolling ground, established a whole section of the city dedicated to haute spectacle, display and leisure. Like other pleasure gardens in the British Isles, Mosse’s venture introduced new, commodified forms of entertainment. In the colonial context of eighteenth-century Ireland, however, ‘a land only recently won and insecurely held’ (Foster, 1988) by the Protestant Anglo-Irish settler class, the production of culture and spectacle was perhaps more significant than elsewhere. Indeed, the form of Mosse’s gardens echoed the private city gardens of a key figure in the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, while the hospital itself was constructed in a style of a Palladian country house, symbol of colonial presence in the countryside. However, like other pleasure gardens, the mix of music and alcohol, the heterogeneous crowd culled from across social and gender boundaries, and a landscape punctuated with secluded corners, meant that it also acquired a dubious reputation as a haunt of louche and illicit behaviours. The curious juxtaposition between a maternity hospital and pleasure garden, therefore, begins to assume other, hitherto hidden complexities. These are borne out by a closer examination of the architecture of the hospital, the shape of its landscape and the records of its patrons and patients.

How the sublime became "now": time, modernity and aesthetics in Lyotard's rewriting of Kant

Writing in the late 1980s, Nancy gives as examples of the "recent fashion for the sublime" not only the theoreticians of Paris, but the artists of Los Angeles, Berlin, Rome, and Tokyo. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the sublime may of course no longer seem quite so "now" as it did back then, whether in North America, Europe, or Japan. Simon Critchley, for one, has suggested that, at least as regards the issue of its conceptual coupling to "postmodernism," the "debate" concerning the sublime "has become rather stale and the discussion has moved on." Nonetheless, if that debate has indeed "moved on"-and thankfully so-it is not without its remainder, particularly in the very contemporary context of a resurgence of interest in explicitly philosophical accounts of art, in the wake of an emergent critique of cultural studies and of the apparent waning of poststructuralism's influence-a resurgence that has led to a certain "return to aesthetics" in recent Continental philosophy and to the work of Kant, Schelling, and the German Romantics. Moreover, as Nancy's precise formulations suggest, the "fashion" [mode] through which the sublime "offers itself"-as "a break within or from aesthetics"-clearly contains a significance that Critchley's more straightforward narration of shifts in theoretical chic cannot encompass. At stake in this would be the relation between the mode of fashion and art's "destiny" within modernity itself, from the late eighteenth century onwards. Such a conception of art's "destiny," as inextricably linked to that of the sublime, is not unique to recent French theory. In a brief passage in Aesthetic Theory, Adorno also suggests that the "sublime, which Kant reserved exclusively for nature, later became the historical constituent of art itself.... [I]n a subtle way, after the fall of formal beauty, the sublime was the only aesthetic idea left to modernism." As such, although the term has its classical origins in Longinus, its historical character for "us," both Nancy and Adorno argue, associates it specifically with the emergence of the modern. As another philosopher states: "It is around this name [of the sublime] that the destiny of classical poetics was hazarded and lost; it is in this name that ... romanticism, in other words, modernity, triumphed."

Purity of Blood and Caste. Identity Narratives among Early Modern Goan Elites

This essay analyses the roles played by purity of blood and caste in seventeenth-and eighteenth-century identity narratives of Goan clites. Goa and its population are usually excluded from the mainstream literature of Indian social history, and seldom related to the early-modern Atlantic world, making this case study all the more valuable as a place to think the topic of blood and caste. The early establishment and the longevity of the Portuguese imperial presence (1510-1961) in Goa, its location at the crossroads of multiple cultural geographies (Iberian and Indian, and later, also Dutch, British and French), as well as the systematic process of religious conversion of its inhabitants and the questions of legal equality that conversion entailed, all intensified the types, textures, layers and meanings of experiences of social differentiation in this colonial context. This mapping of the experiences of purity of blood and caste in early-modem Goa therefore illuminates from a new angle the role of European imperial powers in the mUltiple expressions of racial classification.