The six short tones that mark the precise start of each hour are familiar to listeners of the BBC world service around the globe. One could go further and say that world news and the concept of a ‘world time’ go hand in hand even if all time is also always local. Indeed it was not until the 1940s that the standardisation of world clocks took place, while the long-promised standardisation of calendars has not yet happened. This panel takes us back to the eighteenth century when the concept of a single global, ‘world time’ was first developed. It brings together academics and museum curators to ask: what is the time of globalisation? Is there such a thing as world time? And what does it mean to belong to one and the same time? Expect discussions on the discovery of ‘deep time’; revolutionary time; time technologies and European encounters with other time systems.
by Sarah Burdett, University of Warwick
For the past five months, I have been working as a Post-Doctoral Research Fellow at the University of Warwick on the exciting practice-based research project ‘Staging Napoleonic Theatre’. The project, led by Dr Katherine Astbury, and funded by the AHRC, has involved staging two nineteenth-century French melodramas in translation. Roseliska, a melodrama of 1811, written and performed by French prisoners of war at Portchester Castle, was revived at the site of its original production in July 2017; and La Forteresse du Danube, (translated as The Fortress), by prolific French playwright Guilbert Pixerécourt, initially staged at the Théatre de la Porte Saint-Martin in 1805, is being revived at the Georgian Theatre Royal, Richmond, on 25 August 2017. One down, one to go!
As a British theatre historian who has spent the last four years hunched over manuscripts of Georgian play-texts in dark and silent libraries, the experience of bringing these scripts back to life in my role as dramaturge – of furnishing them with the spectacular and aural vibrancy that the written text alone cannot provide – has been both exhilarating and enlightening. Recent Romantic theatre scholarship has stressed the need for the play text to be read alongside its visual, aural and oral elements, in order for its theatrical impact to be adequately comprehended. Nowhere is this statement more true than in relation to the nineteenth-century melodrama, as I have discovered first hand while working on this project.
Popularised in both France and Britain in the aftermath of the French Revolution, the melodrama sought to provide entertainment emotionally powerful enough to stimulate the minds of a public traumatised by the recent violence in France. In order to achieve this, the genre fully exploited all that the nineteenth-century theatre, its actors and musicians, had to offer in terms of scenic and musical extravagance. As well as making full use of advancements in technology, which enabled the inclusion in melodramatic performances of explosions formed by fireworks, and naval battles performed on flooded stages, the melodrama’s elaborate spectacle was enhanced by a style of acting that consisted of large and elaborate gestures. In the melodrama, nothing is left concealed. Characters are open books whose emotions are externalised clearly and unambiguously through the use of entirely demonstrative gesticulations, movements, and facial expressions. Bodies do the talking: they tell us what characters are thinking and feeling without the need for monologues. Essentially, the body surpasses the script in terms of emotional expression.
The emotional intensity enabled by this expressive style of acting is strongly accentuated by the use of stirring, provocative music. Melodramatic music, provided by an orchestra, plays an integral function in shaping audiences’ responses to the scenes exhibited on stage. Like the actor’s body, music provides another form of non-verbal communication. As well as serving to enable sound effects for occurrences including dramatic storms and battles, music can also anticipate forthcoming events, hark back to previous scenes, magnify a character’s inner thoughts, accentuate externalised feelings, and encourage audiences when to cheer, when to boo, and when to remain silent. Lengthy interludes of instrumental music often accompany moments of high drama within melodramatic performances. Actors move in sync to the orchestra’s music, creating scenes that, while entirely lacking words, and therefore occupying little space in the play text, can last for a good three to four minutes when exhibited on the stage. The melodrama, therefore, becomes an entirely different beast when experienced in the theatre, than it does when confined to the page.
How then do you go about reviving a nineteenth-century melodrama to be staged before a twenty-first century audience? This is the question that myself and the Staging Napoleonic Theatre team continue to grapple with as we approach our performance of The Fortress at the Georgian Theatre Royal. One of the biggest challenges we experienced when staging the first of our two melodramas, Roseliska, was encouraging modern day performers to act in a manner that they considered at first to be grossly over the top. With twenty-first century acting styles being dominated by the influences of Stanislavski and naturalism, it is entirely unsurprising that melodramatic techniques tend not to sit too comfortably with twenty-first century actors. To accommodate this, we have been working with our performers on exercises revolving around mime and tableaux. These were largely inspired by the wonderful collection of essays published in the special edition of Nineteenth Century Theatre and Film (Winter, 2002), edited by Gilli Bush-Bailey and Jackie Bratton, documenting the process of reviving melodramas by nineteenth-century British playwright Jane Scott, as part of the ‘Jane Scott Project’. I drew heavily on Dick McCaw’s essay in this collection, on training actors for melodrama, at the workshop/audition we held at the Georgian Theatre Royal back in June, from which we acquired our Fortress cast.
To kick off the workshop, we had each of our participants describe how there morning had been thus far, in the form of mime. The exercise got participants thinking immediately about how to express themselves physically, using entirely non-verbal signs. Scheduling this as the first activity of the day, and using it as much to introduce participants to one another, as to get them thinking about melodramatic techniques, the exercise also quickly banished any inhibitions that the actors might have held about externalising their feelings in this peculiar manner, in front of a group of strangers. We then moved on to look at how narratives might be formed using freeze frames. Entirely pilfering McCaw’s ‘Every Picture Tells a Story’ exercise, I gave our actors the task of acting out popular nursery rhymes in small groups, using a series of tableaux. These tableaux were then put into motion, creating a fluid sequence of movements. This exercise built on the opening ice-breaker, by encouraging actors to think about how they might go from conveying one very specific emotion/action to another, without allowing the narrative they are creating to become staccato. Fluidity of movement and of emotional expression are crucial skills for melodramatic actors. As I hinted previously, actors are often required to convey an entire series of emotions within the space of a single piece of music. Therefore, the ability to shift swiftly, coherently, and melodiously from one clearly defined pose to another, is a technique that must be mastered.
Accordingly, a lot of our workshop was devoted to musicality. Our musical director, Dr Diane Tisdall, played tunes on her violin from the original Forteresse score, and our actors were tasked with the challenge of responding to these tunes in character. Music was shown to play an incredibly authoritative role in determining the manner in which the actors interpreted the character they were playing. At one point in The Fortress, the lieutenant Olivier is faced with a moral dilemma: should he obey love or duty? While he silently contemplates this choice on stage, orchestral music helps to externalise his feelings. At the workshop, we experimented with changing the pace and tempo of this music. We found that doing so had a profound impact on the way that the role of Olivier was played. When the music was at its slowest, actors tended to play Olivier as a mournful, indecisive, and somewhat self-pitying character, distraught at the prospect of having to make such an unfair decision. When the music was at its fastest however, Olivier was shown to deal quickly with the emotional turmoil caused by the conflict, and to reach a frantic but firm resolution by the time that the music had ceased. This exercise indicated to our actors the collaborative role played by composers, musicians, and performers, in dictating the narrative’s meaning.
We went on to introduce our actors to popular nineteenth-century acting manuals including Henry Siddons’s Practical Illustrations of Rhetorical Gesture, and the anonymously written Thespian Preceptor. These manuals offer visual and verbal descriptions of the ways in which certain emotions were externalised by performers on the nineteenth-century stage. While by no means offering prescriptive guides, the manuals provide valuable insight into the expressiveness of the poses, gestures, and facial expressions conveyed by performers of the time. Reviews of nineteenth-century melodramas printed in contemporary British newspapers, periodicals, diaries and letters have also been shared with performers. One brilliantly fun review of a melodrama staged in London in 1832 pokes fun at an actor’s incessant use of his arms, by comparing them to the sails of a windmill! This review was particularly helpful in assuring our modern day actors that, despite how ostentatious their gestures might feel, they are entirely in keeping with melodramatic extravagance.
This week the Staging Napoleonic Theatre team is up in Richmond, Yorkshire, ahead of our performance of the Fortress at the Georgian Theatre Royal on Friday 25 August. For this performance, we are working with a community cast, many of whom had never heard of Pixerécourt prior to their involvement in the play, but have quickly become experts in the dramatic genre that he pioneered. Following the fantastic reception that Roseliska received when performed at Portchester castle last month, we have discovered that there is definitely still a place for nineteenth-century melodrama on the twenty-first century stage. And what better stage to perform this on, than that of the country’s oldest working Georgian theatre, upon whose boards the likes of Sarah Siddons, Edmund Kean, and William McCready have previously stood? So, if you’re still wondering how one might go about reviving a nineteenth-century melodrama for a twenty-first century audience, come along and see for yourselves! We’d love to hear your thoughts!
The Fortress on the Danube is being performed at the Georgian Theatre Royal, Yorkshire, on Friday 25 August, 7.30pm. Director: Sarah Wynne Kordas; Musical Director: Diane Tisdall; Dramaturge: Sarah Burdett. Tickets can be purchased at http://georgiantheatreroyal.savoysystems.co.uk/GeorgianTheatreRoyal.dll/TSelectItems.waSelectItemsPrompt.TcsWebMenuItem_1352.TcsWebTab_1353
At the end of March, on the ominous day of Brexit, researchers from North America and Europe gathered at London’s Institute of Historical Research for the ECR conference on the History of Celebrity with Prof Antoine Lilti (EHESS) as the keynote speaker. Revolutionary Researchers had already held a reading group on Lilti’s work Figures publiques, l’invention de la célébrité, and so it was an excellent chance to build on this and hear contributions from across the globe. In the first panel, ‘Thinking Celebrity in the Eighteenth Century’, Ariane Fichtl examined how Revolutionaries modelled themselves on antique ‘celebrity’ figures, whilst Gabriel Wick gave a fascinating analysis of celebrity through place and space, studying the Duc de Chartres at the Palais Royal and at Monceau, and the role of public celebrations in early celebrity culture. Blake Smith then spoke on Anquetil Duperron, the ‘celebrity scholar’, investigating the networks which sustain celebrity status and this can be preserved or lost. The second panel, ‘Celebrity Bodies’, started with Chris Haffenden’s paper on Jeremy Bentham, subtly analysing how contemporaries portrayed Bentham as a celebrity and how the philosopher participated in the preservation and regulation of his own image. Jessica Hamel-Akré continued the focus on Britain with the celebrity case of Ann Moore, the Fasting Woman of Tutbury. Hamel-Akré looked at the local level of celebrity and how new medical analyses, primarily by men, surveyed and controlled these medical celebrities. Meagan Mason also used the lens of medicine, especially the new pseudo-sciences of phrenology and physiognomy which allowed the public to “know” celebrity musicians. Prof Antoine Lilti then gave a lecture on his seminal work on celebrity, distinguishing between the notions of glory, reputation and celebrity, the latter being the uncontrolled spread of image beyond reputation, which has lead to his critique of the Habermasian public sphere. For Litli, this public sphere is not critical, but rather fascinated by gossip and public and private lives. Prof Colin Jones extended Lilti’s analysis of Habermas: the latter maintained that a collective conscious was central to the public sphere but Lilti’s research shows the public sphere to be based on human subjectivity, and he praised Lilti for using a historical anachronism as a historical tool. Dr Emrys Jones then shared his response to Litlti, especially from a British perspective, exploring the link between celebrity and intimacy, and touching upon ‘unwilling celebrities’. The final panel was then dedicated to the post Revolutionary period: Lewis Hughes’s paper looked at Victorian celebrity interviews held in the domestic sphere and their emphasis on ‘normality’ and daily routine; Holly Grout explained Mistinguett’s attempt to separate her public and private personas in her memoirs, reflecting and refracting elements of the celebrity self. Following this literary vein, Thibaut Casagrande took the genre ‘le roman d’actrice’ as a tool to correct the image of celebrities.
The translation of Lilti’s Figures publiques. L’Invention de la Célébrité appears later this year: http://eu.wiley.com/WileyCDA/WileyTitle/productCd-1509508732.html
Radboud University Nijmegen (Netherlands), 19-20th June 2017
Keynote speakers: Professor Simon Burrows (Western Sydney University, Australia); Professor Kirsty Carpenter (Massey University, New Zealand); Dr. Karine Rance (Université Blaise Pascal, France)
Since the publication of the collection of essays on Emigration in Europe edited by Kirsty Carpenter and Philip Mansel in 1999, our knowledge of the emigrant community and that of European responses to the French Revolution have dramatically progressed. The historiography on the subject was renewed with pioneering studies on the Counter-Revolution and Anti-Enlightenment as well as new analysis on the nobility and the heterogeneity of migratory projects. Scholars have ventured into the memorial and literary landscape of emigration, at times articulating literary criticism around the question of trauma and refuge. Research into gender proved to be a fruitful way to challenge previous conceptions of the émigré figure. With this conference, we aim to approach emigration using the notions of connection, transfers and transnationalism, as well as cultural innovations, relating the current knowledge on emigration to studies on the connections between the émigré community and the host country. In particular, we would like to discuss the formation of political and national consciousness deriving from the encounters between the emigrant and their host communities.
This inter-disciplinary event will particularly welcome early career researchers and scholars who have studied or shown an interest in the French émigré community in any European context or beyond. It is open to those researching alternative and trans-national histories of exile in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
Participants are invited to give papers, in English or in French, on the following themes:
- Emigrés, exiles and refugees? Questioning the designations of individual migrants and their community
- Foreign archival repositories and the renewal of sources on emigration
- Host discourses on emigration and the creation of an émigré national consciousness
- Towards a connected history of emigration and the counter-revolution in Europe and the World
- Against the tide: alternative migratory projects and ruptures with the politically and culturally-dominant émigré group
- Studying emigration in the twenty-first century
- The émigré novel and memoirs in the long eighteenth century literary landscape
– Any other topic relevant to the conference
More information on the organisation of the conference and accommodation arrangements will be provided to participants in due course.
Keynote Speaker: Professor Antoine Lilti, Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, Paris
Venue: Institute of Historical Research, London
Date: Wednesday 29th March 2017
Time: 10.00 a.m. – 5.00 p.m.
Deadline for abstracts: 15th February 2017
Among the most significant recent contributions to ‘celebrity studies’ and the early history of celebrity is Antoine Lilti’s Figures publiques. L’Invention de la célébrité (1750-1850). The English translation forthcoming in 2017 is eagerly awaited. Professor Lilti will give the keynote address, entitled ‘Public figures and private lives: the invention of Celebrity’, at this day-conference in which postgraduate and post-doctoral researchers are invited to contribute papers.
Lilti’s Figures publiques offers a genealogy of the concept of celebrity in French, British and North American societies dating back to the eighteenth century when it emerged alongside notions of increased selfhood and personal authenticity. This emergence, Lilti also shows, was linked to a ‘media revolution’ that democratised access to portraiture, and a growing taste for biographies, autobiographies and private lives. Lilti revisits Jürgen Habermas’s notion of the ‘public sphere’, but argues that while the development of new forms of ‘publicity’ may have facilitated rational debate and criticism, it also stimulated prurient curiosity and trivia. In the new, affective and intimate relationship now conjoining celebrities and their public, members of the general public wanted to meet and become acquainted with famous people, and thought about them in a familiar, informal manner. Celebrities too had to accept that the expanded public would comment and criticise them, and they thus had to contend with detractors as well as fans.
This day-conference seeks to offer an overview of the history of celebrity from the beginnings sketched out by Lilti and through to the present day. How has celebrity been understood? What forms has it taken? Can we detect stages in its development?
Potential topics include, but are not limited to:
- The representation of celebrity
- The perception of celebrity by contemporaries
- The legacy of celebrities
- Semantic studies on celebrity
- How people lived celebrity
- The representation of celebrities in print
- Comparative studies of reputation/celebrity/glory
We particularly encourage papers from early career scholars working on Europe and North America from the eighteenth century to the present.
The conference is co-organized by Anaïs Pedron (Queen Mary University of London,firstname.lastname@example.org) and Dr Clare Siviter (Université Blaise-Pascal, email@example.com). The workshop is generously funded by the Society for the Study of French History, the School of History and the Eighteenth-Century Seminar at Queen Mary University of London.
The deadline for submissions is 15th February 2017. Abstracts of up to 300 words should be sent to the conference organisers at firstname.lastname@example.org
Attendance is free. There is no registration fee but due to limited space, advance registration is required.
Please send enquiries to email@example.com.
Antoine Lilti is one of the foremost social and cultural historians of eighteenth-century France and the Enlightenment. He is attached as directeur d’études to the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, Paris. Among his many publications are Le Monde des salons. Sociabilité et mondanité à Paris au XVIIIe siècle (2005), translated as The Society of Salons : Sociability and Worldliness (Oxford University Press, 2015) and Figures publiques. L’invention de la célébrité (1750-1850), (2014; English translation forthcoming, 2017).
Earlier this summer, we had the pleasure to welcome Dr. Rebecca Dowd Geoffroy-Schwinden for the final Revolutionary Researchers event of the year. The morning started off with Rebecca’s lecture followed by a discussion, and then three shorter presentations by UK PhD students in the afternoon.
We had discussed Rebecca’s thesis, ‘Politics, the French Revolution, and Performance: Parisian Musicians as an Emergent Professional Class, 1749-1802’ during our reading group in March and so Rebecca’s visit was a fantastic opportunity to carry on our conversation and we are very grateful for her visit. In both sessions, the themes of networks and professionalization dominated, especially the methodology we should adopt as scholars to trace such individuals and institutions. Rebecca explained how the Revolution purposefully demolished and established institutions, but that these ‘new’ entities often carried on from their predecessors. Although musicians were the only artists to not have an authoritative institution before the Revolution, Rebecca showed that a less formal network existed prior to 1789 in the form of masonic lodges. Even during the ancien régime, musicians were able to transform their status through these lodges: instead of being church servants, they now played alongside amateurs, in a body of players from differing social ranks. Within this institution, all were supposedly equal. Rebecca argued that this experience transformed musicians’ status in the new Revolutionary institution of the Conservatoire. This institution’s members had often been masons, and having belonged to such an establishment greatly helped a musician’s chances not only of gaining a position in the new Conservatoire, but of holding on to his position during the budget cuts of the late 1790s. It was a formative experience in a musician’s quest to become a professional. As PhD students, it was very beneficial for us not only to continue the discussion from March but to see how Rebecca’s research had developed over her time as an Early Career Researcher.
Maïa Kirby then gave a presentation entitled ‘The Democratic Sphere: Communications to the French National Assembly’s Committee of Research, 1789-1790’ where she presented her impressive database built from information from over 12,000 archival documents, originating from all over France and sent to Paris. Maïa’s paper was particularly revelatory, because although many of the letters were denunciations, attempting to unseat elements of the ancien régime, they offer us a new view of how the revolution was carried out at the municipal level. Stacie Allan then spoke to us about networks of female authors such as Madame de Staël and Claire de Duras during the early nineteenth century and their political engagement. Although women are traditionally side-lined in these narratives, Stacie demonstrated not only how they interacted in the political sphere through their novels, but how women could be politically engaged when correcting and influencing male productions, which Simone de Beauvoir continued to do with Jean-Paul Sartre well into the twentieth century. Finally, Clare Siviter’s presentation returned to show how theatrical continuity and rupture can be traced through the ‘Registres de la Comédie-Française’ project. As Rebecca had shown with her case study of continuity and rupture, this database reveals that many elements of the ancien régime lasted into the Revolution, allowing the discussion to return to methodological questions of what such an approach reveals or hides and how we as researchers should treat such questions.
This term’s reading group was dedicated to the notion of the ‘emergence of a professional class’, for which Jonathan chose Rebecca Geoffroy-Schwinden’s recent doctoral thesis. The aim of this session was to help us think about this phenomenon within our own Revolutionary artistic communities at the centre of our research.
We agreed that this was a conceptually useful and stimulating approach, which emphasised how informal ancien régime relationships became institutionalised by the Revolution. In her third chapter, which was the focus of our discussions, Geoffroy-Schwinden uses the history of the Conservatoire as a ‘history from below’ instead of the traditional top-down approach, she investigates French actors outside of France, and how musical activity whilst in emigration could licence an émigré’s return: the regime had an inherent belief in music’s didacticism.
Geoffroy-Schwinden’s work created much discussion and forced us to reflect on our own approaches. Fabio, who has worked on both real and imaginary networks around Cherubini advocated for a more contextual approach; Jonathan wanted to look at the relationships not just between composers, but between composers and librettists, and how the wider network, which invariably involved the Church, the military, and other teachers in the Conservatoire impacted on these friendships and the works themselves. What about the international scene and how did the identity of ‘French’ fit into this? Essentially, we just wanted to know more about our own and different case studies.
This brought us onto a more detailed methodological dialogue, reflecting on topography. Cosmin rightly argued that such an approach was necessary to underline the social context at the time which can all too easily be left aside but that such approaches could run the risk of generalising. In our interdisciplinary environment we wanted to know how topology differs between the disciplines, both now and at the time. The principle question was simply how do we do this? How do we track these networks and measure their impact? How do we move beyond the institutions which are at the basis of our studies? This harked back to our discussions on the Revolution as a moment of continuity or rupture. Was 1789 really such a moment of rupture?
After the Napoleonic exhibitions which have dominated the scene recently, it was very refreshing to return to some earlier, Revolutionary prints and we are very grateful to Dr. Richard Taws for welcoming us to the UCL Art Museum and giving us a guided tour.
Whereas the Terror attracts the most British attention, the curators, Emeritus Professor David Bindman and Dr. Richard Taws, wanted to focus on the period before this, whilst Louis XVI was still alive. The exhibition displays an intriguing collection of prints, from those of the three Estates, to the women marching on Versailles, the hidden silhouettes of tobacco boxes, Louis XVI for target practice, and contemporary political figures to name but a few subjects. However, whilst we might be familiar to some of these prints, this exhibition puts them into context. For example, in the ‘Réunion des trois ordres’ we are used to the image of the third estate carrying the noble and the clergyman, but in this example there are three etchings printed together: that we know well, but also one where all three estates embrace each other and where the third estate rides the back of the noble, who is dragged by the clergyman, all three men donning cockades: http://www.ucl.ac.uk/museums-static/obl4he/frenchrevolution/1_reunion_de_trois_ordres.html We were forced to reconsider our assumed knowledge: in ‘Il faut en goûter’ the traditional revolutionary bonnet is green instead of red. Is the bonnet an earlier form of Father Christmas whose subsequent marketing has made us think of him as dressed in red?
Dr. Taws talked in depth about revolutionary print culture animating a rich discussion. He explained about print culture at the time, about the speed of printing and appropriation of former images with the change of events, but also how a normal household could own between 4 and 6 such prints, and whilst a print might lend itself to a certain reading, this interpretation was in no means unified. The objects we see set behind glass become astonishingly alive.
The democratic side of these objects was fascinating. Taws described how minor or side-lined artists could make a name for themselves as salon culture became more democratic. These images in turn allowed people to engage more actively in politics: they recognised political figures, the most famous example of which would be the recognition of Louis XVI at Varennes after his flight from Paris. This complimented our discussions from December on Lilti’s Figures publiques, l’invention de la célébrité, where Lilti pays significant attention to the role of images in the rise and democratisation of celebrity.
The most thought provoking point though was the role prints played in how Revolutionary events were historicised, for example by creating a cult around the Bastille, or by pre-producing prints for political events before they had actually occurred. These images significantly impacted on the contemporary, and our, understanding of the French Revolution.
More information on the exhibition can be found at: https://www.ucl.ac.uk/museums/uclart/visit/exhibitions/Revolutionunderaking and there is an excellent blog: http://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/museums/tag/revolution-under-a-king/
There were about 10 of us in attendance for our Reading Group on ‘Social Theories and the French Revolution’, with most of the group travelling only a short distance across campus to find the room (although for those of us with a little further to travel this was something of an adventure!). Once we’d settled in and caught up, we began by discussing what we already knew about the work of the writers we’d be discussing that day: Habermas (The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere) and Lilti (Figures publiques). There was an interesting range of perspectives! Some, like me, were not really familiar with their work; others, like Kate found themselves recalling well-buried facts from previous studies; some were well acquainted.
After this initial time, we began by discussing Habermas’ concept of the ‘public sphere’ in terms of its ‘creation’, to explore whether we felt it was something which could be manufactured. Jonathan suggested that the two terms perhaps meant something different, with ‘creation’ relating to socio-political spheres, and ‘manufacture’ to cultural spheres. Naturally, we also had to discuss the possibility of multiple public ‘spheres’ existing concurrently: was it possible, for example, that the flood of counterfeit and contraband imported prints was responsible for establishing a ‘public sphere’ of consumers who were below or ‘outside’ the official sphere of the nation state? Christie suggested that the cultural ‘public sphere’ was often over looked in favour of a socio-economic focus, but pointed towards our reading of Lilti’s work as a possible theoretical bridge ‘out’.
We also spent some time discussing the differences we perceived in public spheres across national boundaries, with a particular focus on the French and British states. It was suggested that during the long ‘revolutionary’ period, the creation and development of public spheres was more controlled than in France. Stacie posited that in France the Revolution had drastically altered the public sphere in a way which Britain never experienced with its gradual development of legal discourses and legislative frameworks. Jonathan argued that to be able to draw an effective comparison, we needed to think in terms of transnational public spheres.
Some discussion of the issue of gender was also had, and Stacie suggested that women had their own ‘private public sphere’ during this period, but we should not think that they were limited to it. After all, Tabatha pointed out that by being active within their own private sphere, they naturally participated in other spheres: as consumers, for example, they helped to drive the fashion and domestic industries. Stacie added that women indirectly participated in political debates by wearing certain items in public, such as the Indian shawl banned by Napoleon. We discussed the (in)famous story of French citizens attending the ‘red lace’ ball towards the end of the Revolution, which commemorated the victims of the guillotine, but Kate thought that this might only be apocryphal.
Jonathan mentioned that he had found examples of how fashion items had definitely caused political problems on the stage of the Opéra Comique, as the archives hold ominous letters from the Minister of Police threatening to shut the institution down if it continued in this vein. So the ‘cultural sphere’ we concluded could have great impact on the political, which seemed like a nice conjunction.
Having had several mentions of archival discoveries so far, Kate pointed out the importance of oral records. Often things wouldn’t make it into the press, but later records would mention threads of discourse as gossip. We agreed that French Revolutionary society was on the cusp of becoming a written society, but that it maintained a strong oral culture which carried a tremendous amount of power. This fed into Habermas’ anecdote about the power of memory, demonstrating how the minutes of British Parliamentary debates could initially only reach the public sphere thanks to the exceptional memory of one journalist (taking notes was banned in the public box). Jonathan brought up the chansonniers who caused the Revolutionary government a great deal of anxiety, because they were able to spread political sentiment without leaving any written record.
Nevertheless, as Tabatha argued, preserved written records or objects are a powerful and useful means of tracing the public sphere. Often these were in the ‘cultural sphere’, but this in turn had significant implications for the ‘socio-political sphere’.
This seemed to neatly bring us back to our earlier discussion about the difference (and possible competition) between two spheres: the cultural and the political. Upon reflection, this seemed to recur in all of our discussions about Habermas and Lilti: we didn’t feel we could talk about the ‘public sphere’ insomuch as the ‘public spheres’.
Congratulations to Diane Tisdall, who also submitted her thesis very recently! We wish you all the best going forward with it. You can find the abstract below:
“My dissertation focuses on Paris from shortly after the French Revolution to the end of the First Napoleonic Empire (1795-1815). It concentrates on the professionalisation of violin teaching and learning in Paris in the period, using as a case study Pierre Baillot’s initial Conservatoire classes. The Directory government’s interest in creating practically-trained students, useful to la patrie, led to the inauguration of the Conservatoire in 1795, alongside specialist schools such as the science-based Ecole Polytechnique. The issue of music as a trade – métier – rather than an art-form beloved of the Ancien Régime, and within a cultural landscape marked by Napoleon’s fascination with Italian culture and aesthetic preference for vocal music, led to a turbulent first two decades at the Conservatoire. My detailed institutional history thus aims to contribute to existing scholarship on the early Conservatoire while also tracing how violin training related to contemporary cultural and educational change.
Pierre Baillot (1771-1842) was the most eminent European violin pedagogue of the early nineteenth century. One of the first violin teachers at the Paris Conservatoire, his classes ran for nearly fifty years. His violin manuals – Méthode de violon (1803) and L’Art du violon (1834) – remain a comprehensive and vibrant analysis of early nineteenth-century performance. With the help of the Conservatoire archives, press reviews and his own correspondence, I suggest that Baillot attempted, unlike many of his contemporaries, to overcome a fiercely-protected and oral pedagogical tradition. Rather than perpetuating a web of whispered secrets, he perceived music to have a strong social function; Baillot was happy to provide the means for his pupils to supersede him. By putting pedagogical integrity before his ego, Baillot proved the ideal teacher to propagate the Conservatoire’s national musical syllabus.
As shown by Cynthia Gessele, the chaotic transfer in governments and ensuing legal loophole enabled the Conservatoire to keep its artistic independence from the newly-formed National Institute of Sciences and Arts. Maintaining internal control also enabled the Conservatoire administration to preserve its independence from the new Directory government, apart from in financial matters. Whilst Gessele is the first to provide a political history of the Conservatoire, she does play down (by inference) the institution’s relationship with the state. But was the Conservatoire really an independent institution? Were the rules and regulations actually followed? In 1900, Constant Pierre published a valuable body of work on the Conservatoire, opening the door on its archives to researchers: his books are a stepping-stone to finding the answers to such questions. But still, over a hundred years later, the dust on this admittedly labour-intensive, at times frustrating, but ultimately fascinating material, has barely been blown away. Even the scholarly editions brought out to commemorate the bicentenary of the Conservatoire’s foundation shied away from examining its full riches.
Whilst improved access to the archives makes for an easier navigation through the material – the Histoire de l’enseignement de la musique en France au XIXe siècle (1795-1914) (HEMEF) digitisation project is proving of great value to my research – all the resources require processing before a clear and detailed account of the first twenty years of the Conservatoire can be written. Such a project is sadly too large for one thesis. In my examination of the violin department, however, I attempt to initiate a move towards this goal as I weave my archival research through historian Jerrold Seigel’s theory of a ‘network of means’ – the drawing together of a group of disparate people to create a benchmark of technical competence, and so creating social power for the network itself and (some of) the people within it. Seigel’s statement that people, and their actions, are crucial to a network’s existence, may seem obvious but as studies in music education have highlighted, teachers and their pupils remain a relatively unexplored area of research.
This is why Baillot’s Conservatoire career features in my institutional history. Usually presented by scholars as an individually mighty pedagogue, as a (mostly) self-taught violinist, he would not have been able to generate or sustain a musical career without an involvement with the institution. Analysing his responsibilities at the Conservatoire, such as syllabus-setting, repertoire creation and of course, teaching, I show how his unorthodox musical training and aesthetical preferences informed his pedagogical ideology whilst attempting to fit within the newly-constructed institutional framework. We see that Baillot’s almost immediate veneration, as well as his constant financial struggle, were bound to the fortunes of the Conservatoire, in addition to the changing critical and public perceptions of performing excellence.”