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The chapter shows strategies for sustainable management, development and use of the potential of mountainous areas in Central and Southeastern Europe. The research concentrates the experience of single countries or groups of countries connected with organization and optimization of human activities in various economic areas. Interaction between different programmes or initiatives is a key moment for Balkan countries in the way for determination and foundation of Balkan convention for sustainable development of mountain regions. We have a good practice of Alpine Convention and relevant experience of Carpathian Convention as an example. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

A useful starting point for genre analysis is viewing genres as artifacts. Genres are instrumental categories, useful for author and reader alike in forming the understanding of a text and in providing the appropriate intellectual context for information acquired through it. Genre distinctions are observable in terms of whom a text is directed to, how it is put together, made up, and presented. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

It is virtually a commonplace to observe that the confrontation between Edmund Burke and Mary Wollstonecraft over the morality of the French Revolution concerns manners as much as politics or morals. Neither Burke nor Wollstonecraft believes that manners can be considered in isolation, and for both writers, the term “manners” works as shorthand for a larger system of power. In the end, manners reflect moral objectives: just as the construct of female modesty is designed to secure female virtue, so manners more generally secure moral or political ideals. Responding to the revolutionary call for complete sincerity and openness, Burke and other conservative British writers deliberately reclaim certain kinds of insincerity, re-establishing the merits of terms that had come under suspicion in the preceding decades, including modesty, chivalry and politeness. Yet even as the ideal of sincerity falls into disrepute with conservative writers because of its revolutionary associations, some radical writers on manners hold on to and further strengthen the evangelical call for sincerity that can be heard throughout the criticism of Chesterfield's letters. The contours of this debate form the main subject of this chapter, which will compare and contrast arguments about manners and insincerity made by Burke, Wollstonecraft and William Godwin, considering the consequences of each position for subsequent arguments about virtue and politeness, particularly as they affect women. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Very few people are willing to speak up for hypocrisy. As a rule, to use the word at all is to position oneself against it. I am no more likely to identify myself as a hypocrite than I am to call myself a cannibal, although I may do either so long as I invoke a rhetoric of confession or conversion that separates my present identity from the past one I name and thereby disavow. When I call someone else a hypocrite, I point to a gap between what she says and what she does. I sometimes also attribute to the hypocrite a broader, more pervasive deceitfulness whose practice can include the insincerities associated with self-control and good manners. In the last case, if the mask of politeness is sufficiently flawless, I may find it difficult to distinguish the hypocrite from any other member of civil society. Indeed, if everyone suddenly stopped lubricating social interactions with politeness, the consequences for the institutions of daily life – families, schools, religious organizations, companies, governments – would likely be catastrophic. Insofar as the charge of hypocrisy assumes a discontinuity between motive and action, the sophisticated hypocrite poses problems for conventional arguments about character and behavior. The belief that close scrutiny will always expose the hypocrite's true self depends on the highly questionable assumption that any given individual can be considered simply as the sum of a set of words and deeds that represent an ‘authentic’ self inside. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

An experiment in government – such was how contemporaries viewed the Bourbon Restoration, according to Charles de Rémusat. Although partisan, Rémusat's observation was nevertheless insightful. For many, the political system established in 1814 was not necessarily definitive; it could be subjected to alteration, minor or major, and ultimately the public would decide whether the experiment was a success or failure. The chief embodiment of the Restoration experiment was the Charter of 1814, a constitution wherein elements of the changes brought to society and polity after 1789 were blended with elements of the ancien régime. Implementing the new constitution thus entailed, at least in part, putting into practice the ideals of the Revolution in an enduring and stable fashion. Yet, as the Charter was drawn up in haste, with many details left for subsequent elaboration, it was natural to look upon the new constitution as at most a blueprint. In many regards the Charter was ambiguous, leaving much open to interpretation. Given the fragility of the new regime, ambiguity served a certain purpose in that it allowed various groups to view the regime differently, but still give their approval. From its origins, however, the Charter was interpreted in two fundamentally different ways. For royalists, the constitution was entirely a product of royal sovereignty – it was granted by Louis XVIII of his own free will. For those who came to oppose this interpretation, the Charter was a contract between the monarch and the nation. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

After seeing what fédérés did in an official capacity, we can now turn to what they did and said of their own account. First, fédéré writings will be considered to determine what fédérés wanted. Then, the political tendencies of the federations will be discussed, paying particular attention to whether individual associations were Jacobin, Bonapartist, or a mixture of both. Finally, the extent of the movement and the social basis of the associations will be assessed. Fédéré writings Fédéré writings give us the common denominator of fédéré aspirations. Any movement which wished to emphasise unity had to be built on certain common principles and objectives. Significantly, most of these were closely associated with the early years of the Revolution. Historians have recently placed great stress on how, through the passage of time, more and more Frenchmen were alienated by the evolution of the Revolution, and how opposition to it slowly mounted and gained force. Internecine battles between groups of men who initially had supported the Revolution eventually fragmented the movement and weakened it to the point that Napoleon was able to impose dictatorship. Observers in 1815 repeatedly pointed out that the federative movement had drawn on men from all epochs of the Revolution. This amalgamation was brought about by the experience of 1814. Invasion, occupation, return of intransigent émigrés and Bourbon government had combined to remind patriots of what they had fought to achieve during the early years of the Revolution. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

When they founded the Breton federation, the jeunes gens of Rennes were deliberately following important historical precedents. R. Dupuy, in his study of the Breton National Guard during the first three years of the Revolution, has drawn attention to the ‘rôle déterminant d'une minorite d'étudiants et de jeunes gens’, and has termed this group a ‘force paramilitaire’. Indeed, when aristocratic members of the Bastion sought to influence the Breton parlement of 1789 in favour of vote by Estate rather than head, jeunes gens led by the future General Moreau confronted the nobility with force. During the ensuing battles in the streets of Rennes, the jeunes gens called on young men of the other Breton towns and cities to come to their aid. The appeal was heard by large numbers of these men (as many as 600 from Nantes alone), and the aristocratic faction was forced to retire from the city. In order to take advantage of the resultant élan, and assure future defence, the jeunes gens drew up a pact and formed a federation. In 1790 the pact was renewed at Pontivy. As Dupuy has shown, more moderate proponents of the Revolution in Rennes soon took measures to consolidate the gains made by the jeunes gens and to bring the latter under control by incorporating them, in a subordinate role, into the National Guard. This is particularly noteworthy because similar tactics were employed by government authorities whenever the jeunes gens showed signs of taking law enforcement into their own hands. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Dijon in 1815 was a small regional capital with a population of approximately 21,000. It was the administrative centre of the Côte-d'Or and boasted a leading French academy. Its economy was exceedingly diverse and the boutiquiers and artisans who comprised fifty-seven per cent of Dijon's active work-force were involved in a variety of trades wholly characteristic of a pre-industrial society. Local historians have often pointed to the moderation of Dijon revolutionaries. It was due only to the insistence of Bernard, the représentant en mission from Paris, that Dijonnais tribunals sent ten men to the guillotine during the Terror. Indeed, during this period one finds Jacobin lawyers and the future fédérés Larché and Dézé defending aristocrats. However, moderate behaviour should not be mistaken for indifference to the Revolution. The Jacobin Société des Amis de la Constitution remained in control of Dijon well into Thermidor and, although dissolved in 1796 after condemnation by the représentant en mission, Calès, was refounded after the coup d'état of Fructidor (4 September 1797). As late as 1798 the leading terrorist, Sauvageot, was elected mayor of Dijon. Many Jacobins retained their positions of local power under Napoleon. As P. Viard has noted, these men were more dangerous to Bonaparte than local monarchists. Although they accepted Brumaire because of Napoleon's popularity with the masses, they did not give up their old convictions. Belonging for the most part to the administrative and judicial corps, they formed ‘une sorte de club’ to monopolise local government. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

There has been nothing more dramatic in the history of France than the vol d'aigle. On 1 March 1815, having slipped free of captivity on the island of Elba, Napoleon landed on the shore of the Gulf of Juan and invaded France with a token force of some 1,200 men. When confronted at Laffrey by ostensibly hostile troops, Bonaparte stepped forward to offer himself as a target, forcing the soldiers to choose between himself and Louis XVIII. Past loyalties proved decisive; the troops refused to fire. Marshal Ney, having vowed to his Bourbon master to bring the Eagle back to Paris in an iron cage, proved no different. What had begun as a perilous forced march soon became a triumphal procession as peasants and workers flocked to the Emperor's side. First Grenoble and then Lyons gave Napoleon a rapturous reception. By 20 March he had flown from ‘belfry to belfry’, finally alighting in a Paris free of the hastily departed Bourbon king Louis XVIII. Although middle-class Parisians greeted Bonaparte with an indifference born of fear for the future, there could be no mistaking the satisfaction of lower-class Parisians with this extraordinary turn of events. The vol d'aigle was, however, more than simply the return of a beloved leader to his adoring public, for along the route the Emperor had donned new clothing – he now appeared in the curious guise of arch-defender of the Revolution. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

THE CATARGIU GOVERNMENT: THE FIRST PERIOD With the successful conclusion for Russia of the London Conference and the establishment of the government of Lascăr Catargiu, a period of comparative calm that was to last until the spring of 1876 was introduced in the foreign policies of both Russia and Romania. General European diplomatic affairs remained in a similar condition. Like the other European states, both the Russian and the Romanian governments had to adjust to the new diplomatic balance that had come about with the unifications of Germany and Italy, the reorganization of the Habsburg Monarchy, and the weakening of France. For Romania the elimination of France as a major element in Eastern diplomacy was to be of prime significance for the future. Although relations had not always been smooth, this power had contributed more to Romanian national development than any other state. Since the two countries were geographically separated, France could never pose the same threat to Romanian territory as had the neighboring Habsburg Monarchy, the Ottoman Empire, and Russia at different periods. The new Germany was not to be a substitute despite Charles's Hohenzollern family ties. Bismarck was to prove particularly difficult, as would be shown in the negotiations over the controversial Strousberg railroad concession. He was also a man to hold a grudge. In May, in a conversation with Peter P. Carp, he complained about the Romanian attitude during the Franco-Prussian War, the comments in the press, and other incidents that had occurred and concluded: “We are the friends of our friends and the enemies of our enemies.” [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

The double election of Alexander Cuza, an action that was in opposition to the clear intention of the protecting powers, was to bring a profound change in the relationship of the Principalities and their guardians. Although the alteration was not at once recognized, from this time forward Romanian interests were to be represented by a national leadership that rested usually on a strong domestic foundation. Moreover, although Cuza and his successors were to face continual opposition from various political opponents, neither these groups nor the princes themselves were henceforth dependent upon the favor of the Porte or another outside power. The change in the relationship with Constantinople and St. Petersburg was particularly striking. The subservient position of the former hospodars and caimacams contrasted sharply with the relatively independent stance of the new prince. This condition was brought about, at least in part, by the able and clever manner with which Cuza usually handled the great powers. The new prince, as we have seen, was not well known to the European representatives. He had, nevertheless, previously enjoyed a moderately successful career in public service and commerce. Born in March 1820 in a Moldavian boyar family, he had received an excellent secondary and university education in France. While a student in Paris he moved in the same circles as did the leaders of the revolutions of 1848 whom we have met before, among others the Golescu brothers and Ion Ghica. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

The Treaty of Paris opened a new era in European diplomacy, one that was to be characterized by victories for the German and Italian, as well as for the Romanian, national movements. Since there was as yet no representative Romanian administration, the fate of the country lay primarily in the hands of the great powers. The decisions were to be made no longer by one power, in collaboration with the Porte, but by a concert of the seven signatories of the treaty. The rivalry among these governments was to be a great advantage for the Romanian leadership over the next years. The Crimean disaster compelled a change of policy in the Russian relationship with the Principalities, as well as in other areas of international relations. The humiliation of the defeat and the dangers that had arisen during the war forced the Russian government to consider radically different courses of action. Alexander II regarded the treaty as a national humiliation and a stain on his personal honor. The breaking of the terms of the agreement that were damaging to Russia thus had first priority for the future. Four aspects of the settlement, in particular, had profoundly altered the Russian diplomatic position in the Near East: the neutralization of the Black Sea, the cession of the three districts of southern Bessarabia, the loss of a special position in relation to Constantinople, and the assumption by the powers of additional guarantees for the Porte. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Ever since Marc Bloch's seminal article on the growth of agrarian individualism, the struggle against common rights has been associated with the second half of the eighteenth century. The bureaucrats of the late ancien regime launched the debate, the Revolution resolved it by consecrating the principle of private property. Subsequent regimes had merely to complete the mopping-up operation. That such a linear perspective should have survived for so long despite the nuanced judgements of historians like Henri Sée and Georges Lefebvre and, indeed, Bloch, owes much to the pervasive quality of the revolutionary myth. Few would dispute the claim of the French Revolution to mark the beginning of a new political era, but its impact in the field of economic policy and development calls for careful assessment. As evidence accumulates which casts doubt upon the Revolution as the point of convergence of maturing economic, social and political processes, the old assumptions have been undermined. The champions of 1789 continue to assert its specificity, but with faltering conviction. Arguments are adjusted to acknowledge recent research, but even where this points strongly in other directions the categories of debate and the conclusions remain unchanged. By destroying seigneurial privilege and collective rights the Revolution accelerated the dissolution of the rural community, asserts Albert Soboul. He concedes that the process was slower in the regions of ‘petite culture’ and accepts that revolutionary legislation was not always implemented; nevertheless he rejects the idea of a ‘compromise’ proposed by Lefebvre and prefers to use the term ‘paradox’ instead. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

If 1795 was ‘the year of the loss of illusions’, there must be few clearer illustrations of the principle than in the realm of social welfare. In Year II, pious hopes had been expressed and big words uttered, as the Convention laboured to overhaul France's poor laws, and to put in place of the motley collection of poor relief institutions inherited from the ancien regime a novel and comprehensive system of public assistance which, in retrospect, represents a precocious departure in the direction of a ‘welfare state’. Such schemes, however, need time and application if they are to be successful: and neither was forthcoming. In 1795, the high-flown welfare policies of Year II came down to earth with a bump. Conditions in those poor relief institutions which had survived this traumatic experience – and in practice that meant hospitals, for virtually all the home relief agencies which had flourished prior to 1789 (bureaux de charité, bureaux d'aumônes, tables des pauvres, Miséricordes, etc.) had vanished–were appalling, and mirrored the more generalised misery of the popular classes. Indeed, as Richard Cobb's telling study of the social consequences of dearth in Rouen in Years III and IV reveals, many of the worst features of popular distress–starvation, disease, demoralisation, rocketing mortality–were to be found in all their starkness behind hospital walls. In the eyes of many historians, the aura of passivity and helplessness which hovered around poor relief institutions in the face of the terrible conditions of Years III and IV casts a wider stain over the whole Thermidorean and Directorial period. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

THE GENS DE METIER OF PARIS, both masters and journeymen, were active in the Revolution from the start. They constituted the numerical majority of the Parisian menu peuple (little people or populace), and they participated in large numbers in all of the great popular movements of the Revolution. According to George Rudé's figures, for example, workers and masters in the arts and trades of Paris made up some 75 to 80 percent of those who took part in capturing the Bastille. They continued to play a central role in the Parisian revolution, participating prominently in the insurrections that toppled the monarchy in 1792 and purged moderates from the Legislative Convention in 1793. Moreover, it was workers and masters in the Parisian trades- shoemakers and tailors, locksmiths and stonecutters, hatters and typographers, jewelers and wheelwrights, brewers and pastrycooks - who made up the mass of the sans-culotte movement of 1792 to 1794 and gave the Committee of Public Safety the popular backing it needed to carry through its resolute and merciless policies when the Revolution was most in danger. The victory of the Revolution over the leagued monarchs of Europe and over the internal rebellions of the Federalists and the Vendee was in no small part due to the limitless energy and the fanatical patriotism of the Parisian sans-culottes. The patriotism of the gens de metier did not mean that they had abandoned their corporations- at least not in the beginning. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Rousseau did not stop at the first ideas that Condillac's writings had inspired in him: his mind, always active, criticized them, corrected them, transformed them. Duclos' Remarques, which had just appeared, suggested still others. He expounded them with satisfaction. And preoccupied with the problems that he had examined in his Discours, he even devoted a large part of the Essai to his conceptions of the state of nature and of the first epochs of humanity. From this triple inspiration has arisen a slightly confused and badly digested work. The Essai sur l'origine des langues, as a reflection on both language and music, holds a unique position in the work of a writer who was also music theorist and composer. In addition to a Projet concernant de nouveaux signes pour la musique – a proposal to simplify musical notation by eliminating the traditional staff and its symbols – Rousseau wrote the music articles for the Encyclopédie, published a widely read Dictionnaire de musique, and composed operas, motets, and chansons. Reflections on music are also scattered throughout Rousseau's fictional and non-fictional writings. The Discours sur l'origine de l'inégalité, La Nouvelle Héloïse, Emile, and the Confessions all include references (from relatively brief digressions in the second Discours, to rather extensive passages in the Confessions) to music and/or music theory. The particular complexity of the Essai's intertwining of reflections on music, language, society, and political systems has left many critics perplexed. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Condillac is interested in the ways in which signs in general, and language in particular, allow us to combine thoughts and construct knowledge. The larger aim of the Essai sur l'origine des connaissances humaines, first published in Amsterdam in 1746, is to rid philosophy of the metaphysics of Aristotle, which is characterized as “a kind of magic incantation [enchantement]”, and to supplant it with a radical empiricism based on Locke's rejection of innate ideas and inspired by Newton's single principle of the conservation of movement. By analogy with the Newtonian, physical universe, Condillac claims that “the brain can be acted upon only by motion” (43n). As he would later clarify in the Traité des sensations, all the operations of the mind are based on the displacement and transformation of basic sensation: “judgment, reflection, desires, passions, and so on are only sensation differently transformed”. The growth of our ideas should be conceived of as a natural process deriving from sensation – a series of ever-expanding equivalencies branching out from our immediate experience of physical nature to the most complex operations of the mind. This new philosophy sets itself the task, then, of extracting all of human knowledge from sensations. Yet Condillac tempers this empiricism with an emphasis on language. He recognizes that signs are necessary for thought and seeks to reconstruct the genealogy of knowledge through the development of language. As Sylvain Auroux has rightly commented, Condillac's sensationalism results in a “metalinguistic empiricism”. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Relying heavily on the book of Genesis and on biblical hermeneutics, seventeenth-century theorists sought to recapture or re-create the transparence of knowledge to expression that characterized the biblical origin. In An Essay Towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language (1668), John Wilkens asserts that language was the work of divine flat: “And 'tis evident enough that the first Language was con-created with our first Parents, they immediately understanding the voice of God speaking to them in the Garden”. Just as Adam and Eve were given language by God, they also must have received music in the same way; this is the supposition that introduces Jean Rousseau's 1687 treatise on the viol: “if we begin with our first Father after his creation, we will find that having been given the most admirable understanding of the mind & the most perfect physical dexterity, he possessed all the Sciences & all the Arts in their perfection, & consequently music as well”. The voice of God, music, language, and understanding are conflated, all immediately present to Adam in the Garden. Whether directly infused into Adam (“con-created”) or invented by him, music is described as an emanation or a direct result of being: “one can answer that Adam sung the praises of God, & consequently that he invented Music, or that he received it through divine inspiration, like the other forms of knowledge, seeing that there seems to be no other possibility: one can reasonably say the same thing of our Savior”. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]