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From the end of the nineteenth century and one hundred years onward, home sewing was an important part of many women’s duties, but it was also a pleasure, something that existed parallel with the emerging mass-produced ready-to-wear industry. The paper patterns used for home dressmaking were often sold and distributed through women’s magazines. These pattern sections were both a kind of reader service and a conscious strategy to capture the female target group. This article, based on an analysis of three Swedish magazines, is the first in-depth survey of patterns for home sewing of women’s clothes in Sweden. The study shows how the magazines adapted to changes in society with increasingly easier patterns and ready-cut fabric for their readers. By highlighting women making their clothes in the home, this article contributes to an often-neglected area of women’s memory and fashion history.

This article discusses Freud’s presentation on telepathy to his close colleagues at the meeting in the Harz mountains in 1921. It considers the fate of his paper and the reasons why he never published it as a single piece. The development of Freud’s ideas about telepathy during the succeeding years and the reasons that prompted him finally to publish his views on thought-transference in 1925 are also considered. The article also discusses the place of the four cases presented in his writings on telepathy over this period, culminating in his new ‘lecture’ on Dreams and Occultism in 1933. It is suggested that Freud’s persuasion that psychoanalysis could credibly account for thought-transference was in part affected by the degree of trust he held in those presenting him with material, but most of all by his own personal experience. Freud held out against opposition from people like Jones on the matter of the worthiness of the subject for investigation, but never succeeded in integrating it more fully into psychoanalysis, and this position is largely unchanged today.

A rough draft of Alfred Russel Wallace's famous “Sarawak law” paper (1855) has been discovered. A full transcript is provided comparing it to the published text. The implications for Wallace's scientific writing practices for this and, by implication, his historic Ternate essay (1858) are discussed.

Statistically speaking, religion is the second most important source of inspiration behind the poetry of William Wordsworth. Religious subjects and motifs, or religion as a source of imagery occur in nearly 500 poems, early and late, minor and major; the entire opus of the poet amounting to a little over 800 titles. This means that religious elements will be found in more than every second piece, in almost two pieces out of three. God and Heaven, Providence and Eternity, Jesus and the Cross, Angels and Paradise, Virgin Mary and Saints, the Bible and Christian psalms, faith and worship; people who pray – young and old, male and female, laymen and clergymen: priests and pastors, monks and nuns, pilgrims and hermits; and the places where they pray: churches and chapels, abbeys and convents, shrines and hermit cells. These religious references are mostly Christian, though, as is well known, some poems written in Wordsworth’s early phase lean in a different direction; some of them ‘might be perverted to serve the purposes of a popular and pantheistic philosophy’, as Christopher Wordsworth, the poet’s nephew and his earliest biographer, put it in his analysis of ‘Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey’. Again, these references are mostly Anglican (reflecting the religious upbringing of his childhood and at Hawkshead School, his adult patriotic feelings, the mindset of his target audience), though surprisingly often Wordsworth takes up Catholic themes and attitudes as well. What is more, these Catholic references in Wordsworth’s poetry are not always negative, which anybody familiar with Wordsworth’s prose will regard as rather unexpected. Reflecting on this specific discrepancy Aubrey de Vere, Wordsworth’s acquaintance and at the same time one of his most perceptive early critics, introduced a curious distinction: Wordsworth was, he remarks in his ‘Recollections of Wordsworth’

An album entitled Documents Relating to Roslin Chapel, which came to light during research for the Rosslyn exhibition at the National Gallery of Scotland in 2002, is one of the very few known collections of papers related to the Scottish Collegiate Church to have survived by John Britton (1771–1857), the architectural publisher and antiquarian.1 This paper explores its jascinating contents.

The research on fossil bones by Georges Cuvier (1769–1832) is an instructive example of the making of scientific knowledge in the indoor setting of a museum. The trajectory of his specimens can be followed all the way from their collection in the field to their publication as engravings with explanatory text. Cuvier's resources at the Muséum d'Histoire Naturelle in Paris were greatly enlarged by his accumulation of a “paper museum”. He appealed to other naturalists to send him accurate drawings of fossil bones. These functioned as paper “proxies” for specimens that in reality remained elsewhere. Such visual “mobiles” were far from immutable, however, because they were transformed not only by the processes of drawing and engraving but also by Cuvier's use of visual rhetoric: he made them give persuasive support to his zoological and geological interpretations of fossil bones.

I think one can profitably begin by reflecting on the timing of the Red Paper on Scotland. It came out in 1975, after the period of nationalist break-through in Scotland, the same year as Wilson's referendum on taking Britain into the European Economic Community, and following on some notable workingclass agitation (displayed on the front cover the Upper Clyde shipyard occupation). It burst upon us after all these exciting indicators of change and new times* But also, it is salutary to recall that this took place only four years before the Winter of Discontent, the failure of the first Home Rule referenda in 1979, and Mrs Thatcher's ascent to power. Gordon Brown's Red Pape r was a stirring prophetic fanfare. However, almost from the outset it was something else as well: an unintended funeral oration, the interment of impossible dreams.

Ever since the Middle Ages, the art of Emilia Romagna (a region of Italy), and more generally of the Po Valley, has been characterised by great attention to aspects of daily life. This particular situation has undoubtedly encouraged the relations and links between the world of art and that of science. And, indeed, in Emilia Romagna throughout the modern age a large number of painters worked on commission for naturalists and an equally large number of scientists and ‘amateurs’ themselves undertook the illustration of nature, or were interested in the problems and techniques of the figurative arts, or collected objets d'art.

A consideration of the full dimensions of humanism and of the humanist dimension of law invites two questions: is “humanism” compatible with theocentric religion, and therefore, is the Renaissance compatible with the “otherworldly” Middle Ages, and, has law any humanist dimension at all? The answer to the first question provides the insights that answer the second. Fully integrated humanism includes bath the Classical immanence of humanity in the world and the value accorded to the human being by the declaration in Genesis that all creation is “very good”, a principle reinforced by the Incarnation of the Logos as a man. Understood in the full range of its human relevance, from the quotidian to the transcendent, law too bas a humanist dimension.