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This article transcribes eight hitherto unpublished George Eliot letters arranged in chronological order. The sources for the letters are book and autograph dealers’ catalogues, auction houses, the...

The study of alba amicorum is still a relatively obscure yet growing pursuit in the Anglophone world. By browsing through these autograph albums, it is possible to unlock the names of Scots so long...

This article traces the history of the only surviving autograph manuscript of Ode to a Nightingale, composed two hundred years ago in May 2019, and preserved since 1933 in the Fitzwilliam M...

Being invited to write this commentary is a career high. To prepare, I took an old and tattered autographed copy of The Other 23 Hours down from my bookshelf. It had been many years since I had rea...

The autograph manuscript of Ivan Turgenev’s novel Ottsy i deti reveals a complex intonational system of punctuation, the most distinctive feature of which are pauses designated by his extensive use...

This essay argues that late medieval manuscript producers were both aware of and at times troubled by the ontological ambiguity of the medium in which they worked. Nelson Goodman’s aesthetic philosophy provides an apt framework for characterizing this ambiguity, which rests on the manuscript’s dual status as both an allograph and an autograph. Embodying features of both, the manuscript demands a third category, which I term the “ambigraph.” Through an examination of manuscripts of Hoccleve’s Regiment of Princes, I demonstrate how both scribes and illuminators struggled with a self-referential text that presents itself as both an original document and the performance of a script. When called upon by the text they copied to produce pictorial evidence of Chaucer’s likeness, scribes and illuminators left behind evidence in both word and image of their perturbation at this brief, as well as their reluctance and refusal to fulfill it. These exertions, I argue, offer a practical theorization of a premode...

Allan Cunningham’s Florae Insularum Novae Zelandiae Precursor, published serially from 1837 to 1839, is an important source of taxonomic names in New Zealand botany. It is pointed out that the printed text contains a large number of errors, which can be corrected using an autograph manuscript that is still extant. In particular, the spelling of the name of the fern genus Loxsoma nom. et orth. cons. as Loxoma is discussed. It is shown that this is an orthographic error, soon corrected by its author, who is not Cunningham, as generally supposed, but W.J. Hooker, as actually stated in the published text. The manuscript confirms the attributions Loxsoma R.Br. ex Hook. and L. cunninghamii R.Br. ex Hook. A number of typographic errors are also discussed, the only significant one having resulted in the mistaken attribution of the family Griseliniaceae to Cunningham.

This essay aims to reconstruct how the Ancient Greeks remember mousike, the ways in which the relationship between mousike and politics was idealized, and how it informed the lawmaking of the Archaic age. Following an analysis of various passages in Hesiod and Homer, the author reconstructs the traditions of the Archaic lawgivers, focusing on a description of the works of Terpander, a mousikos who was active in Sparta in the seventh century BC. Finally, the author looks at some autograph fragments of Solon. The paper concludes that from this memory comes a lesson on the ‘measure’ that is still valid today.

In the years 2008–10, during the cataloguing of some pre-Partition documents in the provincial archives of Pakistan, a corpus of unpublished documents referring to archaeological matters came to the light. The corpus also contains 26 letters by Sir Aurel Stein, some of them copies, others in original autographed manuscripts. These archival documents are connected to the explorations of Sir Aurel Stein in Swat. A first group is linked to his 1926 trip to Swat and to his identification of the Indian Aornos of Alexander’s historians with Mt. Pir-sar. A second group is related to three failed plans by Stein to carry out new explorations in Swat, a goal that he eventually accomplished only in 1941 when he was 79. The three attempts occurred respectively in 1928, in 1931, and in 1933.

Applying cognitive research to a creative writing disciplinary approach can ‘make visible’ the experience, or, one might say, the mind of the writer-at-work. This essay engages with a range of research on distributed and ‘externalised cognition’, and extended mind theory, to examine intersections between the writer, language and the materiality, the ‘doing’, of writing. It thus considers generative processes, the drafting and revisions of writing. Whereas literary research, such as in edited collections of original works, aims to construct or complete writers' works for readers, a writing approach, aims to examine processes of mind and cognition via drafts, revisions and autograph corrections as the material texts or artefacts of externalised cognition. The essay canvasses cognitive research on extended mind theory, neuroscience and language, and writers' commentaries to examine connections of thought, language-use and systems, and the question of imagination, in the process of the realisation of creative...

Bernardino da Siena was one of the most successful preachers of the Franciscan observance. His autograph manuscript, the Itinerarium anni, which was lost in Siena in the eighteenth century, was recently rediscovered in a private collection. It contains several drafts of sermons; some of them are unpublished.

Erasmus' doodles, and those of his circle of acquaintances, serve as evocative relics of their textual sociability, registering their peculiar habits of visualization. As remnants of active textual engagement, doodles bring into higher relief the reciprocity of linguistic production and visual conception, the correspondence of scribal techniques and graphic illustration, and the psychically charged vacillation between readership and authorship. The drawings, illustrations, and paintings considered in this essay lie at the intersection of humanist visual and literary culture in the years surrounding the publication of The Praise of Folly and suggest the powerful identification these erudite men felt toward the figure of Folly, as an exemplar of sorts. Read alongside formal portraits Erasmus commissioned to construct an extra-textual ‘public’ face, the scholar's travestied autographs shadowed and prefigured his self-promotional machinations. As a patron and promoter of portraiture, Erasmus valued art's abil...

Zadie Smith's 2005 novel, On Beauty, rereads and revises E. M. Forster's Howards End, and Smith's authorial affinities and dissimilarities to Forster were much discussed by the novel's critics. This article extends this discussion by arguing that On Beauty actually represents the culmination of an extended engagement with Forster's work. Identifying the marks of a Forsterian ethics within both White Teeth and The Autograph Man, I suggest that a sustained ethical enquiry—prompted largely by Forster but also indebted to contemporary moral philosophers such as Martha Nussbaum and Elaine Scarry—underpins and illuminates Smith's fiction in a manner crucial to a fuller understanding of her work.

In the early 1900s John Quinn (1879–1924), Ohio-born son of Irish Catholic immigrants, was establishing a successful financial law career in Manhattan and had begun what became an all-consuming passion, collecting. At first he collected literature, especially Walter Pater, Thomas Hardy, William Morris and George Meredith, autograph manuscripts where possible, and then fine art, initially prints and drawings. Quinn himself was to be a key driver behind the 1913 Armory Show in New York and, in the years around the First World War, an increasingly prodigious collector of French modernism in particular, a process made all the easier by his own success that year in driving through anti-tariff legislation on the import to America of original works of art. The later development of Quinn's art collecting has been widely discussed, most notably in 1978 by the art historian and museum curator Judith Zilczer, and his life as a whole very closely detailed a decade earlier in Benjamin L. Reid's 1968 Pulitzer Prize-winning The Man from New York. My focus in this article is on the shifts and transformations of Quinn's earlier patterns of collecting from the turn of the century up to and including his interests in Vorticism, on his Irish collection in particular and on exploring Quinn's practices in relation to some recent studies of transnationalism, transculturation and the nature and operation of transatlantic networks in the market for art.

In the mid-1990s a Uruguayan scholar, Juan Flo, discovered a photocopy of fifty-two manuscripts among Angel Rama's private papers which were later verified to be the early handwritten drafts of poems by the famous Peruvian poet, Cesar Vallejo (1892-1938), from his collection Poemas humanos as well as Espana, aparta de mi este caliz. Vallejo's widow, Georgette, had been negotiating the terms of an edition of these valuable manuscripts with Angel Rama in the late 1970s and early 1980s, a process which was interrupted by the latter's untimely death. The fifty-two autographs reveal a great deal about Vallejo's compositional techniques, but the mystery of the whereabouts of the original autographs remains. This essay focuses on this mystery, and proposes and evaluates the three most likely hypotheses about what happened to Vallejo's autografos. © Queen Mary, University of London 2011.

Deconstructing the praxis involved in the collecting of discourse in late nineteenth-century American autograph albums, this essay links the socially based practices involved in middle-class young women's (re)inscription of messages of friendship within such spaces to Jacques Derrida's theory of differance. While the commonplace language contained within such objects often has a conservative orientation, its circulation within communities through customary practices of exchange opened up opportunities for rhetorical invention. The opportunity to write in these locations also represented access to new discursive arenas, participation which likely played a part in women's gradually increasing access to the public sphere.

Felix Mendelssohn's two mature piano concertos, Op. 25 in G minor (1831–32) and Op. 40 in D minor (1837), were widely performed in the nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, the D-minor Concerto fell completely out of favor and came to be regarded as a work the composer had completed hurriedly. However, the numerous extant autograph sources for the second Concerto reveal that Mendelssohn considered it worthy of the meticulous revision customary of his major artistic efforts. The problematic reception of the D-minor Concerto was due to a convergence of factors, not the least of which was the highly favorable reception of its predecessor, Op. 25, deemed historically significant due to its formal innovations. But more subtle forces also shaped the decline of Op. 40, including a perceived seriousness of musical content as opposed to popularizing virtuosic display, as well as a long history of performance by women and amateurs rather than male virtuosi. In addition, the second Piano Concerto's biographi...

The 1868 edition of the full score of Der Schauspieldirektor in the Unisa Library is one of only four copies that could be found in a worldwide search of libraries. When the first printed score of this work is referred to in sources, it is always the 1882 edition that appeared as part of the Alte Mozart Ausgabe that is referred to, never this one. Even the staff of the Mozarteum in Salzburg was unaware of the 1868 edition until it was brought to their attention by a member of the Unisa staff in 1988. The most remarkable aspect of the 1868 edition is that it contains ritornellos to the arias for the two sopranos, the ariette and the rondo, which are not in the autograph score. The originals of these introductions have not yet been traced. Rietz made an unequivocal decision in favour of including the two introductions. It is the opinion of the author of this article that according to the available evidence, this was an informed and still valid decision. Another unequivocal and valid decision of Rie...

Chappuzeau's Le Theâtre francois was published in 1674, being the first description of day-to-day operations in the Paris theatres as well as containing several arguments in favour of drama and against the doctrinaires who opposed it. A slightly earlier version of the work, in an autograph manuscript dedicated to the newly established Guenegaud theatre company, offers evidence of the author's more robust references to Catholic clergy and greater exuberance in his comments on authors and their works and on the acting profession. Taken together with remarks contained in two printings of Chappuzeau's L'Europe vivante (1666–67), the 1673 text provides a setting for information about performance days, premieres and seasonal preferences which, although retained in the printed edition, does not accord with what is known of actual practice.

The poetic epigrams and vignettes that precede the movements of Fanny Hensel's Das Jahr in the recently discovered autograph allow for a new, enriched interpretation of the work, previously believed to depict the composer's Italian sojourn. Hensel's music is frequently shaped by the poems from which the epigrams were taken: works by Schiller, Uhland, Eichendorff, Tieck, and Goethe. The epigrams, vignettes drawn by Wilhelm Hensel, and references to other compositions combine to evoke the passage of time and the seasons of human life, a narrative of change tinged with a melancholic sense of loss, in a genuinely Romantic musical cycle.

This is the first critical edition and translation of a 1537 letter from the Italian Humanist, Giovanni Ferrerio, to the Scottish Cistercian Abbot, Robert Reid of Kinloss. Together with the ad lectorem, it prefaces Ferrerio's Historia abbatum de Kynlos. The edition is based on two autograph manuscripts of the text, now in Rome and Edinburgh, which have not previously been collated. An introduction and notes set the texts in the context of Humanist historiography and Scottish history. They show that a flourishing ‘northern Renaissance’ spread even to the shores of the Moray Firth in north-east Scotland, and that ties of friendship and common culture united scholars from Scotland and the Continent. It has been said that Humanist historiography hardly influenced the writing of ecclesiastical history until after the Council of Trent, but the letter reveals that Ferrerio's Historia is in a Scottish tradition of writing church history which unites Humanism and the chronicle tradition in the same manner ...

Dr Whelan has made a study of Baptist letters in various British archives. The introduction to this calendar, which is helpfully collated with letters in the Isaac Mann Collection, looks at how the Rylands’ collection was assembled. Whelan’s transcriptions of many of these letters will be published in Baptist Autographs at the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 1741-1845, Mercer 2009.

Although a number of scholars have written extensively about Berlioz's Romeo et Juliette, none has been able to say more about the many revisions Berlioz made between the premiere in 1839 and its publication in 1847 other than that the autograph manuscript in the Bibliotheque Nationale shows signs of cuts of unknown length. Study of the manuscript reveals small red-ink measure numbers appearing every 25 bars and at the end of each section where changes in tempo or key occur. Careful scrutiny of these measure numbers shows that they were entered by copyists preparing performance parts—some after Berlioz's revisions, but most before them. Furthermore, the drying of the glue Berlioz used to cover cuts with collettes has made it possible to see under the collettes. Thus it has been possible to discern exactly how many measures were cut by Berlioz and how many new measures were inserted.

Recently, an unpublished, undated letter by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (in London) to Samuel Purkis (at Brentford), composed between February 26 and March 1, 1800, was found in a collection of autograph letters once belonging to the Baptist minister Joseph Angus (1816–1902), principal of Regent’s Park College, London, from 1849 to 1893. In the letter, Coleridge requests a loan of £10 from Purkis to be sent to Coleridge’s mother‐in‐law in Bristol in order to defray expenses that would soon arise from Sara Coleridge’s visit in March to the West Country. In the letter, Coleridge refers to Richard B. Sheridan as “a Rogue,” boasts of having spent considerable time with Elizabeth Inchbald, Charlotte Smith, Mrs Barbauld, and Mary Robinson (Coleridge’s “list of Illustrissimae!”), and once again declares his intention of giving up newspaper work and returning to the West Country to live for a time with Tom Poole. This essay discusses Coleridge’s past history with Purkis, Coleridge’s current situation with the Morning...

Given Lorca's continued status as one of the greatest lyric poets of the twentieth century, the discovery of any autograph manuscript by him is bound to generate considerable interest. This is part...

In 1912, a group of women within the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) undertook to become architects of the first continuous transcontinental automobile route, to be called the ‘National Old Trails Road’ highway. Consistent with many of the private road improvement initiatives during the heyday of America's good roads movement, ‘Daughters’ in many states were involved in mapping the route and posing a variety of marking schemes that would etch upon the landscape the DAR's sponsorship of the route. In doing so, the Daughters staked an explicit claim for the DAR and for American women in the project of nation‐building, by promoting their National Old Trails Road as a culmination of Manifest Destiny. This episode highlights the interrelationship of gender and the nation. This article argues that while women function passively in nationalist rhetoric to symbolise the nation, one must also acknowledge the agency of conservative women's groups in constructing and perpetuating n...

Joseph Angus and Thomas Raffles both collected autographs. For Angus the signatures of authors were a means of enhancing the academic dignity of the college collection. Transcripts of his letters to Raffles are included.

Although it is the current viewpoint among scholars that the separate choral “Et incarnatus” of Bach's B-Minor Mass was an afterthought, considerations of symmetry, tonal structure, and traditions of Roman Catholic mass composition suggest that Bach must have planned the independent “Et incarnatus” from the beginning. This conclusion is reinforced by a study of the autograph and by a musical analysis of the “Et in unum” duet and its parody. It would seem that Bach deliberately inserted the choral “Et incarnatus” in the autograph on an extractable leaf in order to provide his missa tota with alternative performing options, both Lutheran and Roman Catholic. A performance that avoids the structural and musical weaknesses of both these confessional alternatives is both possible and preferable, and would be fully in line with Bach's old-age universalist orientations. This calls for a change in the prevailing performance practice.

From the viewpoints of both performer and editor, the author compares two autograph sources of Sutherland's solo piano work Chiaroscuro I (1967). Issues concerning access to original manuscripts and facsimiles, the reading and interpretation of the composer's notation, idiosyncrasies of Sutherland's style and questions of editorial and performance judgement are discussed.

Four factors (edition, condition, dust jacket, and autograph) that are hypothesized to influence the value of books are identified and linked to basic economic principles, which are explained. A sample of fifty-six titles is qualitatively examined to test the hypothesis.

The Tabula Peutingeriana, preserved in the Department of Manuscripts, Autographs and Closed Collections at the Austrian National Library, Vienna (Codex Vindobonensis 324), and named after the Germa...

This article analyzes how the popular press in Gilded Age America helped to create a celebrity culture in religious reporting designed to stimulate circulation at a time fo economic panie. Coverage of the era's two leading evangelists, Henry Ward Beecher and D. L. Moody, by Brooklyn's "saucepan press" demonstrated the entertainment value fo religious news in modernizing America. Just as a sauce contains any ingredients designed to tickle the palate, so, too, did modern newspaper reporting. Reeling from the Panic of 1873, it needed to be part news and part entertainment if it was to find and keep an audience. Beecher's adultery trial and Moody's trans-Atlantic revival success had made each a star by the fall of 1875, when they filled the pages of Brooklyn's press with tall tales designed to titallate and excite readers, who had wearied of traditional religious reporting. If Moody's mass meetings showed that religion as a civic spectacle well, the Beecher story showed that religion as a civic scandal worked equally well. A forty-year-old Brooklyn-born rubber goods manufacturer, G. W. Smith, knew he was being stalked, but he did not know why. "Hundreds of people began following me down Fulton Street," he told reporters. "They were whispering and pointing," but he "couldn't imagine what they meant." Suddenly, someone burst through the throng, pen and paper in hand, and gently tugged at his double-breasted Prince Albert coat. "Mr. Moody," the wide-eyed fan replied, "may I have your autograph?"1 The five-foot-six-inch, full-bearded man with strong shoulders and a purposeful walk had been mistaken for Dwight Lyman Moody. A thirty-eight-year-old former boot peddler with a fourth-grade education, he had become one of the two best known evangelists in the English-speaking world after a widely-publicized, two-year revival tour of Great Britain. Now "God's man for the Gilded Age" was in Brooklyn, determined to bring "the city of churches" as well as the rest of America to its spiritual senses. Special trolley tracks had to be laid along Myrtle Avenue from the East River ferry to the door of the Brooklyn Rink at Claremont and Willoughby avenues to accommodate the crowds who wanted to see the show. The Vanderbilt Avenue line did the same at the rear of the rink.2 With more than 7,000 spectators inside, armed guards barred what one reporter called a "swollen sea" of late-comers from getting in. Some demanded to know the reason why. Others simply pleaded. When they heard the choir practicing inside, they "grew wild with excitement." Some started shouting Moody's name, more joined in, and children were hoisted to window wells for a glimpse of the man. The New York Sun reported "the great anxiety to see and hear Moody" was unprecedented in municipal history. The New York Tribune heartily concurred. "The sidewalks and housetops were black for blocks around," it reported. "One large river of life" flowed to the gates of "the Promised Land," as the New York Herald noted. Four to five times as many as got in were kept out, creating a scene "never before witnessed in any city on this continent."3 The man who saw himself in competition with Moody for the best known evangelist of the Industrial Age did not share in the city's excitement. Henry Ward Beecher, the veteran pastor of Brooklyn's Plymouth Congregational Church, was conspicuous by his absence in the pre-event planning of Moody's well-oiled organizing committee. Throughout the spring and summer of 1875, the sixty-two-yearold clergyman, abolitionist, and editor was embroiled in an adultery trial that had become its own city spectacle, making "Beecher the Screecher," as Mark Twain called him, a national laughing stock. Sightseers still followed the crowds from the Fulton Street ferry to Beecher's 3,000-seat tabernacle near the corner of Cranberry and Orange to see the old orator at work, but many now beneath their breath muttered the delicious doggerel, "Beecher, Beecher is my name. …

Mikhail Lermontov's "The Fatalist," from the novel Geroi nashego vremeni (A Hero of Our Time, 1840), can be interpreted as a polemical piece in which the author enters into a parodic dialogue with Aleksandr Pushkin's "Pikovaia dama" (The Queen of Spades, 1834). Indeed, one can read the whole of Lermontov's creative oeuvre-from his first known autograph, a copy of Pushkin's "Bakhchisaraiskii fontan" (The Fountain of Bakhchisarai) in his journal, to his own last work "Shtoss"-as a continual dialogue with his literary predecessor and chosen artistic idol. Critics have discerned many parallels between Lermontov's and Pushkin's works; correspondences detailed succinctly in the "Pushkin" entry of Lermontovskaia entsiklopedia (The Lermontov Encyclopedia). "The Queen of Spades" is mentioned in this article most frequently amongst Pushkinian works from which Lermontov sought inspiration. Not surprisingly, scholars compare Pushkin's novella most often to Lermontov's fiction in which cards and gambling play an important role-"Masquerade" and the unfinished tale "Shtoss." "The Fatalist" also appears on this list.1 Some of the similarities shared by "The Queen of Spades" and "The Fatalist" can be attributed to more than simple emulation on the part of Lermontov. S. Durylin, a Marxist critic of the Soviet era, notes that, while quite romantic in appearance, the characters of Germann and Vulich are also characteristic of their historical milieu-many such poor and unknown officers sought the excitement of struggle and power at the card table as they were deprived of these challenges in real life because of societal status. Moreover, these "servicemen not by their own will" (like Germann or Vulich) found the card games to be the only way for them to achieve wealth.2 As Lotman reminds us, a general rule to any game of cards-be it a game of skill or a game of chance-was to dispose of the deck after a game and to toss it under the table. …

(ProQuest: ... denotes non-US-ASCII text omitted.)The published correspondence of the Minim friar Marin Mersenne (1588-1648) fills seventeen fat volumes, and constitutes one of the most important monuments of seventeenth-century intellectual life.1 Mersenne's appetite for information in almost every field of learning was extraordinary and unflagging; he corresponded with Italian mathematicians, Dutch and French musicians, Huguenot theologians, English philosophers and scientists, and a wide range of friars, Jesuits, savants and country gentlemen. However, the sheer bulk of the modern edition of his correspondence may give a somewhat misleading impression of the quantity of Mersenne's own letters that have survived. A significant proportion of those seventeen volumes consists, in fact, of letters between third parties which mention Mersenne or relate in some way to his own correspondence. For the year 1641, for example, exactly 100 letters are printed: 54 are letters between third parties, 39 are letters to Mersenne, and only seven are letters by him.2 The discovery of six hitherto unknown autograph letters by Mersenne - addressed to Philip Ernst Vegelin, and located among the Vegelin papers in the Provincial Archive of Friesland at Leeuwarden - therefore amounts to a significant addition to the corpus of Mersenne's own letters.3The recipient of these letters was a talented young Dutchman of German origin, who shared some of Mersenne's scientific and musical interests, and had become acquainted with Mersenne personally in Paris. His name is not unknown to Mersenne scholars: one letter from him to Mersenne is contained in the published correspondence, and the Minim friar occasionally referred to him in letters to a mutual acquaintance.4 However, almost nothing has been written about him, apart from the brief entry in the Nieuw nederlandsch biografisch woordenboek, and virtually no attention has been given to the small but significant role he played as an intellectual intermediary between the Netherlands, France and England.5Philip Ernst Vegelin was born on 10 October 1613; his father, who bore the same name, came from a Protestant family, originally from Fribourg in Switzerland, which had moved to the Rhineland town of Neustadt, in the Palatinate. (The family name was probably derived from 'Vogelin'; the recipient of these letters normally signed himself 'Vegilin', but sometimes used 'Vegelin' - or, when writing in French, 'Veguelin', to indicate the hard 'g'. In later generations the spelling became fixed as 'Vegelin', which is the form used in this article.) Philip Ernst Vegelin senior served under Gustavus Adolphus, and was rewarded with an estate at Claerbergen, in the southern part of Friesland; the full family name therefore became Vegelin van (or 'de') Claerbergen.6Nothing is known of Philip Ernst Vegelin junior's education or early adulthood until the late 1630s, when he evidently spent some time in Paris: before he visited England in 1639 he was already well acquainted with the French engineer and musical theorist Jean Le Maire. This visionary but secretive inventor had developed a new form of musical notation, using individual symbols for notes of different pitch (instead of placing them on a stave); he also designed a new type of lute, called an 'Almerie' (an anagram of his name).7 No doubt it was Vegelin's own passion for music that drew him to Le Maire; it may also be a testimony to his personal charm that this notoriously unforthcoming inventor did apparently share some of his secrets with him. Whether Vegelin had also made the personal acquaintance of Mersenne by this stage is not known, though it does seem likely; he certainly knew of Mersenne's own work as a musical theorist (published in his huge folio volume, the Harmonie universelle) - as one of his later comments, noted by Samuel Hartlib and quoted below, makes clear. Nor is it known how long Vegelin spent in Paris at this time. …

IAmong the Harleian manuscripts in the British Library sits a brief treatise entitled 'The mathematical demonstration of the sword' (MS 5219). The text of this little tract covers a mere seven pages, with two pages of printed diagrams. It sets about a mechanical analysis of the relative force of two swords pressing against one another, with a view to providing new principles for use in attack and defence. The treatise has attracted little attention; the only printed notice known to me is that of Thimm, who lists it among anonymous manuscript works in his bibliography of fencing manuals.1 But although it may be anonymous, it is attributable: it is an otherwise unknown work by Thomas Hobbes.The text is written in Hobbes's hand.2 It reveals all the distinctive features of his script, including those by which it may be distinguished from the similar hand of his friend, Robert Payne: these include paragraphing by means of spacing rather than indentation; ascenders and descenders thickened by means of tightly-looping pen-strokes; the absence of Greek e, but the presence of italic, reversed secretary, and two-stroke e; and a sharply angled foot on l.3 (See fig. A.)Why should Hobbes, so renowned for his horror of physical confrontation, have composed an essay on the force of two swords? To answer that question we must determine the context in and the purpose for which the essay was written.The essay was presented to and was, I shall demonstrate, written for Hobbes's patron, William Cavendish, marquess of Newcastle.4 Newcastle has, in fact, endorsed the manuscript, on its first folio, 'The [>mathematicall] Demonstration off The Sorde'. This allows us to connect it with his own autograph treatise, 'The Truth off the Sorde', also in the Harleian Collection (MS 4206), because near the start of that treatise, Newcastle inscribed the instruction 'The nexte This muste bee the mathematicall demonstration off The Sorde'.5 Hobbes's demonstration was therefore to have been incorporated into Newcastle's text. In order to make sense of this extraordinary situation, we need to sketch out some background on Newcastle and his treatise.Newcastle's expertise as a horseman is well known: it was celebrated in an epigram by Ben Jonson, and his 'new method' of dressage is widely believed to have contributed much to modern haute ecole.6 It is, however, less widely known that Newcastle was also an avid and adept swordsman - despite the fact that Jonson also wrote an epigram celebrating his proficiency at that 'noble Science'.7 In her biography of her husband, Newcastle's wife, Margaret, furnishes us with an explanation for the tendency to neglect his interest in swordsmanship, by distinguishing his relatively public demonstrations of his method of horsemanship (in which he personally instructed his 'escuyers') from his more private demonstrations of swordsmanship, in which he also developed a 'new method': 'But in the art of weapons (in which he has a method beyond all that ever were famous in it, found out by his own ingenuity and practice) he never taught anybody but now the Duke of Buckingham, whose guardian he hath been, and his own two sons.'8 In fact, Newcastle's treatise, 'The Truth off the Sorde', was addressed to his sons.9 Another reason for this neglect is that, unlike his manuals on the manage, Newcastle's treatise on the use of the sword was never published.Newcastle's treatise covers some ninety-five folios on sheets of large, highquality paper. The volume is fairly written in Newcastle's autograph, but is not a fair copy. Instructions for insertions at various points in the text, and Newcastle's provision of verses to accompany a non-existent frontispiece indicate either that it was to be recopied or that it was to be printed. Given its address, inter alia, 'To all Noble Caualiers, [>&] Gentle-men off the Sorde', it seems safe to assume it was intended for the press, in the same manner as his manuals on horsemanship of 1658 and 1667. …

Lars Valerian Ahlfors (1907-1996) was born in Helsinki, Finland, and earned his Ph.D. at the University of Helsinki under Ernst Lindelof in 1928. In 1935 he came to Harvard for three years, but then returned to Helsinki to help carry on its mathematical tradition. Forced to leave by World War II, he accepted a professorship at Harvard, where he worked until his retirement in 1977. Ahlfors is remembered by his students and colleagues as refined and reserved, yet a delightful host fond of good food, drink, and conversation?and always eager to work the following day. Ahlfors' work virtually defined the subject of complex function theory in the middle half of this century. His textbook Complex Analysis has attracted generations of students to the subject. In his research papers he introduced and developed the theory of quasiconformal mappings, for which he received a Fields medal in 1936. In collaboration with Lipman Bers he made pioneering advances in the theory of Kleinian groups, and Ahlfors' contributions to geometrie function theory underlie much of modern complex manifold theory. The breadth and depth of his work are shown by his being the only mathematician ever invited to give plenary addresses to the International Congress of Mathematicians three times. This interview was conducted at the Ahlfors family cottage at East Booth Bay, Maine, in June, 1991. The interviewer was delighted to have his old student copy of Complex Analysis autographed.

Chopin wrote more pedal indications than any other composer up to World War II, and his playing was admired for its kaleidoscopic palette of subtle colors; yet, in performances today the subtlety and astonishing precision of those indications are often ignored. By examining the three extant autographs and the first editions of the Mazurka Op. 59, No. 2, and the autograph of the Nocturne Op. 55, No. 2, this study demonstrates that Chopin often sought contrast between pedaled and unpedaled sound—even where there is an oom‐pah‐pah accompaniment; that he frequently altered pedalings in similar places to shift emphasis; and that he engaged in long‐range planning and development of pedal effects.

The Archives, Special Collections and Documentation Department of the Deutsches Museum rank with the biggest and most prominent archives for the history of science and technology in Europe. Its collections go back to the 16th and 17th century, but most of the archival stock dates from the 19th and 20th century. The material comprises autographs, deeds, private papers, archives of companies and scientific institutions, photographic archives and a picture library, the administrative archives of the Deutsches Museum, plans, technical drawings and maps, trade literature, an aerospace documentation department, audio-visual media, collections of portraits, busts and medals, and a collection regarding the history of paper making.

Summary A letter written by Christiaan Huygens to David Gregory (19 January 1694) is published here for the first time. After an introduction about the contacts between the two correspondents, an annotated English translation of the letter is given. The letter forms part of the wider correspondence about the ‘new calculus’, in which L'Hospital and Leibniz also participated, and gives some new evidence about Huygens's ambivalent attitude towards the new developments. Therefore, two mathematical passages in the letter are discussed separately. An appendix contains the original Latin text.

Summary Of the many variations on the Judith theme by Andrea Mantegna and his circle, the autograph drawing at the Uffizi (1491) is the most unconventional. Modeled after Mantegna's portrayal of a glorified Roman centurion (c. 1455, Ovetari Chapel), it presents an unprecedented, celebratory figure of a female hero. Indeed, displaying a triumphant woman who is allowed to appropriate the countenance and attain the stature of a triumphant man, it may be one of the earliest, hitherto unnoticed depictions of a virago in Italian Renaissance art. Unlike all of her counterparts by Mantegna and his followers, the Uffizi Judith aligns herself with the few images of women from Classical antiquity often perceived as female anomalies. Turning away from the male gaze, adopting a traditionally masculine stance, and featuring an uncommonly muscular right arm, she aligns herself with the Amazons and, in particular, with Athena Promachos. Judith's patrilineal recreation in the Uffizi drawing invokes Athena's patrilineal bi...

This beautiful book deserves to be widely read and not just by Shakespeareans. It studies the little‐known genre of the autograph album, which flourished in Germany and the Netherlands in the late ...

Review this book on Hollywood still photographs has beena wonderful exercise in nostalgia, for I spent a good amount of time in my 1940s and 1950s childhood seeing movies, reading fan magazines and writing to movie stars for their autographs and photographs. I learned by age eleven or twelve that a letter to a star would very probably result in recieving, within a matter of days, an envelope from a major movie studio which contained c picture postcard, 6 x 8 inch or, best of all, 8 x 10 inch size photograph of the star. at first, I assumed the bigger the star the larger the photo, but when I received an 8 x 10 Tab Hunter and only a small photo of Marilyn Monroe, I realized no such rule applied, and I had to readjest my immature notions of symbols of status. Regardless, each photograph that I collected, I posted on the makeshift bulletin board I had affixed to my bedroom wall, a bulletin board I dutifully changed each week as I received new photos in the mail or I cut new images from Photoplay (my...

The analysis of the archival data enabled us to establish that of these five important interventions only those of 1620, 1796 and 1864-78 involved the polychrome sculptures. Another interesting aspect which emerged from the historical and aesthetic approach was the state of preservation of these sculptures in the first years of this century. At that time the polychromy was perfect and many elements of the sculptures, now lost, were described in detail: this confirmed the increase in the rate of stone decay associated with the atmospheric pollution typical of this century. The technical (restoration) and physicochemical investigation dealt with the stone materials, the 'patinas' of decay, the original pigments and binders, and possible superimposed restoration materials. The research was carried out using Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR), X-ray diffractometry (XRD), scanning electron microscopy (SEM) coupled with energy dispersive absorption X-ray spectroscopy (EDAX), and optical microscopy. The stone materials for both the lunette and the Allegory of the Months were shown to be a local sandstone which Vasari called 'pietra serena' , except for the two sculptures The central portal of the church of Pieve di Santa Maria in Arezzo (Italy) is decorated with polychrome sculptures made of a local sandstone and of marble. These sculptures include a lunette representing the Madonna crowned between Angels (1216) and, sideways in the depth of the intrados, an Allegory of the Months (thirteenth century). Despite the fact that these sculptures are in the open, their polychromy appears fairly well preserved. Therefore the opportunity was offered to study the painting technique on stone in a genuinely interdisciplinary approach that involved historical, aesthetic, technical (restoration) and scientific considerations. The documentary and art-historical approach allowed us to identify past interventions from Vasari (1560) until more recently (nineteenth century). The attribution of the lunette is based on an autograph inscription on the architrave, now partially unreadable. In the book Vite del Vasari (1878 edition), we found information about a mould of the inscription where the date is clear: A.D. CC. XVI. MS. [mense] MADII. The same information is also found in Arezzo e dintorni by Pasqui and Viviani (1925) where the inscription is reported in full: the lunette was made in May 1216 by the sculptor Marchionne. The autograph inscription by Marchionne refers only to the lunette, in Byzantine style. Both the study and the restoration are still in progress and all the results will be published in a book on the subject. The historical study, which involved a detailed investigation of the archives, indicated that between 1560 and the present the following restoration treatments were carried out

(1974). An overlooked autograph letter of Galileo on the thermometer. Annals of Science: Vol. 31, No. 5, pp. 457-462.

We know from the Vita with what dogged determination Alfieri taught himself Greek in the last years of his life and how from 1799 he divided up his study-time according to a regular system. But just as Foscolo claimed to have learned more about Alfieri's mind and character from his manuscripts than from his autobiography, so too the qualities of care, tenacity and method he brought to bear on his study of the classics can best be appreciated by examining the manuscripts of his translations, undertaken ‘per impossessarmi dell'intelligenza delle due lingue classiche, per imparare sempre piu a conoscerne il valore, ed a maneggiare la mia, e per isfuggire e l' ozio ed i tristi pensieri’.

J.S. Bach's church cantata BWV 188 “Ich habe meine Zuversicht” for the 21st Sunday after Trinity was composed in Leipzig, probably in 1728. The autograph had apparently lost its opening pages by the middle of the nineteenth century, when the earliest known copy (at first owned by a Prof. Fischoff of Vienna, later by the Preussische Staatsbibliothek, currently by the Archiv fur Preussische Kulturbesitz in West Berlin, P455) was made. This copy, and another probably made from it (formerly in Heuser's collection, now also in the Archivfur Preussische Kulturbesitz, P1159/XV), both contain the vocal sections of the work, consisting of

Summary Marie‐Jeanne Buseau was seventeen years old when she married Francois Boucher, then thirty, in 1733. Her husband is said to have used her as a model for his mythological compositions, but she never appears nude in any painting of an erotic nature. Marie‐Jeanne began working as an artist in her own right in the mid‐sixties. There are, however three drawings of an earlier date that may safely be attributed to her in the Nationalmuseum in Stockholm. The key is Soap Bubbles (Fig. 1), because of an inscription by C. G. Tessin: Mme Boucher apres which is placed immediately in front of her husband's autograph signature: f. boucher. It is a pen drawing, hesitatingly done in grey ink; there is a noticeable uncertainty in form, and shadows are rendered in hatching. Over this, there is a rapid, forceful brown wash, obviously added by Francois Boucher. Mme Boucher completed her part of the drawing before 1742. As her model she had taken one of her husband's paintings, the date of which has been established as...