Abildgaard's tableau catches the dramatic moment when the king saves the nation and this message is reinforced by the fact that the personification of Denmark is presented so vividly. She is desperately looking at the king for help, strongly affected by the war: her hair is disheveled, her cloak is ragged, and she is surrounded by ruins. In this way the tableau changes and alters allegorical imagery, imbuing it with more concrete, sensual and mundane qualities. One could say that through the "tableau-ian" lens, the allegorical figures become more naturalized, humanized and sensuous living beings. Similar to an allegory, the tableau operates in two layers. It refers to another speech behind the first speech, but at the same time the tableau form suppresses traditional allegorical imagery since the allegorical figure is presented with such vivid sensitivity and pathos. The portrayal of Denmark as a helpless woman in need was meant to evoke strong emotions and reactions in the viewer of the early modern period, and the king was depicted as a father protecting the kingdom. This emotional way of presenting the nation was meant to reinforce the message and the viewers emotional engagement. It was no longer sufficient to simply decode allegories analytically, through reason and thought. It was also through the viewers feelings, understanding and imagination that the allegories in the tableau moved and enlightened the beholder.

This communicative strategy and demand for instantaneousness and intelligibility should be seen in connection with the intended audience. As a representational tool, the tableau must be seen in the context of the emergence of a number of genres with a new focus on everyday life and actuality of events. Within the classical magistra vitae tradition, historical examples were intended to inspire young men of the elite to meet the tasks of public life. According to literary historian Mark Salber Phillips, this tradition in the late 18th century was replaced by a more emotional and inner version of the idea of history as "the teacher of life". Phillips points out how the growing middle class constituted a large new group within the reading public in this period. This new reading audience had a greater interest in social and inner aspects of life, and this influenced the use of examples and the didactic role of history in many different genres. The new commercial society created new boundaries between the public and private spheres and identification and empathy became an important part of storytelling.17 The communicational device of the tableau should be seen in connection with these changes in exemplarity, as pointed out by Phillips—it met the needs of a wider audience.

#### **Deliberate anachronisms**

In his portrayal of Christian III, Abildgaard attempted to make the king easily recognizable by drawing upon famous previous depictions. However, his clothing includes a combination of historical details and anachronisms. For example, the royal cape is not from the depicted period and his shoes with red heels are not characteristic of the Renaissance.18 These details demonstrate Abildgaard's intention to align the depiction with contemporary ideals of royalty and credibility. These anachronisms serve to establish a connection between the past and the present, making the painting more understandable to the viewer. The combination of historical details with contemporary ideals of royalty and credibility creates a sense of immediacy and reality, which helps to bring the king and the era to life, creating a more convincing tableau. Abildgaard's detailed rendering of historical details reflects the latest trends in European history painting. Prior to beginning his commission in the Great Hall, Abildgaard traveled through France and was exposed to the new style of French history painting, which emphasized the accurate reproduction of historical details in clothing and surroundings. Artists like Nicolas-Guy Brenet and Louis-Jacques Durameau were known for their attention to these details. This emphasis on historical accuracy was part of a wider movement in French art, which sought to promote patriotism and moral uplifting through art. The head of the French Academy, Antoine Joseph Dezalier d'Argenville, believed that art should be as true to historical reality as possible. He and other scholars at the Academy of Paris emphasized the importance of accurate reproduction of details, such as dress, customs and props, in creating credible and morally uplifting images. As noted by art historian Charlotte Christensen the portrayal of both Christian I and Christian III in the Great Hall shows that Abildgaard was clearly inspired by these new tendencies in French art.19 The influential French antiquarian Anne Claude de Caylus has recently gained attention for his great influence on the art of the period. Literary historian Julie Boch describes him as one of the driving forces for a new search for "truth" and precise knowledge in art. He lectured to artists on the history of costumes at the Academy of Fine Arts in Paris. For Caylus, the historical details were an important part of the image's expressive expression, which should not be omitted, Boch points out.20 Abildgaard valued Caylus' view of art and considered him an authority.21 His encounter with these ideas in France likely influenced him into presenting the king as a "real historical person" and accurately rendering the historical details of their appearance and surroundings, to create a sense of credibility and closeness to the viewer. This approach reflected the contemporary view that history painting should be defined as a historical art and that the inclusion of historical details could enhance the moral effect of the image on the viewer.

Despite the fact that artists and writers in France called for historical accuracy in history paintings of the period, they also warned against exaggeration. Both Caylus and Diderot warned artists of the danger of the overly strict accuracy of reproduction when it deviated greatly from contemporary taste. "Can you recognize a prince in such a representation?" asked Caylus. "It would be misleading for an artist to portray a dress that just seems ridiculous", Diderot wrote.22 The various adaptations should therefore be regarded as "deliberate anachronisms" to enhance the effect and understanding of the image's content. Historian Judith Pollmann has pointed out that anachronisms can enable the communication and traffic of information between the past and the present.23 Anachronisms in art have a long history. Art historians Alexander Nagel and Christopher Wood argue in their book *Anachronic Renaissance* that the use of anachronisms enabled artists in the Renaissance to create associations and create connections between the past and the present.24 Peter Burke has also written about how humanists and artists in the Renaissance developed a notion of anachronisms that enabled them to bring the past closer to their own time.25 Dress was a very important identity marker in the 1700s society. It was therefore important that the representation of the king and prince signaled their high status and dignity. The antiquarian and historical details are therefore subject to the didactic message of the image. By creating an interaction between the past and the present, the constructed moment in the tableau should be more convincing and gripping as a real historical event. According to cultural historian Anne Eriksen, the concept of truth has always been central to the study of history, but the understanding of what this truth entails has changed over time.

In traditional magistra vitae-thinking, historical truth was seen as something that is absolutely and superhistorically true, manifesting itself in concrete events or individuals who serve as exemplars. In this view, truth is situated on the moral plane. However, changes that occurred at the end of the 18th century brought historical truth closer to antiquarian accuracy, as it began to refer to specific events from the past, Eriksen notes.26 As a genre the tableau is connected to the magistra vitae topos through its embodiment of the ideological concerns of its time and its ability to shape and reinforce moral and social values. Abildgaard's depiction of Denmark in such a ruined state was based on historical accounts of the country's condition during the civil war. The representation of the king as a paternal figure was intended to strengthen the moral message of the image and the importance of the king's actions. The tableau constructs a dramatic moment that was meant to evoke feelings of pity and sympathy in the audience, encouraging them to emotionally identify with the fatherland. The depiction of the king as a real historical person was meant to increase the sense of reality of this dramatic moment. As Phillips notes, narratives about events that occurred in the distant past can have a distancing effect on the reader.27 To counter this, Abildgaard used deliberate anachronisms that aimed to create strong sensations in the viewer, increasing the sense of kinship and fostering sympathy.

#### **History at a glance**

Abildgaard used the tableau in a different way in other history paintings in the Great Hall. *Christian V's Danish Law of 1683* (1784) had a very central position in this grand historical program (Figure 5.2). It was placed in the very center of the room, next to a painting of his father, Frederik III, the first king receiving the right to rule as a sovereign monarch in Denmark-Norway. While the painting was lost in a devastating fire in 1794, the preserved oil sketch, along with contemporary accounts of the artwork, provides sufficient information for interpretation. The composition depicts a gathering of individuals seated around a table, including the identifiable figure of the king, and represents the assembly of the King's Privy Council in 1683. The painting does not present a dramatic moment. Instead, it aims to create a vivid and convincing illusion of the present moment in order to have an immediate and strong effect on the viewer. Unfortunately, the painting was lost in a fire when the castle burned in 1794, and it is only preserved as a sketch. The painting places the Danish Law as an important fundament for the absolute state and it honors the King for creating a fair and just kingdom based on these laws.

At first glance, the image appears as a concrete representation of a historical moment, which with a modern eye can look realistic. It presents the king and his Privy council when the Danish Law was signed in the green chamber at Copenhagen Castle in 1683. It is as if the spectator is looking into a window or is present in the room. What is striking with this

*Figure 5.2* Nicolai Abildgaard, *Christian V Presents Danish Law of 1683*, 1784, oil on canvas, 61 × 37 cm, SMK – National Gallery of Denmark.

painting, is the mundane and down-to-earth atmosphere, which enhances the king's role as a political leader, not his divine power. He is presented more in a "businessman"-like manner, where he is seated around a table collaborating with his men. The painting's style is reminiscent of the genre painting popular among the bourgeoisie at the time, which often depicted scenes from everyday life. Earlier research has highlighted this painting as "a lost masterpiece in 18th-century historicism before historicism".28 However, it can be more accurately understood within the context of the contemporary genre of the tableau, in which the emphasis is not on photographic realism, but on a more complex representation of history, in which the dimension of time is seen as secondary. As visual theorist Norman Bryson has noted, the traditional division of art into "styles" that follow each other in time can be misleading when understanding the art of the 18th century. The new tendencies in history painting have traditionally been interpreted as a precursor to later art styles. Bryson suggests that the focus on historical reconstruction gave artists a wider range of styles and expressions to work with.29

Through the lens of the tableau, the man in the background stands out as a key figure. The tableau communicates through clear gestures and expressions, and he clearly has an underlying message to the viewer; he is placed behind the others and is the only one looking straight at us, drawing us into the scene. The German art expert Friedrich Ramdohr described the painting when he visited the castle in 1792 and identified the man in the background as Peder Griffenfeld. Griffenfeld was Christian 5's close advisor and the *de facto* ruler of the kingdom for several years. Previous research has dismissed Ramdohr's description since Griffenfeld was in prison in 1683 and couldn't possibly have been present when the law was completed.30 The Danish Law was not just written in 1683; however, it actually took 22 years to complete it. If we do not interpret the painting as an early form of realism, i.e., that it shows a specific moment in history but rather interpret it in the light of the contemporary tableau concept, it makes more sense.

Griffenfeld fell into disgrace seven years before the completion of the law when he was accused of treason and spent the rest of his life in prison. But looking more closely at the context and the period when this painting was made, a lot had changed. A massive effort was now being made by historians and artists to restore his reputation and clear his name.

Since he is such an essential part of the densified moment in this painting we will look a bit closer at his background. Griffenfeld was born Peder Schumacher. He was the son of a wine merchant and he had worked his way up to his high office. Following the introduction of absolutism in 1660, Griffenfeld wrote the Danish Royal Law, the *Lex Regia* in 1665. This law formed the basis for the constitution of the absolute monarchy. Apart from the king, Griffenfeld stands out as the most important man in the painting. It not only restores his reputation it also honors him by presenting him as an exemplary citizen. The artist thus seeks to instill a thought in the bourgeoisie

viewer: To see themselves as an integral part of the absolutist state. This was an important political strategy of the monarchy in a time of instability and a strategy for revitalizing the absolutist regime.

As a tableau the painting communicates this moral message through many small important details: Griffenfeld is standing symbolically behind the king and the others.

He is holding a book or manuscript in his hand that represents the *Lex Regia*. He is also placed next to a cabinet with various books that refer to the initiatory work and the previous laws on which the Danish law was based. This action and his position are included in the tableau as speaking movements. Not much else happens in the painting other than the king sitting with a pen in hand, ready to sign the law. This is the pregnant moment that should enable contemporary viewers to grasp history at a glance. His background as a member of the bourgeoisie is communicated clearly since he is not dressed in the manner of a nobleman but is wearing a simple gray jacket. He also carries the white ribbon showing us the Order of the Dannebrog. In 1671, Griffenfeld initiated a new rank regulation that allowed normal citizens to be ennobled and created this new Chivalry Order. The Order of the Dannebrog was given as a reward for faithful service to the king. Griffenfeld was himself the first citizen to be ennobled and the first to receive the order.

The tableau thus shows a decisive moment that contains both past and future. In the image, the central action is illuminated from above without any visible light source, the rest of the room falls into darkness. Diderot was an advocate of the use of chiaroscuro in art. It enhances the experience of the charged moment, he wrote, the contrast between light and shadow prevented the eye from wandering, by fixing it on certain objects. The light falls most strongly on the king and Griffenfeld, who must be considered the center of the painting, both compositionally and thematically. The scene is like an allegory "loaded" with meaning, it requires a certain interpretation or decoding. The story of Griffenfeld was well-known to contemporary viewers however. Griffenfeld fell out of favor seven years before the law's completion and was accused of treason and sentenced to life imprisonment. In the period when the picture was painted, his reputation was restored. As historian Sebastian Olden Jørgensen has pointed out, a regular "Griffenfeld cult" took place in the 18th century. He was very famous during this period. As the son of a wine merchant, Griffenfeld was a good example and a role model for the kingdom's inhabitants that demonstrated what a citizen could achieve, through loyalty to the king and hard work. In order for the audience to be able to grasp this message at a glance, the references and symbols were meant to be easy to understand.

The tableau constructs the moment in two ways. First, the tableau can compress a long period of time into a single moment. In a painting, this means that people who have not been present at the same time or in the same place can appear in one and the same picture because they were important for the same event. Secondly, the tableau enables the viewer to gain information

about complex events and conditions at a glance. Griffenfeld's presence tells both about the creation of the law and about his own history. The spectators should get a broader picture of the circumstances surrounding the creation of Christian V's law. Their awareness and knowledge of Griffenfeld and his efforts, which were much talked about in his day, enabled them to understand the message of the picture. In this way, the tableau's function involves both representation and perception. As a representational mode, the tableau processed and reified specific and concrete details into a more general and moral message. In this painting, it was used to strengthen and revitalize the political foundations of the monarchy.

Griffenfeld, a former member of the bourgeoisie is a crucial part of the condensed moment in this central tableau in the Great Hall. He is presented as an example of the new possibilities the bourgeoisie had gained in the absolute state—through hard work and loyalty to the king. To increase the impact of the example, Abildgaard has constructed an idea of a moment in history in order to create a feeling of immediacy and presence in the viewer. He uses the contrast of light and darkness to create a chiaroscuro effect—a way to intensify the message and create pictorial unity. The painting should be seen as an expression of what Fried calls "radical intelligibility" within the visual,31 and what Phillips calls a new strategy32 on the part of writers in the same period. This communicative strategy and demand for instantaneousness and intelligibility should be seen in connection with the intended audience. As a representational tool, the tableau must be seen in the context of the emergence of a number of genres with a new focus on everyday life and actuality of events. Within the classical magistra vitae tradition, historical examples were intended to inspire young men of the elite to meet the tasks of public life. According to Phillips, this tradition in the late 18th century was replaced by a more emotional and inner version of the idea of history as "the teacher of life". Phillips points out how the growing middle class constituted a large new group within the reading public in this period. This new reading audience had a greater interest in social and inner aspects of life, and this influenced the use of examples and the didactic role of history in many different genres. The new commercial society created new boundaries between the public and private spheres and identification and empathy became an important part of storytelling. The communicational device of the tableau should be seen in connection with these changes in exemplarity—it met the needs of a wider audience.

In this painting, however, it is done in a slightly different way than in the painting of Christian III. Both paintings compress time, but the connotative or symbolic level is more hidden in this painting, since the symbols are more closely connected to the action of the constructed moment, in a seemingly believable and mundane scene. The tableau created a new form of meaning since it does something with the ideal and the example that is presented. One is not only presented with a good example or a moral, the tableau was meant to evoke a moral feeling in the spectator. To interpret a tableau, both emotions, reason and imagination had to be set in motion. Through more «naturalistic» and sentimental communication the tableau met the needs of a wider audience and enabled an immediate moral identification with the beholders. This vivid and visual representational mode was meant to intensify the viewers sense of presence and create a deeper emotional engagement with the example.

#### **The Great Hall—a magnificent tableau**

The history paintings of the Great Hall convey a comprehensive message through their visual and thematic unity. Art historian Erik Fischer has noted the use of mirror symmetry in the arrangement of the paintings, with the first mirroring the last, the second mirroring the penultimate and so on. The Duchy of Holstein, depicted as the empire's southern outpost, plays a central role in this message.33 The paintings in the Great Hall depict the kings of the Oldenburg dynasty and their great feats, with a thematic and visual combination that crosses chronological boundaries and allows the spectator to grasp the wholeness of the message at a glance. The series, as a whole, emphasizes the importance of unity and love of the fatherland in all parts of the kingdom governed by the Oldenburg dynasty, leading to peace, justice and favorable conditions for science and art. The history paintings of the Great Hall present exemplary stories chronologically, but in their entirety, time is depicted as standing still, with the images conveying timeless ideals and encapsulating time through their cyclical structure. The series also includes images that depict the center of power and the king's patriarchal role and static power, as well as representations of the nobility, clergy, citizens and even workers surrounding the king.

In 1788 a masquerade ball was held in the Great Hall, and it is reported that over 2,000 participants were in attendance. The dance floor was full of people, and the gallery was so crowded with "people of the bourgeoisie" that there was no room to spare34 (Figure 5.3). In 1783, *Adressecomptoirs Efterretninger* announced that the ball in the Great Hall was open to all nine ranks of society, including civil officials and military leaders. The general public was also able to purchase tickets to watch the ball from the gallery, indicating that events like this were not exclusively for the highest ranks of society and that the upper middle class had access to the Great Hall, albeit as spectators. The paintings were therefore meant to reach a wide audience. The historical events and examples shown in the paintings correspond with the stories in the history books written by the historians Peter Frederik Suhm and Ove Malling written in the same period.35 These history books were widely read by the public and were written as history school books for the Latin school. The moral histories in the paintings were therefore comprehensible and meant to reach out to a wide audience in the period.36 The series present a "condensed" moment or example in the reign of each king. The Oldenburg dynasty is celebrated for its effort to protect the Kingdom, create peace and

*Figure 5.3 Johannes Gottfred Bradt after Nicolas Henri Jardin, Court ball in Christiansborg's Great Hall at Christian VII's wedding to Caroline Mathilde*, 1768, etching, 410 mm x 435, SMK – National Gallery of Denmark.

welfare and the rise of science and culture. They are presented as the ultimate citizens, their good actions are motivated by their bravery, public spirit and their faith in God.

The kings are surrounded by famous men from their regime who are also honored for their high moral and good actions. Each painting presents moral examples of social conduct through moral lessons in patriotism, public spirit and faithfulness to the king. The two last paintings are presented as a culmination of all the good actions of the previous kings. During the reign of Frederik Vth and his son Christian 7th, peace and prosperity are presented as reaching its peak. Abildgaard used the tableau in two different ways: in some paintings, he created an exalted atmosphere with compositions where the king and his men interact with allegorical figures and personifications. Other paintings can be characterized as more mundane or down to earth, where he created a more realistic illusion of a historical moment. As moral tableaux however all of the paintings present the viewer with constructed moments that are densified, containing both the past and the future. These condensed moments, where the spectator could capture everything at a glance, were meant to increase and focus the effect of the example. The didactic message of the paintings, conveyed through the tableau form, was meant to be widely understood by the educated circles of the time. The paintings were also intended to teach future kings how to fulfill their role in the social covenant through the virtues and actions of their ancestors. Toward the end of the century, the tableau form was also expressed in a more ritualistic manner to celebrate history, patriotism, the homeland and the community.

#### **"A grammar of emotions"**

The living picture or the "tableau vivant" was considered an important part of civic ceremonies and congregations toward the end of the century in Denmark. It was used to stage abstract values such as community and patriotism in emotionally charged official celebrations and rituals and was meant to have a politically unifying effect. Ethnologist Tine Damsholt and historian Thomas Lyngby have written about this phenomenon in Denmark. These sentimental and neoclassical theatrical forms of expression were inspired by public ceremonies in the aftermath of the French Revolution. A distinctive feature of these public ceremonies was that the patriotic feelings were staged ritually.37

The Liberty Memorial *(Frihedsstøtten)* in Copenhagen was designed by Abildgaard and erected in memory of the abolition of the serfdom-like institution *(Stavnsbånd)* starting with agricultural reforms in 1788. The memorial symbolizes the freedom of the peasantry. According to Damsholt, the memorial can be described as a "frozen version" of a tableau vivant and the patriotic ideals. The 20-meter-high obelisk is a symbol of royal power and around the pillar there are placed four allegorical figures who, like in an exemplary patriotic tableau, represent the virtues of allegiance, bravery, civic virtue and the virtue of agricultural diligence *(agerdyrkningsflid)*. 38 The monument was completed in 1797, although the setting stone was laid by crown prince Frederik already in 1792 together with a solemn inaugural ceremony that celebrated freedom and the fatherland. During the ceremony, all the senses of the audience were set in motion, a way to "intensify the ritual space", as Damsholt points out.39 Speeches were given praising the king's beneficial role and celebrating civic freedom followed by a musical performance. "Noble citizens" tossed flowers on the crown prince from balconies to the accompaniment of music. In this way, the ritual spoke simultaneously to different senses (the sight, ears and nose). It can be seen as a "political" enabling of sensory impressions and of the body.40 The festivities continued on the birthday of the king and crown prince, celebrating royal power with a tableau vivant, much in the same manner as the historical paintings of the Great Hall.

Tableaux vivants were also a common part of patriotic memorial ceremonies. After the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801, Danish actor Hans Christian Knudsen traveled around the kingdom organizing commemorative ceremonies and patriotic tableaux in churches and town halls to inspire patriotism and support for the fatherland. These ceremonies were intended to create emotions in the audience and were considered more effective at expressing patriotic feelings than verbal language.41 Lyngby describes the variant of bourgeois patriotism that characterizes the latter half of the 1700s as a "sentimental" form of patriotism—in which emotions and affect played a particularly important role.42 During the ceremonies, Knudsen sang and proclaimed poems about the fatherland in front of a "fatherland altar". The climax of the ceremony was the "Højtids-Scene" tableau, where young girls dressed in white placed a garland of flowers with symbolic meaning on the urn that represented the heroic patriots who had died in defense of the fatherland.43 The garland was arranged with different kinds of flowers that had different symbolic meanings.44 It was seen as an expression of the patriotic community between the living and the dead, between death and immortality and between the sexes, Lyngby explains.45

Damsholt refers to the body language used in tableaux vivants as a "grammar of emotions", meaning that for an action to be recognized as an expression of feeling, it had to conform to certain rules of iconography, gestures and movement patterns. Although the rhetoric of these ceremonies emphasized unity among people of all classes, they were primarily targeted at the bourgeoisie who already understood the genre of patriotic messages and codes.46 During patriotic ceremonies, women were often given an important role as representations of abstract ideas such as freedom and patriotism. In contrast to the men, who were typically dressed in uniform, women were often dressed in white, symbolizing the nation and its virtues. These ceremonies were part of the construction of the ideal citizen, and the contrast between the genders in these tableaux highlighted the different roles assigned to men and women as "good citizens". This "language of feeling" was meant to connect the individual with the community and the royal power.47

In the late 18th century, the tableau became popular in a different social context as a form of private entertainment. The "tableaux vivants", or "living pictures", were an esthetic expression that lay between painting and drama. This refined form of pantomime became a popular genre in the late 1700s and early 1800s. The idea behind these moving images was to reproduce historical scenes or famous motifs from classical art through living figures dressed in appropriate attire who mimicked the poses of famous historical or mythological figures as they appear in paintings. In his novel, *Die Wahlverwandtschaften,*  from 1809, Goethe describes a social gathering amusing themselves with the entertainment of "tableaux vivants". Three famous paintings were portrayed as living pictures in a dramatic performance in three sequences with musical interludes. The motifs were widely known, and they showed magnificent scenes that had such a strong effect on the spectators in the story that they experienced it as being so deeply moving that they felt like they were brought into another world. According to literary historian Knut Ove Eliassen, this scene described in Goethe's novel offers an insight into how the tableau was used as a form of social practice and how it was considered an extremely effective medium.48 The reason why such living images became so popular was due to the fact that works of art known only as copperplates in black and white were brought to life in a completely different way. It created a sense of presence in the viewer.

In the second half of the 1700s, tableaux vivants and attitudes were commonly used in theatrical performances such as prologues and epilogues, as well as in private social gatherings. Attitudes became especially popular within the salon culture of the period. Media researcher Karen Klitgaard Polvsen defines an "attitude" as a tableau for one person in which a dancing body pauses and stiffens in a gesture reminiscent of a statue or figure in a painting, and then moves again. The moving images could contain attitudes, which could be described as a kind of subgenre of the tableau.49 The attitudes can be compared to the emotional allegorical figures in the visual arts. They express something more than what appears in the exterior but differ from traditional and rigid allegories with their sensitivity and pathos. Like allegories, the attitude was to be interpreted not only with reason but also with feeling and imagination.

The popularity of the genre of attitude art was not only due to its function as a form of entertainment for social gatherings but also because it served several other important social functions. For example, it provided an arena for people to showcase their skills and impress others in social settings. Additionally, the art form, which combined elements of dance, music and pantomime, was seen as an important tool for the esthetic education of girls in salon circles. By teaching them body control, musical movements and emotional expressions without the use of words, attitude art was believed to improve their social graces. The first renowned attitude artist was Emma Heart, who later became known as Lady Hamilton. Goethe, the famous German writer, saw her perform in Naples in 1787 and was reportedly impressed by her skills. Her attitudes became well-known throughout Europe and were widely distributed as printed etchings. The attitudes of Ida Brun also attracted a lot of attention. Lady Hamilton became an inspiration and role model in her upbringing. Among other things, she performed in her mother's, Friederike Bruns, salon in Copenhagen and around Europe. It was especially her naturalness50 and grace in the presentation of the attitudes that were admired and experienced as a mixture of dance, sculpture and painting.51 Brun described how her daughter was taught to express herself in dance, singing, attitudes and living tableaux in *Ida's ästhetische Entwickelung* (1824).52 Throughout the 1800s, this form of entertainment was criticized for being artificial and sentimental and gradually lost its artistic reputation. However, it was still practiced as private entertainment in the lower echelons of the bourgeoisie.

#### **Vivid historical examples**

The tableau, characterized by its unique communication methods, holds several distinct traits that set it apart as a genre-spanning various practices. As indicated by media scholar John Fiske, the generic conventions of any form of expression often encapsulate the critical ideological concerns of the period in which they gain popularity.53 In the case of the tableau, it assumes a didactic and epistemological role in visual expression, firmly grounded in the idea that history should serve as a vehicle for promoting moral uplift and civic duty.

Philosopher Stephen Neale argues that genres may also help to shape values,54 in the case of the tableau, its focus on presenting moral examples and promoting civic duty allows it to influence and reinforce these values in society. Furthermore, Thwaites, Lloyd and Mules view the relationship between genres and social conditions as reciprocal.55 The tableau, tied closely to the bourgeois culture of its times embodies certain ideological concerns of its time, emphasizing didacticism and the promotion of moral values. The tableau as a genre is closely tied to the bourgeoisie of its time and represents a spectator culture that may seem unfamiliar to present-day audiences. For the tableau to be effective and persuasive, the viewers were required to have a specific competence in order to decode the "charged" and expressive body language.

As I have demonstrated in this chapter, the tableau functions in two ways with regard to the moment: it shows a charged and compressed moment that must be grasped instantly, at a glance. In the visual arts, this meaningful moment can be formed by bringing allegorical figures to life, as in the image of Christian III, or by creating a more vivid and convincing illusion of a "here and now", as in the image of Christian V. These condensed moments, where the spectator could capture everything at a glance, was meant to increase and focus the effect of the historical example. Overall, the tableau can be characterized as a synthesizing and didactic form of communication. Both the narratives and the communicational devices were reshaped by new audiences and new social needs. In different practices, the tableau reconciles the particular with the universal in slightly different ways. In the visual arts, the various elements of an image are united to constitute a larger moral message. In tableaux vivants and patriotic celebrations, this occurs through charged moments conveyed using the body in frozen moments through rituals. The tableau also has a unifying effect on spectators, uniting the individual with the community—in Greuze's poignant scenes from the family and in Abildgaard's history paintings in the Great Hall where citizens are united with the king and autocracy. In the salons, the sociability celebrated their own community, and in stately patriotic ceremonies, the tableau is politically unifying, as the symbolic acts of the rituals unite the individual with the community and the community to its king. In this way, the tableau can be seen as a focal point with a unifying function in the family, social environments and more formally and politically in the state.

The tableau was intended to intensify the viewer's sense of presence and create emotional engagement, representing a break with existing dogmas and rule-based rhetoric. However, this search for a more "natural" form of expression should not be seen only as a precursor to a new form of realistic history. The concept of the tableau is firmly rooted in the idea that art and history should be morally uplifting and socially compelling. It creates a new kind of historical example by eliciting a moral response in the viewer. The viewer is not just presented to an ideal, the tableau was meant to awaken a moral feeling in the spectator, requiring the use of emotions, reason and imagination.

#### **Notes**

#### 128 *Ina Louise Stovner*

#### **Bibliography**

Diderot, Denis. *Œuvres Complètes, Tome IV, X, XIV*. Paris: Hermann [1757] 1980.

**Part 3**

## **Genres of history and the public sphere**

### **6 Royal historiographer without the title**

Niels Ditlev Riegels (1755–1802) and the role of historical genres in the late 18th-century public sphere

*Emil Nicklas Johnsen*

It has been argued that history writing occupied a central place in the public sphere of late 18th-century Europe.1 This is also the case in Denmark-Norway. That a flowering in the historical literature took place in the 1770s and onwards was noted already by prominent 19th-century scholars of the growing 18thcentury public sphere2 , and it has been further observed by more recent research, that more writers and participants in the public sphere moved toward history writing in the later decades of the century.3 But what did this history writing look like? It has also been argued that history writing took on a more political tone in the later decades of the century, and that history writing allowed different writers' opinions of the present to be cloaked as discussions of past events in an effective way.4 What was often referred to as *pragmatic history*  was a form of history writing that combined an examination of the deep causes of present or past events, which could be derived from studying the events or characters that took part in them, and a philosophical attitude that one could learn valuable moral, political lessons in the present by studying these causes.5 Even at the end of the century, pragmatic history shaped the expectations of what history should be. An example of this in Denmark-Norway is a statement by professor of history at the university of Copenhagen, Jørgen Kierulf, who in 1799 wrote that the object of history writing was the study of "occurrences" ("Tildragelser") and that its aim was "to explain the current state of human affairs".6 In this sense, history writing was concerned with the present as much as with the past, which partly can explain why some influential journals such as *Minerva* in Copenhagen chose to coin its' news section "History"—that is, the history of the last month.7 This was history writing concerned with how the present came to be what it was, whatever the timeframe. And as such, in the discussions of the current state of human affairs, history writing can arguably be said to have occupied a central place for the participants in the growing public sphere of the late 18th-century Denmark-Norway.

On the other hand, history writing was—and is not—only one thing, that exists in a vacuum. One could rather claim that history writing exists in a textual ecosystem. While it can make sense to view pragmatic history as a genre, history

> DOI: 10.4324/9781003331971-10 This chapter has been made available under a CC-BY 4.0 license.

writing also existed in an evolving print culture together with other literary genres and ways of expression, which means history writing was related to a whole world of other types and forms of texts in the printed public sphere. What different genres are and how they should be understood is notoriously hard to pin down once and for all, not only because they are open to idiosyncrasies, as are all cultural expressions, but because the features of different genres are not always or even seldom explicitly agreed upon.8 Some conventions of different types of texts or media are stable over time, while others change and are openly negotiated. Genres plays on the expectations of audiences, while merging different genres makes room for the unexpected or for new combinations, a process refered to by Mark Salber Phillips as "reframing" of genres, which underpins the instability and negotiability of literary and artistic genres and gives them a "combinatory dynamic" which can be studied in their historicity.9 These expectations can take the form of norms or what is to be expected of the author of the text in a specific genre. Thus, I would argue that the expectations of the author and of the texts are interconnected and can be studied through the analytical lens of historical genres. Given what intellectual historian Håkon Evju has coined the eminently political mode of history writing in Denmark-Norway during the late decades of the 18th century, it is timely to investigate how textual strategies worked together with the content of historical depiction and historicopolitical arguments and rhetoric in the public sphere.10

Another important aspect connected to the role of history in the public sphere of late 18th-century Denmark-Norway is the central concern that was put on the moral demands on authors and historians. In Denmark-Norway a growing public sphere came about through political wishes. In 1770, the personal physician of King Christian VII, Johan Friedrich Struensee, sent out a Cabinet Order that explicitly ordered censorship to cease, an order which encouraged public opinion to be formed. No citizen should be hindered in "attacking abuse and exposing prejudice" and seeking the "impartial examination of the truth", it was claimed.11 A full freedom of the press was thus introduced—the first of its kind in the world.12 Though the period of full press freedom was short-lived and ended already in 1773, the notion that authors should be given the freedom to pursue a path of patriotic enlightened discourse, was put in motion as a real political possibility.13 In 1784, the crown prince Frederik (later Frederik VI) came to power together with former foreign minister Andreas P. Bernstorff (1735–1797) in a bloodless coup d'état, and they made it known that they wished press freedom to flourish once more. Though they did not formalize freedom of the press, a 15-year period ensued where negotiations of the limits and conditions of the freedom of the press as well as the desired content of publications took place, which ended in a thorough statement by the government in 1799, which explicitly made it illegal to criticize the government.14

Though in some ways less spectacular than the Struensee period, this later 15-year period is as interesting to study to understand the development of the public sphere. Even as limits and conditions were discussed and negotiated by writers and politicians, another aspect was just as important: How should an

author—or a historian—address the public sphere? Norms about how to write, how to present oneself and one's mission to public sphere, was of central concern. It is all too often assumed that people know what to do once freedom from restrictions are lifted. On the contrary, few if any forms of cultural expression, political communication, entertainment, in short, any forms of public life, develops overnight. And neither did the public sphere once press freedom was announced.15

In this chapter, I will explore the concept of impartiality as an ideal for authors in public sphere and how it was connected to ideals regarding the writing style of historians. Specifically, I will discuss how historical genres could be shaped by author ideals in the public sphere. In order to do this I will examine Danish historian Niels Ditlev Riegels (1755–1802), who was a controversial figure who published extensively in Copenhagen in the 1780s and 1790s, most prominently historical works but also diverse other works of natural history, journalistic pamphlets and self-edited journals. By examining Riegels' writings I aim to contribute to the exploration of the notions of what an historian could be in the public sphere in the late 18th century. By following one particular historian, it becomes possible to study and make clearer how one actor was navigating different genres. As a historian, Riegels tried to live up to ideals as well as challenges norms. It is safe to say he has been regarded as the black sheep in the family of danish historians. In the history of Danish historiography, he has been nicknamed "the most unpleasant of all our historical writers", and he has been placed firmly on the sideline of mainstream historiography when historians have tried to trace the lineage of its own discipline.16 His attempt to become royal historiographer in Denmark-Norway also failed. But by placing his history writing in the context of the public sphere of his own time, it will be possible to shed light on what part history writing had in the general development of the public sphere in late 18th-century Copenhagen, and how the specific history writing navigated the available genres and expectations in this context.

#### **Royal historiographer without a title**

To understand this particular case, some more background on Riegels' peculiar career is necessary. He studied theology in Copenhagen and Kiel in the 1770s and developed during the span of two decades a body of work on church history, royal history, as well as writings on education and natural history. He started his career as a church historian, writing about the development of early Christianity. He was however called to court and employed as a butler for the Pages of Queen widower Juliane Marie in 1781. At court, he became involved in the beforementioned palace coup in 1784, against his employer, the queen widower, who supported the former man in power—Ove Guldberg (1731–1808). During the coup, Riegels was acting as a spy for the coup leaders Bernstorff and the crown prince. Once power had shifted hands, Riegels was awarded a yearly pension of 1200 rigsdaler for the rest of his life, as a token for his services.17 However, as it turned out, the cost was that he had to depart from the court and seek alternative employment. (Figure 6.1)

*Figure 6.1* Copper engraving by Andreas Flint (1767–1824) of historian Niels Ditlev Riegels (1755–1802), from original painting by famous Danish portraitist and painter Jens Juel (1745–1802). This engraving was printed in *Læsendes Aarbog* ('Yearbook for Readers') 1800, depicting the historian as one of the most high profile writers in Denmark-Norway.

By the time of the coup, he had already published several works of church history. Riegels' ambition was however to be appointed royal historiographer.18 He started writing two different manuscripts on contemporary matters, meant as an application for the position. One was "A draft to the history of the education of the crown prince Frederik", and the other, "An attempt at an impartial tale of the preparation, origin, means and execution of the change of ministry the 14th of April 1784"—that is, a history of the education and upbringing of his regent and would be employer, as well as an attempt at an impartial history of a recent event in which he had played a significant role himself.19 Histories written as eye witness accounts by statesmen or politicians was nothing new, and did not stand in the way of it being perceived as impartial. However, Riegels' attempt was seen as too controversial and was never published during his lifetime.20

With his ambition, he hoped to wield a substantial influence on politics as royal historiographer. This was not necessarily a given. The office of royal historiographer existed in several monarchies in Europe, from the 16th to 19th centuries.21 One could ask what it meant to be a royal historiographer at the end of the 18th century, and what the expectations was of such an honorable title. Internationally it varied a great deal. Voltaire was appointed *historiographe de France* in 1745 and put great prestige into this position. However, it has also been claimed that the title bore no significant value other than symbolically, as an honorable post, but with no real task or importance in shaping how the crown or the government was viewed abroad.22 In the case of Riegels, we have an interesting account by professor of History at the university of Copenhagen, Abraham Kall, who in 1786 was asked to give his opinion on Riegels as a candidate for the title. His opinions sheds light on the expectations associated with the position. Kall wrote:

By the predicate Royal Danish historiographer, one imagines a man, to which the most important documents of the realm is trusted, from which he will use to promote true patriotic virtue, promote the esteem of the state and respect by strangers. In addition, it is required, that the person, who will carry this name with honor and public usefulness, must have a more than usual righteousness and impartiality, be known for insights into the history of the fatherland and the law of the state, as well as talents for a worthy historical lecture.23

The royal historiographers' role was, according to Kall, to promote "true patriotic virtue". The task of the office was to both represent the state and its history abroad, as well as to inspire the public. Kall did not find Riegels a worthy candidate, and instead recommended Peter Frederik Suhm (1728–1798), an older and more established and esteemed historian. It is interesting that Kall described the role of the historiographer in a double manner, encompassing both a representative public role while also engaging with a broader audience. The royal historiographer had both the task of representing the state power in a worthy manner to foreigners, which probably meant writing in Latin or French, as well as a task to address the domestic public and promoting patriotic virtue, more along the lines of Struensee's cabinet order mentioned earlier. Another possible understanding of Kalls statement is that it conveys a sort of double logic, integrating elements of both a sort of representative and a bourgeois public sphere—along the lines of Jürgen Habermas' ideal types.24 And in Kalls' view, the royal historiographer was supposed to both master the dissemination of the useful and the display of the honorable.

Disappointed by not being given a chance as royal historiographer, Riegels wrote in a letter, that he could nonetheless act as a historiographer "without the title".25 With the generous pension he was given, he could finance printing and spend his time writing histories for a broader audience. Riegels had arguably hoped to influence the center of power more directly through the office of royal historiographer. His aim was to act as a counselor, utilizing his historical scrutiny and historical narrative to shape politics by direct contact with the rulers.26 When this did not work out through the position as royal historiographer, he turned to the public sphere and concentrated on what he could achieve there. Though, it is clear, that he continued to try to influence the crown prince through his history writing, even though he published for a larger audience. This kind of political influence wielded by the royal historiographer on the monarch, was not shared by Professor Kall. By writing a history of the education of the crown prince, and *de facto* ruler, Riegels wanted to showcase the mistakes made in the education of the prince (his employer) in a way that made it easier to correct them later. A historical examination could explain the current situation but also secure knowledge to amend them.

#### **Textual history paintings: A journalistic historical genre?**

In Riegels' extensive *oeuvre*, his royal histories were the most well known and most complete in his own lifetime. Other notable works are a three-volume church history, published between 1781 and 1786. Another is a history of surgery, that was published in both Latin and Danish in 1786 and 1788.27 He also notably published in journals and was the editor of *Kiøbenhavns skilderie*  ("The Tableau of Copenhagen"), where he wrote most of the contributions himself and where he was engaged in debates on health institutions, agriculture and education.

After being denied a direct canal to the crown as royal historiographer, Riegels instead tried his hand as an author in the public sphere—where he experimented with different roles and genres of historical writing and other writings. As a self-proclaimed royal historiographer without the title, Riegels turned to writing about the reigns of the Danish kings for the broader public. Here he used different strategies. He wrote and published more extensive works on the Danish kings Christian V (1646–1699) and Frederik 4 (1671–1730), where he sought to evaluate the reigns of these monarchs in detail.28 On the other hand, he wrote works of shorter length, which was more focused on the kings' personal life and upbringing. Among these more biographical works, we find texts about the Danish monarchs Christian II (1481–1559) and Christian IV (1577–1648), which were published in the journal *Borger-Vennen* (*Citizen friend*), one of the journals with the highest print runs in the late 1780s and early 1790s Copenhagen.29 In this shorter format, he also wrote about queens and other prominent female historical figures. It is not clear if he in the end of the 1780s wrote these historical texts for clearly different audiences compared to the larger volumes on Christian V and Frederik IV. Though he later showed signs that he understood these more biographically oriented historical writings, which he later coined "small historical writings", to be more suited for a larger readership—readers from all classes ("stender").30 In the preface to *Small historical writings,* he proposed to write history for "wise mothers" and the "unlearned but well-thinking citizens" in contrast to the learned audiences, though as I have argued elsewhere, he mentions the learned audiences and fellow writers in Copenhagen circles too many times to be said to not be addressing them at all.31 On the other hand, he later expressed hope that he could reach a similar audience with the larger more extensive works as well.32

What kinds of textual strategies and practices can be found in Riegels' writings for a broad audience? Here the lens of genres can be of help. Many of the texts Riegels published in his collection "Small historical writings" he called "Skilderier", which can be translated into "Paintings" or "Tableaus". This was the same designation he had used in his pioneering journal *Kiøbenhavns skilderie*, which was clearly inspired by French author Louis-Sebastian Mercier's *Tableau de Paris.* Mercier had wanted to paint a "physionomie morale" of Paris, and so Riegels wanted to do something similar in Copenhagen. The moral state of the people in the city, not the monuments was, according to Mercier, supposed to be in focus in his tableaus, and thus give a portrait of the city from different angles.33 Riegels started to do something similar, with spectatoresque observations of the street life in market halls, shops, restaurants, etc. Though his journal is much more varied in form than the more stylistically sophisticated Mercier, and the texts in Riegels' journal consists of allegorical tales, treatises on education, journalistic reports from asylums, orphanages—basically, it may seem, whatever suited the author. Mercier sticked to his plan and form. Riegels varied his output in the journal—before he stopped publishing in 1789, after three years. However, something about the journal in its experimentation was carried on in his historical texts. Or else, it would be hard to explain why he decided to designate so many of his historical texts in the same manner as his journal. The journal turned out to be a model for the communicated genre of his historical writings.

Riegels was not the first historian in Denmark to call historical texts "skilderie", Peter Frederik Suhm had called one of his didactical texts a "Skilderie af verden"—"A tableau/painting of the world". Another text published in Danish was a eulogy of the duke Ferdinand Albrecht of Brunsvig-Wolfenbüttel and his deeds during the seven years' war. Several connotations are possible, one possibility is that this word made its way into Danish from the German "Schilderei", which means painting an escutcheon or a plaque. The historian and comedian Ludvig Holberg had also called his comedies a "skilderie" of virtues and vices. That said, there are no other historian or writer using the term as extensively as Riegels does.

The connection to Mercier suggests that "skilderie" (painting) originates from a translation of the French "tableau", but the name can simply mean painting with words. The visual side of the "skilderie" enhanced the importance of the texts capacity for impacting audiences by creating pictures in their minds and thus create an emotional effect.34 What I would argue is that this genre designation showed that he wanted to utilize what he had developed as a journalist and publisher of the journal further in his historical works. The genre designation "skilderie" was not only a type of text, but was, I would argue, a role, with a built-in project to address audiences in certain ways. The genre was a way of communicating with the audiences, coupled with a self-understanding as author and historian.

#### **Impartiality as an ideal**

The development of the public sphere as a text culture in the period where censorship had changed or ceased, and the freedom of speech was negotiated, should also be seen as a frame which meant many authors were developing their writing style. They engaged in discussions not only about how to present their arguments but also about how to address their audiences and even how to portray themselves. Many authors, journalists as well as historians underlined their mission to the public.35 Paratextual elements such as prefaces often underlined the projects of the authors, their motivation, etc. Even if censorship was repressive, it is not the case that once censorship was lifted, a full-grown public sphere leaped forth immediately. It took time to develop a culture of publicity.36 So we should not be surprised to find authors experimenting with their texts, self-fashioning their roles and self-presentations as producers of published texts.

An important term for both the author in general as well as for the historian, was "impartiality". The ideal of the impartial author, which was invoked already by Struensee in 1770, was commonplace for historians, stemming from classical ideals championed by the historians of antiquity, by Polybius and Lucian, and again in the 18th century by influential figures such as Hugh Blair and Adam Ferguson.37 It was frequently utilized to describe the unique qualifications of the historian—most famously by David Hume, who coined "impartial" the most important quality in a historian.38 The notion of impartiality was also used to justify judgments on matters close to one's own time, but had more to do with a notion of passing a fair judgment than to be objective. It is hard to say whether the ideal of the historian's impartiality influenced the broader ideal. Nonetheless, to be considered as "impartial", the writer who published texts, often insisted that he or she worked for the common good, not his or her own private gains. Rhetorically, this meant that he or she had to make the audience sure that their intentions as authors was not to enhance their private agenda, but only that of the good of society as a whole. In this sense, the ideal of impartiality is far removed from later 19th-century liberal ideal of the public sphere as a sphere where a plurality of different voices seek the truth through rational debate. A critical assessment of this ideal along the lines of what Harold Mah has pointed out about the public sphere in the 18th century in general, is that this rhetoric of the good of society as a whole, was staging particular opinions as universal.39 This may be the case, still it would be hard to grasp what the norms during the early stages of development of the public sphere in Copenhagen was all about, if these ideals are not taken into consideration. The ideal of impartiality placed the historian and history writing in the center of what the public sphere was all about.

#### **Sympathy and impartiality**

The journal *Kiøbenhavns skilderie*—*The Tableau of Copenhagen*—was on its publication in the late 1780s seen as something entirely new in the public sphere, as a sign that times had changed for the freedom of the press. A contemporary commentary called it a token that "the treasure of the freedom of press" really existed.40 The texts were directed toward a general readership as well as toward the government—which fit with his ambition as a historiographer without the title, as described earlier. This double direction of addressing a broad audience, as well as the government, was provoking the government as well as challenging the understanding of how the freedom of the press should be used by authors. This makes it even more interesting that Riegels used the designation "skilderie" as a name for his historical works. Did the same assumptions and problems carry from his journal to his historical works?

Riegels' historical works often paint or describes characters, most often royal characters, their upbringing, reigns, deeds, virtues and vices in a way that aims to be memorable and emotionally effective, demonstrating moral or political lessons in each case. This will be more apparent if we look closer at an example.

In the 18th century, Christian II (1481–1559) was a highly controversial king, and not the most acceptable king of the Oldenburg line. Responsible for the Stockholm Bloodbath, where 60Swedish noblemen were executed, Christian II was deposed in 1523 and replaced by Frederik I. In all possible ways, Christian II was an unlikely hero for audiences familiar with the story, as he was often called "Christian the tyrant". Still, Riegels went on to portray him in a sympathetic light, in his first historical "skilderi", published in the patriotic magazine *Borger-Vennen* in 1788, and later in 1796, in the collection "Small historical writings".41 For Riegels, Christian II brought forth "the rays of enlightenment". In Riegels' hands, Christian II became a progressive hero of the enlightenment, not the least because of what Riegels argues was his dismissive attitude toward noblemen and privileges. The story of Christians' reign gives Riegels ample opportunity to dwell on the opposition between citizens and nobles—a theme that was well established in critiques of noblemen in the Copenhagen press.42 This also made sense as a contribution to the journal with the name of "Citizen friend", published by one of the many active patriotic societies of the day.

To strengthen the moral lessons of the story, Riegels published source material as part of the texts. This was not restricted to learned audiences or indeed published for antiquarian reasons, but instead, he stated that he published them for the common reader to take lessons from its reading. In the middle of the biographical account of Christian II, he therefore published the kings trade laws in its entirety. This breaks the narrative in an extraordinary way and put high demands on readers. It also fits badly with the periodicity of the journal, still he insisted on the instructive and moral lessons to be gained from reading them. The trade laws of Christian II showed that a Danish king not necessarily favored the privileges of the nobility, and thus was a monument for state jurisdiction making trade available for a larger part of the population. In his own journal, Riegels did something similar, where he also published in full, the financial instructions of Frederik IV, which he asked the reader to read carefully.43 Riegels can therefore be seen as an historian publishing source material meant for a broader audience more than an expert elite. And his project was to make the common reader learn moral and political lessons, not only from a historical narrative but also from the sources themselves, thus inviting the reader to become a co-investigator in the sources. The appendices of his larger historical works, where some source material also was published, served a similar purpose, though he is explicitly claiming the publication of several hundreds of pages in the appendix, serves the purpose of making "the Historian" more trustworthy.44 This shows a strategy where history as *magistra vitae* is not only literary or narrative in form but also makes use of a sort of call to the common reader to go *ad fontes* together with the historian, for moral and political purposes.

After he was deposed in 1523, Christian went abroad and sought support in order to regain his throne. In 1530, he and a small army entered Norway, where he did not succeed particularly well. He was asked to go to Copenhagen to negotiate peace, but there he was arrested and made prisoner for life. The reader of Riegels' text is asked to shed a tear for the fallen king, who sails away as a prisoner from Copenhagen. He is made a hero for the common citizen and farmers—almost a revolutionary king, in the optics of Riegels. Of course, this can be discussed. The absolute monarchy in Denmark-Norway of his day was not necessarily friendly toward the privileges of nobles, and the absolute monarch could legitimize his position by claiming he secured a more just society with equal rights granted to all classes. In the later edition of 1796, Riegels claims, in reference to the events in France, that this is precisely the time to "paint the kings, as they really were, in order to stop the rage against them."45 The historical portrayal of kings of the past could be used to stop the rage by making them heroes for the ordinary citizen, or virtuous models. But this was not without danger. As historian Marisa Linton has described in the French context, the ideal of the virtuous citizen king which began to flourish in the latter half of the 18th century, forced kings to live up to an ideal, and thus eulogies put contrasts between ideal and reality in to play, thus contributing as much to hail as to undermine monarchs.46

As we have seen so far, Riegels' history writing was addressing, or at least trying to address, both a broader audience, as well as the government and the monarch. However, ideals are not the whole story. In the preface to his *Small historical writings*, Riegels writes that he has received feedback from "wise mothers" that some historical characters in his writings should be viewed as a warning. These are Cleopatra and the queen Sophia Amalia (1628–1685), who reigned together with Frederik III (1609–1670). Among the portraits in *Small historical writings*, the text about Sophia Amalia stands out as more critical to its main character. Riegels took a risk writing about Sophia Amalia and the events of 1660, the year when absolute monarchy was introduced in Denmark-Norway. The queen is here portrayed as the architect of the seizing of more power to the throne and sheds a negative light on her character, her upbringing and role in politics. She is portrayed as the corrupting force at the heart of the state. This text consisted of more critique of absolute monarchy than the heroic portrayal of Christian II.

How can this tendentious creation of heroes and villains be impartial? As I have said earlier, Riegels was rhetorically speaking not in his own name, but in the name of the journal where the text was written—the "Citizen friend". His downright attack on nobles, and blaming them for deposing a legitimate king, was also a strong one-sidedness, that did not escape readers.47 Still the impartiality did not exclude normative judgments and political verdicts—or even personal attacks. Though Riegels seems to have gone further in testing how far one could go in critiquing the government and specific individuals, than was usual among his contemporaries.

#### **Judging mad houses and royal courts**

Many authors in 1780s and 90s Copenhagen claimed that the freedom of the press was a gift from above from the government and that gratitude should be shown. Riegels was one of the authors who challenged this view. Some worried, after reading Riegels journal *Kiøbenhavns skilderie*, that the newly won freedom of the press would lead to satire and the freedom to write pasquils.48 Is it really necessary, wrote a young Norwegian poet Jens Zetlitz in response to the journal, "to dress truth up like a bogeyman and arm it with the scourge of satire?"49 For Riegels, the ideal of the writer was to be a force of moral correction in society. This is where he parts more explicitly from his role model Mercier, who made it explicit that he wrote about the moral physiognomy of Paris not to pass judgments, but to study moral phenomenon like a spectator.  To present abuse and disorder to a larger audience, was a central task for the writer in the public sphere he claimed.50 (Figure 6.2)

*Figure 6.2* Titlepage for Niels Ditlev Riegels' journal *Kiøbenhavns Skilderie* (*The Tableau of Copenhagen*) number. 11 & 12 1788, where he writes about the unbearable conditions in "Pesthuset", a hospital for the mentally ill. This has been called the first journalistic reportage in Denmark.

This can be exemplified by taking a closer look at one of his most wellknown text as a journalist, called "The mental hospital as it is, and as it should be", a text that has been called the first journalistic reportage in Danish.51 The mental hospital, "St.Hans hospital" was dilapidated, and the residents there were characterized by hunger, worn-out clothes and were according to Riegels living in cramped spaces. Contrary to the intentions of both the government and the foundation that bore the name "Claudi Rosset's foundation", there was an obvious distress and misery at the hospital, and the sight of it was simply bound to move those who saw it, according to Riegels. Here you could see "humanity" being mistreated. So he wrote about the institution in a way that could make the reader witness and see the abuses that was taking place, with his or her own eyes. In the text he walks from room to room, presenting the inhabitants as figures. The hospital housed the deranged ("Gale" and "Vanvittige"), as well as patients with venereal diseases and alcoholics ("Drukkenbolter", that is "Drunkards"). A man, who is constantly banging his head against the wall, should make the reader ask himself why this innocent man who has lost his "reason", should suffer from a poor institution.

This way of showing visually to the audience and readers, what was wrong or at stake, or painting figures as moral warnings or heroes in the journalistic "tableau" ("Skilderie") is also evident in the historical "tableaus" of Riegels. Under the genre designation, Riegels writes a type of history where he uses examples. But there is more than exemplarity at stake. He is critically involved and explicit about the way warnings could be useful to society and the governing of it. This is true of the journal as well as the historical writings.

In the history writings, he is writing like a judge on behalf of posterity. "Posterity calls as a clear-sighted and impartial Judge, Denmark and Norways' King the fifth Christian, before his court of justice."52 In Riegels view, history keeps the account of the reign of old kings and especially the absolute monarchy. The events of 1660 in Denmark, and the introduction of absolute monarchy not only made the king more powerful but also increased his responsibility for later generations—especially later historians.53 The Kings' Law of 1665 stated that the king was only to be judged by God. Their actions and reigns were supposed to be judged on judgment day. But some historians and philosophers wanted to anticipate this day through their writings. In classical historians like Tacitus, one could find the ideal of history writing verifying the honor and virtue of persons on behalf of posterity.54 The historian administers the judgment of posterity, because he or she is bound by the ideal of impartiality but also by the ideal of another credo found in Tacitus *sine ira et studio*—without anger or interest. Already in his first volume of Church history in 1781, Riegels had made it clear that:

Honesty instructs any history writer the same duties as a judge: first impartiality, then respect for the truth, so that he will not easily assume all witnesses accounts, neither drive his doubts too far. The witnesses are in a

#### 146 *Emil Nicklas Johnsen*

trial, are the sources or history writers. It is their duty to know, whether my source has the qualities, that it can pass the test, and be seen as trustworthy, to be as dependable as my daily experience to the historical certainty.55

The historian is impartial, and can therefore judge, both epistemologically as well as morally and politically. The impartial historian will be able to recognize and call out good and bad government, virtues and vices, in all ages. It is not unlikely this also meant the institutions and phenomenon in his own time, thus making the connection between the journalistic and historical genres of Riegels even more apparent.

#### **Conclusion**

In the late 18th century, different genres were a way of communicating with audiences as well as ways of participating in an emerging new public sphere. A soft definition of genre, as a designation of a text, shows that Riegels utilized the same designation on historical as well as other texts. His historical tableaus portrayed characters in sympathetic or critical light. Still, I have tried to show that this was a way of writing history that was shaped by his engagement as a journalist and publisher of journals—though I would also argue that the influence went both ways, that is, that his journalism also was influenced by his historical writing, and that historical writing thus was an important form of writing in the fauna of genres in the evolving public sphere of the 18th century Denmark, and that the "reframing" of different genre designations, as Riegels did, was a way of finding new ways of engaging with audiences.56

One could also argue that genres shaped political communication in the late 18th century. The form of the text was made to fit the purpose. Impartiality was an ideal for a writer searching for truth and moral justness. Riegels is an example of a historian who first went for a more official position as historiographer, and when that failed, found the public sphere the next best thing, a substitute for the office of royal historiographer. But as a historian in the public sphere, he discovered new ways of being a historian and found new genres such as the tableau ("skilderie") through his journalistic works. It is therefore safe to say, that his history writing would not have been the same had he not taken part in the developing public sphere of the later years of the 18th-century Denmark-Norway.

As I mentioned in the introduction, earlier research has claimed that history writing was used to conceal political discussions. In the case of Riegels, history writing did not hide political opinions, but was the preferred way to express views on the government and society. In this chapter, I have tried to highlight how the interaction of different types of genres happened in the context of the writings of this active historian in late 18th-century Copenhagen. This is of course significant for the understanding of Riegels' historical writings. But as the writer whose publications across different genres was already in his own time acknowledged as a watershed in the changes that had occurred in the press and public sphere of late 18th-century Copenhagen, it has even more implications, as it shows an important example of how different genres—historical and non-historical (then being employed as historical)—were used to navigate a developing and expanding public sphere.

#### **Notes**

ministers wore away the layer of sacredness that made the monarchy legitimate in the eyes of its subjects."

#### **Bibliography**

*ligesom foragtet. Af Riegels. Tredie Deel. Første Bind*. København: Christian Frederik Holm, 1786.

Woolf, Daniel. *The Idea of History in Early Stuart England*. Toronto, 1990.

Zetlitz, Jens. "Til Forfatteren af Kiøbenhavns skilderie." *Samleren* 2, 51 (1788): 409–414.

### **7 From amusement to study?**

Historical genres in the 18th-century essay periodical press

*Claire Boulard Jouslin*

It seems that in 18th-century England the modern conception of history defined as distinct from fiction and as some neutral account of facts had long coexisted with more fictional historical genres such as poetry, drama, martyrologies and secret histories.1 Recent scholarship has discussed many of these historical genres.2 Yet, one genre, namely the genre of the essay periodical which emerged in the early 18th century, seems not to have commanded much attention in its relation to history.

This article purports to examine the interplay between history and the essay periodical in the 18th century starting with the most famous and most influential of them all, Joseph Addison's and Richard Steele's *Spectator*  (1711–1712; 1714). Its aim is to trace the influence the *Spectator*'s conception of historical representation exercised on later periodicals, and particularly on two women's monthly journals: Eliza Haywood's *Female Spectator*  (1744–45), and Charlotte Lennox's *The Lady's Museum* (1760–61).

To do this, this study will follow a double line of argument. First, the *Spectator*'s general use of visual narrative turned the journal into a highly historical genre which offered a national narrative in its own semi-fictional way. Second, the *Spectator* argued that women's visual faculty was flawed. The *Spectator* implicitly inferred that women's sight prevented them from producing valuable historical narratives and led them to produce immoral and deficient narratives. As a result, it seems that this discourse was currently held to denounce the scandalous subhistorical genre of secret memoirs female writers were accused of writing.

This essay therefore offers to examine the way Haywood and Lennox, who published history in their periodicals, reconciled writing history with femininity and contributed both to popularising history among female readers as well as to defending women's rights to produce and make history in the way they thought fit.

This will eventually lead to the contention that beyond the commercial imperative of entertaining readers, the persistence of various genres of fictionalised history in essay periodicals reveals that the narration of history was always considered a major and serious study for women writers. D. R. Woolf's argument

DOI: 10.4324/9781003331971-11

This chapter has been made available under a CC-BY 4.0 license.

in his otherwise seminal article "From Hystories to the historical," that women's conception of polite history passed from an amusement to a serious object of study,3 which was reflected by the emergence of professional female historians after 1770, needs therefore to be qualified.

#### **The essay periodical as a historical genre**

It may seem a bit farfetched to argue that the Spectatorial essay could constitute a historical genre since past historical events, and in particular, English political events are hardly mentioned in the *Spectator*. However, browsing through the 635 issues of this daily periodical one finds the following illuminating statement:

It is the most agreeable Talent of an Historian, to be able to draw up his Armies and fight his Battels in proper expressions*, to set before our Eyes*  (my emphasis) Divisions, Cabals, and Jealousies of Great Men, and to lead us Step by Step into the several Actions and Events of his History*. We love to see* the Subject unfolding it self by just Degrees, […] I confess this shews more the Art than the Veracity of the Historian, but I am only to speak of him as he is qualified to please the Imagination. And in this respect, Livy, has, perhaps excelled all who ever went before him, or have written since his Time. He describes every thing in so lively a manner, that his whole History is an admirable Picture, and touches on such proper Circumstances in every Story, that his reader becomes a kind of Spectator, and feels in himself all the variety of Passions, which are correspondent to the several Parts of the Relation.4

There are three points in this quote which are striking. Firstly, it is significant the *Spectator* argues that a historical narrative is more pleasant and instructive as it is visual because it then turns historical texts into pictures and readers into spectators and eye-witnesses. As the title *The Spectator*  announced, vision and sight were core values in the periodical: Mr Spectator, the editor, defines himself as "a spectator of mankind" (S.1) and transfers his observation into essays he called "speculations" (*S.* 3). The *Oxford English Dictionary* defines speculation as vision. As a consequence, it seems that essays, being a visual form of writing, are most adapted to history writing.

At the same time, Addison associates historical matter with the imagination. This quote is indeed extracted from the famous series of essays devoted to the pleasures of the imagination in which Addison explained, following John Locke, that all forms of artistic pleasures are derived from the sight 5 . A good historical narrative is therefore able to conjure up scenes in the imagination of the reader, and has the same imaginative function as fiction or art. Mr. Spectator, the eidolon, makes it clear that the dividing line between history and story, or facts and fiction may be blurred: "I confess this shews more the Art than the Veracity of the Historian" (S. 420). But he

dismissed such blurring as unimportant, considering rhetoric and therefore the narrative to be more valuable than factual veracity. This interplay of fiction, history, the genre of the essay and vision is a founding element of the periodical as it is embodied by Mr. Spectator himself who "open(s) the Work with my own History," his fictitious autobiography.6

Lastly, it seems also quite significant that Addison should recommend to imitate the style of an ancient historian, Livy.7 This means that whatever the subject matter of modern history, the latter is not radically different from ancient history as the aim of history is to display facts and make the reader "feel in himself all the variety of passions" to become polite.

Such definition of historical writing sheds light on the very specific way history is narrated in the *Spectator.* History features as allegories. The latter rewrite ancient historical texts which provide readers with a more general,—nearly universal—history of mankind in essays that particularly rely on visual device.

*Spectator* essays 433 and 434 are a case in point. They explain how the republic of the Amazonian tribe eventually incorporated with the republic of the Scythians and "became the most flourishing and Polite Government in the part of the World which they Inhabited."8 Indeed, these two essays, which include an introductory paragraph about the complementary nature of men and women, constitute a fictional visual rewriting of Herodotus's *History.*9 Like Livy, Mr. Spectator retells history by using two visual literary genres: allegory and character.10 Each republic stands for the virtues and defects of each sex which are conjured up through character-like descriptions of the protagonists. Thus the Amazons are depicted as an unnatural commonwealth of viragos which trains its daughters in brutal and manly arts and which is progressively taught by men to redirect their energy to more suitably feminine activities; while the republic of men is a society of rough warriors who are encouraged to be as unrefined as possible:

I find the Name of a Minister of State in one part of their history, who was fined for appearing too frequently in clean Linnen; and of a certain great General who was turned out of his post for Effeminacy, it having been proved upon him by several credible Witnesses that he washed his Face every Morning.11

The overall effect of this narrative is one that a good historical narrative is expected to produce: it entertains the more learned reader with a parody of an ancient text and the common reader with a satire of romp girls and rustic men while it gives food for thought to all readers about politeness, a subject that was both highly topical and political. Indeed, the Whig faction contended that only cultivation of manner and politeness could deflate party divisions and shelter the kingdom from potentially harmful behaviours.12

In that context, readers could plainly see that beneath the pleasant moral and allegorical surface, there were coded allusions targetting specific contemporary policies. The general turned out of his post was an allusion to the Whig Duke of Marlborough, commander general of the British army who had been dismissed from the government by Queen Anne after the Tory landslide in the 1709 general election.13 In the same way, at a time when many Tory ladies vindicated their political support to the Tory and Church faction, ridiculing the Amazonian tribe and its senate may well have been an indirect attack on Tory female political activism and a warning that it was highly unnatural and potentially dangerous.14 To promote feminine moderation and domesticity and masculine refinement as complementary was therefore an allegorical way of recalling the necessity for both sexes but also for both political parties to reconcile and live together in harmony. It was also a way to promote commerce (understood in all its meanings—economic as well as social and moral) as the solution to guarantee the nation's harmony and prosperity, an argument that was largely held by the Whigs. Thus, these historical essays show that politeness —the most refined form of commerce—had been acknowledged since antiquity as a political and social necessity. And they reminded readers of the usefulness of history and of its capacity of giving lessons well beyond its own epoch.

Furthermore, Mr. Spectator also hinted that the spectatorial essay genre was quintessentially historical because Mr. Spectator had the qualities of a good historian: impartial, writing speculative thoughts, he, like historians, who "are obliged to follow Nature more closely, and to take entire Scenes out of her […] ha(s)ve the high satisfaction of beholding all Nature with an unprejudic'd eye; and having nothing to do with Mens Passions or Interests, I can with the greater Sagacity consider their Talents, Manners, Failings, and Merits."15 As *The Spectator* reports and comments upon stories relating to the everyday life of all ranks of society, each essay may be considered a part of a serialised social micro-history of early 18th-century England.

Essay 101 confirms this hypothesis. Lamenting the party spirit of contemporary historians, Mr. Spectator falls into daydreaming about what a future unbiased historian would write about the late Stuart society using the *Spectator* as a primary source of information. It is noteworthy that this essay does not provide a narrative of the main political events: instead, it brushes in various strokes the picture of the everyday life of his contemporaries. The essay thus constitutes a synecdoche of the journal and one may consider that each new essay achieves the completion of the general picture and thus transforms *The Spectator* into a history book. Mr Spectator imagines the future historian's comments on the *Spectator* essays: "as for his Speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete Words and obscure Phrases of the Age in which he lived, we still understand enough of them to see the Diversions and Characters of the English Nation in his time."

One could object that this essay was a mere joke and that defining the *Spectator* as a social history book is stretching the analysis a little too far. Yet Addison's insistence on distancing through obsolete words along with the stress on emotional familiarity with readers created through the sense of sight suggests that he did separate past from present, which is now commonly believed to be the mark of modern history as an independent field.16

This essay equally shows that Addison had the intuition that the everyday and private life and mores of his contemporaries—as much as the spectacular pageantry of politics—could make the subject matter of a historical narrative that constructed a national identity too. In this, he was ahead of his time since it is one of the characteristics of social history to acknowledge that present microcosms also make a historical matter that can be analysed with historical tools. Moreover, recording this history in a two-pence periodical sheet meant that the journal popularised a type of easy-to-read (visual?) history which on the one hand, widely differed from the one recorded by historians—who transcribed "the spectacular politics" of pageantry in heavy and costly volumes. On the other hand, the periodical's spectacular and moral history also offered readers an alternative to the genre of the secret history, another type of visual and intimate history of the people that was both highly political and risqué and that described reality in fictional terms.

Now, like many of his contemporaries, the *Spectator* associated the latter type of history—considered as scandalous and fictional gossip—to women writers, an opinion that partly originated in the fact that the author of one of the best sellers of the period, the *Secret Memoirs of the New Atalantis* was a woman, Mary Manley de la Rivière. The *Spectator* also attributed the intimate connexion between the genre of the secret history and femininity to another cause. It suggested that such fraught history could only be produced by women because they had a deficient eye sight. In essay 252, Mr. Spectator published a letter from a female correspondant, Mary Heartfree, a selfproclaimed specialist of the language of women's eyes. She reported the devious ways with which her acquaintances used their sight: "The eye of Leonora is slyly watchful while it looks negligent; she looks round her […] and yet seems to be employed on Objects directly before her […] There is a brave soldier's Daughter in Town, that by her Eye has been the Death of more than ever her Father made fly before him."

So, it is clear that beyond denouncing the corruption of these young women's gaze, Mary Heartfree's aim is to slander her neighbours through her written observations of their private life. She too has faulty eyesight. Significantly, she concludes her letter promising: "if you do me the Honour to print this among your Speculations, I shall in my next, make you a present of secret History, by translating all the Looks of the next Assembly of Ladies and Gentlemen into Words, to adorn some future Paper." The conclusion that readers were encouraged to draw then was that, unlike Mr. Spectator who observed his contemporaries write a day-to-day history that aimed at reforming and instructing readers at once, women who attempted to dabble with micro-history were inappropriate historians.

This opinion was to prevail, for years later in his *Moral and political Essays*, the historian David Hume denounced women's improper curiosity and love for secret histories and denied that the genre was a historical genre.17 He thus reasserted this implicit assertion that women could not write proper serious history. However, Hume also encouraged women to change their reading habits and to read standard history because, he claimed, being amusing and instructive, history is perfectly adapted to the light intellect of female readers.18

With this context in mind, it is, therefore, all the more remarkable that two mid-18th-century periodicals written by two women—Eliza Haywood and Charlotte Lennox—and primarily targeting a female audience, should take up the *Spectator*'s formula on the one hand, and should also deal with both social and traditional history on the other. This raises the following questions: How did they reconcile writing history with the *Spectator*'s prejudice about women's visual inability to write history? What sort of history did they write? And what was their purpose in writing history in their magazines?

#### **Reconciling visual history and secret memoirs in the** *Female Spectator*  **(1744–1746)**

Eliza Haywood firmly grounded her twenty-four monthly issues of the *Female Spectator* within the spectatorial and spectacular moral tradition of the essay periodical. Like Mr. Spectator, the anonymous editor, the Female Spectator, opens her journal with her short autobiography; and she explains that her essays will provide readers with a visual description of the English society in order to reform the moors of her contemporaries. The magazine may therefore be described as constituting, like the *Spectator*, another social history book based on semi-fictional essays.

Yet, the eidolon states that the feminine quality of her sight prompts her to observe society in a different way from the *Spectator*: she claims to be a reformed coquet, that is a person who used to mingle in society to be seen and admired. She further explains that this position—which most people reproved—enables her to be an acute social observer and a witness to the social scene: "I shall also acknowledge, that I have run through as many Scenes of Vanity and Folly as the greatest Coquet of them all […] The Company I kept […] furnished me not only with the Knowledge of many Occurrences, which otherwise I had been ignorant of, but also enabled me, when the too great Vivacity of my Nature became temper'd with Reflection, to see into the secret Springs which gave rise to the Actions I had either heard or, been witness of […]."19

Returning the *Spectator*'s argument that feminine eyesight is fraught, she argues that it is *because* as a woman, she had so-called deficient sight, that she has become a fine observer of the world and that she is most suited to describing the social scene and thus to becoming a social historian.

In this introductory justification of her venture, she also warns that the journal will flirt with the genre of the secret histories, by disclosing behindthe-door scenes:

It is also highly proper I should acquaint the Town, that to secure an eternal Fund of Intelligence, Spies are placed not only in all the Places of Resort in and about this great metropolis, but at Bath, Tunbridge, and the Spaw, and means found out to extend my Speculations even as far as France, Rome, Germany, and other foreign Parts, so that nothing curious as worthy of Remark can escape me; and this I look upon to be a more effectual Way of penetrating into the Mysteries of the Alcove, the Cabinet, or Field, than if I had the power of Invisibility […]20

Yet she dispels any moral doubt about her writing by adding: "I would, by no means, however, have what I say be construed into a Design of gratifying a vicious Propensity of propagating Scandal: […] for tho' I shall bring real Facts on the Stage, I shall conceal the Actors Names under such as will be conformable to their Characters; my intention being only to expose the Vice, not the Person—nor shall I confine myself to modern Transactions—Whenever I find any Example among the Ancients which may serve to illustrate the Topick I shall happen to be upon, I shall make no scruple to insert it. […]"21

How then does she translate such principles in the *Female Spectator* without injuring the reputation of the journal? Haywood stresses the importance for women to read history and particularly the history of past events, even though, she conceded, women could not use their knowledge for professional purposes. History, she explains, brings moral instruction as well as entertainment.

"Affording the strongest Precept by Example:—the Rise and Fall of Monarchies;—The Fate of Princes, the Sources from which their good or ill fortune may be deduc'd;—the various Events which the Struggles for Liberty against arbitrary Power have produc'd, and the wonderful Effects which the Heroism of particular Persons has obtained, both to curb Oppression in the Tyrant, and Sedition in the Subject, afford an ample Field for Contemplation, and at the same time too much Pleasure to leave room for any Amusements of a low and trifling Nature."22

But most of all, reading history will enable readers to develop their critical faculty and to enable them to exercise it upon their own environment. Thus, Haywood encourages her readers to study, for three hours a day, a list of ancient authors, including Herodotus, Velleius Paterculus, Suetonius, Thucydides, Josephus and Tacitus, whose general histories and ancient biographies will help them make comparisons and assess the value of present political events. Thus equipped, "When she (the female reader) hears of any notable transaction in the Field or Cabinet, she will be impatient to look over the Annals of past Times, to find if the present really excel all that have gone before, or whether it be […] that […] There is nothing new under the sun."23

Haywood therefore clearly conceives history as a tool that could lead women to intellectual and political emancipation. At the same time, she highlights that the genres of history do not really matter, for the emancipating force of history relies not so much on the narrative form as on the strength of facts:

"I am very sensible, that the Ignorance, which the greatest Part of our Sex are in of the dead Languages, is looked upon as an Impediment to our being well read in History; because, though most of the Greek and Latin Authors are translated either into English or French, which is, now pretty equal with People of any tolerable Education, yet we cannot expect them in the same Purity as if we understood the Originals; but this Objection is of no Force, because, even in those that are the worst done, we still find Facts such as they were, and it is the Knowledge of them, not Rhetoric, I am recommending to the Ladies."24 In this she differs radically from the *Spectator* because it means that she denies there is a hierarchy of historical genres and that some genres should be banned as disreputable.

Finally, by positing facts rather than rhetoric as central to the historical narrative she hammers in the idea that women's *natural curiosity,*—which was often considered as blameable—is certainly an asset to read and write history:

Neither will she (the reader) be content with knowing that such and such things were done; she must also pry into the Motives by which they were brought about, and as far as is in her Power inform herself whether they were such as deserved Praise, or the contrary: And by this means she will be enabled to judge of Affairs, not by their Success, but by the Intentions of those who conducted them.25

The verb "pry" suggests that history must be spied upon to be uncovered and that subsequently all history is somewhat secret.

That Haywood, who had published in her early career several secret histories26 should support secret history does not come as a surprise. A more delicate matter was to reconcile this sort of writing with a journalistic venture that claimed to be highly moral. This she does in two ways.

The first one, like the *Spectator,* consists in describing the moors and daily histories of her contemporaries, showing what takes place behind the doors of private homes. Most essays contain narratives of the private stories/histories of women trapped in specific situations. And these micro-stories describe the punishment that the heroines implacably met in that patriarchal society if they did not accept the limitations of their conditions as second-rate citizens. Such vignettes are meant to be morally and socially instructive. In this, she follows Livy's moral conception of history.

The second way of reconciling secret history and her moral periodical is to show that the distinction between secret histories and respectable history is irrelevant by intermingling ancient history and secret history. After encouraging her readers to read classical history, the female editor provides them with fragments of seven ancient letters that were supposedly discovered and that were sent to her by a correspondent. These letters are those exchanged by emperor Augustus and Livia when Augustus was courting the latter while she was still married to General Tiberius. The letters reflect the emperor's passion and Livia's reactions to it. As these are incomplete letters, the Female Spectator herself provides her readers with the end of the story (Livia's becoming not only Augustus's mistress but also his wife).

#### 162 *Claire Boulard Jouslin*

Haywood displays here a primary historical source that shows in the intimate epistolary form as well as in its content, that the private desires and vices of illustrious historical figures are part of the course of history, about which readers should be instructed. Interestingly this leads her to wonder whether censorship should axe scandalous historical narratives.

OTHERS, on the contrary, may think it better I had suppress'd the whole piece: they will say, perhaps, that when an unwarrantable aim happens to be crown'd with success, the whole event ought rather to be conceal'd than publish'd, lest it should give encouragement to others to attempt the like, and that above all things, the Female Spectator, who sets up for a regulator of her sex's conduct, should not have exhibited a character so fortunately vicious as was that of this roman empress.27

Significantly, she argues that moral censorship does not guarantee the writing of good and moral history because first, painting vice can be didactic and, second, the historical representation of corruption cannot corrupt virtuous female readers. Thus, the personna rejects censorship in history and refuses to promote it in her periodical, stating:

"HISTORY, however, must not be silenced, because matters of fact, which ought not to be imitated, are therein related; nor should the elegant part of mankind be deprived of so agreeable an entertainment as the writings of the ancients afford, because some of them have introduced characters we could wish had never been in the world.

A WOMAN, whose heart is truly guarded by virtue and religion, will never suffer a vicious example to have any influence over her;"28

She thus answers in a very clear way to all those who dismissed the genre of the secret history as a despicable, immoral and unhistorical fictional sort of writing. Like all good history it is entertaining and morally instructive because it is factual and visual. She also mockingly dismisses the thenwidespread association between femininity and the writing of secret history by explaining that these letters were sent by a male professional historian specialised in the painstaking study of minute historical evidence, as is reflected by his name: Antiquarius.

At the same time, her epistolary historical narrative ironically debunks the seriousness of the method of professional historians who work from factual, archival and therefore supposedly reliable sources. It is plain to see that the seven letters are fictional and a forgery. Yet, the letters are presented by Antiquarius as being translations of copies of the original Latin letters said to be written by the poet Ovid. As for the translator, Antiquarius reports that it was none other than the late Bishop of Rochester, Francis Atterbury, a great Oxford scholar who had taken side with the ancients in the controversy over the forgery of Phalaris's letters. Neither Ovid, nor Atterbury wrote nor translated these letters. Furthermore, claiming that these letters had been sent by an antiquarian discredits his—and beyond him, all his colleagues'—ability to distinguish truth from fiction.29 The letters therefore constitute a reminder of the controversies that had flourished since the 1720s and again more recently in 1742 when it was discovered that the correspondence between Cicero and Brutus, that most young gentlemen studied in universities, was a forgery.30

The aim of these letters is to show that it is vain to distinguish between historical and fictional texts. And they point out how misogynistic and dishonest it is to claim that fictional history can only be produced by ignorant and scandalous women, especially given that most secret histories were actually written by men.31

For Haywood, provided the historical frame, even if parodic and fictitious, entertained readers and prompted them to ponder over the moral and political meaning of the text, the aim of history writing was achieved. She thus warned against associating subhistorical genres with a gender hierarchy, showing that it could easily result in a backlash against male writers who tried to evince them. Subsequently, the letters and the eidolon's comment on them can be read as a clear answer to David Hume's essay on history and women.32

Finally, publishing this correspondence between Augustus and Livia confirms that the aim of writing history, and furthermore of writing secret history, is not merely to entertain readers but also to make them ponder over its significance for the present time. And it is there that her conception of history and her publishing history (or histories) in her journal takes on a political meaning.

First of all, she invites female readers to think about women's role in making history. Livia is presented as a very ambitious and manipulative woman ready to sacrifice all rules and people to achieve her personal aims. The obvious conclusion is that feminine values are incompatible with political power and women should not make history this way.

But beneath this rather conservative and facile surface, she also writes a scathing political attack against King George II and his manner of ruling. That Augustus and Livia's love affair is an opposition text is first signalled by the alleged author and translator. The poet Ovid had fallen into disgrace and had been banished by Augustus probably for having witnessed one of his orgies. The letters were therefore produced by one of Augustus's victims. As for the translator, Francis Atterbury had also been a major Jacobite who had gone into exile to France because he had been suspected of plotting to restore the Stuart Pretender. So he too had been a victim of his ruler, namely George II.

Then the topic itself is an indirect and thinly veiled attack against King George that contemporary readers could not miss. In the mid-18th century, George II—whose complete name is George Augustus—was often compared to Augustus, who was responsible for betraying the Roman constitution and for destroying the Republic. Historians depicted him as one who imposed the imperial tyrannical regime, along with a personal form of ruling. Augustus, they recalled, silenced public opinion by making it a capital crime to criticise the ruler.33 Finally, ancient historians also depicted Augustus as an immoral rake.

In December 1745, for the opposition, Augustus's rule was an accurate mirror image of George's rule. In 1737, George's regime, then represented by the corrupt Prime Minister Robert Walpole, had violated the notion of freedom of expression by passing a law progressively extending censorship to the stage and to the press.34 In 1745, the new Prime Minister Pulteney thought of extending it even further. In 1745, when Haywood was publishing the *Female Spectator*, George's son, the duke of Cumberland, also named William Augustus, was busy countering the military invasion of the Stuart Young Pretender who had come to reclaim his grandfather's crown. His victory was sealed with savage repression of the Highland Jacobites. Finally, George II, who also ruled over Hanover, was accused of defending the interests of Hanover before those of England. He was criticised for maintaining his German army at the expense of the English people's purse. Worse still, he had behaved like a traitor to the nation when in June 1745, just after the English had been defeated by the French at the battle of Fontenoy, he had deserted England to meet his German mistress Sophie Von Walmoden in Hanover.35 To have a reformed coquet publish such a historical episode in the *Female Spectator* after explaining to her readers that history is cyclical and that contemporary events were a reflection of the past, could not but be interpreted as a political gesture of opposition to the supposed absolutism of George II's rule.

That this epistolary narrative was perceived by contemporary readers as more than a mere historical amusement for ladies is confirmed by the following statement, which was published, in January 1746—one month after the *Female Spectator* issued the letters of Augustus and Livia—in the most prominent opposition newspaper, *Old England* (led by Lord Chesterfield): "I cannot help congratulating, not only the fair sex, but my own, in having during these degenerate times, in the FEMALE SPECTATOR a polite and elegant advocate for private virtue, the true foundation of that public spirit, which my labours have ever endeavoured to promote."36

The allusion to degenerate times and the stress on private virtue and public spirit are characteristic of the vocabulary used by the patriot opposition and show that the authors of *Old England* did identify the *Female Spectator's*  oppositional agenda in the historical narrative.

This should incite scholars to reconsider the idea that the historical content of ladies' magazines constituted and was considered to be merely second-rate, recreational forms of didactic writing aimed at merely entertaining leisurely ladies and at selling papers. This historical episode confirms that Haywood's conception of history was much deeper than the blend of facts and parodic fiction suggested. It seems that her ambition was to make as well as to write history.

In the history of the English press, *The Female Spectator* was the first lady's periodical written by a lady. Therefore, its defence of historical fiction as a serious though entertaining venture and of women's ability to write history is significant. It now remains to investigate whether such views were shared by later periodicals written by women.

#### **The Lady's Museum, or the institutionalisation of women's history**

Unlike the *Spectator* or the *Female Spectator* each issue of the *Lady's Museum* was a magazine—that is a store of pieces, some literary, others dealing with natural sciences, geography and finally with history. These articles were either extracts from foreign books which Lennox herself had translated and digested, or they were part of her own fictional production. They were published without any direct comment upon them. However, the *Lady's Museum* did retain some features of the Spectatorial essay periodical. Each instalment included an introductory essay written by an anonymous female editor, the Trifler, who gave readers clues about the conception and overall organisation of the periodical. Finally, the choice of themes and Trifler's answers to the correspondents' reactions also provide a limited glimpse of the lifestyle of the correspondents in the 1760s. They consequently contribute to construct a form of social history.

Like the Female Spectator, the Trifler describes herself as a coquet. Yet, unlike the Female Spectator, she is not reformed and she denies that coquetry signals a specifically feminine visual shortcoming. She endeavours to show that on the contrary, coquetry is the sign of a special gift which enables both men and women of exception to participate in the public sphere. In this way, she justifies her journalistic venture as the logical and natural outcome of a desire for fame which she shares with many distinguished men.

Yet to that laudable principle, in women mistaken for coquetry, we owe the thunder of eloquence in the senate, as well as the glitter of dress in the drawing-room. An animated speech, and a well-chosen silk, are equally the effects of a desire to please, both in the patriot and the beauty: […] But for this active principle, the statesman would be no politician, and the general no warrior. The desire of fame, or the desire of pleasing, which in my opinion, are synonymous terms, produces application in one and courage in the other. It is the poet's inspiration, the patriot's zeal, the courtier's loyalty, and the orator's eloquence.37

She therefore ironically debunks in general terms all the standard arguments about women's flawed vision used to keep women out of the public sphere of print and politics. She indeed contradicts the common reasoning, that claimed that women's coquettery is a sign of their superficiality. Being superficial, women are not only fascinated by the appearances of well-clad persons, to the point of being blind to the latters' more innate moral qualities. But they also wish to dazzle in their turn, so as to be distinguished. In fact, Lennox highlights the ambivalent relationship of women to aesthetics and society's hypocrisy towards it. In a world where women were defined as the "fair sex" but where access to public expression was limited to them, they had little other choice but to rely on being seen in order to draw one's attention.38 Yet, as is made clear here, coquetterie was a double-edged solution as it fuelled arguments against women's inability to see correctly.

Moreover, curiosity is now presented in the *Lady's Museum* as the power that enabled women to observe things scientifically and therefore to see through the working of nature and made them particularly apt to write history.

Curiosity is one of the most prevalent, and, when properly applied, one of the most amiable, passions of the human mind; nor can it in any way find a more rational scope for exertion, than in the recollection of historical facts, and a curious inquisition into the wonders of creation […] Their (Women's) more exalted faculties, not being tied down by wearisome attention to mathematical investigations, metaphysical chimeras, or abstruse scholastic learning, are more at liberty to observe with care, see with perspicuity, and judge without prejudice.39

Interestingly, Lennox hammers in this idea by publishing a chapter entitled "Of the study proper for Women" translated from the French essay *L'ami des femmes* (1758). Its author, Boudier de Villemer (his authorship is not mentioned), a moderate reformist40 acknowledged that "History and natural philosophy are alone sufficient to furnish women with an agreeable kind of study […]."41 He even defended women's legitimate right to write history on the grounds that:

Women have at all times had so great a share in events, and have acted so many different parts, that they may with reason consider our archives as their own; nay, there are many of them who have written memoirs of the several events of which they have been eye-witnesses. Mademoiselle de Montpensier, Madame de Nemours, Madame de Motteville are of the number. Christina de Pisan, […] has given us the life of that prince; and long before her, the princess Anna Comnenus wrote the history of her own times. We call upon the ladies to assert their rights, and from the study of history to extract useful lessons for the conduct of life.42

Through Boudier de Villemer's pen, Lennox clearly denied the spectatorial idea that the faculty of seeing was gendered and that, to paraphrase Steele's definition of natural femininity, there is a sex in sight43. Lennox thus lifted all objections to women's capacity to write any kind of history and any historical genre.

But most of all, the title of the magazine highlights the link between femininity, vision and history. In his *Dictionary of the English Language*  (1755), Dr. Johnson defined a Museum as "a repository of learned curiosities." The magazine therefore appealed to the intellectual and scientific curiosity of its readers, a curiosity that was a sign of utmost fashion and modernity since in 1759 the British Museum had just opened its doors in Bloomsbury house in London. Now, through its guidebooks the British Museum presented its collections as a historical narrative of the British possessions.44

To conceive the periodical as a museum was therefore to put historical narrative at the heart of its scheme and to associate it with femininity. For it offered a double historical narrative—that of the objects displayed, namely each article, many of which were directly related to history—and that of the collection, whose arrangement as a whole was to provide readers with the author's narrative. Thus, the author of the *Lady's Museum*, by displaying her collection presented herself as an enlightened virtuoso and a historian. At the same time the meaning of this collection was itself to be construed by readers who, by visualising the items of the collection had to make sense of its overall factual content, a task that is also that of the historian.

Furthermore, to associate the magazine with museology signalled Lennox's will to stress the respectability of her vision of history. It is not insignificant that the periodical should be called "the Museum" and not for instance "the Lady's Cabinet of Curiosity." The latter associated history with female private curiosity and prurient topical fiction and was largely considered a scandalous genre. By contrast, the collection gathered by a literary museum was to be an assemblage of public texts disconnecting curiosity from secrecy and on the contrary connecting it with historical worth. Lennox for instance produced the translation of an excerpt from the minutes of Joan of Arc's trial, whose source was the French 16th-century historian Jean Nagerel's *Annales de Normandie*  (1580), a rare antiquarian text which was transcribed from the archives of Normandy.45

Besides, the periodical's respectability was enhanced by the fact that contemporary readers would associate it with *The Museum,* a successful and prestigious magazine edited by Mark Akenside in 1746–47. The latter clearly vindicated his collection of historical and literary pieces as a decidedly male gathering of rarities for literati. The *Lady's Museum* promised therefore to constitute some equivalent of the institutional knowledge provided by such printed museums,46 a guarantee of respectability that was still strengthened by its addressing wellborn female readers—ladies—whose taste and intellect it would shape.

The very word *museum* also suggested ways in which the institution could be adapted to ladies. It conjured up two words linked with femininity namely, muse—the museum is the original abode of the muses—and amuse. Implicitly, therefore, the visual display of what would constitute a female collection was to be entertaining and imaginative as well as instructive.

Entertainment, which Lennox, in the tradition of the *Spectator* acknowledged as essential to instruct, was directly supplied by another feature of the museum: the variety of its collection. And variety was also a means for the author to define what she meant by writing history. Interestingly, while Akenside's *Museum*  essentially published reviews of history books and serialised original narratives of topical and political contemporary events—such as the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion or the contemporary history of Europe—the *Lady's Museum* hardly mentioned topical subjects. Moreover, it defined history in much broader terms than the narrative of military, political events and facts. The *Lady's Museum*  provided a range of different historical genres, from the more prestigious grand political and chronological narrative of national history to the subgenres of biography and memoirs.

The *Lady's Museum* publishes a serialised digest of the history of England from the Roman invasions to the Saxon Heptarchy which Lennox titled "an Essay on the original inhabitants of Great Britain." Despite the social dimension of the title, this narrative, which runs through seven issues (from *LM* 3 to 9), was chronological and provided a sweeping panorama of the political and military manoeuvres of the various original British kings who controlled the country. It conjured up battle scenes as well as the political intrigues and corrupted motifs of the rulers. Finally, it included some social vignettes meant to enliven an otherwise rather austere account of the period. Thus, it combines both political and social history. To show readers the seriousness of her narrative, the editor named some of the historians whose works she used to write about in her digest. The names of Guthrie, the Whig author of a *General History of England from the Invasion of the Romans* […] *to the late Revolution (1688–89)*, along with the French and Whig historian Rapin (who wrote the successful *Histoire de l'Angleterre* translated into English in 1725) and the Jacobite historian Thomas Carte (whose 4 volumes *General History of England* had been published in 1747) are cited in the text. Last, her instruction was completed by the insertion of such visual elements as a map of Saxon England.

Furthermore, the periodical popularised the genre of art history for the ladies, by printing an original translation of the "Life of Anthony Van Dyck," a chapter which was originally published in Italian in 1672 by the Academician Giovan Bellori in his *Le Vite de Pittori*. The article highlights Van Dyck's contribution to history painting (rather than to portrait painting), a stance which taught readers to grasp this artist's prestigious contribution to the development of the British arts.

Historical variety in the periodical includes the genre of the biography, the prestige of which was on the rise after 1750, which features in the magazine with the account of the life of the famous courtesan from the Italian Renaissance Bianca Capello. It goes along with the genre of private memoirs, which is not a surprise since Lennox had already published several translations of various memoirs.47

Moreover, the *Lady's Museum* made it clear that the distinction between history and fiction was unimportant as the periodical's collection interpolates four histories which today would be called stories, starting with Lennox's serialised novel the *History of Sophia and Harriet* and the serialised translation of Madame de Tencin's novel *The History of the Count de*  *Comminges*. 48 At a time when history and literature were slowly emerging as seperate disciplines, this constitutes some evidence of her will to go against a mainstream discourse on history writing.49

Finally, historical variety was one of subjects as well as one of genres. Researchers have highlighted Lennox's inclusion of numerous female historical figures in the magazine, ranging from the English Queen Bodicea to the French warrior Joan of Arch and the Indian princess Padmani, not to mention the French Dutchess of Beaufort and the Roman Vestal Virgins.50 This historical female focus was then unusual. It contrasts for instance with Charlotte Cowley's *Ladies History of England*, (1780). Though its author claimed to write about women and for women readers, the book did not centre on the achievement of female historical figures more than standard history books of the period.51 But *The Lady's Museum* is also interesting in that it also narrated the lives and exploits of men, who were ruffians, like Italian Castruccio Castacani or like Lord Ferrers. Lennox thus built up a historical global narrative highlighting the role of both men and women in history and reminding readers that vice and virtue were equally distributed among the two sexes.

The magazine was therefore intended to write a historical narrative where the respective weight and roles of historical genres and genders were rebalanced, which in itself is remarkable. The spirit of this new kind of museum is best reflected by the plates inserted in the magazine. These plates conjured up both fictional characters (two engravings represented scenes from the novels *Harriot and Sophia* and the *Memoirs of the Count de Comminges*), and portraits of true factual historical characters like Gabrielle D'Estrée or of the inhabitants of Ceylon.

One plate featuring a couple of ancient Britons captures quite well the purpose of *The Lady's Museum* and Lennox's conception of history. The plate objectifies the pair of Britons and turns them into oddities and rarities that help construct a national narrative. (Figure 7.1)