Academic literature on the topic 'French Printers marks'

As local traditions of the Catholic Church were suppressed in the 17th century, so Esztergom, the ecclesiastical centre of Hungary was deprived of its medieval rite and associated style of Gregorian chant. The place and function of the earlier repertory were assumed by a quite new type of chant, created from earlier curial melodies according to the humanist aesthetics of a new era. This revised repertory was transmitted by post-Tridentine printed chant books emanating from Italian, French and Dutch printers, which became prevalent all over Europe, including Hungary. The editions of the new cantus romanus that have emerged from various Hungarian libraries constitute material hitherto unknown to musical reception research. This study marks an initial attempt to summarize the early findings of a new examination of the sources and answer several questions: Which editions were ordered by which ecclesiastical institutions? How and in what quantities were the editions available? What types of liturgical chant books have survived in Hungarian collections? How can the editions be grouped chronologically? What do the possessor’s notes reveal? How do musical variants in the editions relate to each other?

Lietuvos nacionalinė Martyno Mažvydo bibliotekaGedimino pr. 51, LT-01504 Vilnius, LietuvaEl. paštas: viktorija.vait@gmail.comStraipsnyje nagrinėjami Lietuvos nacionalinės Martyno Mažvydo bibliotekos Retų knygų ir rankraščių skyriaus paleotipai: jų leidimo vieta, spaustuvininkai, tematika bei proveniencijos, dėmesį telkiant į retesnius, Lietuvos knygos kultūrai svarbesnius leidinius. Iš šiame skyriuje saugomų daugiau kaip 800 paleotipų analizuojama tik dalis jų, nes daugiau negu 200 knygų teturi kortelinį bibliografinį aprašą ir išsamiai juos ištirti šiuo metu neįmanoma. Dalies šių paleotipų analizė papildo jau esamus tyrimus, praplečia senosios knygos kultūros vaizdą.Reikšminiai žodžiai: knygotyra, paleotipai, retos knygos, spaustuvininkai, proveniencijos.THE COLLECTION OF POST-INCUNABULA IN THE MARTYNAS MAŽVYDAS NATIONAL LIBRARY OF LITHUANIAViktorija VAITKEVIČIŪTĖ AbstractPost-incunabula or the books printed in the first half of the 16th century (from January 1, 1501 to January 1, 1551), along with incunabula, are considered to be the oldest and most valuable publications in the world. Due to their likeness to incunabula and publishing specifics, post-incunabula are considered to be historical treasures and monuments of culture. The Rare Book and Manuscript Department of the National Library of Lithuania has in its holdings more than 800 post-incunabula, not including the ones kept at the Department of the National Archival Fund of Published Documents. The exact number is still unknown, since not all the books have been included into the electronic catalogue: more than 200 of them have only a card catalogue description and are awaiting a more detailed study. This article analyses specific features of part of the post-incunabula collection in the NLL Rare Book and Manuscript Department: their place of publication, publishers, thematics and provenances. Principal attention is accorded to the books that are rarer, more interesting and more important for Lithuania’s culture and book culture in general.The most of the post-incunabula kept in the Rare Book and Manuscript Department were published in Germany, many in Switzerland, France and Italy. There also is a small number of post-incunabula published in Poland (Cracow). Of the publications produced by Cracow’s printers, the article discusses those by Jan Haller (ca. 1467–1525), Hieronim Wietor (ca. 1480–1546) and Florian Ungler (d. 1536). It is necessary to mention Aldines – the publications by one of themost famous European printers, Aldo Manuzio (Lat. Aldus Manutius; ca. 1450–1515) and by his descendants. The article also touches upon the work of such acclaimed French publishers as Henri Estienne (lat. Henricus Stephanus, ca. 1460–1520), founder of the famous dinasty of printers, and the Lyonese printer Sébastien Gryphius (ca. 1493–1556). The Rare Book and Manuscript Department also keeps quite a few post-incunabula published by Johannes Frobenof Basel (1460–1537).As to the content aspect, the collection of post-incunabula in the department is versatile. For the most part, it is made up by religious literature: sermons, bibles, theological treatises, Church Fathers’ writings. There are many works by and commentaries on classical authors, of whom Cicero, at the time of the Renaissance viewed as the greatest authority on rhetoric, is the most famous one. The post-incunabula collection illuminates the emergence of the Reformations and the related spread of new ideas in the first half of the XVIth century. The Rare Book and Manuscript Department boasts a number of works by the founder of Protestantism, Martin Luther (1483–1546) and by the most acclaimed humanist of the times, Desiderius Erasmus (1469–1536).The provenances in the post-incunabula (manuscript inscriptions, stamps, bookplates) provide much interesting information. Most often found are ownership marks of the establishments that since the olden times had been preserving books: various monasteries, churches and priest seminaries,. The notable representative of the post-incunabulum culture is the Bernardine Order. According to the electronic catalogue, the Rare Book and Manuscript Departmenthas in its holdings 21 post-incunabula formerly kept by the library of the Tytuvėnai Bernardine Monastery. Most provenance inscriptions are from Kaunas Priest Seminary, the library of the Samogitian Priest Seminary, the library of the Vilnius Seminary and Kražiai College. Of the XIXth century personal libraries,particularly noteworthy are the collections of Jonas Krizostomas Gintila (1788–1857), XIXth-century bibliophile, hebraist and administrator of the Samogitian Diocese, and of Friedrich August Gotthold (1778–1858), educator and music theorist. A separate, rather abundant group of provenance inscriptions consists of the books that formerly belonged to Königsberg University. An in-depth study of all the post-incunabula kept in the NLL would significantly add to the existing research and broaden the understanding of old book culture.

This article analyzes the dynamic interactions of Latin and the vernacular in commentary editions of the Latin classics printed in France before 1600, addressing questions of readership, intended uses, and actual uses. Beginning with the output of Antoine Vérard, it explores the different possibilities for translating Latin commentaries in the early decades of French printing, and the reconfigurations of layout and commentary discourse between languages. There follows a discussion of bilingual and mixed-language editions intended for use in the Latin grammar class and beyond (Mathurin Cordier, Charles Estienne, Jean Herisson, Guillaume Durand, and Pierre Davantès). Particular attention is given to evidence for the uses of such texts in the form of contemporary readers’ annotations and marks of use.
 Cet article analyse les interactions dynamiques entre le latin et les langues vernaculaires dans les éditions commentées des classiques latins publiées en France avant 1600. Il aborde les questions de la lecture, des intentions d’utilisation visée et des utilisations effectives. En commençant avec l’oeuvre d’Antoine Vérard, on y explore les différentes possibilités de traduction de commentaires latins dans les premières décennies de l’imprimerie française, ainsi que les transformations de mise en page et de mise en regard des textes des deux langues. On poursuit en examinant les éditions bilingues et polyglottes développées à l’intention de l’enseignement du latin dans les classes de grammaire et au-delà (Mathurin Cordier, Charles Estienne, Jean Herisson, Guillaume Durand and Pierre Davantès). Une attention spéciale est accordée au témoignage que fournissent les annotations de lecteurs contemporains et les marques de leur utilisation des ouvrages.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Motivation</p><p>In 2015/2016 the Zentralbibliothek Zürich (ZB, Zurich Central Library) and the Swiss Society of Cartography (SSC) presented a map blog to mark the 2015/16 International Map Year. In this weekly blog, cartographer and map librarian Markus Oehrli described and commented on 70 known and less-known Swiss map documents. In 2017, the map history journal Cartographica Helvetica published 58 of these 70 map documents in a special issue. In 2019, SSC will translate the blog into English, which will be published in its publication series to mark the 50th anniversary of the society.</p><p>During the 2015/16 International Map Year, which was initiated and proclaimed by the ICA, national cartographic societies were encouraged to organise various kinds of public activities and events as part of this worldwide celebration of maps. The SSC coordinated and organised more than 20 of these events within Switzerland. The “Karte der Woche” (Map of the week) blog, which was offered an in-depth and sometimes surprising look at Swiss cartography, was received with much enthusiasm by the general public and experts alike. During the 70-week map year (between August 2015 and December 2016), the blog provided a comprehensive profile of Swiss map-making on the website http://cartography.ch.</p><p>Map year blog: 70 maps in 70 weeks</p><p>The documents presented in the blog cover both current and historical productions evenly. The oldest map dates from before the year 900 and the most recent from 2016. The exhibits include traditional maps for which Swiss cartography is widely known and world-renowned, i.e. topographical maps, hiking maps, city maps, road maps, bird’s-eye views, statistical maps, and school maps. A relief model, a horizontal panorama, a pictorial map, an infographic and numerous thematic maps relating to folklore, navigation, archaeology, sport, etc. are also to be found. Furthermore, geo-media is also represented and includes such as maps produced by means of geographical information systems and web map mashups. In contrast, techniques that have almost been forgotten today, such as typometry and map printing on silk, are also presented. A very special historic piece is the 16th century globe by Abraham Gessner which can also be used as a drinking cup. There are even maps of subterranean and lunar worlds or maps of imaginary places. Some of the authors or producers of the presented documents are well-known cartographic publishers and federal institutions, but some are little known individuals working away on their own. Besides trained cartographers, the blog also features work by a priest, a spy and an artist.</p><p>For the purpose of this blog, only maps created by Swiss authors or published by a Swiss publishing house were selected. Another selection criterion was the fair balance among the different regions in Switzerland. All parts of the country and almost all cantons feature at least once. In order to document the global network of Swiss cartography, about a third of the presented documents also show areas outside of the country’s borders.</p><p>The blog offers plenty of background information and is spiced with a pinch of humour, without ever losing sight of the central theme – Swiss cartography. The individual blog texts were researched and written by Markus Oehrli who is a long-standing SSC member. The pictures have been published with the consent of the copyright holders. Where possible, a link within the blog refers to a high-resolution image or to an interactive map application on the Internet. The first blog entry was published on 4 September 2015 and each further blog was released every Friday until 30 December 2016.</p><p>Special issue – Kaleidoskop der Schweizer Kartografie (Kaleidoscope of Swiss Cartography) in German</p><p>In 2017, Cartographica Helvetica, the leading German-language journal for map history, devoted a 64-page special issue to the map blog. Under the title “Kaleidoskop der Schweizer Kartografie” (“Kaleidoscope of Swiss Cartography”), a selection of 58 documents from the blog were printed in the issue in a new, innovative way, both in terms of graphics and content. In addition, this edition of Cartographica Helvetica was published in digitized form on the Swiss journal repository e-periodica.ch. It is free to access and offers features such as full text search, an advanced search using various filters, the ability to browse page by page, the enlargement of pages up to about 600%, download possibility for all pages and all articles as PDF documents. The repository navigation is trilingual, in German, English and French.</p><p>English edition part of SSC’s 50th anniversary celebrations in 2019</p><p>In order to meet the great demand for the widely acclaimed map blog and the “Kaleidoskop der Schweizer Kartografie” special issue – which sold very well – SSC decided to publish the blog also in English to help commemorate its 50th anniversary in 2019. This will make the content accessible to an even wider public. With this contribution we propose to announce and publish the English version during a presentation to an international audience of experts at ICC 2019 in Tokyo. We will give insight how the 70 artefacts were chosen according to the scientific, geographic and thematic selection criteria. The composition of the accompanying texts is based upon the thorough scientific research especially carried out for this project. We hope that this approach may serve as a model for similar projects showing the richness of excellent cartographic artefacts all over the world!</p>

AbstractTwo things long stood in the way of the erection of statues in public in the Northern Netherlands, on the one hand the lack of a strong central government and on the other the wrongly interpreted - Calvinist interdict on them (Note 1). The first statue of this kind, that of Erasmus in Rotterdam by De Keyser (1622), was attacked by strict Calvinists, but noted throughout Europe as an early paradigm (Note 3). Not until the 19th century did the Netherlands join in the nationalistic 'statue craze', which was just breaking out then, with two monuments to the supposed Dutch inventor of printing, Laurens Janszoon Coster. These statues of a private citizen had a predecessor in the 18th century, while a statue had already been demanded in the 17th-century eulogies of Coster. Cities had long honoured their famous inventors as important contributors to civilization and praise of the inventor was also a fundampental ingredient of the history of learning (e.g. in Pliny). In the Renaissance scientific inventions acquired a special emphasis, modern inventors being held up as evidence that the model of Antiquity could be not only equalled, but also surpassed, while both Christian civilization and the northern countries could also gain credit here (cf. Johannes Stradanus, Figs. 2, 3, Note 9, and Francis Bacon, Note 10). The significance of the invention of printing for Christianity was soon recognized, so that it was lauded above other inventions as 'divine', an attitude that was certainly also strengthened by its decisive role in the Reformation. In the Netherlands in particular, where religious and political developments were so closely interwoven, printing was regarded as an important aid to both (Notes 14, 15), while the young Dutch Republic, in which printing played such an important part, could claim the honour of counting the inventor of this important art among its citizens. This 'pious fraud' (Hellinga) is fundamental to the discussion of the history of the statues. The Coster tradition can only be traced back to about a century after the supposed invention, acquiring its definitive form at the end of the 16th century in Hadrianus Junius' Batavia Illustrata of 1598. The further enlargement on the merits of Coster also necessitated a portrait of him which, in de fault of an authentic one, had to be fabricated for the purpose, the features of the statue of Erasmus being taken over for a full-length portrait (Fig. 5), which served as a 'graphic monument'. A fictitious bust of Coster was also cited in the 17th century (Fig. 7) and this, like the early sculptural marks of honour to him (Fig. 16), belongs to the iconography of printing, the practitioners of the craft evoking their inventor. Such representations - a more or less life-size statue of Coster is still to be seen on the house of the Haarlem printer Enschedé - were not yet very public in character. The statue of Coster projected from the end of the 17th century for the garden of the Hortus Medicus in Haarlem did acquire greater publicity, however. This humanist garden of a bourgeois learned society (Note 28), reflected not only nature, but also the world of learning, as a microcosm of the arts, with sixteen busts of connoisseurs and scholars under the leadership of a full-length statue of Coster, since it was he who by his art had made the dissemination of learning possible, although he owed his place here largely to his Haarlem origins, of course. The designs made by Romeyn de Hooghe for this statue (Note 29) were only realized in 1722 in a statue by Gerrit van Heerstal, which tried to unite historical and classical features (Figs. 8-13). In the years thereafter, up to the tercentenary of the invention, the poems, medals and a weighty commemorative publication (Fig. 14, Note 35) celebrating the Haarlem inventor of printing all referred to this statue in his birthplace. Meanwhile Germany too had honoured her inventors of printing - Fust in addition to Gutenberg, initially - in 1640 and 1710 by centenary festivities often of a Protestant cast. Privileges relating to public statues may have been one of the reasons why no monuments were erected on these occasions. These privileges were, however, annulled by the French Revolution, just as the Enlightenment and political renewal furthered the cult of honouring leading civic 'geniuses'. Two Gutenberg cities under French rule took pride of pace here, but only in 1840 did Strasbourg acquire a statue of Gutenberg by David d'Angers, which illustrated his role as the enlightener of all mankind (Figs. 15-18, Note 39). In Mainz a private initiative of 1794 came to nothing (Note 40), as did a Napoleonic rebuilding plan centred on a Gutenberg Square with a statue. Not until 1829 was a semi-public statue by Joseph Stok set up there (Note 41), while in 1837 the Gutenberg monument designed by Bartel Thorwaldsen was unveiled with great ceremony (Fig. 19). The two last-mentioned statues in Mainz, like the many others erected after 1814, were the products of the nationalistic pride in the country's past history that flared up after the defeat of Napoleon. This pride in the past generally took on a nostalgic cast and served to compensate for the failure of current political ambitions: The unity of Germany long a dream, while the hoped-for great changes in the Kingdom of the Netherlands were dealt a bitter blow by the breakaway of the 'southern provinces' in 1831 (Note 44). This last event marked the start for the Northern Netherlands of a long-lasting rivalry with their Belgian neighbours, which was pursued by means of monumental art, from the statue of Rembrandt (1852) as an answer to that of Rubens (1840) to the Rijksmuseum (1885). The great importance attached to Coster in the 19th century was already manifested in 1801 by the removal of the statue in Haarlem from the Hortus Medicus to the marketplace (Note 45). National pride is abundantly evident in the prizewinning treatise published in 1816 by Jacobus Koning, who is a weighty investigation confirmed Coster's right to the invention and with it that of the Netherlands to a leading place among the civilized nations. The quatercentenary, fixed surprisingly early, in 1823, comprised every imaginable type of public entertainment and demonstration of scholarship. It is, however, striking that these expressions of national pride were still balanced by references to the elevating effect of the invention (Note 56). The most lasting mark of honour of the celebration of 1823, the abstract monument by the Haarlem sculptor D. Douglas, also looked back to the sensibilities of the 18th century in its placing on the spot where the invention had come into being in the Haarlem Wood (Fig. 23, Note 59). After this Haarlem monument of 1823 had been adduced in the discussions about the statue in Mainz before 1829, Thorwaldsen's statue, which attracted great international attention, became a greater source of annoyance to the Dutch adversaries of Gutenberg after 1829 than the statue to the Belgian inventor Dirck Martens in Aalst (Note 63) or the projected monument to William Caxton in England. Jan Jacob Frederik. Noordziek summed up this dissatisfaction in his call in 1847 to 'uphold the honour of the fatherland', in which he pleaded for a monument that would surpass the Gutenberg statue and thus serve as an argument that would establish the Dutch claim for good (Note 64). The erection of this statue was further expressly intended to be an exclusively national affair: the citizens of the Netherlands must raise the money and only Dutch artists be charged with the execution. The general discussion about the statues appears to have been less virulent than was usually the case in the preliminaries to other monuments (Note 66), Coster's merits evidently being little contested within the country itself. There were two notable critical voices, however (see Appendix). Professor M. Siegenbeek rang the changes on an old Calvinist argument in refusing a seat on the preparatory committee: in addition to the fact that there were certainly more people who deserved statues, he pointed out that the great expense involved merely evinced ostentation and that the money would be better spent on social ends. The Neo-Classicist Humbert de Superville, on the other hand, did express doubts as to Coster's right to the title, repeating aesthetic arguments which had been adduced before: statues ought, in his view, to be made in the form of durable stone herms, but he thought there was as little chance of that in this 'age of modish lay-figures' in the bronze of melted-down coins, as that the statue would be made by a Dutchman (Note 67). A typical Romantic historical controversy threw the organizers into turmoil, namely the authenticity of the representations of Coster. In particular Westreenen van Tielland unmasked the idealizing and forged portraits, arguing against the erection of a historicizing representational statue. But the defenders of Coster's honour opted for the usual historical realism (Note 68). The tenor of these polemics is found again in the conflict over the 'historical or allegorical' nature of the composition, which can be seen in the designs. Louis Royer, to whom the commission was given in 1848, wanted to show Coster walking with a winged letter A in his hand, as if on his way to show people his discovery, which was soon to wing its way round the world (cf. Fig. 22). However, this allegorical element disappeared completely in the final version, in which the choice fell on a realistic portrait, albeit Coster was still shown walking like a classical predecessor, Archimedes, who could not keep his discovery to himself (Fig. 23, Note 69). The architect H. M. Tetar van Elven was commissioned to make a base in the style of 'the last era of the Middle Ages'. The inscriptions also presented problems, but were finally agreed on in September 1855. The ceremonies, which after all manner of altercation between Royer and the main committee (Note 70) and various financial problems, were finally able to be staged from 15 to 17 July) 1856, included, in addition to the actual unveiling of the statue on the marketplace ( Van Heerstal's statue being returned to the garden again) , pageants, meetings, an exhibition and all sorts of popular entertainments. Everything was on a grander and more extensive scale than 33 years before and little remained of the motif of enlightenment through printing which had been so important then. Nalionalistic merry-making now predominated, along with expressions of devotion to the House of Orange. Less emphasis was also given to the 'darkness' of the Middle Ages, which were now beginning to be valued as part of the nation's history. The most monumental homage to this monument was a 360-page account of the events by the indefatigable Noordziek. His dream of the recognition of Coster and the nation as a whole seemed to have become a reality. But it was not to be so for long. Only fifteen years after the unveiling A. van de Linde unmasked the' 'Haarlem Coster legend' and called for the demolition of the statue, again in the interests of the nation (Note 81).

Tematski sklop z naslovom »Podsaharska Afrika« letošnje dvojne številke revije Ars et Humanitas je nastal v obdobju, v katerem opažamo, da se je zanimanje slovenskih raziskovalcev različnih humanističnih področij za ta del sveta močno povečalo. O tem pričajo v prvi vrsti številne znanstvene objave, ki so vsaj deloma posvečene podsaharski Afriki, in vedno večje zanimanje študentov slovenskih univerz za t. i. postkolonialne študije (kar se odraža med drugim v večjem številu diplom o postkolonialnih vprašanjih, zlasti o podsaharski Afriki). Na Filozofski fakulteti Univerze v Ljubljani, kjer potekajo prizadevanja za okrepitev afrikanistike v okviru novih univerzitetnih programov, pa so afriške književnosti v angleščini in francoščini zdaj močneje zastopane na študijskih smereh, ki so se doslej ukvarjale predvsem z evropskimi in severnoameriškimi literarnimi deli. To zanimanje za podsaharsko Afriko lahko pripisujemo večji pozornosti, ki se afriškim študijam namenja v Evropi in svetu nasploh, vse večji odprtosti slovenske družbe do oddaljenih dežel in kultur ter prizadevanjem slovenskih afrikanistov, ki so zadnja leta bolj številni in zelo dejavni. Med njimi naj omenim vsaj pokojnega etnologa in antropologa profesorja Boruta Brumna, ki je Afriko vrsto let približeval študentom ljubljanske univerze. Dodamo naj, da prav tako narašča število afriških literarnih del, ki jih lahko slovenski bralec bere v svoji materinščini, kar je znak, da se za ta del sveta vse bolj zanima tudi širša slovenska javnost. Pogled v bližnjo zgodovino nam pokaže, da se je zanimanje slovenske javnosti za Afriko v resnici krepilo že med šestdesetimi in osemdesetimi leti, ko je Slovenija kot jugoslovanska republika sodelovala pri gibanju t. i.»neuvrščenih«. To gibanje je med drugim ustvarilo družbenopolitično klimo, ki je nedvomno ugodno vplivala na boljše poznavanje »tretjega« sveta v Sloveniji, vključno s podsaharskimi deželami. Tako so se nizali obiski afriških politikov in izmenjave študentov, ki so včasih po študiju v Sloveniji ostali in postali del slovenske družbe. Tako je prišlo do živih, osebnih stikov med Slovenci in Afričani, ki so podlaga za resne, iskrene stike med narodi. Ta ugodna politična klima je privedla tudi do povečanja zanimanja pri slovenskih založnikih, saj so prevodi iz afriških književnosti začeli izhajati pogosteje: med letoma 1960 in 1990 je izšlo okrog 40 knjižnih izdaj, najbolj plodno pa je bilo leto 1980, ko je izšlo kar 8 afriških romanov v slovenskem prevodu. Omembe vredna je zbirka »Mostovi«, ki jo je leta 1976 ustanovila Pomurska založba in v kateri je izšlo dvanajst pomembnih romanov iz afriških književnosti (od Achebejevega romana Božja puščica leta 1977 do Marianinega izdajstva kamerunskega pisatelja Bernarda Nange leta 1987). V tem času bili so nekateri afriški grafiki (zlasti iz Južnoafriške unije) predstavljeni na ljubljanskih mednarodnih grafičnih bienalih (v letih 1955-1961 in 1977), prav tako so jugoslovanski grafiki nekajkrat gostovali po Afriki (npr. v letih 1980-1981 je bila razstava Contemporary Yugoslav Prints predstavljena v več afriških državah). Poleg tega številni potopisi, ki so izšli v zadnjih desetletjih, pričajo o tem, kako so se nekateri Slovenci poglobili v afriško resničnost in tradicijo. Pričujoči tematski sklop je sestavljen iz osmih razprav, v katerih raziskovalci predstavljajo bodisi s podsaharsko Afriko povezana vprašanja, pomembna s stališča posameznih strok, bodisi posebne vidike afriško-slovenskih odnosov. Prvi dve razpravi obravnavata posebna vidika sodobne afriške realnosti: vprašanje razvoja ob začetku 21. stoletja in vprašanje postkolonialnega nasilja. V članku »Razvojno zaostajanje podsaharske Afrike« Katja Vintar Mally s stališča regionalne geografije sooča razvojne težave podsaharske Afrike ob prelomu stoletij s t. i. razvojnimi cilji tisočletja, ki jih je OZN določila na podlagi Milenijske deklaracije iz leta 2000. Na podlagi novejših zgodovinskih dognanj in analize imperializma pri Hannah Arendt se Vlasta Jalušič v razpravi »Evropska zapuščina Afriki, afriška zapuščina Evropi: postkolonialno nasilje in pošast genocida« ukvarja z elementi zahodne zapuščine, katerih vpliv je bil odločilen pri zločinih, ki so zaznamovali podsaharsko Afriko ob prelomu med 20. in 21. stoletjem (zlasti pri genocidi v Ruandi). Proti koncu članka se avtorica sprašuje, kaj bi se lahko zahodni svet naučil iz situacije v Afriki, do kakšnih razmišljanj – zlasti v zvezi z rasizmom – bi ga morale pripeljati afriške postkolonialne izkušnje. Naslednji trije članki zadevajo preučevanje afriških književnosti s treh različnih perspektiv. V članku z naslovom »De l’oralité à l’écriture ou de l’africanité à la transculturalité« (»Od ustnosti do pisave ali od afriškosti do transkulturnosti«) senegalski profesor in raziskovalec Mwamba Cabakulu opredeli različne oblike ustne literature, ki so igrale pomembno vlogo v izoblikovanju afriških književnostih. Tako nazorno predstavi razmerje med ustno in pisno literaturo v afriških kulturah. V kolonialne čase se vrača Gabriela Babnik, ki prikazuje roman Chinua Achebeja z naslovom Razpad iz leta 1952 kot odgovor na negativno podobo Afričanov v Evropi, zlasti v Conradovem romanu The Heart of Darkness. Pisanje romana je pri nigerijskem pisatelju dejanje upora, ki bo zgled za številne druge afriške pisatelje. V članku »Zahod v Afriki in Afričanke na Zahodu« Nataša Hrastnik preučuje tematiko, značilno za žensko pisanje v sodobnih afriških književnostih s poudarkom na iskanju identitete, ki ga lahko imamo za vodilno temo pri afriških pisateljicah. Zadnji trije članki predstavljajo tri različne vidike slovensko-afriških odnosov. V članku z naslovom »Črno sonce v beli glavi« Marko Frelih predstavlja sudansko misijo, ki jo je sredi 19. stoletja vodil slovenski krščanski misijonar dr. Ignancij Knoblehar in ki jo lahko imamo za prvo temeljitejšo neposredno srečanje Slovencev s podsaharsko Afriko. Kot prevajalka afriških literarnih del se Katja Zakrajšek v članku »K problematiki prevajanja afriškega evrofonskega romana v slovenščino« ukvarja s posebnostmi afriških književnosti v »evropskih« jezikih in razmišlja o implikacijah teh posebnosti pri prevajanju v slovenski jezik. S prevajanjem se iz literarno-zgodovinske prespektive ukvarja tudi Tone Smolej v članku »Léopold Sédar Senghor pri Slovencih«, v katerem posveča pozornost izboru pesmi velikega senegalskega pesnika, ki je leta 1975 izšel v slovenskem jeziku. Slovenski raziskovalni prostor seveda premore veliko več zanimivih raziskav v zvezi z Afriko, zato lahko samo obžalujemo, da nekateri raziskovalci pri tej publikaciji niso mogli sodelovati in da zato njihova stroka tukaj ni zastopana. Ob tej priložnosti se iskreno zahvaljujem vsem, ki so sodelovali pri projektu s kakovostnimi in raznovrstnimi razpravami.

Tematski sklop z naslovom »Podsaharska Afrika« letošnje dvojne številke revije Ars et Humanitas je nastal v obdobju, v katerem opažamo, da se je zanimanje slovenskih raziskovalcev različnih humanističnih področij za ta del sveta močno povečalo. O tem pričajo v prvi vrsti številne znanstvene objave, ki so vsaj deloma posvečene podsaharski Afriki, in vedno večje zanimanje študentov slovenskih univerz za t. i. postkolonialne študije (kar se odraža med drugim v večjem številu diplom o postkolonialnih vprašanjih, zlasti o podsaharski Afriki). Na Filozofski fakulteti Univerze v Ljubljani, kjer potekajo prizadevanja za okrepitev afrikanistike v okviru novih univerzitetnih programov, pa so afriške književnosti v angleščini in francoščini zdaj močneje zastopane na študijskih smereh, ki so se doslej ukvarjale predvsem z evropskimi in severnoameriškimi literarnimi deli. To zanimanje za podsaharsko Afriko lahko pripisujemo večji pozornosti, ki se afriškim študijam namenja v Evropi in svetu nasploh, vse večji odprtosti slovenske družbe do oddaljenih dežel in kultur ter prizadevanjem slovenskih afrikanistov, ki so zadnja leta bolj številni in zelo dejavni. Med njimi naj omenim vsaj pokojnega etnologa in antropologa profesorja Boruta Brumna, ki je Afriko vrsto let približeval študentom ljubljanske univerze. Dodamo naj, da prav tako narašča število afriških literarnih del, ki jih lahko slovenski bralec bere v svoji materinščini, kar je znak, da se za ta del sveta vse bolj zanima tudi širša slovenska javnost. Pogled v bližnjo zgodovino nam pokaže, da se je zanimanje slovenske javnosti za Afriko v resnici krepilo že med šestdesetimi in osemdesetimi leti, ko je Slovenija kot jugoslovanska republika sodelovala pri gibanju t. i.»neuvrščenih«. To gibanje je med drugim ustvarilo družbenopolitično klimo, ki je nedvomno ugodno vplivala na boljše poznavanje »tretjega« sveta v Sloveniji, vključno s podsaharskimi deželami. Tako so se nizali obiski afriških politikov in izmenjave študentov, ki so včasih po študiju v Sloveniji ostali in postali del slovenske družbe. Tako je prišlo do živih, osebnih stikov med Slovenci in Afričani, ki so podlaga za resne, iskrene stike med narodi. Ta ugodna politična klima je privedla tudi do povečanja zanimanja pri slovenskih založnikih, saj so prevodi iz afriških književnosti začeli izhajati pogosteje: med letoma 1960 in 1990 je izšlo okrog 40 knjižnih izdaj, najbolj plodno pa je bilo leto 1980, ko je izšlo kar 8 afriških romanov v slovenskem prevodu. Omembe vredna je zbirka »Mostovi«, ki jo je leta 1976 ustanovila Pomurska založba in v kateri je izšlo dvanajst pomembnih romanov iz afriških književnosti (od Achebejevega romana Božja puščica leta 1977 do Marianinega izdajstva kamerunskega pisatelja Bernarda Nange leta 1987). V tem času bili so nekateri afriški grafiki (zlasti iz Južnoafriške unije) predstavljeni na ljubljanskih mednarodnih grafičnih bienalih (v letih 1955-1961 in 1977), prav tako so jugoslovanski grafiki nekajkrat gostovali po Afriki (npr. v letih 1980-1981 je bila razstava Contemporary Yugoslav Prints predstavljena v več afriških državah). Poleg tega številni potopisi, ki so izšli v zadnjih desetletjih, pričajo o tem, kako so se nekateri Slovenci poglobili v afriško resničnost in tradicijo. Pričujoči tematski sklop je sestavljen iz osmih razprav, v katerih raziskovalci predstavljajo bodisi s podsaharsko Afriko povezana vprašanja, pomembna s stališča posameznih strok, bodisi posebne vidike afriško-slovenskih odnosov. Prvi dve razpravi obravnavata posebna vidika sodobne afriške realnosti: vprašanje razvoja ob začetku 21. stoletja in vprašanje postkolonialnega nasilja. V članku »Razvojno zaostajanje podsaharske Afrike« Katja Vintar Mally s stališča regionalne geografije sooča razvojne težave podsaharske Afrike ob prelomu stoletij s t. i. razvojnimi cilji tisočletja, ki jih je OZN določila na podlagi Milenijske deklaracije iz leta 2000. Na podlagi novejših zgodovinskih dognanj in analize imperializma pri Hannah Arendt se Vlasta Jalušič v razpravi »Evropska zapuščina Afriki, afriška zapuščina Evropi: postkolonialno nasilje in pošast genocida« ukvarja z elementi zahodne zapuščine, katerih vpliv je bil odločilen pri zločinih, ki so zaznamovali podsaharsko Afriko ob prelomu med 20. in 21. stoletjem (zlasti pri genocidi v Ruandi). Proti koncu članka se avtorica sprašuje, kaj bi se lahko zahodni svet naučil iz situacije v Afriki, do kakšnih razmišljanj – zlasti v zvezi z rasizmom – bi ga morale pripeljati afriške postkolonialne izkušnje. Naslednji trije članki zadevajo preučevanje afriških književnosti s treh različnih perspektiv. V članku z naslovom »De l’oralité à l’écriture ou de l’africanité à la transculturalité« (»Od ustnosti do pisave ali od afriškosti do transkulturnosti«) senegalski profesor in raziskovalec Mwamba Cabakulu opredeli različne oblike ustne literature, ki so igrale pomembno vlogo v izoblikovanju afriških književnostih. Tako nazorno predstavi razmerje med ustno in pisno literaturo v afriških kulturah. V kolonialne čase se vrača Gabriela Babnik, ki prikazuje roman Chinua Achebeja z naslovom Razpad iz leta 1952 kot odgovor na negativno podobo Afričanov v Evropi, zlasti v Conradovem romanu The Heart of Darkness. Pisanje romana je pri nigerijskem pisatelju dejanje upora, ki bo zgled za številne druge afriške pisatelje. V članku »Zahod v Afriki in Afričanke na Zahodu« Nataša Hrastnik preučuje tematiko, značilno za žensko pisanje v sodobnih afriških književnostih s poudarkom na iskanju identitete, ki ga lahko imamo za vodilno temo pri afriških pisateljicah. Zadnji trije članki predstavljajo tri različne vidike slovensko-afriških odnosov. V članku z naslovom »Črno sonce v beli glavi« Marko Frelih predstavlja sudansko misijo, ki jo je sredi 19. stoletja vodil slovenski krščanski misijonar dr. Ignancij Knoblehar in ki jo lahko imamo za prvo temeljitejšo neposredno srečanje Slovencev s podsaharsko Afriko. Kot prevajalka afriških literarnih del se Katja Zakrajšek v članku »K problematiki prevajanja afriškega evrofonskega romana v slovenščino« ukvarja s posebnostmi afriških književnosti v »evropskih« jezikih in razmišlja o implikacijah teh posebnosti pri prevajanju v slovenski jezik. S prevajanjem se iz literarno-zgodovinske prespektive ukvarja tudi Tone Smolej v članku »Léopold Sédar Senghor pri Slovencih«, v katerem posveča pozornost izboru pesmi velikega senegalskega pesnika, ki je leta 1975 izšel v slovenskem jeziku. Slovenski raziskovalni prostor seveda premore veliko več zanimivih raziskav v zvezi z Afriko, zato lahko samo obžalujemo, da nekateri raziskovalci pri tej publikaciji niso mogli sodelovati in da zato njihova stroka tukaj ni zastopana. Ob tej priložnosti se iskreno zahvaljujem vsem, ki so sodelovali pri projektu s kakovostnimi in raznovrstnimi razpravami.

IntroductionSydney’s Garden Palace was a magnificent building with a grandeur that dominated the skyline, stretching from the site of the current State Library of New South Wales to the building that now houses the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. The Palace captivated society from its opening in 1879. This article outlines the building of one of Sydney’s early structural icons and how, despite being destroyed by fire after three short years in 1882, it had an enormous impact on the burgeoning colonial community of New South Wales, thus building a physical structure, pride and a suite of memories.Design and ConstructionIn February 1878, the Colonial Secretary’s Office announced that “it is intended to hold under the supervision of the Agricultural Society of New South Wales an international Exhibition in Sydney in August 1879” (Official Record ix). By December the same year it had become clear that the Agricultural Society lacked the resources to complete the project and control passed to the state government. Colonial Architect James Barnet was directed to prepare “plans for a building suitable for an international exhibition, proposed to be built in the Inner Domain” (Official Record xx). Within three days he had submitted a set of drawings for approval. From this point on there was a great sense of urgency to complete the building in less than 10 months for the exhibition opening the following September.The successful contractor was John Young, a highly experienced building contractor who had worked on the Crystal Palace for the 1851 London International Exhibition and locally on the General Post Office and Exhibition Building at Prince Alfred Park (Kent 6). Young was confident, procuring electric lights from London so that work could be carried out 24 hours a day, to ensure that the building was delivered on time. The structure was built, as detailed in the Colonial Record (1881), using over 1 million metres of timber, 2.5 million bricks and 220 tonnes of galvanised corrugated iron. Remarkably the building was designed as a temporary structure to house the Exhibition. At the end of the Exhibition the building was not dismantled as originally planned and was instead repurposed for government office space and served to house, among other things, records and objects of historical significance. Ultimately the provisional building materials used for the Garden Palace were more suited to a temporary structure, in contrast with those used for the more permanent structures built at the same time which are still standing today.The building was an architectural and engineering wonder set in a cathedral-like cruciform design, showcasing a stained-glass skylight in the largest dome in the southern hemisphere (64 metres high and 30 metres in diameter). The total floor space of the exhibition building was three and half hectares, and the area occupied by the Garden Palace and related buildings—including the Fine Arts Gallery, Agricultural Hall, Machinery Hall and 10 restaurants and places of refreshment—was an astounding 14 hectares (Official Record xxxvi). To put the scale of the Garden Palace into contemporary perspective it was approximately twice the size of the Queen Victoria Building that stands on Sydney’s George Street today.Several innovative features set the building apart from other Sydney structures of the day. The rainwater downpipes were enclosed in hollow columns of pine along the aisles, ventilation was provided through the floors and louvered windows (Official Record xxi) while a Whittier’s Steam Elevator enabled visitors to ascend the north tower and take in the harbour views (“Among the Machinery” 70-71). The building dominated the Sydney skyline, serving as a visual anchor point that welcomed visitors arriving in the city by boat:one of the first objects that met our view as, after 12 o’clock, we proceeded up Port Jackson, was the shell of the Exhibition Building which is so rapidly rising on the Domain, and which next September, is to dazzle the eyes of the world with its splendours. (“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes” 2)The DomeThe dome of the Garden Palace was directly above the intersection of the nave and transept and rested on a drum, approximately 30 metres in diameter. The drum featured 36 oval windows which flooded the space below with light. The dome was made of wood covered with corrugated galvanised iron featuring 12 large lattice ribs and 24 smaller ribs bound together with purlins of wood strengthened with iron. At the top of the dome was a lantern and stained glass skylight designed by Messrs. Lyon and Cottier. It was light blue, powdered with golden stars with wooden ribs in red, buff and gold (Notes 6). The painting and decorating of the dome commenced just one month before the exhibition was due to open. The dome was the sixth largest dome in the world at the time. During construction, contractor Mr Young allowed visitors be lifted in a cage to view the building’s progress.During the construction of the Lantern which surmounts the Dome of the Exhibition, visitors have been permitted, through the courtesy of Mr. Young, to ascend in the cage conveying materials for work. This cage is lifted by a single cable, which was constructed specially of picked Manilla hemp, for hoisting into position the heavy timbers used in the construction. The sensation whilst ascending is a most novel one, and must resemble that experienced in ballooning. To see the building sinking slowly beneath you as you successively reach the levels of the galleries, and the roofs of the transept and aisles is an experience never to be forgotten, and it seems a pity that no provision can be made for visitors, on paying a small fee, going up to the dome. (“View from the Lantern of the Dome Exhibition” 8)The ExhibitionInternational Exhibitions presented the opportunity for countries to express their national identities and demonstrate their economic and technological achievements. They allowed countries to showcase the very best examples of contemporary art, handicrafts and the latest technologies particularly in manufacturing (Pont and Proudfoot 231).The Sydney International Exhibition was the ninth International Exhibition and the colony’s first, and was responsible for bringing the world to Sydney at a time when the colony was prosperous and full of potential. The Exhibition—opening on 17 September 1879 and closing on 20 April 1880—had an enormous impact on the community, it boosted the economy and was the catalyst for improving the city’s infrastructure. It was a great source of civic pride.Image 1: The International Exhibition Sydney, 1879-1880, supplement to the Illustrated Sydney News Jan. 1880. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: DL X8/3)This bird’s eye view of the Garden Palace shows how impressive the main structure was and how much of the Gardens and Domain were occupied by ancillary buildings for the Exhibition. Based on an original drawing by John Thomas Richardson, chief engraver at the Illustrated Sydney News, this lithograph features a key identifying buildings including the Art Gallery, Machinery Hall, and Agricultural Hall. Pens and sheds for livestock can also be seen. The parade ground was used throughout the Exhibition for displays of animals. The first notable display was the International Show of Sheep featuring Australian, French and English sheep; not surprisingly the shearing demonstrations proved to be particularly popular with the community.Approximately 34 countries and their colonies participated in the Exhibition, displaying the very best examples of technology, industry and art laid out in densely packed courts (Barnet n.p.). There were approximately 14,000 exhibits (Official Record c) which included displays of Bohemian glass, tapestries, fine porcelain, fabrics, pyramids of gold, metals, minerals, wood carvings, watches, ethnographic specimens, and heavy machinery. Image 2: “Meet Me under the Dome.” Illustrated Sydney News 1 Nov. 1879: 4. Official records cite that between 19,853 and 24,000 visitors attended the Exhibition on the opening day of 17 September 1879, and over 1.1 million people visited during its seven months of operation. Sizeable numbers considering the population of the colony, at the time, was just over 700,000 (New South Wales Census).The Exhibition helped to create a sense of place and community and was a popular destination for visitors. On crowded days the base of the dome became a favourite meeting place for visitors, so much so that “meet me under the dome” became a common expression in Sydney during the Exhibition (Official Record lxxxiii).Attendance was steady and continuous throughout the course of the Exhibition and, despite exceeding the predicted cost by almost four times, the Exhibition was deemed a resounding success. The Executive Commissioner Mr P.A. Jennings remarked at the closing ceremony:this great undertaking […] marks perhaps the most important epoch that has occurred in our history. In holding this exhibition we have entered into a new arena and a race of progress among the nations of the earth, and have placed ourselves in kindly competition with the most ancient States of the old and new world. (Official Record ciii)Initially the cost of admission was set at 5 shillings and later dropped to 1 shilling. Season tickets for the Exhibition were also available for £3 3s which entitled the holder to unlimited entry during all hours of general admission. Throughout the Exhibition, season ticket holders accounted for 76,278 admissions. The Exhibition boosted the economy and encouraged authorities to improve the city’s services and facilities which helped to build a sense of community as well as pride in the achievement of such a fantastic structure. A steam-powered tramway was installed to transport exhibition-goers around the city, after the Exhibition, the tramway network was expanded and by 1905–1906 the trams were converted to electric traction (Freestone 32).After the exhibition closed, the imposing Garden Palace building was used as office space and storage for various government departments.An Icon DestroyedIn the early hours of 22 September 1882 tragedy struck when the Palace was engulfed by fire (“Destruction of the Garden Palace” 7). The building – and all its contents – destroyed.Image 3: Burning of the Garden Palace from Eaglesfield, Darlinghurst, sketched at 5.55am, Sep 22/82. Image credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (call no.: SSV/137) Many accounts and illustrations of the Garden Palace fire can be found in contemporary newspapers and artworks. A rudimentary drawing by an unknown artist held by the State Library of New South Wales appears to have been created as the Palace was burning. The precise time and location is recorded on the painting, suggesting it was painted from Eaglesfield, a school on Darlinghurst Road. It purveys a sense of immediacy giving some insight into the chaos and heat of the tragedy. A French artist living in Sydney, Lucien Henry, was among those who attempted to capture the fire. His assistant, G.H. Aurousseau, described the event in the Technical Gazette in 1912:Mister Henry went out onto the balcony and watched until the Great Dome toppled in; it was then early morning; he went back to his studio procured a canvas, sat down and painted the whole scene in a most realistic manner, showing the fig trees in the Domain, the flames rising through the towers, the dome falling in and the reflected light of the flames all around. (Technical Gazette 33-35)The painting Henry produced is not the watercolour held by the State Library of New South Wales, however it is interesting to see how people were moved to document the destruction of such an iconic building in the city’s history.What Was Destroyed?The NSW Legislative Assembly debate of 26 September 1882, together with newspapers of the day, documented what was lost in the fire. The Garden Palace housed the foundation collection of the Technological and Sanitary Museum (the precursor to the Powerhouse Museum, now the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences), due to open on 1 December 1882. This collection included significant ethnological specimens such as Australian Indigenous artefacts, many of which were acquired from the Sydney International Exhibition. The Art Society of New South Wales had hung 300 paintings in preparation for their annual art exhibition due to open on 2 October of that year, all of these paintings consumed by fire.The Records of the Crown Lands Occupation Office were lost along with the 1881 Census (though the summary survived). Numerous railway surveys were lost, as were: £7,000 worth of statues, between 20,000 and 30,000 plants and the holdings of the Linnean Society offices and museum housed on the ground floor. The Eastern Suburbs Brass Band performed the day before at the opening of the Eastern Suburbs Horticultural Society Flower show; all the instruments were stored in the Garden Palace and were destroyed. Several Government Departments also lost significant records, including the: Fisheries Office; Mining Department; Harbour and Rivers Department; and, as mentioned, the Census Department.The fire was so ferocious that the windows in the terraces along Macquarie Street cracked with the heat and sheets of corrugated iron were blown as far away as Elizabeth Bay. How Did The Fire Start?No one knows how the fire started on that fateful September morning, and despite an official enquiry no explanation was ever delivered. One theory blamed the wealthy residents of Macquarie Street, disgruntled at losing their harbour views. Another was that it was burnt to destroy records stored in the basement of the building that contained embarrassing details about the convict heritage of many distinguished families. Margaret Lyon, daughter of the Garden Palace decorator John Lyon, wrote in her diary:a gentleman who says a boy told him when he was putting out the domain lights, that he saw a man jump out of the window and immediately after observed smoke, they are advertising for the boy […]. Everyone seems to agree on his point that it has been done on purpose – Today a safe has been found with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds, there were also some papers in it but they were considerably charred. The statue of her majesty or at least what remains of it, for it is completely ruined – the census papers were also ruined, they were ready almost to be sent to the printers, the work of 30 men for 14 months. Valuable government documents, railway and other plans all gone. (MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2) There are many eyewitness accounts of the fire that day. From nightwatchman Mr Frederick Kirchen and his replacement Mr John McKnight, to an emotional description by 14-year-old student Ethel Pockley. Although there were conflicting accounts as to where the fire may have started, it seems likely that the fire started in the basement with flames rising around the statue of Queen Victoria, situated directly under the dome. The coroner did not make a conclusive finding on the cause of the fire but was scathing of the lack of diligence by the authorities in housing such important items in a building that was not well-secured a was a potential fire hazard.Building a ReputationA number of safes were known to have been in the building storing valuables and records. One such safe, a fireproof safe manufactured by Milner and Son of Liverpool, was in the southern corner of the building near the southern tower. The contents of this safe were unscathed in contrast with the contents of other safes, the contents of which were destroyed. The Milner safe was a little discoloured and blistered on the outside but otherwise intact. “The contents included three ledgers, or journals, a few memoranda and a plan of the exhibition”—the glue was slightly melted—the plan was a little discoloured and a few loose papers were a little charred but overall the contents were “sound and unhurt”—what better advertising could one ask for! (“The Garden Palace Fire” 5).barrangal dyara (skin and bones): Rebuilding CommunityThe positive developments for Sydney and the colony that stemmed from the building and its exhibition, such as public transport and community spirit, grew and took new forms. Yet, in the years since 1882 the memory of the Garden Palace and its disaster faded from the consciousness of the Sydney community. The great loss felt by Indigenous communities went unresolved.Image 4: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Image credit: Sarah Morley.In September 2016 artist Jonathan Jones presented barrangal dyara (skin and bones), a large scale sculptural installation on the site of the Garden Palace Building in Sydney’s Royal Botanic Garden. The installation was Jones’s response to the immense loss felt throughout Australia with the destruction of countless Aboriginal objects in the fire. The installation featured thousands of bleached white shields made of gypsum that were laid out to show the footprint of the Garden Palace and represent the rubble left after the fire.Based on four typical designs from Aboriginal nations of the south-east, these shields not only raise the chalky bones of the building, but speak to the thousands of shields that would have had cultural presence in this landscape over generations. (Pike 33)ConclusionSydney’s Garden Palace was a stunning addition to the skyline of colonial Sydney. A massive undertaking, the Palace opened, to great acclaim, in 1879 and its effect on the community of Sydney and indeed the colony of New South Wales was sizeable. There were brief discussions, just after the fire, about rebuilding this great structure in a more permanent fashion for the centenary Exhibition in 1888 (“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales” 5). Ultimately, it was decided that this achievement of the colony of New South Wales would be recorded in history, gifting a legacy of national pride and positivity on the one hand, but on the other an example of the destructive colonial impact on Indigenous communities. For many Sydney-siders today this history is as obscured as the original foundations of the physical building. What we build—iconic structures, civic pride, a sense of community—require maintenance and remembering. References“Among the Machinery.” The Sydney Mail and New South Wales Advertiser 10 Jan. 1880: 70-71.Aurousseau, G.H. “Lucien Henry: First Lecturer in Art at the Sydney Technical College.” Technical Gazette 2.III (1912): 33-35.Barnet, James. International Exhibition, Sydney, 1880: References to the Plans Showing the Space and Position Occupied by the Various Exhibits in the Garden Palace. Sydney: Colonial Architect’s Office, 1880.“A ‘Bohemian’s’ Holiday Notes.” The Singleton Argus and Upper Hunter General Advocate 23 Apr. 1879: 2.Census Department. New South Wales Census. 1881. 3 Mar. 2017 <http://hccda.ada.edu.au/pages/NSW-1881-census-02_vi>. “Destruction of the Garden Palace.” Sydney Morning Herald 23 Sep. 1882: 7.Freestone, Robert. “Space Society and Urban Reform.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing P, 2000. 15-33.“[From Our Own Correspondents] New South Wales.” The Age (Melbourne, Vic.) 30 Sep. 1882: 5.“The Garden Palace Fire.” Sydney Morning Herald 25 Sep. 1882: 5.Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 1 Nov. 1879: 4.“International Exhibition.” Australian Town and Country Journal 15 Feb. 1879: 11.Kent, H.C. “Reminiscences of Building Methods in the Seventies under John Young. Lecture.” Architecture: An Australian Magazine of Architecture and the Arts Nov. (1924): 5-13.Lyon, Margaret. Unpublished Manuscript Diary. MLMSS 1381/Box 1/Item 2.New South Wales, Legislative Assembly. Debates 22 Sep. 1882: 542-56.Notes on the Sydney International Exhibition of 1879. Melbourne: Government Printer, 1881.Official Record of the Sydney International Exhibition 1879. Sydney: Government Printer, 1881.Pike, Emma. “barrangal dyara (skin and bones).” Jonathan Jones: barrangal dyara (skin and bones). Eds. Ross Gibson, Jonathan Jones, and Genevieve O’Callaghan. Balmain: Kaldor Public Arts Project, 2016.Pont, Graham, and Peter Proudfoot. “The Technological Movement and the Garden Palace.” Colonial City, Global City, Sydney’s International Exhibition 1879. Eds. Peter Proudfoot, Roslyn Maguire, and Robert Freestone. Darlinghurst, NSW: Crossing Press, 2000. 239-249.“View from the Lantern of the Dome of the Exhibition.” Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier 9 Aug. 1879: 8.

Historic-Archaeological Research of the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart of Milano on the Indus Delta (2010-2018). The following text is only an abridged note on the excavations at Banbhore and some significant extra-moenia surveys carried out by the Italian Team within the Institutional framework of a “Pak-French-Italian Historical and Archaeological Research at Banbhore” on the basis of a Licence issued by the competent Pakistani Authorities (2010-2015 - Coordinator of the Project Dr Kaleemullah Lashari), and, some later, within a new institutional asset: a “Memorandum of Understanding” (MoU) signed in the 2017 between the Director General of the Department of Antiquities of Sindh (Manzoor A. Kanasro) and the Magnifico Rettore of the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart of Milan (Prof. Franco Anelli). Aims of the said MoU are: (a) historical-archaeological research-work at Banbhore and Rani Kot; (b) training (theoretical and on the job) to selected students and officers of the DAS. The Italian group works under the sponsorship of the Italian Ministry for Foreign Affairs (now Ministry for Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation/MAECI). Scientific director for the Italian Team is Prof. Valeria Piacentini, member of the Board of Directors of the Research Centre CRiSSMA of the Catholic University.
 In the following dissertation I won’t linger on the debated issue about the identification of the site of Banbhore with historic sites on the Indus delta (the historical Mihrān river) mentioned and described in the written sources of the past. Too many respected scholars and archaeologists have entered this debate since the end of the 19th Century, for which I refer to a well-known exhaustive literature. In the “50s of the previous century, Leslie Alckok – then official to the Department of Archaeology of Pakistan – carried out some preliminary excavations, followed by Dr Rafique Mughal and F.A. Khan. This latter carried out a systematic and extensive archaeological campaign of several years between the “50s and the “60s, well backed by one of the most authoritative Pakistani historians, N.A. Baloch. Khan brought to light extraordinary archaeological and architectural evidence, but, unfortunately, his excavation-notes have gone lost and little or nothing has been published. Thence, our research-work had to start from nothing.
 First of all and most urgent was an updated planimetric and altimetric study of the site by kite-photos: a massive wall of c. 1,4 km with 55 towers, 7 posterns, and major and secondary accesses to the citadel (2010-2012 by Y. Ubelman, S. Reynard, A. Tilia), regularly updated with advanced technologies (A. Tilia).
 Then, in collaboration with Dr M. Kervran, head of the French Team, we undertook an accurate study of the bastions and the shapes of its towers (squared, U-shaped, circular), which has brought to envisage three main occupational phases of the intra-moenia area: 1. Indo-Parthian/Indo-Kushan phase (c. III-II Century b.CE – III-IV Century CE); 2. Sasanian/Indo-Sasanian phase (c. III-IV Century – early VIII Century CE); 3. Islamic phase (VIII – XII/early XIII Century CE). Decay and/or abandonment and end of any settled life on the site can be dated around the XII-early XIII Century, due to attacks and pillaging by Turco-Mongol nomadic tribes, and/or the deviation of this branch of the Indus delta and consequent filling of the harbour, or both. Archaeological evidence come to light confirms the historical information.
 Our third aim (2010-2015) was to arrive to a first chronological panorama of the site through levels in stratigraphy and the assemblage of pottery and other significant evidence with the individual levels (N. Manassero – A. Fusaro – A. Tilia). Deep trenches were excavated (T/7 and T/9 on the Italian side; T/1 on the French side near the western portion of the bastions skirting the Hindu Temple. These brought to the very early Sasanian period or late Indo-Parthian (c. II-III Century CE), then the water-table invaded the trenches preventing us to go deeper; however, drillings (T/9) have allowed to go deeper for c.1,8 mt of shards …thus reaching a much earlier occupational phase. The question about an Hellenistic occupation at the bottom of the site (Arrian’s harbour of Alexander) is still unanswered… a dream…but the importance of Banbhore has induced to take it seriously and include it within our priorities.
 Ours and the French trenches have also produced significant information on the architectural panorama of the site for its earlier periods of life. A main N-S and E-W road axis was traced. The site was organised in insulae, each insula with its pits of organic and inorganic refusals, densely built along narrow roads by small mono-nuclear houses, roofed, bases in local stones and the elevation in unbacked bricks. Interesting the presence of refusals of some crafts, as if each building had at the same time the function of “home” and workshop. The refusals shew activities of ivory-working (T/1,T/4, T/9), and other crafts carried out “within the bastions of the citadel”, such as glass, shells and mother of pearl, alloys and various metallurgic activities, too, and so on. Significant the presence of a wealth of clay-moulds. T/5 has produced a clay-mould nearly intact in its shape. No less interesting, in the deeper layers, the presence of a well arranged organisation of the hydraulic resources (small canals, little domed cisterns in roughly cut local stones, wells..: T/9).
 One element of the site attracted our attention: the so called “Partition Wall”. It has a North-South direction; then, it bends Eastwards, including the Mosque and the Eastern lagoon, but cutting out the majestic Southern Gate. So far, it had been interpreted as a Wall that had a “religious” or “social” function to separate – after the Islamic conquest – the Muslims from the non-Muslim inhabitants of the site. Manassero dedicated the 2014 Field-Season to investigate: T/7 and T/8 were the trenches that gave a new profile to this structure and to the general occupational organisation of the citadel during its last period of life. The round-shaped tower in mud-bricks and the walls on both sides show that they had been hurriedly erected in a late phase of the life of the citadel (around the end of the X – early XI Century CE). They had been built on the top of pre-existing buildings either abandoned and collapsed or hastily flatted-down, likely to defend this eastern portion of the site and its Mosque by some human ravage that had succeeded to open a breach in the lower western bastion leaving the higher north-eastern area exposed to attacks (the skeleton found by Dr Kervran on her portion of the wall, and Khan’s skeletons with arrow-heads in their skulls and chests). According to F.A. Khan’s excavations and what he left us in his little booklet that so far – printed and re-printed – is the guide for visitors to Banbhore, in the eastern portion of the site during the latest stage of its life still stood beautiful palaces, the Friday Mosque, markets, and an eastern gate where a staircase (still in situ in the 2015) brought to a lagoon at the foot of the eastern bastions and to the river.
 At the end of this first stage of our historical and archaeological research-work, the identification of the site of Banbhore with the historic Sasanian/Indo-Sasanian fortified harbour-town seemed quite feasible. When we resumed our field-work in the 2017, we decided to go deeper in this direction. In the meantime, Dr Manassero had resigned due to personal choices of life. Dr Simone Mantellini bravely accepted to be our Field-Director for the archaeological sector. T/9 had unearthed an imposing Building (Building 1) running along the East-West road-axis, parallel to a second Building (Building 2). The road – wide about 5 meters – must have been a major road, that had played a central role within the general architectural urban asset of the site. Building 2 had the typical structure of the local houses: base in rough stones, elevation in mud-bricks. Excavations of Building 1 produced fillings well flatted and an endless chronological procession of floors in row mud, likely the re-occupation of an important palace during the last phase of the occupational life of Banbhore. The material (pottery and others) associated with the various levels in stratigraphy (Dr A. Fusaro) confirmed the dating of the dug portion from c. the early XIII to the XI Century CE. Historically speaking, it makes sense: chronicles of the time report about the invasion of Lower Sindh by the Seljuks (second half of the XI Century CE); they indulge on the assaults against the walls of its great harbour-town named Daybul, its long siege concluded with a peace-treaty that fixed the border with Makrān at Gwadar and gave to Daybul an autonomous status (nāḥiya) within the Seljuk dominion of Qāvurd-Khān ibn Chaghrī Beg. More interesting was the copious filling with ivory refusals. Along Building 2, were found semi-worked shells, glass, iron and brass rivets, iron instruments, alloys, coins and other. This induced to think to a late quarter of work-shops outside the Partition Wall, built on previous buildings. Lastly, some surveys extra-moenia and in the Lahiri Bandar and Mullah-ka Kot islands have revealed a close connection and interaction between these spaces and the citadel. Around the bastions: the remains of a densely settled area and a well organised regulation of the waters and the territory, rock quarries, urban quarters, dwellings, cairn-tombs (some of them re-used), an artificial lake of sweet water delimited to the south by a “barrage”, wells, and a vast so called “industrial area” to the north-northwest of the bastions, pottery kilns and others completed the image of a urban asset at least for a given span of time. Architectural and archaeological evidences have regularly been graphically, photographically and topographically documented (A. Tilia).
 Archaeometric analyses on the job (pottery, metals, alloys, coins…) and in Italy (ivory, glass, clay-moulds, shards…) have provided precious support and new elements to the archaeological work.
 We are now confronted with the plan of a positive shahristān. Banbhore is no longer only a fortified citadel. Written sources in Arabic and Persian confirm this feature. After the Jan.-Feb. 2018 field-season, the Islamic occupational phase of Banbhore and the “archaeological park” surrounding it enhanced this image: a positive fluvial and maritime system stemmed out, a well-fortified system and harbour-town, a centre of mercantile power, production and re-distribution of luxury goods, an international centre of pilgrimage and religious learning, too, outlet to the sea of the capital-city of the moment.
 For the forthcoming field-seasons, it was decided to concentrate the attention on the sector where the North-South axis crosses the East-West one. In particular: to further investigate Building 1; to look for the ivory-workshops that must be there around – given the copious pieces so far brought to light and used as refilling (more than 9.000 fragments) and some fragments of rough ivory (specialist of the Italian Team G. Affanni); to organise a deep-trench in the Pakistani sector (T/11), in order to resume Manassero’s investigations on the urban and architectural features of the pre-Islamic phases...and (why not?) try to overcome the water-table problem with the technological support offered by the Bahrya University of Karachi…the much dreamed quest of Alexander the Macedonian’s port.
 All in all and to conclude. Nowadays, at the end of this first stage of historical and archaeological research-work in collaboration with the DAS, the identification of the site of Banbhore and its surrounding area with the Sasanian/Indo-Sasanian and the Early-Islamic well-fortified harbour-town of Daybul/Debol can be confirmed. No other site with the characteristics described by the written sources of the time (chronicles, geographies, travelogues…plus Marco Polo and some significant Genoese archival documents) has so far come to light on the Indus deltaic region. Conversely, still un-answered are other queries: Banbhore can be identified also with the great harbour of Alexander the Macedonian? Or with the Barbaricum/Barbarikon/Barbariké, harbour-town of Parthian rulers or local lords of “Skuthia”, also mentioned in the Periplus Maris Erythraei? Or again with Dib/Deb, harbour mentioned in a Parthian-Manichaean text? Or again the Dibos of Greek sources? Or the Dêbuhl/Dêphul of an Arminian text à propos of the Prophet Mani? Wishful thinking; however, these queries represent some amongst the ambitious aims of our future research-work.

IntroductionFirmly located within the discourse of visible culture as the lofty preserve of art exhibitions and museum artefacts, the noun “curate” has gradually transformed into the verb “to curate”. Williams writes that “curate” has become a fashionable code word among the aesthetically minded to describe a creative activity. Designers no longer simply sell clothes; they “curate” merchandise. Chefs no longer only make food; they also “curate” meals. Chosen for their keen eye for a particular style or a precise shade, it is their knowledge of their craft, their reputation, and their sheer ability to choose among countless objects which make the creative process a creative activity in itself. Writing from within the framework of “curate” as a creative process, this article discusses how the state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II, hosted by Irish President Mary McAleese at Dublin Castle in May 2011, was carefully curated to represent Ireland’s diplomatic, cultural, and culinary identity. The paper will focus in particular on how the menu for the banquet was created and how the banquet’s brief, “Ireland on a Plate”, was fulfilled.History and BackgroundFood has been used by nations for centuries to display wealth, cement alliances, and impress foreign visitors. Since the feasts of the Numidian kings (circa 340 BC), culinary staging and presentation has belonged to “a long, multifaceted and multicultural history of diplomatic practices” (IEHCA 5). According to the works of Baughman, Young, and Albala, food has defined the social, cultural, and political position of a nation’s leaders throughout history.In early 2011, Ross Lewis, Chef Patron of Chapter One Restaurant in Dublin, was asked by the Irish Food Board, Bord Bía, if he would be available to create a menu for a high-profile banquet (Mahon 112). The name of the guest of honour was divulged several weeks later after vetting by the protocol and security divisions of the Department of the Taoiseach (Prime Minister) and the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Lewis was informed that the menu was for the state banquet to be hosted by President Mary McAleese at Dublin Castle in honour of Queen Elizabeth II’s visit to Ireland the following May.Hosting a formal banquet for a visiting head of state is a key feature in the statecraft of international and diplomatic relations. Food is the societal common denominator that links all human beings, regardless of culture (Pliner and Rozin 19). When world leaders publicly share a meal, that meal is laden with symbolism, illuminating each diner’s position “in social networks and social systems” (Sobal, Bove, and Rauschenbach 378). The public nature of the meal signifies status and symbolic kinship and that “guest and host are on par in terms of their personal or official attributes” (Morgan 149). While the field of academic scholarship on diplomatic dining might be young, there is little doubt of the value ascribed to the semiotics of diplomatic gastronomy in modern power structures (Morgan 150; De Vooght and Scholliers 12; Chapple-Sokol 162), for, as Firth explains, symbols are malleable and perfectly suited to exploitation by all parties (427).Political DiplomacyWhen Ireland gained independence in December 1921, it marked the end of eight centuries of British rule. The outbreak of “The Troubles” in 1969 in Northern Ireland upset the gradually improving environment of British–Irish relations, and it would be some time before a state visit became a possibility. Beginning with the peace process in the 1990s, the IRA ceasefire of 1994, and the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, a state visit was firmly set in motion by the visit of Irish President Mary Robinson to Buckingham Palace in 1993, followed by the unofficial visit of the Prince of Wales to Ireland in 1995, and the visit of Irish President Mary McAleese to Buckingham Palace in 1999. An official invitation to Queen Elizabeth from President Mary McAleese in March 2011 was accepted, and the visit was scheduled for mid-May of the same year.The visit was a highly performative occasion, orchestrated and ordained in great detail, displaying all the necessary protocol associated with the state visit of one head of state to another: inspection of the military, a courtesy visit to the nation’s head of state on arrival, the laying of a wreath at the nation’s war memorial, and a state banquet.These aspects of protocol between Britain and Ireland were particularly symbolic. By inspecting the military on arrival, the existence of which is a key indicator of independence, Queen Elizabeth effectively demonstrated her recognition of Ireland’s national sovereignty. On making the customary courtesy call to the head of state, the Queen was received by President McAleese at her official residence Áras an Uachtaráin (The President’s House), which had formerly been the residence of the British monarch’s representative in Ireland (Robbins 66). The state banquet was held in Dublin Castle, once the headquarters of British rule where the Viceroy, the representative of Britain’s Court of St James, had maintained court (McDowell 1).Cultural DiplomacyThe state banquet provided an exceptional showcase of Irish culture and design and generated a level of preparation previously unseen among Dublin Castle staff, who described it as “the most stage managed state event” they had ever witnessed (Mahon 129).The castle was cleaned from top to bottom, and inventories were taken of the furniture and fittings. The Waterford Crystal chandeliers were painstakingly taken down, cleaned, and reassembled; the Killybegs carpets and rugs of Irish lamb’s wool were cleaned and repaired. A special edition Newbridge Silverware pen was commissioned for Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip to sign the newly ordered Irish leather-bound visitors’ book. A new set of state tableware was ordered for the President’s table. Irish manufacturers of household goods necessary for the guest rooms, such as towels and soaps, hand creams and body lotions, candle holders and scent diffusers, were sought. Members of Her Majesty’s staff conducted a “walk-through” several weeks in advance of the visit to ensure that the Queen’s wardrobe would not clash with the surroundings (Mahon 129–32).The promotion of Irish manufacture is a constant thread throughout history. Irish linen, writes Kane, enjoyed a reputation as far afield as the Netherlands and Italy in the 15th century, and archival documents from the Vaucluse attest to the purchase of Irish cloth in Avignon in 1432 (249–50). Support for Irish-made goods was raised in 1720 by Jonathan Swift, and by the 18th century, writes Foster, Dublin had become an important centre for luxury goods (44–51).It has been Irish government policy since the late 1940s to use Irish-manufactured goods for state entertaining, so the material culture of the banquet was distinctly Irish: Arklow Pottery plates, Newbridge Silverware cutlery, Waterford Crystal glassware, and Irish linen tablecloths. In order to decide upon the table setting for the banquet, four tables were laid in the King’s Bedroom in Dublin Castle. The Executive Chef responsible for the banquet menu, and certain key personnel, helped determine which setting would facilitate serving the food within the time schedule allowed (Mahon 128–29). The style of service would be service à la russe, so widespread in restaurants today as to seem unremarkable. Each plate is prepared in the kitchen by the chef and then served to each individual guest at table. In the mid-19th century, this style of service replaced service à la française, in which guests typically entered the dining room after the first course had been laid on the table and selected food from the choice of dishes displayed around them (Kaufman 126).The guest list was compiled by government and embassy officials on both sides and was a roll call of Irish and British life. At the President’s table, 10 guests would be served by a team of 10 staff in Dorchester livery. The remaining tables would each seat 12 guests, served by 12 liveried staff. The staff practiced for several days prior to the banquet to make sure that service would proceed smoothly within the time frame allowed. The team of waiters, each carrying a plate, would emerge from the kitchen in single file. They would then take up positions around the table, each waiter standing to the left of the guest they would serve. On receipt of a discreet signal, each plate would be laid in front of each guest at precisely the same moment, after which the waiters would then about foot and return to the kitchen in single file (Mahon 130).Post-prandial entertainment featured distinctive styles of performance and instruments associated with Irish traditional music. These included reels, hornpipes, and slipjigs, voice and harp, sean-nόs (old style) singing, and performances by established Irish artists on the fiddle, bouzouki, flute, and uilleann pipes (Office of Public Works).Culinary Diplomacy: Ireland on a PlateLewis was given the following brief: the menu had to be Irish, the main course must be beef, and the meal should represent the very best of Irish ingredients. There were no restrictions on menu design. There were no dietary requirements or specific requests from the Queen’s representatives, although Lewis was informed that shellfish is excluded de facto from Irish state banquets as a precautionary measure. The meal was to be four courses long and had to be served to 170 diners within exactly 1 hour and 10 minutes (Mahon 112). A small army of 16 chefs and 4 kitchen porters would prepare the food in the kitchen of Dublin Castle under tight security. The dishes would be served on state tableware by 40 waiters, 6 restaurant managers, a banqueting manager and a sommélier. Lewis would be at the helm of the operation as Executive Chef (Mahon 112–13).Lewis started by drawing up “a patchwork quilt” of the products he most wanted to use and built the menu around it. The choice of suppliers was based on experience but also on a supplier’s ability to deliver perfectly ripe goods in mid-May, a typically black spot in the Irish fruit and vegetable growing calendar as it sits between the end of one season and the beginning of another. Lewis consulted the Queen’s itinerary and the menus to be served so as to avoid repetitions. He had to discard his initial plan to feature lobster in the starter and rhubarb in the dessert—the former for the precautionary reasons mentioned above, and the latter because it featured on the Queen’s lunch menu on the day of the banquet (Mahon 112–13).Once the ingredients had been selected, the menu design focused on creating tastes, flavours and textures. Several draft menus were drawn up and myriad dishes were tasted and discussed in the kitchen of Lewis’s own restaurant. Various wines were paired and tasted with the different courses, the final choice being a Château Lynch-Bages 1998 red and a Château de Fieuzal 2005 white, both from French Bordeaux estates with an Irish connection (Kellaghan 3). Two months and two menu sittings later, the final menu was confirmed and signed off by state and embassy officials (Mahon 112–16).The StarterThe banquet’s starter featured organic Clare Island salmon cured in a sweet brine, laid on top of a salmon cream combining wild smoked salmon from the Burren and Cork’s Glenilen Farm crème fraîche, set over a lemon balm jelly from the Tannery Cookery School Gardens, Waterford. Garnished with horseradish cream, wild watercress, and chive flowers from Wicklow, the dish was finished with rapeseed oil from Kilkenny and a little sea salt from West Cork (Mahon 114). Main CourseA main course of Irish beef featured as the pièce de résistance of the menu. A rib of beef from Wexford’s Slaney Valley was provided by Kettyle Irish Foods in Fermanagh and served with ox cheek and tongue from Rathcoole, County Dublin. From along the eastern coastline came the ingredients for the traditional Irish dish of smoked champ: cabbage from Wicklow combined with potatoes and spring onions grown in Dublin. The new season’s broad beans and carrots were served with wild garlic leaf, which adorned the dish (Mahon 113). Cheese CourseThe cheese course was made up of Knockdrinna, a Tomme style goat’s milk cheese from Kilkenny; Milleens, a Munster style cow’s milk cheese produced in Cork; Cashel Blue, a cow’s milk blue cheese from Tipperary; and Glebe Brethan, a Comté style cheese from raw cow’s milk from Louth. Ditty’s Oatmeal Biscuits from Belfast accompanied the course.DessertLewis chose to feature Irish strawberries in the dessert. Pat Clarke guaranteed delivery of ripe strawberries on the day of the banquet. They married perfectly with cream and yoghurt from Glenilen Farm in Cork. The cream was set with Irish Carrageen moss, overlaid with strawberry jelly and sauce, and garnished with meringues made with Irish apple balsamic vinegar from Lusk in North Dublin, yoghurt mousse, and Irish soda bread tuiles made with wholemeal flour from the Mosse family mill in Kilkenny (Mahon 113).The following day, President McAleese telephoned Lewis, saying of the banquet “Ní hé go raibh sé go maith, ach go raibh sé míle uair níos fearr ná sin” (“It’s not that it was good but that it was a thousand times better”). The President observed that the menu was not only delicious but that it was “amazingly articulate in terms of the story that it told about Ireland and Irish food.” The Queen had particularly enjoyed the stuffed cabbage leaf of tongue, cheek and smoked colcannon (a traditional Irish dish of mashed potatoes with curly kale or green cabbage) and had noted the diverse selection of Irish ingredients from Irish artisans (Mahon 116). Irish CuisineWhen the topic of food is explored in Irish historiography, the focus tends to be on the consequences of the Great Famine (1845–49) which left the country “socially and emotionally scarred for well over a century” (Mac Con Iomaire and Gallagher 161). Some commentators consider the term “Irish cuisine” oxymoronic, according to Mac Con Iomaire and Maher (3). As Goldstein observes, Ireland has suffered twice—once from its food deprivation and second because these deprivations present an obstacle for the exploration of Irish foodways (xii). Writing about Italian, Irish, and Jewish migration to America, Diner states that the Irish did not have a food culture to speak of and that Irish writers “rarely included the details of food in describing daily life” (85). Mac Con Iomaire and Maher note that Diner’s methodology overlooks a centuries-long tradition of hospitality in Ireland such as that described by Simms (68) and shows an unfamiliarity with the wealth of food related sources in the Irish language, as highlighted by Mac Con Iomaire (“Exploring” 1–23).Recent scholarship on Ireland’s culinary past is unearthing a fascinating story of a much more nuanced culinary heritage than has been previously understood. This is clearly demonstrated in the research of Cullen, Cashman, Deleuze, Kellaghan, Kelly, Kennedy, Legg, Mac Con Iomaire, Mahon, O’Sullivan, Richman Kenneally, Sexton, and Stanley, Danaher, and Eogan.In 1996 Ireland was described by McKenna as having the most dynamic cuisine in any European country, a place where in the last decade “a vibrant almost unlikely style of cooking has emerged” (qtd. in Mac Con Iomaire “Jammet’s” 136). By 2014, there were nine restaurants in Dublin which had been awarded Michelin stars or Red Ms (Mac Con Iomaire “Jammet’s” 137). Ross Lewis, Chef Patron of Chapter One Restaurant, who would be chosen to create the menu for the state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II, has maintained a Michelin star since 2008 (Mac Con Iomaire, “Jammet’s” 138). Most recently the current strength of Irish gastronomy is globally apparent in Mark Moriarty’s award as San Pellegrino Young Chef 2015 (McQuillan). As Deleuze succinctly states: “Ireland has gone mad about food” (143).This article is part of a research project into Irish diplomatic dining, and the author is part of a research cluster into Ireland’s culinary heritage within the Dublin Institute of Technology. The aim of the research is to add to the growing body of scholarship on Irish gastronomic history and, ultimately, to contribute to the discourse on the existence of a national cuisine. If, as Zubaida says, “a nation’s cuisine is its court’s cuisine,” then it is time for Ireland to “research the feasts as well as the famines” (Mac Con Iomaire and Cashman 97).ConclusionThe Irish state banquet for Queen Elizabeth II in May 2011 was a highly orchestrated and formalised process. From the menu, material culture, entertainment, and level of consultation in the creative content, it is evident that the banquet was carefully curated to represent Ireland’s diplomatic, cultural, and culinary identity.The effects of the visit appear to have been felt in the years which have followed. Hennessy wrote in the Irish Times newspaper that Queen Elizabeth is privately said to regard her visit to Ireland as the most significant of the trips she has made during her 60-year reign. British Prime Minister David Cameron is noted to mention the visit before every Irish audience he encounters, and British Foreign Secretary William Hague has spoken in particular of the impact the state banquet in Dublin Castle made upon him. Hennessy points out that one of the most significant indicators of the peaceful relationship which exists between the two countries nowadays was the subsequent state visit by Irish President Michael D. Higgins to Britain in 2013. This was the first state visit to the United Kingdom by a President of Ireland and would have been unimaginable 25 years ago. The fact that the President and his wife stayed at Windsor Castle and that the attendant state banquet was held there instead of Buckingham Palace were both deemed to be marks of special favour and directly attributed to the success of Her Majesty’s 2011 visit to Ireland.As the research demonstrates, eating together unites rather than separates, gathers rather than divides, diffuses political tensions, and confirms alliances. It might be said then that the 2011 state banquet hosted by President Mary McAleese in honour of Queen Elizabeth II, curated by Ross Lewis, gives particular meaning to the axiom “to eat together is to eat in peace” (Taliano des Garets 160).AcknowledgementsSupervisors: Dr Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire (Dublin Institute of Technology) and Dr Michael Kennedy (Royal Irish Academy)Fáilte IrelandPhotos of the banquet dishes supplied and permission to reproduce them for this article kindly granted by Ross Lewis, Chef Patron, Chapter One Restaurant ‹http://www.chapteronerestaurant.com/›.Illustration ‘Ireland on a Plate’ © Jesse Campbell BrownRemerciementsThe author would like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their feedback and suggestions on an earlier draft of this article.ReferencesAlbala, Ken. The Banquet: Dining in the Great Courts of Late Renaissance Europe. 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