De Achttiende Eeuw - Current Issue

In April 1799, Amsterdam saw the premiere of De toverfluit, the Dutch translation of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. The opera had already been introduced in the Dutch capital five years earlier, in the original German. Unlike that earlier performance, the first staging in Dutch occasioned several comments in the literary press. The reviews were invariably critical of the storyline, the characters and the quality of the translation, whereas the music itself was mainly passed over in silence. This article takes a closer look at how De toverfluit was lampooned by Dutch writers during the period 1799-1809. Much of the criticism should be seen as part of a larger debate that had erupted over the influx of modern German theatrical fare at the expense of plays written in the classicist (French) tradition. From a literary-historical perspective, the premiere of De toverfluit is also significant in that it gave rise to the first poems in Dutch devoted to Mozart and his work.

The maritime sector was one of the largest employers of the Dutch Republic, with a constant high demand for labor. Life at sea was full of risks, and for sailors, accidents or violent assaults often resulted in permanent physical or mental impairment. The handling of the accident, the aftercare and the way seafarers with permanent disabilities reshaped their lives have hardly been studied. This article shows that socioeconomic provisions existed for incapacitated seafarers and provides insight into the similarities and differences among various types of shipping organizations in the way incidents were handled. It reveals how some sailors were able to continue their maritime careers despite their disability.

Around 1820, the French artist Théodore Géricault (1791-1824) painted ten portraits of people who had been committed to asylums. Five of them remain extant. Géricault’s portraits seem to mirror the then common belief that mental illness was detectable in the facial features of the insane. Unlike many other portraits and drawings of that time, however, they were not just a mere registration of objects. Instead, they were dignified images of real people, surpassing the objectiveness of the studied patient. This contribution studies the origins and context of these portraits and examines how they relate to contemporary theories about psychiatric patients.

The publication of the ethnographic studies of Engelbert Kaempfer and Pierre de Charlevoix on the Japanese tōdōza, or ‘society of the blind’, allowed a large European readership to become familiar with the self-sufficient and prominent social position of blind persons in the Japanese empire. The spread of knowledge about the tōdōza enabled Europeans to compare the relatively favorable positioning of blind people in Japanese society with the dependent existence of their visually impaired fellow humans. Knowledge of the status of the tōdōza in Japan confirmed and reinforced the burgeoning ideas of French philosophers, philanthropists, and educators in particular about the social potential of the visually impaired and the possibilities for blind education. Eighteenth-century treatises on the Japanese ‘society of the blind’ would prove an inspiration for the development of the first European institutions for the blind, recognized by scholars in both Europe and North America.

Hearing difficulties traditionally led to unequal relations and opportunities, often resulting in hidden feelings of sadness and loneliness, as well as discomfort and embarrassment. Yet in the eighteenth century, some people with a hearing difference appear to have been able to cope with these negative feelings by using ear trumpets. This article discusses hardness of hearing and acoustic aids in eighteenth-century polite society in Britain and France, arguing that the handling of a physical and visible tool such as the ear trumpet could deliver mental transformations. Investigating the experiences of those using ear trumpets, as well as the perceptions of their interlocutors at salons, societies, academies, and church congregations, this paper argues that such social contexts accepted this new technology as a means for hard-of-hearing members to actively participate. Despite the difficulties, people of a certain status successfully incorporated their hearing difference into their work, or even used their ear trumpets to guide conversations, showing indifference about their hearing difficulties, or even to strategically control certain situations. Applying the recently coined ‘design model of disability’, the study of hardness of hearing and ear trumpets in eighteenth-century Europe demonstrates how acoustic prosthetics could do the work of inclusion and emotional transformation.

Eighteenth-century Britain and the Low Countries witnessed a shift in how small people were approached by the cultural elite. The age-old prejudice that physical disabilities were accompanied by mental disorders was increasingly challenged by medical professors. In educational and literary works, writers tried to instill sympathy for the living conditions of small people. The authors emphasized that, despite their physique, they should be regarded as ordinary human beings. By exciting feelings of empathy and sympathy they tried to combat the discrimination and prejudices that surrounded them. While those biases towards little people did not dissipate completely, eighteenth-century discourses clearly showed how popular perceptions were critically examined.

Two recent documentary series, Het verhaal van Nederland and Het verhaal van Vlaanderen, both modeled after a Danish example, purport to tell the ‘story’ of The Netherlands and Flanders in ten episodes. In both cases, one episode centers on the eighteenth century. This article discusses the political focus of these episodes, the diverging historical self-perceptions they imply, and the controversies surrounding the series.

This contribution analyzes how the eighteenth century is used as a narrative strategy in the popular HBO-series Our Flag Means Death (2022-). Set during the Golden Age of Piracy (1650-1730), the series depicts the fortunes of the bumbling, rather unsuccessful ‘gentleman pirate’ Stede Bonnet. Although the show’s creators, David Jenkins and Taika Waititi, drew inspiration from eighteenth-century history, historical accuracy is not one of the series’ priorities. Indeed, a reliable representation of life in the eighteenth century is not what brought millions of viewers to grow to love the series. Far more important is the show’s authentic discussion of issues related to gender and sexuality (in particular homosexuality and queer identity). In this contribution, I will address how the creators use the eighteenth century to tell a story about queer love more freely. Not only the eighteenth century’s (relative) obscurity, but also the premodern character of this period allow Jenkins and Waititi to tell a story that blends history, fiction, and social justice.