La Rue Bijou - The Pear King

NOTE: The typographic pear image is from Robert Justin Goldstein's book, Censorship of Political Caricature in Nineteenth-Century France, 1989. The inkwell portraying Louis-Philippe belongs to me.

Increasingly, activists and dissidents are turning to the new media (blogs, FaceBook, Twitter) to lead grass-roots protest movements often because the mainstream media are government controlled. The “net” is accessible to a diverse crowd, and information delivery takes place in real time. What a change from those earlier days. It took the content of Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses (1517) approximately a month to travel Europe and 17th-century subscription-based newspapers approximately one week to arrive at their destination. How did earlier citizens question official policies in a period of censorship and the Inquisition?

Since the advent of movable type (in the 1450s), journalists and scientists have used the press to criticize. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, officials of the church and state responded by implementing increasingly stringent laws to suppress divergent views in religion, medicine, and astronomy to name a few. There were enough examples of burnings at the stake (Giordano Bruno who wrote a heliocentric and infinite world) and imprisonment or censorship (Galileo who claimed he had proof of the heliocentric world) to make writers cautious. In sixteenth-century France, newspaper copy was submitted to officials prior to publication. In the 17th century, Cardinal Richelieu penned some of the news stories carried by journalist Théophraste Renaudot to ensure the favorable portrayal of French policies. To evade pre-pre-publication screening, some writers used rhetorical strategies such as a retraction (e.g., I am outlining this pernicious theory to make you aware of its dangers). Some writers (including Galileo, the priest Marin Mersenne, and journalist Renaudot in his published conferences proceedings) presented information in the form of a dialogue between three individuals, representing divergent positions characterized by rational, neutral, or specious reasoning. Often these evasive writings seemed reminiscent of a verbal sparring match, pitting the wit of the writer against the intellect of the official. Others used convoluted reasoning, or they relied on a long-winded, verbose style to overwhelm censors and make the author’s position unclear. Still others attributed new points of view or radical theories to the Ancients. Sometimes two different versions of a text appeared—one targeting the censors and the other, a public of savvy readers.





Source: http://blogs.princeton.edu/graphicarts/2009/02/charles_philipons_la_caricatur.html

One of the more creative ways of communicating antigovernment critiques took place in 19th-century France. By this time, the press had been given varying degrees of constitutional protection in the late 18th century. But freedom of the press vacillated with politics and often failed to protect caricature because officials contended these images could create derision and scorn in the public eye. And French kings, who created regimes of abuse and displayed gout-ridden or jowled physiques, became popular targets. In a series of caricatures, Louis Philipon, editor of Le Charivari, represented King Louis-Philippe as a pear in the 1830s. When Philipon faced imprisonment and fines, he protested by using the shape of a pear to print the text of the censorship decree issued by the king.

These earlier activists, limited to the print medium, used creative approaches, approximating verbal or visual repartees to spar with officials. Just think of what they would have done if they had access to blogs or FaceBook. They could post satirical messages on a Louis-Philippe FaceBook fan club. . . . They could use blogs to counter any “whitewashing” that originated with royalist supporters. While pre-internet officials had hard copy with which to contend, with numerous outlets and the potential for real-time communication, perhaps today’s “censors” face a more difficult task.



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Une Trouvaille in Opio, France

Une trouvaille!
Opio, France, by Jane T. Tolbert

The name La Boutique is something of a misnomer. The antique store, located inland between Cannes and Grasse, is a combination of many things. A cabinet of curiosities. Ali Baba’s cavern. A connoisseur’s delight. Those interested in history will be enticed by artifacts from the past and its owner, Michel Hassid, whose extensive knowledge and appreciation for style and period give the shop its uniqueness. Stepping across the threshold, the patron enters another world.

Curiosités - Cabinets of curiosities gained in popularity in the 17th century, a period of exploration and discovery. Located in the private homes of wealthy patrons of learning or in rich palaces of royalty, these eclectic displays, which provided the basis for later museums of natural history, contained an assortment of objects—mummies, monstrous bones thought to belong to a giant, fossils with supernatural properties, unicorn horns, crocodile skins, and scientific instruments among other things. Reference books, drawings of flora and fauna or portraits also lined the shelves.

In La Boutique, curiosities include 18th-century thermometers, unusual paintings, and toys. Thermometers in the Réaumur scale indicate the appropriate temperatures for taking a bath, hatching chickens, or raising silk worms. Just above one of the stairwells hangs a figurehead from a ship, a wooden sailor looking somewhat worse for wear. A cigarette lighter worthy of Q’s gadget laboratory in a James Bond film becomes a small pistol. A small inlaid box contains hidden compartments. An autograph book from an early 20th-century ice cream parlor carries signatures and drawings from famous artists and writers visiting Cannes. Other objects include mechanical toys, phonographs, music boxes, candleholders and sundials.



Ali Baba’s Cavern - The jewel-like clusters of lamps and chandeliers have earned La Boutique the designation of Ali Baba’s cavern. Hanging fixtures carry tiers of clear or colored faceted crystals, and the art nouveau and art deco lamps are reminiscent of large hotel lobbies. Many of these lights are Murano glass, and others carry names like Baccarat or Gallé.

History – For the cultured or the uninitiated, a trip to the store can be an educational experience. Each piece of furniture or object is an artifact that conveys information about a period of time, a geographical location, or a theme. An inkwell in the shape of a pear is actually a caricature of Louis-Philippe, who censored many commentaries by journalists. A pewter pitcher portrays what looks like a squawking politician. Two 18th-century Italian mirrors with ornate frames appear joyous in comparison to their counterpart from Provence. An empire console with sphinx-like figures topping the legs shows the influence of Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign on French furnishings. Armoires, sideboards, and faience china provide hints about past lifestyles and available materials.

Michel has an unequaled passion for the historical and cultural context of a period. He takes pleasure in his selections and works to bring rare and valuable pieces back to life. He insists on the distinction between the terms “restoration” and “renovation.” A true restoration involves the use of original techniques and materials. Knowledge of the context of the period and the technology available at that time are critical to the process.

Although I am only beginning to learn about antiques, and my passion is constrained by limitations imposed by budget and space, I still have many things from Michel’s store--a yellow armoire and a small table, both in the style of Louis XV, the pear-shaped inkwell, and art nouveau lamps. Future purchases will likely include an 18th-century thermometer (after all, silkworms did provide a source of income for women) to complete the beginnings of my own cabinet of curiosities.

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