The later nineteenth century saw expanded editions of Pepys’s diary by Lord Braybrooke (1848-49), Mynors Bright (1875–79), and Henry Wheatley (1893–99). This chapter surveys the publication of these editions and the responses to them as Pepys’s fame grew. Each new edition was accompanied by swirling rumours about what was left out. The diary inspired parodies, paintings, historical fiction, and articles in children’s magazines. A dominant theme in these creative responses was imagining what the censored texts had omitted, especially about the women in Pepys’s life. By the late nineteenth century, Pepys featured in formal education as a representative of the Restoration, but his name was also shorthand for unorthodox and fun history. The popularity of the comical version of Pepys sparked discussions about the purpose of history, notably via stress on Pepys’s role in naval and imperial history.

This study examines the role of art as a crucible of capital and property during the First World War and constructs a large-scale historical narrative of European auctions held between 1910 and 1925. By combining sources such as auction reports, newspaper articles, caricatures, individual memoirs, and financial and legal documents with an analysis of art prices, this study allows for making new observations about the evolution of European art markets, their disruption by the events of the First World War, and their transnational entanglements. Far from focusing solely on reconstructing the collecting patterns of prominent individuals or shedding light on specific histories of appropriation and looting, this book explores broader cultural and social developments across the British, French, and German art markets and their milieus and also touches upon trade spheres such as Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Scandinavia, and Russia. While the First World War has often been neglected in scholarly studies as a phase of stagnation and stasis, this study shows that it had a disruptive impact on the art trade in the twentieth century and introduces a new transnational methodology for historical inquiries into cultural and artistic markets.

Parallel to Chapter 2, this section reconstructs the socio-economic history of the art market after the First World War. The immediate postwar year, marked by political and economic instability, posed unique challenges for the losers of the war. Germany, in particular, faced hyperinflation, a phenomenon that contributed to accelerate changes initiated by the war. In contrast, the stagnation of the French art market was aggravated after 1918 due to nationalisation, bureaucratisation, and new distribution patterns that only cemented its isolation. Meanwhile, the British market remained relatively stable and less reliant on foreign buyers. The rise of neutral parties’ purchasing power, notably in Switzerland, Sweden, and the Netherlands, highlighted the new dynamics of a fragmented market. Overall, the war altered the trade dynamics of the European art market, with uncontrollable expansion in Germany, French decline, and British stability reflecting its economic impact.

This chapter explores broader cultural European trends following the First World War, including the consequences of currency dynamics and market speculation. These postwar changes culminated in a heightened financialisation of the culture of the art market, reflecting broader shifts in capitalist economies towards financial forms of revenue and profit. The saturation of financial language that accompanies financialisation processes was also a characteristic of this period: the aftermath of the war saw debates revolving around themes of profit, money-making, and an inflation of art production. This chapter parallels previous chapters by examining how cultural and artistic changes were linked to socio-economic developments. The war had acted as a catalyst and accelerator, inflaming cultural tensions within the art markets. It continued to shape market discourses, embedding wartime mentalities into post-war cultural landscapes.

The central argument of this book is that the First World War catalysed the transformation of an integrated art milieu, previously shaped by upper-class art patrons, into divided and highly nationalised art markets driven by capitalist incentives of investment and speculation. Discourses on ‘art profiteers’, art looting in war zones, large-scale confiscations, and attempts to use expropriated art to alleviate national exchange rate crises are all phenomena that can be traced back to 1914. This year also marked the start of a nationalisation process that would lead to the decline of the international ‘collecting class’ that had shaped the trade in art in the last three decades of the nineteenth century. The seeds of the contemporary dominance of Anglophone auction markets were sown during the First World War, laying the foundation for the ‘modern market’ to emerge as a financial entity.

D. Fairchild Ruggles reviews the role Muslim women have played as patrons of art, architecture, and the urban environment. The chapter presents case studies from various regions and time periods, highlighting the diverse motives and reasons behind these acts of patronage.

Chapter 6 discusses MiCA’s bespoke product regulation for so-called stablecoins under the labels of ARTs and EMTs. Section 6.2 lays out the scope of Titles III and IV MiCA, after which Section 6.3 discusses the licensing requirements forming the basis for the token issuer’s European Passport. Section 6.4 then covers the rules on redemption rights and reserve management, while Section 6.5 addresses disclosure requirements. Section 6.6 lays out the EBA’s supervision of significant ARTs and EMTs, and Section 6.7 concludes.

In Chapter 6, I offer a narrative of how Tehran, as both a physical reality and a conceptual entity, captures the imagination of its residents. The chapter is organized around two emerging cities. The first is a material city that is sometimes admired as “modern,” “developed,” or “comparable to other modern capitals,” and sometimes criticized as “a betrayal of Tehran’s history,” “superficial,” “fake,” “a parody of other cities, with no authenticity.” I explore a second emerging city, a perceptual Tehran, through the narratives that engage with the city as a symbolic entity. Through these expressions, I lay out how Tehran is perceived by its residents, showing that identifying with the city is common and that place identities are more influenced by a sense of belonging to the city than to specific neighborhoods. Furthermore, Tehran has become a new source of inspiration for an unprecedented number of artworks and literature in recent years. Accordingly, while the chapter explores perceptions of the city through narratives of its residents, it also draws on examples of works of art and literature to examine how the city is reproduced and, thus, remembered and celebrated.

Not only was it the place of Hopkins’s birth and formative education, London also sired many of his poems. Its galleries provided deep insights into art, and the city’s variegated landscape, invaluable to Hopkins’ earliest poetry, also influenced poems he would compose later in Wales, Oxford, and Dublin. Hopkins’s readings in secular and sacred literature, poetic composition, the development of his poetics, illustrations, and sketches all occurred in London, which was also the place of entry into university teaching, the priesthood, and his first sermon. Hopkins’s understanding of nature fathering-forth the divine, as in his famous observations of bluebells and fresh fire-coals, was formed in London. The embryonic development of Hopkins’s theory of inscape and instress also occurred in London. Put simply, London looms large in Hopkins’s observations of nature, aesthetic development, theories on art, and religious preparation.

On the standard “Wollheimian” reading of Collingwood’s aesthetics, Collingwood held that something is art in the true sense of the word when it involves an act of “expression” – understood in a particular way – on the part of the artist, and that artworks in all art-forms are “ideal” entities that, while externalizable, exist first and foremost in the mind of the expressive artist. I begin by providing a fuller account of the Wollheimian reading. I then survey challenges to and defenses of this reading, identifying residual difficulties confronting anyone who seeks to defend Collingwood. I attempt to resolve these difficulties by developing the idea that we take at face value Collingwood’s (overlooked) claim that the work of art is identical to the expressive activity of the artist rather than being identical to the expressive product of that activity, reading this claim in light of Collingwood’s talk about the painter as one who “paints imaginatively.”

This chapter investigates the many faces of cultural production in the Merovingian kingdoms. As this is supposed to be a period of decay, it is crucial to understand the full range of evidence, including the manuscript and associated palaeographical evidence, libraries, the evidence for lay literacy and bureaucratic culture, and the visual and artistic practices that facilitated communication and display. Through these, we can determine that the Merovingian world had its vibrancy and creativity but also that changes in tastes, resources, and organisation meant that much direct evidence has been demonstrably lost.

This chapter offers an exposition of Collingwood’s theory of imagination as presented in the commonly overlooked Book Two of The Principles of Art. I show how the standard objections to Collingwood’s view are relatively superficial, and also how the account in Book Two should be understood in the light of Collingwood’s remarks concerning the imagination in his earlier writings (especially Speculum Mentis and Outlines of a Philosophy of Art). For Collingwood, sense perception inseparably involves the imagination of possible objects of perception in any perceptual experience. Moreover, the imagination makes the sensory object thinkable – a position that blends Kantian and Humean motifs. Additionally, the crucial mark of the imaginary object is self-containment (“monadism”), a notion serving to clarify both Collingwood’s claim that the imagination is indifferent to reality or unreality and the conceptual connection, on his view, between imagination and art.

In his chapter on “Art” in Roman Britain and the English Settlements, Collingwood attempts to explain the revival of Celtic art that occurred in Britain after a period of Roman art of almost four hundred years. In his Autobiography he declared this was “a chapter which I would gladly leave as the sole memorial of my Romano-British studies, and the best example I can give to posterity of how to solve a much-debated problem in history, not by discovering fresh evidence, but by reconsidering questions of principle.” This chapter has received little attention from archaeologists and historians (and even less from philosophers), exception from Martin Henig in his book The Art of Roman Britain. I defend Collingwood from Henig’s criticisms and try to make his explanation more understandable by placing it in his own historical context. Here I follow Collingwood’s advice that we may better understand an explanation when we understand the context from which it originates. This is not to say Collingwood’s explanation is without shortcomings. I demonstrate how these are brought to light when his explanation for the revival of Celtic art is compared to more recent treatments of this phenomenon.

The British colonial invasion of the territories that would come to constitute the nation-state of Nigeria also planted the seeds for the birth of nationalist and anticolonial movements. This chapter traces the advent and growth of Nigerian nationalism across its different phases, beginning with the immediate aftermath of the colonial invasion until the period of the 1940s. This showed how the seeds of nationalist consciousness were sown in the resistance of traditional rulers to the colonial attacks on their political authority and territorial integrity. It also showed how the alliances of these rulers with emerging Western-educated elites formed the core of the struggles against the colonial administration in the post-amalgamation period. The chapter pays attention to a variety of internal and external factors, ranging from aggressive taxation and unrepresentative government to discrimination in the civil service, Western education, and the work of Christian missionaries. It traces three kinds of formations: political organizations such as the People’s Union, the NNDP and the Nigerian Youth Movement; media outlets such as the Lagos Times and the West African Pilot; and pan-African organizations like the NCBWA.

Lucian is a master of ekphrasis – the art of rhetorical description and notably the vivid verbal evocation of works of art. One particular aspect of Lucian’s art historical enterprise is a comparative aesthetic. This extends beyond the comparison of artworks with other things or people (in texts whose titles signal such comparison) to some of the forms in which Lucian chose to write, notably dialogic media (whether dramatic of reported). This comparative game knowingly plays with the inevitable competition of art and text that inheres in the verbal description of the visual. Beyond this, Lucian takes synkrisis or comparison – a central trope in the rhetorical handbooks – and exploits it so as to give voice to the marginal, to elevate the alien and to emphasise questions of multiplicity and diversity within empire. This ideological exploitation of description is what in part has made Lucian so attractive and controversial since the era of Renaissance Humanism. The apparently unproblematic arena of visual aesthetics is brilliantly seized – not only by Lucian but also many of his modern readers – as a site within which to reveal the place, voice, and importance of cultural, ethnic and subaltern identities not always in simple harmony with the hegemonic status quo of the Roman empire.