Despite strict censorship laws, social and political critiques sometimes occurred in late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century British theatre through comic and visual elements in melodrama, pantomime, farce and comedy. Drawing on texts and performances c.1790-1830, this chapter focusses on the evasion of censorship, particularly through non-verbal performance. While the pantomime or Harlequinade is the most obvious source for non-verbal critique, there are many other visually subversive moments in the drama of this period, including instances in John Bull (1803) Speed the Plough (1800) and Killing No murder (1809), which will be specifically addressed. The visual power of theatre to undermine censorship will be examined in conjunction with the satirical impact of contemporary prints and caricatures. While an emphasis on action and visual communication in theatre is partly attributable to the increasing size of theatres and growing demand for theatrical entertainment, less attention has been paid to the significance of this development for greater license in what can be communicated to spectators. While the theatrical politics of this period are somewhat more complicated than those of the print shop windows, the markets for theatrical spectacle and satirical prints must have overlapped, creating reciprocal modes of perception in this period.0

Twentieth-century literary critics have lingered over what Molière’s theatre did or did not owe to farce. This chapter will demonstrate that it was above all as company leader that Molière inherited from a tradition governing actors’ training and the organisation of theatrical work that had been in place since the fifteenth century. The legal structure that framed the commercial activity of his troupe as well as its professional practices was that of the medieval societas, used by farce players to organise their activity from the end of the Middle Ages onwards. In the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the companies thus constituted were also places where actors were trained. Numerous contracts have survived relating to the apprenticeship of a young person to an actor or a troupe established as a societas. From the fifteenth century to the seventeenth, the other place where training in performance was given was in the Basoche: a professional community of legal clerks who learned techniques of eloquence, rhetoric and verbal expression. And Molière inherited too from this cultural heritage that was shared by the legal and theatrical worlds.

Providing an overview of health, medicine and medical practitioners in France at the time of Molière, this chapter shows that, unsurprisingly, medical treatment and access to trained practitioners depended on social status and geographical location, although life expectancy for adults was not as uneven as we might expect. While humoral medicine continued to dominate, key advances were accepted over time, and the publication of medical works in the vernacular disseminated knowledge among literate lay persons. The challenge is to recognise what Molière’s audiences would have found credible or risible. His depiction of illness and medicine belongs to the traditions of farce, comedy-ballet and extravagant entertainments, and should not be read as a reflection on his own health or treatment by doctors. Two farces (Le Médecin volant, Le Médecin malgré lui) and a farcical scene in Dom Juan derive broad humour from a character grotesquely impersonating a physician. In contrast, three comedy-ballets (L’Amour médecin, Monsieur de Pourceaugnac, Le Malade imaginaire) feature genuine physicians treating patients whom they seek to exploit for financial gain if they are delusional and gullible. Yet music, dance and entertainment are also artfully contrived to restore health, at least in the world of the theatre.

This chapter begins with a discussion of the Hegelian background to Marx’s thought and then attempts to situate him in the radical German emigration in Paris, Brussels and London, between 1843 and 1850. Until the summer of 1850, Marx continued to believe that a working-class uprising in France would provoke a revolutionary upheaval that would engulf Europe. In Class Struggles and The 18th Brumaire, Marx draws lessons for the German working class from the defeats of the French proletariat between 1848 and 1851. He does so by systematically contrasting the world of historical reality, the class struggle, and the realm of shadow and illusion in which historical actors fancy that their speeches and parliamentary manoeuvres make a difference. He explains brilliantly how Louis-Napoleon could have appeared as a saviour to the impoverished small peasantry. What is most striking about these essays is their rhetorical power – the literary skill with which Marx evokes the ghosts and shadows, the dreams, riddles and masquerades that constitute the realm of ideology and illusion. Marx’s essays on 1848–1851 give substance to his theories of ideology and false consciousness and do so in a way that fuses the spellbinding power of the imagery with the spell-banishing power of the historian.

It really seems time to take into account the consequences of the fact that countries, particularly leading or developed ones, reversing the course of several millennia, no longer envision international war as a sensible method for resolving their disputes. Indeed, the aversion to international war or the rise of something of a culture or society of international peace that has substantially enveloped the world should be seen as a causative or facilitating independent variable. International war seems to be in pronounced decline because of the way attitudes toward it have changed, roughly following the pattern by which the institution of formal slavery became discredited and then obsolete. Under the circumstances, there is potential virtue in the traditionally maligned diplomatic techniques of complacency and appeasement for dealing with international problems. The phenomenon asuggests that there is little justification for the continuing and popular tendency to inflate threats and dangers in the international arena—even to the point of deeming some of them to be “existential.” In addition, although problems certainly continue to exist, none of these are substantial enough to require the United States (or pretty much anybody) to maintain a large standing military force for dealing with them.