"Contested Exhibitions: The Debate Over Proper Animal Sights in Post-Revolutionary America," Worldviews: Environment, Culture, Religion 9.2 (2005), 219-235. (original) (raw)

Menagerie to me / My Neighbor be": Exotic Animals and American Conscience, 1840-1900

Throughout the nineteenth century, large numbers of living "exotic" animals—elephants, lions, and tigers—circulated throughout the U.S. in traveling menageries, circuses, and later zoos as staples of popular entertainment and natural history education. In "Menagerie to me / My Neighbor be," I study literary representations of these displaced and sensationalized animals, offering a new contribution to Americanist animal studies in literary scholarship, which has largely attended to the cultural impact of domesticated and native creatures. The field has not yet adequately addressed the influence that representations of foreign animals had on socio-cultural discourses, such as domesticity, social reform, and white supremacy. I examine how writers enlist exoticized animals to variously advance and disrupt the human-centered foundations of hierarchical thinking that underpinned nineteenth-century tenets of civilization, particularly the belief that Western culture act...

Animal Pursuits: Hunting and the Visual Arts in Nineteenth-Century America

2017

Hunting and its aftermath formed a major theme in nineteenth-century American art, appearing in natural history illustrations, grand paintings of human-animal combat, popular prints, and other visual media. Considered as both a subject matter for art and a material aid in its creation, hunting offers a means by which to trace how a specific form of human intervention in the environment shaped the nation’s attitudes toward nature, national identity formation, and the naturalization of social hierarchies throughout the long nineteenth century. Focusing on the work of five artists—Charles Willson Peale, John James Audubon, George Catlin, Thomas Eakins and Winslow Homer—this project offers new insights into the role that art played in mediating the relationship between nineteenth-century Americans and nature by turning attention to images that pictured the destruction of animals. Rather than an expansive survey of hunting in American art, this dissertation examines hunting imagery through three main frameworks that constitute the central chapters: natural history, western expansion, and elite forms of hunting. The ideal of a shared ownership of nature formed a central facet of American national identity throughout the century. Images of hunting, which were characterized by direct and often violent intervention in nature, represent the utmost expression of this ideal. Indeed, a critical appraisal of images that picture the despoliation of nature is essential to fully understanding Americans’ historical relationship to the natural world and its important role in American culture and history. Artworks that pictured the nation’s natural bounty with awe or reverence (particularly landscape painting) have dominated the discussion of nineteenth-century American art. However, a closer analysis of hunting imagery demonstrates how artists and their publics readily employed representations of environmental and ecological destruction in order to promote a shared ownership of nature, justify the nation’s expansionist impulses, and naturalize divisions within American society.

A Garden for the Living and a Gallery for the Dead: Consuming Animal and Preserved Specimen Exhibitions in Nineteenth-Century London

Masters Thesis, 2018

Throughout the nineteenth century, a diverse array of wildlife arrived in London, the center of both a nation and a global empire. Once in Britain, live animals were exhibited for adoring, middle- and upper-class audiences in two of the city’s most popular entertainment venues, the Exeter Change Menagerie and the London Zoological Gardens. Here, visitors interacted with animals by viewing, feeding, touching, and riding upon them, all ways formulated to consume an animal that, unlike pets, could not actually be purchased by the average Briton. In lieu of this constraint, these modes of interaction provided a way for visitors to feel a sense of transitory ownership over these creatures, thereby turning interactions with animals into a sort of immaterial capital to British consumers. Many animals were already dead before they arrived in Britain—including dinosaurs harbored in the earth for eons—or died in London after a life in captivity. Just as living creatures were exhibited, so too were deceased animals displayed in scientific museums, exhibition venues, and entertainment halls. Britons flocked to see and touch these enormous taxidermies and skeletons, astounded that such colossal creatures had been captured and supplanted from their natural environment for perpetual display in the metropolis. Bridging the gap between life and death and exemplifying the contentions of each prior chapter, this thesis concludes by examining the celebrity elephant Chunee’s lifecycle through London, from his time acting on the stage to his skeleton’s display long after his death.

Review of Creatures of Empire: How Domestic Animals Transformed Early America, by Virginia DeJohn Anderson, in The Journal of Social History 40.2 (Winter 2006), 510-513.

ing quantitative data. Additionally, qualitative evidence is also asked to support unjustifiably broad conclusions. For example, for the author to assume that the lack of serious differences in the language used to describe male and female offences in recognizances proves that a large proportion of petty violence was "ungendered" (66-68) underestimates the impact of formulaic legalistic wording and too readily takes official texts as proof of broader social views. Moreover, the credibility of her challenge to assumptions about gender and "violence" would have been strengthened by more attention to how her analysis of "ungendered" petty violence can be squared with solid evidence of significant gendered differences in more serious violence. The author ultimately seeks to prove that "neither the perpetration nor the prosecution of petty violence was entirely subject to gender limitations" (128). This could be seen as a modest goal, since no historian of any time period has, to my knowledge, ever claimed the complete subjection of violence to gender codes.

"Visions of Concord. Wild Animals and the Garden of the Revolution (Jardin des Plantes Menagerie, 1793-c. 1820)," Journal for the History of Environment and Society, 2019, 4, p. 11-40.

The Jardin des Plantes menagerie was established in the context of the French Revolution in opposition to princely and commercial menage- ries. Considered by historians as the first zoological garden, it would become a model, inspiring the foundation of other, powerful institutions, such as the London Zoo (1828). Its designers intended to resolve old tensions regarding the status of wild animals and to build more symmetrical relationships with them. This article aims to shed additional light on this movement, from the revolutionary seizures of animals deposited at the National Museum of Natural History to the construction of the first permanent building erected for the ‘ferocious beasts’ (1818-1821). Taking into account the animal side of history, in line with the recent animal turn, it posits that the designers of the Jardin des Plantes menagerie reinforced precisely the carceral constraints some of them intended to renounce. In so doing, they determined and shaped modes of interacting with nonhuman animals that, ever since, have continued to permeate our relationships with them.

[Review] Peta Tait. Fighting Nature: Travelling Menageries, Animal Acts and War Shows. Sydney University Press, 2016

Animal Studies Journal, 2017

On October 23, 1903, William Temple Hornaday, the director of the New York Zoological Park, wrote to a Mr C. L. Williams, then responsible for ‘Hagenbeck’s Animal Show,’ which was touring the United States. At the time, the show was to be seen at the Grand Opera House in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, but it was missing one of its star performers, the famous lion-tiger hybrid ‘Prince’ who had been part of the show for over a decade, making his debut in the United States as part of Hagenbeck’s exhibit at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Prince was in New York instead of with the show because he was ill and it was hoped that the relative quiet and expert care available at the zoological park would help him recover. Alas, according to the letter, Prince ‘would require fully another month of convalescence’ before he would possibly be ready to ‘resume his work.’ ‘He yet feels so much under the weather,’ Hornaday writes, ‘that he lies in his den all day and never comes ou...