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Going to the Palais: A Social and Cultural History of Dancing and Dance Halls in Britain, 1918–1960

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One of the strengths of the book is its detailed technical research into exactly how images were created and reproduced. Thus, we learn that by the late 1870s the ‘golden… Click to show full abstract

One of the strengths of the book is its detailed technical research into exactly how images were created and reproduced. Thus, we learn that by the late 1870s the ‘golden age of steel engraving’ was superseded by cheaper, quicker and more accurate ‘photo-mechanical and photo-chemical processes’ (p. 57). The book begins with the early reformers of the 1830s and 1840s and the shift away from caricature to more respectable portraiture, before examining how Liberals, Conservatives and Radicals used political portraits to connect with supporters. In chapter 4 Miller examines the role of group portraiture. Here, I was fascinated to learn more about the petty political rivalries which shaped the group portraits commissioned by the Anti-Slavery Society and the Anti-Corn Law League, governing who sat next to whom and which people were simply not invited. Thus James Acland, an undoubtedly effective yet not quite respectable, itinerant League lecturer was not included in the group portrait painted by John Rogers Herbert (1847). Similarly Joseph Livesey, the great temperance advocate and an ardent supporter of repeal, was denied a place, most probably because his social status was significantly lower than that of the wider League membership (p. 132). The final section of the book examines how Palmerston, Gladstone, Disraeli and other politicians interacted with the new commercial visual culture. The way in which the Conservative Party managed engravings and later photographic representations of Palmerston is fascinating. Miller notes how, despite being 70 years old when he became prime minister in January 1855, Palmerston was ‘frequently portrayed as considerably younger to underline his physical and political vigour’ (p. 181). Politics Personified also includes fascinating nuggets of information such as how Disraeli was forbidden to publicly speak or campaign during the 1880 general election because he was a Lord – despite the fact that he was the serving Prime Minister. For this reason, he was conspicuously absent from election coverage in the Illustrated London News (p. 205). For a book which places visual culture centre stage it would have been appropriate to have more lavish illustrations, but that is a minor gripe and I suspect something that was entirely out of the hands of the author. Politics Personified is to be particularly commended for its use of ephemeral political sources such as medals, coins, statues, ceramics and cartes de visite and use of relatively neglected printed materials such as the Conservative newspapers Will-o’-the-Wisp (1867–1870) and Judy (1867–1907) and the Liberal newspaper Fun (1861–1901). It is an important contribution to visual and cultural history, offering new insights into the well-trodden ground of Victorian high politics by demonstrating how portraiture bridged the gap between parliamentary and local politics enabling ordinary people to participate in the burgeoning sphere of popular politics.

Keywords: going palais; social cultural; palais social; book; history; cultural history

Journal Title: Cultural and Social History
Year Published: 2017

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