This essay revisits the relationship between Clare’s mental and physical health and his writings by considering the importance of taking him on his own terms. Appraising the critical history of diagnostic approaches towards Clare’s mental and physical distress, it suggests that such categoric approaches to the poet’s psychophysiological life are unsatisfactory. It turns instead to a key term that Clare used repeatedly to describe his varied forms of disorder – his ‘indisposition’ – and argues that it remains important to Clare and to us as readers of him because of its dislocating and indecisive potential. Considering his unsettled position within the medical and literary culture in which he lived, and broadening the range of his medical encounters and vocabulary beyond the narrow context of the asylum, the essay discuss Clare’s symptoms and his poetic representations of them as entangled with his mobility across, and unstable status within, different places, social worlds, and identities.

Thomas Mann’s literary obsession with Nietzsche’ philosophy was lifelong, continuously evolving, and constantly subversive. His early short stories were preoccupied with Nietzsche’s Wagner reception and cultural critique of decadence; the middle-period novella, “Death in Venice” engaged with the mythical pair of the Dionysian and Apollonian; the novel Doktor Faustus, his self-proclaimed “Nietzsche book,” combined Nietzsche’s biography, aesthetics, and “the problem of the German.” In each phase, Mann’s reception was never simply dutiful, but rather mischievously pitted one Nietzschean position against another, deriving dramatic force from the often contradictory capaciousness of his thought. This chapter focuses on a work not always considered as part of Mann’s Nietzsche reception: Confessions of Felix Krull, Confidence Man, an early short story later expanded to become Mann’s last novel. The text playfully juxtaposes Nietzsche’s “problem of the actor” and his ideal of self-fashioning, what Alexander Nehamas describes as Nietzsche’s “life as literature.” It explores issues of style, taste, parody, “gay science,” and the concerns attendant upon the translation of Nietzsche’s literary philosophy back into literature proper. It shows how the parody and mockery of Nietzschean ideals cannot help but fall in with the models they turn on, and the implications for our understanding of Nietzsche’s own writing.

New Spain’s integration into the Pacific Basin played an important role in the viceroyalty’s political and social history. Interactions between the two become visible in descriptions of Spain’s distributive struggles. The conclusion argues that diverging notions of a deserving self and undeserving other produced by such disputes were strategic responses to a changing world in which the increasing mobility of people and goods created both opportunities and fierce competition over limited benefits and resources. Consideration of the ways in which these men and women engaged with the logic of assessment has resulted in a more variegated understanding of their views of the world, as well as their places within it, that acknowledges not only individual agendas but their divergent relationships to collectives as well. While Pacific and transpacific exchanges continued to have an impact on distributive struggles after 1640, the importance of the hierarchy of beneméritos, as it developed in the wake of the diminished conquest, once again altered discussions about worthiness and unworthiness and the ways in which people identified themselves and others.

The chapter explores how the activities of Spanish officials and men-at-arms impacted identity-making processes against the background of debates over the significance of the movement toward defining the benemérito category and the hierarchy of the meritorious. The chapter argues that, beginning in the second half of the sixteenth century, imperial agents faced the challenge of fashioning notions of a deserving self or undeserving other while balancing two opposing metrics of merit: rootedness and mobility. It first examines the unwillingness of conquistadores and first settlers, and their descendants, to serve in the Philippines and the ways such unwillingness reinforced development of negative stereotypes associated with these privileged social categories. Subsequently, it explores the efforts of Melchor López de Legazpi, Pedro de Robles, Diego García de Palacio, and Rodrigo de Vivero to use their Pacific service as a basis for fashioning themselves as meritorious subjects. Finally, it considers how debates over the hierarchy of the meritorious shaped ideas about New Spain’s transpacific connections and the region’s position between Europe and Asia.

With the expansion of Spanish activities into the Pacific Basin, New Spain increasingly became a global point of intersection for imperial, commercial, and religious networks. The mobility of persons and goods affected external perceptions of New Spain’s place in a globalizing world, as well as its residents’ self-perception. The Introduction observes that these transformations have typically been studied through the lens of a historiographic narrative about creolization. After reviewing debates about the use of the creole paradigm for the study of Spanish identities in the Indies, the chapter introduces the notion of the deserving self, which had emerged in the context of late medieval struggles over the distribution of royal favor, as an alternative framework for studying the interrelationship between movement and processes of identity-making and identification at this crossroad of transoceanic networks. Finally, it explains the link between various conceptualizations of a deserving self and the stories people recounted about the world and the desirability of global integration.

The introduction identifies a generation of men and women of letters whose activities strongly influenced politics in a time of conflict, but who do not fall neatly into the categories of either Renaissance humanist or philosophe. These actors moved on the edges of official diplomacy. Often marginalized, they developed practices of self-promotion and improvisation which helped them become multi-embedded across different societies and political spheres. Vicente Nogueira (1586–1654) was one such actor, who used this multi-embeddedness to ease political communication between different powers. His trajectory parallels that of many other imperial agents and literary figures who circulated in and out of the global territories of the Iberian monarchies and especially among other southern European powers.

When we think of Tolstoy we picture a man who looks as far from a typical Russian nobleman as possible: bearded and wearing peasant-style clothes. This chapter examines the clothing choices Tolstoy made throughout his life and sets them in the contexts of imperial dress codes and his own thinking about Christianity and his place in the world. After Peter the Great introduced European dress for the nobility in the early eighteenth century, a large cultural divide developed between peasants and nobles. Tolstoy grew up wearing the clothing of the European elite while the peasants on his family estate wore more traditional Russian dress. However, in the 1860s Tolstoy began to wear a peasant-style beard and long, loose shirts, albeit made from more luxurious materials than were worn by the peasants themselves. Then, in the 1880s he began to make his own leather boots. This was all part of his broader philosophical project and attempt to lead a simpler, more Christian life. Though Tolstoy’s lifestyle choices often made things more difficult for his family, he nonetheless inspired many followers who imitated his dress style.

This chapter examines a tiny copy of Fleury Richard’s painting Madame de la Vallière Carmalite (1806) made by Napoleon’s stepdaughter-cum-sister-in-law, Hortense de Beauharnais (1783–1837), from the intertwined perspectives of gift exchange, amateur art practice, and post-revolutionary politics. Mounted on a toothpick case and gifted by Hortense to her brother Eugène after the fall of the Napoleonic Empire, when both were exiled from France, this miniature was one of many seemingly inconsequential items Hortense gave to friends and family throughout her life. Following Marcel Mauss’s theory of the gift and relying on a close reading of Hortense’s correspondence, the chapter first demonstrates that the exchange of such small objects carried a strategic value within the culture of sensibility that permeated elite social networks in early nineteenth-century Europe, one to which amateur artworks were particularly well suited. It then suggests that as self-referential signs, amateur artworks also had the potential to carry complex meanings about their makers. Ultimately, the chapter argues that through its miniaturization, amateur reproduction, and exchange as a sentimental gift, Richard’s picture became a politically shrewd symbol of Hortense’s identity in exile.

The defamatory posthumous stories about Raúl explained his celebrity as accidental, an extension of Afro-Argentines’ supposed servility, imitativeness, and minstrel-like buffoonery. He was, in their view, nothing but a “broken puppet” of the city’s elite, who kept him as their personal buffoon. “Celebrity” uncovers a completely different story: one in which Raúl made himself into a charismatic Black icon of the city’s popular culture and bohemian nightlife – a Black legend. This feat of self-making – his gamble that being boldly and unapologetically Black would allow his star to rise – is Raúl’s astonishing and unsung achievement. Shortly after his release from the reformatory, Raúl began to live a life that made celebrity possible. He did so largely by tapping into countercultural currents in the city’s rich popular culture: a flickering fascination with Blackness, and a partial re-claiming of Argentina’s maligned Black roots as an emblem of nativist pride or bohemian outcast glamour. Using contemporary texts and images, the chapter reconstructs Raúl’s scintillating persona as "el murciélago" (the bat) – a stylish and mysterious “creature of the night” who played a starring role in many of the city’s after-hour hotspots, especially in the bohemian world of the tango, Argentina’s emerging national dance. Indeed, by tracing Raúl’s presence in early tango dances to which he brought the candombe of his ancestors and neighbors, I am able to tell a new history of the impact of Afro-Argentine dance and music on Argentina’s national rhythm, to show that it did not disappear in the late nineteenth century, as is widely believed. The chapter pays special attention to images (photographs for which Raúl posed, cover art of tangos named for him, and others), as well as to semi-fictional texts read against the grain, in order to paint a portrait of Raúl’s successful efforts at self-fashioning as a Black dandy and Black celebrity.

This chapter recapitulates the book’s core themes and arguments, opening with George Curzon 1907 lecture on ‘Frontiers’. Drawing on the famous American ‘frontier thesis’ of Frederick Jackson Turner, Curzon positioned imperial frontiers as spaces of excess and threat that held out the promise of national and racial salvation for Britain. By the age of high empire, agents of empire in India widely conceived of frontiers as spaces of productive tension between closure—in the form of clearly delineated borders, normalised and bureaucratised administration, and authoritative knowledge of people and space—and openness—in the form of spatial, epistemic, and administrative indeterminacy. They laboured to render the outskirts of empire ‘other spaces’, requiring distinctive types of knowledge and government under the unfettered guidance of ‘men on the spot’.

In eighteenth-century New Spain, free and enslaved African descent women challenged the social order by negotiating their social identities in various colonial spaces. Juana Ramirez was a freed African descent woman who was labeled as both a mulata and an Indian woman in the historical record. In 1761, Juana was interrogated by inquisitors in Antequera for transforming herself into a tall, white figure. In the context of this Inquisition case, Juana’s legal and social statuses were questioned, and local authorities reported that Juana was a mulata criolla and that she was not a “pure” Indian woman. The authorities also indicated that they initially could not pinpoint her social status and thus, they initially referred her case to the Juzgado General de Indios. The uncertainty of Juana’s ethnic background suggests that she possibly proclaimed her indigenous identity to attain her legal freedom at an earlier point in the eighteenth century. By analyzing Juana’s behavior in enslavement and freedom, this chapter highlights how African descent women navigated the Spanish colonial courts and relied on self-fashioning to secure their state of freedom in the Spanish colonial world.

While Cicero’s self-fashioning has been a subject of great scholarly interest already, my approach is more granular, emphasizing variability and adaptation in Cicero’s use of eight distinct personae to generate political leverage through the shaping of persuasive political narratives. The speeches from his return from exile in 57 BCE to his death in 43 have received relatively little scholarly attention (some more than others), and this book offers a comprehensive and innovative account of that part of the corpus. Cicero’s time in exile and the rise of the “first triumvirate” combined to change the political landscape, not only for Cicero but in general, creating new challenges in the rebuilding and maintenance of his influence. Each of the eight personae gives readers a framework in which to understand Cicero’s rhetorical strategies, and to see how his arguments and accounts of the world around him are shaped to address his political goals. A persona consists not only of social role and status but also of character traits, affective responses, and relationships to others.

This chapter examines decadence in terms of the contemporary popular obsession with the practice of self-fashioning through dandyism, drag, or costume as a way of negotiating or overcoming social boundaries, often in a playfully transgressive manner. Glam rock stars of the 1970s represent a modern form of dandyism and camp self-expression, while the aesthetics of opulence and excess take on a more profound significance when considered in terms of social inequality in the drag ball culture of 1980s New York where the aspiration to be ‘real’ is enacted through costumes and cosmetics. Decadence in today’s celebrity culture is exemplified by Lady Gaga’s gender-bending pop performance art, and we can also observe a queer countercultural resistance to the mainstream using the same decadent paradoxes of beauty and decay, artifice and reality. The ‘cult of the self’ may seem superficial, but the process of self-fashioning through clothing and makeup is in fact a process of self-acceptance.

From its emergence in the mid-nineteenth century, decadence has been, fundamentally, a socio-cultural response to urban modernity. Indeed, decadence is all but unthinkable outside the borders of the modern metropolis. Hence this chapter treats literature less as a literary critic would and more as an urbanist thinker might. An urbanist reading of a decadent text must perforce pay attention not only to urban geography, including the plan of the city in which the work is set, its dominant architectural styles, socio-economic differences in neighborhoods, and so on, but also to the cultural, social, and psychological meanings that the urban setting produces in a particular decadent text. In this essay, the urbanist approach is brought to bear on three novels whose urban geography is especially significant to their respective narratives: Gabriele D’Annunzio’s Il Piacere [Pleasure] (1889), Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), and Thomas Mann’s Der Tod in Venedig [Death in Venice] (1912). These three works illustrate, respectively, the special relationship of the urban scene to cultural, social, and psychological issues germane to the decadent narrative of each novel.