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This introduction provides a historical and theoretical mapping of the rise of portraitomanie in nineteenth-century France and an overview of relevant approaches in intermedial studies. The notable physical, stylistic, and functional diversity of the portraitin the nineteenth century, enabled by the emergence of new media and increasing hybridization, makes it particularly important to trans- and inter-medial perspectives, as well as to material culture, alongside more traditional French Studies ones. In addition to this contextualization, the introduction provides short summaries of the special issue's articles.

La portraitomanie est une des maladies épidémiques de l'époque, maladie, au reste, fort innocente, et qui a l'avantage de faire vivre une myriade d'artistes qui, sans elle, mourraient de faim.1

Tout est bon à ces messieurs, la pierre pochée, la silhouette, la lithographie, le pastel, le daguerréotype, le plâtre, le marbre, la terre glaise, la faïence, le bronze.2

FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER the public announcement of the invention of the daguerreotype in France in 1839, André Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri patented the reproducible, paper-print carte-de-visite photograph. Reducing the format size and price of photographic portraits, which could now be easily circulated and exchanged, it revolutionized photography, and by extension social relationships.3 Quickly adopting a stock iconography of bourgeois interiors and props, small-sized, full-body portraits in a variety of poses—like the one on the cover of this issue—were cut out of a sheet of eight exposures and glued onto calling-card format paperboard, usually 6 × 9 cm. In addition to the affordability of carte-de-visite photographs, their popularity was enhanced by the endorsement by public figures and cultural celebrities. In his memoir Quand j'étais photographe, Nadar—one of Disdéri's main competitors—describes the impact of the visit of Napoleon III to Disdéri's studio:

Napoléon III, passant en toute pompe le long des boulevards à la tête du corps d'armée qui partait pour l'Italie, s'arrêta court devant l'établissement de Disdéri pour s'y faire photographier […]—et derrière lui l'armée entière, les rangs massés sur place, l'arme au bras, attendit que le photographe eût fait le cliché de l'empereur… Sur ce coup, l'enthousiasme pour Disdéri devint du délire. L'univers entier connut son nom et le chemin de sa maison.4

Apart from its humor and hyperbole, the word Nadar chose to illustrate the reception of this new photographic process and its results in Second Empire France—"delirium"—resonates strongly with the central topic of this guest-edited issue.

Contemporary with the development of modern psychiatry in France, the exponential increase in portraits taken and exchanged gave birth to the term portraitomanie, a neologism that also refers to the mania to collect images and texts, as part of the wider, near-obsessive collection culture at the time.5 While "portraitomanie" concerned the love of portraits, "portraituromanie," [End Page 1] coined by Victor Fournel in 1858,6 castigated another widespread 'vice,' the love of being portrayed. Describing two sides of the same passion, the terms were widely employed in articles published in the burgeoning printed and illustrated press, along with other neologisms used to refer to either specific types of portraits or the ways in which they were collected, as in "daguerréotypomanie"7 and "album-manie."8 In the eighteenth century, the suffix "-mania" frequently designated a perceived lack of reasonable measure and balance.9 The same meaning persists into the nineteenth century as part of a trend of adopting the psychiatric lexicon in cultural criticism,10 as in Baudelaire's famous 1859 Salon review, where he refers to photography itself as creating a "grande folie industrielle."11 In keeping with this description, as Adeline Wrona has documented, by the late 1850s thousands of portraits of well-known individuals were in commercial and inter-personal circulation, reproduced in newspapers, collected, and given as gifts.12 Typically, one finds Napoleon III's carte-de-visite portrait next to the one of Queen Victoria in the same album as cultural celebrities and family members of the collector. This "madness" concerns not only the proliferation and collection of portraits, but also the frantic search for novelty for its own sake, in the form of new images, new sitters, new poses, new media, and new formats. Instrumental in creating what we now know as modern and contemporary celebrity culture rooted in images, the production of a new portrait of a celebrity often represented a media event, announced in newspapers such as L'orchestre: Revue quotidienne des théâtres, which was devoted to the cult of actors.

Even if portraitomanie was significantly buttressed by photography in general, and the invention of the carte-de-visite format photograph in particular, the phenomenon was by no means confined to this medium. On the contrary, photography and photographic portraits such as those by Disdéri were also a new means for creating and disseminating portraiture in other media. Like many other photographers, Disdéri devoted a significant part of his activities to the transposition of his photographic portraits into large-scale painted portraits13 and to the photographic reproduction of pre-existing photographic and non-photographic images.

A more comprehensive understanding of portraiture in the nineteenth century thus requires analyzing multiple media and the cultural, artistic, journalistic, and everyday practices of which portraits were an increasingly integral part. All these practices can be seen as manifestations of a characteristically nineteenth-century "portraitomanie" and "portraituromanie," key terms in the cultural discourse concerning the portrait in this period and that provide a lens through which this fascinating proliferation can be studied. In the anonymous [End Page 2] 1847 text in which the word "portraitomanie" likely appeared for the first time (the first epigraph above), the passion for the portrait is seen as generally positive—if also a subject for playful irony, seen in the portrait's coming to the rescue of the proverbial starving artist. However, as yet another indication of how fervently the new culture of portraiture took hold in France as the latest fashion, portraitomanie also began to develop pejorative connotations or at least highly ambivalent ones, as some of the contemporary commentary critical of the phenomenon reveals. It was certainly seen by some arbiters of culture as a challenge to the high-art tradition of portraiture and the 'bon goût' it was believed to cultivate.

With its focus on new interdisciplinary perspectives, this guest-edited issue is inspired by the rich scholarship on the portrait in the nineteenth-century French context that has been carried out over the last ten to fifteen years.14 By drawing attention to the various physical media of portraiture, and to the portrait as a notable locus of intermedial interaction, however, it also seeks to highlight an aspect of nineteenth-century portraitomanie in France that has remained relatively under-researched, namely, its close connection to material culture. This perspective allows for analysis of texts, images, and objects alike, in which the portrait is considered not only as part of the visual and cultural landscape but as materially present in nineteenth-century domestic life and environments.

If existing scholarship has highlighted how the portrait is continually redefined by the development of new media, technologies, and formats as well as their socio-cultural uses, such fluidity and multiplicity is reflected in the etymology of the word. Portrait is the nominalization of the verb portraire or pourtraire, which entails a prefix por or pour plus the older verbs traire or tirer, both connoting dessiner in the twelfth century, according to the Dictionnaire historique de la langue française. The original sense of "portrait" thus corresponds to its most ordinary one, namely, a visual representation (drawing) of a person, or his or her face. While this visual sense dominates, starting in the mid-sixteenth century, in French the term "portrait" was also used to describe a verbal representation of a person from a moral and/or physical point of view. The subsequent trans- and inter-medial meaning of "portrait," whereby literary description and criticism borrow the terminology and its connotations from art, peaked in the mid-nineteenth century, soon after the sixth edition of the Dictionnaire de l'Académie française (1835) specified that "portrait" could also define a precise description of any object. During this period, "portrait" is thus inherently intermedial and a term used in different artistic contexts, both verbal and visual, as the Littré dictionary confirms. [End Page 3]

As these historical definitions of the term "portrait" make clear, the representation of a human face is by no means tied to a specific medium, whether textual or visual. Like other artistic genres and rhetorical categories and devices—comedy, drama, metaphor, allegory, etc.—a portrait can be found in literature and criticism as well as in visual art and everyday objects, where it occurs in a myriad of media from drawing and painting to engraving, lithography, photography, sculpture, pottery, needlework, and so on. In addition to these different visual media (understood here in the inclusive sense of representing a distinct mode of communication, rather than just technological media), the portrait genre also crosses discursive boundaries and appears in literary history and criticism, art history, journalism, history writing, as well as in medical discourses and even criminology. In short, the portrait is a genuinely "transmedial" phenomenon capable of appearing in almost any medium and specific to none.15 Owing to the rise of numerous modern technological media, in tandem with wider socio-cultural developments, the nineteenth century was a period of particularly intense trans- and inter-medial experimentation, practice, and reception. Indeed, as the above 1853 quotation on portraits suggests, they appeared in stone, pastel, ceramic, bronze, and a number of other materials, which included traditionally 'noble' ones, such as marble, and the more mundane and quotidian glass and metal. All were used to create and satisfy portraitomanie. They created new producers and users of the portrait, but also new audiences and communities, cutting across traditional class divides. In each case, of course, the specific portrait likeness is shaped and informed by the particularities of the physical media in question, as well as artistic styles and discursive conventions and methodologies. All these define and redefine abstract notions of identity, celebrity, expressivity, and resemblance, and more practically have a great impact on the use, function, and circulation of the portrait.

The physical, stylistic, and functional variability of the portrait in the nineteenth century and beyond opens its study up to concepts of intermediality.16 Despite its relatively recent emergence as a vibrant interdisciplinary field of study, intermediality, understood in a broad sense as the interrelation between different media, has, of course, always existed in the form of cultural production and reception of artistic artefacts. In this respect, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing's seminal Laocoon: An Essay on the Limits of Painting and Poetry (1766) presents the first pre-semiotic mapping of the boundaries between poetry (or literature) and painting. He argues against the traditional belief, reflected in Horace's famous dictum ut pictura poesis, that poetry is but a verbal picture and a painting an image of poetic thought. In contrast to this view, Lessing [End Page 4] draws much sharper ontological borders around the textual medium of poetry (or writing), in which events unfold over the time of the succession of written words, and the visual medium of painting (or images more generally), which represents events in one single, albeit highly pregnant, moment (the very selection of which by the painter or sculptor to convey the suggested narrative was an important criterion in artistic evaluation). No less normative than Horace, however, Lessing's ideas, which ultimately remain closely linked to the paragone debate that originated in the Renaissance, that is, the rivalry between different art forms and the superiority of one over others, are largely absent from much less prescriptive modern and contemporary semiotics, media studies or art history. Yet theorizations had a lasting impact on the tradition of text-and-image and ekphrasis studies, and, by extension, conceptions of intermediality, as they have emerged over the last twenty to thirty years in the works of prominent theorists, such as W. J. T. Mitchell, Hans Belting, and Werner Wolf.17

However, intermediality is not simply a new word for paragone or ekphrasis. Despite a plethora of definitions (Rippl 10–14), the term always points to a fundamentally non-competitive relation between different art forms and media, and the non-hierarchical interrelationships between media and arts that increasingly characterize cultural phenomena in Western modernity. In nineteenth-century France and elsewhere, developments following the Industrial Revolution considerably contributed to such an erosion of hierarchical demarcations between the arts. These developments ranged from the waning influence of fine art academies to a broadening of readership in the wake of literacy reforms and the rapid rise of the (illustrated) press, the upsurge in the use of reproductive media (engraving and lithography), and the invention of photography. Such developments made it possible for different classes (the bourgeoisie and working class) to appropriate the portrait format, which, by the mid-nineteenth century, was both applauded and decried by critics. If the nineteenth century has no claim to the 'invention' of intermediality, the period undoubtedly represents a fertile breeding ground for the hybridization and democratization of media characteristic of much modern, postmodern, and contemporary artistic and cultural production.

Against this background of wider historical, disciplinary, and theoretical discourses on intermediality, the aim here is to shed new light on the nineteenth-century phenomenon of portraitomanie by emphasizing its inherent trans- and inter-medial dimensions, as well as its materiality. The individual articles showcase different instances of how and when intermediality happens, as it were, how it was produced and received, instead of analyzing what inter-mediality [End Page 5] essentially is or may be. Nonetheless, one basic distinction may help frame the following discussions, that is, the difference between inter-mediality and trans-mediality. As already suggested with reference to Werner Wolf, transmediality is here understood as a transfer of the portrait across different media, for example from painted portrait to photographic one, or from drawing to engraving, or indeed from image to text or vice versa. In the nineteenth century, new mechanical reproduction technologies rose to prominence and fueled a growing culture of public celebrity, private archive economy, and a related upheaval of established social hierarchies, as well as a fluid exchange between visual and textual media centered on the portrait. Thus, the same portrait would often be distributed in different media; or the transfer into another medium would make its wide circulation possible in the first place (as was the case for paintings reproduced in lithography, or later for photography).

In the context of nineteenth-century portraitomanie, these transmedial aspects often go hand-in-hand with intermediality. Providing an umbrella term for a wide variety of other (sub)categories and typologies—from transmediality to multi- and plurimediality—intermediality defies one single, accepted definition, just as the contested term "medium" itself does (Rippl 6–10). For our purpose, intermediality is understood as a relational phenomenon, whereby portraits originating in different media were brought together in the same works, either as a multi-media manifestation (such as painting literally on a photograph) or as a representation of different media in one work (the representation of sculpture in a lithographic print, for example). Among the most prominent examples of intermediality were works that combined text with images (engraving, lithography, and photography), and throughout the nineteenth century newspapers and journals, as well as book publishers increasingly coupled text with portraits. The majority of articles contained in this issue address some form of text-and-image intermediality as a widespread occurrence in nineteenth-century France. The contemporary criticism of such practice is also discussed as a key aspect of portraitomanie and intermediality.

If portraiture and intermediality combine many different art forms and discourses, they are also necessarily embedded in a wider interdisciplinary perspective, given that, as Bernd Herzogenrath has persuasively shown, intermediality comprises not only different media and artforms, but also different disciplines.18 This issue thus seeks to illuminate both intermedial and transmedial portraits in a notably interdisciplinary fashion. Authors discuss different types and examples of intermediality (text and image, biography and photography, painting, drawing, and sculpture) from the disciplinary perspectives of art history, history, literary studies, theatre studies, and sociology. We hope [End Page 6] therefore that the articles presented here may contribute productively to discussions of intermediality in general and in a nineteenth-century context in particular. Finally, framing portraitomanie in intermedial terms helps to discern and better understand the material complexities of the phenomenon, in addition to its aesthetic, cultural, and social implications.

The articles here cover the period from the beginning to the end of the long nineteenth century (1789–1914). Despite a focus on the Second Empire, that is, the decades that correspond to the rise of the photographic portrait, the analyses are rooted in eighteenth-century developments and discourses, while also anticipating twentieth- and twenty-first-century developments, including new forms of portraits in digital media (such as the selfie). The order of the articles is not chronological, however. Rather, contributions have been grouped together to reflect certain thematic or methodological affinities, from the newly emerging practice of illustrating medical texts and the material culture of portraiture, to the popularization of images of celebrity and the creation of cultural heroes through the use of portraits in biography, and from the portraits of journalists to portraits of writers by journalists and other cultural figures, including more aesthetic and theoretical discourses on the nature of portraitomanie and its transmedial and intermedial appearance. These articles can be read as a series of case studies that focus on a specific kind of portrait or on a specific person and their portraiture in relation to the creation of celebrity, or, in some cases, a critical point of view on the portrait and its multiple occurrences and uses.

The opening text by Martial Guédron considers the iconography and materiality of rarely analyzed portraits included in medical treatises to visualize symptoms of mental illness. He examines how the rise of the portrait to cultural prominence is linked to new patient observation practices in psychiatric institutions. Rooted in the (controversial) tradition of physiognomy, that is, connections between physical features, morals, and social behavior, the inclusion of portrait studies in medical books on psychiatric symptoms began to emerge in the first half of the nineteenth century. In discussing a number of key medical practitioners, Guédron explains that the illustrations in such books do not have a merely didactic function in allowing for the close study of external, visual signs and features of mental illnesses (shaped by the theories developed in the texts they illustrate), but they also belong to the phenomenon of portraitomanie to the extent that they borrow from wider cultural forms and practices, such as portrait galleries, celebrity portraits, silhouettes, têtes d'expression, and satirical images.

Manuel Charpy adopts a much more wide-angle perspective by focusing on everyday ephemeralia and widespread practices of bourgeois production [End Page 7] and collection of portraits, tied to the desire to leave a historical trace and legacy. Analyzing central aspects of the lived experiences of portraitomanie, Charpy discusses the nineteenth-century memory economy manifest in a variety of mixed-media practices. From photographs and hybrid photo-paintings to portraits on metal, behind glass cases, and in crystal balls, Charpy draws on a wealth of archival material, including wills and bankruptcy inventories, to reconstruct the personal and private archive construction and lineage with the help of portraits. If portraits and their popular paraphernalia fall outside the traditional art-historical discourse of portraiture, so too do the various portraits analyzed by Michael Garval. Considering the rediscovery of the seventeenth-century maître d'hôtel François Vatel in the context of the legitimization of the culinary profession in post-revolutionary France, Garval traces the popular representation of Vatel in text and image. He shows that shared iconographic features of portraits of Vatel disappear and his images increasingly become place-holders to be filled by future striving chefs, in the wider context of what he analyzes as "culinary intermediality."

Edward Nye also explores the function of portrait representations in the construction of cultural celebrity. Instead of buttressing the prestige of a new profession as in the case of Vatel, Nye examines the embodiment of new artistic and socio-political values in the creation of a cultural hero in the wake of the social upheavals of the July Revolution of 1830. More specifically, Nye studies Jules Janin's 1832 biography of the mime artist Jean-Gaspard Deburau, an illustrated text that significantly contributed to the fame of the previously obscure actor. Through detailed text and image analysis, Nye shows the extent to which portraitomanie also serves a political purpose in Janin's case, namely, the creation of Deburau as an ideal working-class artist, a notion that resonates more widely with socialist ideas of the time.

The next two articles move into the cultural sphere of journalism, an area where most of the nineteenth-century technological inventions of portrait (re)production were first applied. Adeline Wrona examines portraits of Émile de Girardin, the founder of modern journalism in France, and his role as both the subject and object of portrait production and dissemination. Considering a number of portraits in a variety of media—drawing, engraving, photography—Wrona shows that the cultural capital of 'visibilité' is highly ambiguous in Girardin's case. This case shows that in the context of the rise of mass media, portraiture and portraitomanie are fundamentally Janus-faced, with singularization and de-singularization coexisting in equal measure.

Whereas Wrona contemplates portraits of Girardin, Elizabeth Emery examines the multi-media portraits by Adolphe Brisson. Taking Brisson's [End Page 8] written portrait of Maeterlinck as an example of his prolific journalistic-literary writing, she traces this text, its intermedial features, and visual references through re-writings that were published in different outlets, from print-journal publication to multi-volume book. Brisson's cultural achievement is analyzed as the creation of a new literary genre that combines the traditional literary portrait with the more prosaic form of the journalistic interview. Revealing the different layers of Brisson's portrait of the Belgian writer, Emery examines rich literal and figurative visual references. Thus she not only confirms the journalist's significant contribution to portraitomanie, she also demonstrates his importance as the founder of French photojournalism.

The theme of kinship between portraitomanie, journalism, and portraits of literary figures is relevant to Kathrin Yacavone's discussion of Nadar and George Sand. She analyzes Nadar's prolific depictions of Sand against the background of his journalistic activities in written and visual portraiture, as well as the rise of lithography at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Instead of focusing exclusively on Nadar's famous photographic portraits, Yacavone pays attention to his 1854 Panthéon, a lithographic print that entails transmedial shifts of portraits of Sand as well as intermedial features in representing her in the form of a sculpture bust, while also revealing the wider context of biographical writing that informed this work. While Yacavone considers Nadar as a major promotor of portraitomanie in written and verbal forms, Julien Zanetta examines the phenomenon from the reverse perspective of Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly's critique of the biographical and photographic portrait. Focusing on one of the fiercest critics of the mid-nineteenth-century rise of the portrait and its transmedial aspects, Zanetta discusses the elitist notion of the portrait that was undermined by more democratic artistic, cultural, and technological developments, which peaked with the invention of photography. Zanetta shows that Barbey's conservative critique of portraiture in various media is attacked as the symptom of what the critic perceives as the general mediocrity of nineteenth-century art and society.

The pathological topoi of narcissism and vanity that go hand in hand with the 'mania' surrounding portraiture are taken up again in the final contribution by Érika Wicky, this time, however, from the perspective of material culture. Wicky shows how, over the course of the eighteenth century, mirrors began to replace history paintings in private and public spaces, culminating in an industry of mirrors in the nineteenth century, in parallel with the industry of photographic portraiture. Through the double figure of Narcissus and Psyche, and a history of the mirror as a further material support for portraitomanie, she traces the conjoined discourses of narcissism and ugliness as applied to [End Page 9] both mirrors and photography. Portraitomanie is thus analyzed as a simultaneously material and ephemeral phenomenon in which bourgeois self-perception overlaps with the perception of the self. Taken together, these articles break new ground with respect to close analysis of nineteenth-century portraiture as a social-cultural and artistic phenomenon challenging traditional medial, formal, class, and gender hierarchies. In the process and although arriving at portraitomanie from diverse disciplinary trajectories, they further promote the visual- and material-cultural turn in French studies.19

Érika Wicky
Collegium de Lyon, Institute for Advanced Study and University of Nottingham
Kathrin Yacavone
Collegium de Lyon, Institute for Advanced Study and University of Nottingham


1. "Boîte du Diable," Asmodée: Journal de la littérature, des arts, des théâtres et des modes (June 13, 1847).

2. Philibert Audebrand, "De certains portraits," La Sylphide (Oct. 10, 1853).

3. "Premièrement, il [Disdéri] a compris le rôle que le portrait pouvait jouer dans les échanges usuels, non seulement de l'amitié, mais de la simple politesse,—et il a créé le portrait-carte." J. R., "Ce qui peut faire un photographe," Le journal amusant (Nov. 23, 1861).

4. Nadar, Quand j'étais photographe (Paris: Seuil/L'École des lettres, 1994), 254.

5. See Dominic Pety, Poétique de la collection au XIXe siècle: Du document de l'historien au bibelot de l'esthète (Paris: Presses Universitaires de Paris Ouest, 2010).

6. Victor Fournel, "La portraituromanie, considérations sur le daguerreotype," Ce que l'on voit dans les rues de Paris (Paris: Adolphe Delahays, 1858).

7. In his famous engraving from 1839, Maurisset also refers to the passion for the portrait in terms of "deggéréotypolâtrie," emphasizing the religious aspect of the phenomenon.

8. N. David, "L'album-manie," La Sylphide (Feb. 28, 1863).

9. For instance, "Voltairomanie" (1738), "lacrimanie" (1776), "foutromanie" (1776), and so on.

10. "Il est incontestable, en effet, que jamais, au grand jamais, la portraitomanie n'a sévi sur une époque aussi furieusement que sur la nôtre en ce moment, et que cette névrose-là n'est pas de celles, assurément, qui s'imposent avec le moins d'attention aux méditations des Charcot, et des sous-Chacot de la France et de l'étranger." Gustave Goetschy, "La portraitomanie," Le matin (Nov. 22, 1885).

11. Charles Baudelaire, "Salon de 1859," Œuvres complètes (Paris: Gallimard, 1976), 2:617. See also Anne McCauley's important study on the nineteenth-century French history of photography, Industrial Madness: Commercial Photography in Paris 1848–1871 (New Haven: Yale U P, 1994).

12. Adeline Wrona, Face au portrait: De Sainte-Beuve à Facebook (Paris: Hermann, 2012).

13. "Vous allez tout bonnement poser chez Disdéri; on tire votre portrait avec les procédés et la rapidité ordinaires. Une fois l'épreuve obtenue, on amplifie sur toile par les moyens de grossissements habituels jusqu'à la dimension demandée par le client, grandeur naturelle, demi-nature, buste, etc. C'est une simple question de prix. La toile ainsi préparée est remise à un artiste de talent […]." A., "La photo-peinture," La vie parisienne (Jan. 7, 1865).

14. See Fabienne Bercegol, ed., Le portrait, Romantisme, 176:2 (2017) and, for a study on the photographic representation of writers (albeit not exclusively focused on the portrait), David Martens, Jean-Pierre Montier, and Anne Reverseau, eds., L'écrivain vu par la photographie: Formes, usages, enjeux (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2017). More specific, but closely related works include Martial Guédron's La grimace: Cinq siècles d'excès du visage (Paris: Hazan, 2011) and Visage(s): Sens et representations en Occident (Paris: Hazan, 2015); Adeline Wrona's Face au portrait; Elizabeth Emery's Photojournalism and the Origins of the French Writer House Museum (1881–1914): Privacy, Publicity, and Personality (Farnhem: Ashgate, 2012); and Michael Garval's "A Dream of Stone": Fame, Vision, and Monumentality in Nineteenth-Century French Literary Culture (Newark: U Delaware P, 2004).

15. Werner Wolf, "Intermediality," in David Herman, Manfred Jahn, and Marie-Laure Ryan, eds., Routledge Encyclopedia of Narrative Theory (London: Routledge, 2005), 253.

16. For an excellent overview of intermedial studies, its history, and main concepts and representatives, see Gabriele Rippl, ed., Handbook of Intermediality: Literature—Image—Sound—Music (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), "Introduction," 1–14.

17. W. J. T. Mitchell, Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1986); Hans Belting, An Anthropology of Images: Picture, Medium, Body, Thomas Dunlap, trans. (Princeton: Princeton U P, 2011); Werner Wolf, Selected Essays on Intermediality by Werner Wolf (1992–2014), Walter Bernhart, ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2017).

18. Bernd Herzogenrath, "Travels in Intermedia[lity]: An Introduction," in Bernd Herzogenrath, ed., Travels in Intermedia[lity]: Reblurring the Boundaries (Hannover: Dartmouth College Press, 2012), 2.

19. As part of this collaborative publication, a public study day was held at the Institute of Modern Languages Research (London) in September 2018. We wish to thank all the participants and especially the three respondents, Frédérique Débuisson, Maria Scott, and Richard Wrigley, for their criticism, thoughts, and ideas. Heartfelt thanks also go to the staff at the IMLR for their help in hosting the event, especially Cathy Collins and Jenny Stubbs. The Society for French Studies, the Cassal Endowment Fund, and the University of Nottingham International Collaboration Fund supported the event financially, for which we are very grateful.

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