This chapter offers a detailed literary analysis of Theodore Prodromos’ Katomyomachia, highlighting its theatrical aspects, its clever use of textual and structural parody, its function as a school text, and its position within Byzantine beast literature, with a particular emphasis on the ‘Aesopic’ as a literary mode.

Nicholas Kallikles’ poem 29 Εἰς τὰ ῥόδα is a rich and fascinating text which resists its classification as religious epigram and rather inscribes itself in the tradition of spring ekphrasis, of which it constitutes a good twelfth-century example. The relevance given to themes such as learning and rhetorical ability, whose importance is strongly stressed, and the analogies that the text shows with poems related to school contests suggest that it was probably intended to be performed as the opening of a school competition taking place in the theatron. The existence, in mss. Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Pal. gr. 92 and Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, conv. soppr. 2, of a schedos on spring attributed to Kallikles and showing some points of contacts with poem 29 supports this hypothesis and suggests that Kallikles, known mainly for his medical teaching, might have engaged for some time also in the teaching of grammar and rhetoric.

I start with the international political setting after VE-day and the disagreements, also over reparations, that the four Allied Powers ran into after the Potsdam Agreement of August 1945. This stipulated that Germany should be treated as a single economic unit by the Allied Control Council. The Council of Foreign Ministers was established to prepare a peace treaty with Germany. It failed despite its several conferences 1945 to December 1947. For US Military Governor in Berlin, General Lucius D. Clay, Gerhard Colm and Raymond Goldsmith, Jewish economists who had emigrated from Germany 1933/34 to the US, had produced a currency-reform plan already in May 1946. Clay tabled it in the Allied Control Council in September 1946, where it got stuck. These developments progressively increased the danger of a partition of Germany. A separate currency reform would automatically entail political partition. I pinpoint the day the dice were cast in Washington DC 1. on giving up on a currency reform with the Soviets: 11 March 1948, and 2. on printing Deutschmarks in the USA: 13 October 1947. I then deal with Tenenbaum’s leading roles among all Western currency experts and in the top-secret meeting with eleven West German financial experts at Rothwesten. Lastly, I analyze the reform of 20 June 1948, C-day, itself, its consequences, and assessments.

Here I concisely summarize Tenenbaum’s currency-reform activities in West Germany. I pick up the question what role the Reich Group Industry, managed by Ludwig Erhard’s brother-in-law, who in 1943 commissioned Ludwig Erhard’s study "War Financing and Debt Consolidation," had played in Erhard’s second turncoat behavior up to his unsolicited application for commissions by the US Occupation Power. I praise General Lucius D. Clay’s shrewdness in using Erhard with his free market rhetoric as a pawn in the struggle to keep socialism and communism in West Germany at bay. I advance a thesis why Erhard appropriated Tenenbaum’s merit. In the first two postwar decades, it seems to have been mentally impossible for the people of defeated Germany – still infected by Nazi antisemitism - to recognize and appreciate the fact that the basis of West Germany’s resurgence, the currency reform of 1948, was owed to Jewish masterminds. I conclude with a comparison of Tenenbaum’s and Erhard’s characters.

Chapter 6 is concerned with the role of the West India Regiments in maintaining and expanding Britain’s African empire in the final decades of the nineteenth century. The particular focus is the 1873-74 Anglo-Asante War, the first colonial campaign to capture the British public’s imagination and one which made a household name of commanding officer Garnet Joseph Wolseley (1833-1913). The Asante were among Britain’s most consistent antagonists in the imperial theatre and held a long-standing place within European discourses of African ‘savagery’. Warfare against them was cast as an interracial struggle. However, the involvement of the West India Regiments complicated this picture and the chapter compares the depiction of the regiments’ soldiers with that of Britain’s Asante enemies and local Fante allies. It also considers the military role allotted to the West India Regiment soldiers as the campaign developed, including the fact that they were used as baggage-handlers for the White regiments during the final march on Kumasi and were not permitted to enter the Asante capital. This shows that the way in which their constrained martial image, such that they were neither White ‘soldiers’ nor African ‘warriors’, had consequences in the military field.

Was the stylistic exuberance and formal ambition of twelfth-century classicizing prose linked to the unprecedented study of ancient poetry during this period? Why would aspiring prose writers have been nurtured largely in verse? Long accustomed to regard Byzantine interest in ancient poetry as culturally antiquarian in nature, we have been less alert to the formal lessons available to aspiring Byzantine authors, most of whom would go on to compose in prose instead of verse. By tracing the long history of poetry as the school of prose, this chapter draws examples from Eustathios’ Parekbolai or ‘commentaries’ on Homeric epic in a bid to illustrate attempts to render Byzantine prose more ‘poetic’. The author thus hopes to underline the reciprocal and often seamless relation between prose and verse in the twelfth century and what this may teach us about both during what is widely regarded as the most innovative period in Byzantine literature.

This chapter presents eleven epigrams (forty-nine dodecasyllables) copied in the margins of a number of manuscripts of Herodotus’ Histories, the most important being Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Plut. 70.6. The epigrams comment on the text of Herodotus next to which they appear, and thus can be characterized as verse scholia. These poems, which the author of this chapter has critically edited in a recent article, were known to scholars, but they had been misattributed to John Tzetzes. In fact, Tzetzes’ verse scholia on Herodotus survive in another manuscript (Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Plut. 70.3), whereas our poems have more in common with the verse scholia on Diodorus Siculus in Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, gr. 130. The authorial voice of Tzetzes and the attribution of the poems in Vat. gr. 130 to Niketas Choniates are investigated to help determine the context of composition of our verse scholia on Herodotus. On the basis of this comparison and other internal evidence, this chapter concludes that our eleven epigrams were first copied in the model of Laur. Plut. 70.6 at some point between 1204 and 1318, and probably before 1261.

Even after the soldiers of the West India Regiments helped to suppress enslaved uprisings in Barbados (1816) and Demerara (1823), they continued to be objects of suspicion. This chapter examines the efforts that commanding officers and supporters of the regiments made to challenge such opposition by seeking to manage the image of their Black soldiers and portray them in a favourable light. What emerged was the ‘steady Black soldier’, an ambiguous racial-martial figure that was simultaneously soldierly yet passive. This theme is explored through both the predominant representation of the soldiers as standing ‘ready for inspection’ and the elision of any active military role. This image is placed in the context of wider debates about the figure of the Black subject that characterised the contemporaneous controversy over slavery and it will be argued that the steady Black soldier represents the military equivalent to the kneeling enslaved figure promulgated by anti-slavery advocates.