This chapter traces the process by which villages became cities and city-states, which grew in some places into larger-scale states and empires, with a focus on the social institutions and cultural norms that facilitated these developments, including hereditary dynasties, hierarchical families, and notions of ethnicity. Writing and other means of recording information were invented to serve the needs of people who lived close to one another in cities and states. Oral rituals of worship, healing, and celebration in which everyone participated grew into religions, philosophies, and branches of knowledge presided over by specialists, including Judaism and Confucian thought. Social differences became formalized in systems that divided enslaved and free, or that grouped people into castes or orders, distinctions that were maintained through marriage and cultural ideologies. Hinduism, Buddhism, and Christianity were created and then expanded in the cosmopolitan worlds of classical empires, shaping family life and social practices.

Between 639 and the nineteenth century the Basilica of Saint-Denis was the burial place of forty-three kings and thirty-two queens of France. Cavaillé- Coll's initial proposal was for an organ of eighty-four stops, to be built over three years at a cost of 80,000 francs. Delays in the rebuilding of the cathedral allowed him time to reduce the stops to seventy-one.

The magnificent instrument M. Cavaillé has installed in the Église Saint-Denis has received unanimous approval. Even the maker's rivals are agreed in praising it, and organists can't stifle the regret that such a fine piece of work does emphatically not belong to Paris. It is indeed an admirable organ which combines, together with the finest qualities of the best organs of its kind, others which are unique to itself, thanks to details invented beyond doubt by M. Cavaillé. Its diapasons are very powerful, the reeds very strong and sonorous, and the cor anglais stop has a delightful timbre. There is a slight fault in the sixteen-foot stops in that the pedals are slow to speak. A remarkable new effect is that of the crescendo achieved by a mechanism placed under the feet but above the pedals, and which allows the organist to add as many stops as he likes without taking his hands off the keyboard. This is truly splendid, and you have to hear the build-up of these choruses, these accumulating orchestras, to have a real idea of this invention's merits. The vox humana, which seems to have been made in imitation of that in Fribourg, is far from being as perfect.

One of Valencia's most spectacular and sometimes lucrative periods of literary production spanned the fourteenth to the beginning of the sixteenth century. The burgeoning literary industry was kindled by the invention of the printing press in the fifteenth century and the consolidation of the city's professional managers, such as physicians, lawyers, and religious personnel, individuals who were frequently multi-vocational, as in the case of Jaume Roig. The new technology and frequent multi-professionalism of writers at the time were of fundamental importance to the Espill's print history, since the bound text was often accompanied by a select number of other titles in the same volume, several of which were written collaboratively by multi-professional men like Roig. To my knowledge, no scholar has speculated about how many copies of the Espill might have been printed in the sixteenth century, although 54 extant volumes have been catalogued so far. This extraordinary number of printed copies of the Espill has only been widely brought to light in the last two to three decades, thanks to the efforts of the following scholars and academic teams: the monumental article of 2004 by Joan Mahiques Climent about the book's wide availability in print; an important article, although more limited in scope, by Josep Lluís Martos in 2014; Antònia Carré's summary of the topic in the introduction to her edition of 2014; and the ongoing cataloguing efforts over the last two to three decades of the scholarly teams at BITECA / PhiloBiblon and Iberian Books.

The individuals entitled to bounty or prize money were not likely to be able to take their cases to court. It was essential that an agent be appointed to work on the behalf of men still at sea, turned over into another ship, or who had died since the capture. The appointment was probably the captain's decision alone, but every member of the crew had to signify his agreement for this to provide maximum benefit to all. The importance of this legal document can be seen in the meticulous copy made for the use of the court, carefully filed and indexed. These documents do not make clear the status of the individual. That happened later.

• • The identity of the vessel and the date of the document is made clear

• • The identity of the agent and his address is established

• • The prize is named, together with any other vessels involved in the capture

• • The agent is instructed to act on behalf of the captor to receive the bounty or Head Money, sell the prize and everything pertaining to her, before distributing the prize money to the officers and crew

• • The agent is entitled to retain five per cent of the proceeds of the capture

• • This Power of Attorney is dated 7 February 1758

• • A note on the cover of the document adds the information that the prize was condemned on 18 March 1758

• James Henshaw's form contains the same instructions but without the visual effect of the Dispatch's brilliantly decorated legal document.

The court records compiled by William Burrell are indispensable to a researcher into the legal world of naval prizes in the eighteenth century. He provides the barest outline of the cases he quotes, but for each example there is just enough to give a flavour of the legal point at issue, and the justification behind the judgement.

In this case the master of the merchant vessel Pompey, smuggling goods from Monte Christi to Philadelphia, needed to conceal the fact that she was carrying contraband. He had made an agreement with the master of the privateer Charming Sally, to pretend that she had been taken, and was a prize. As a prize the Pompey would normally have been exempt from search by the small British squadron in the West Indies. John Lindsay, Trent (28), was suspicious and took possession of both vessels. He returned to Jamaica with Pompey and declared her his prize for having broken the law.

The law in this case was clear. The Pompey had colluded with the Charming Sally and had pretended to have been captured. The evidence that emerged in the interrogation of the master was damning. Pompey had been provided with a copy of Charming Sally's commission. This however did not protect her, but was the evidence of her collusion.

The monition for John Lindsay's case to be heard in Jamaica was dated 21 December 1761. On 19 March 1762, only three months later, the vessel was confiscated and declared a Droit, with one half of the value of her sale going to the King, the other half to John Lindsay.

The Admiralty's standing exhortation to its captains, incorporated in every commission, was to ‘protect the trade and annoy the enemy’, and with a little help from private enterprise, they did succeed in annoying the enemy. This book is not about privateering activities. These were a way of employing private enterprise to assist in the reduction of the enemy's trade, as every prize taken by a privateer weakened the trading wealth of the enemy and reduced the number of men available to the French navy, at no cost to the naval administration. Instead the focus has been on the activities of the young men who were captains of sloops and frigates, and so involved in individual captures, rather than those in the larger ships, highly enough rated to fight in the line of battle as ‘ships of the line’. There were fleet actions during the war, and they play their part in the story, but John Elliot was not the only captain content to stay in a sixth rate frigate rather than receive the higher pay due to a captain in a larger ship. He was much more likely to win prize money. In the time of Queen Anne there had been restrictions on the behaviour of the captors, and these restrictions still applied. Furthermore, British ships of war or privateers were expressly forbidden to ransom any ship taken as prize, in order to reduce the men available to the French. The commander of a privateer who did so ‘shall forfeit his commission to all intents and purposes and shall, together with his bail, be proceeded against according to the Law, and be condemned in costs and damages’.

I had left Columbia assuming I would never be a professor. Eight years later, I was one, although at a progressive college that doesn't use the term.

I used to say that I was “Half of Vivian,” since she was now half-time and we taught in the same classroom. I also told her that I thought we had been “married in a previous life.”

What was literally true was that my father remembered seeing her at the piano during the 1930s, when he had briefly composed for musical theatre and for the dance duo Gluck Sandor and Felicia Sorel. He and Vivian had both come from Chicago to New York, seeking a life in its artistic community. My father had even once brought some of his music to show to Aaron Copland, a mentor figure of Vivian's during the years she was a sought-after pianist, expert in new music.

While I felt a strong human connection to her, I was not yet able to entirely connect with her music; its language held me at arm's length. It was only many years later, when I taught classes about her music, that I began to fully appreciate what she had achieved and better understand her unique evolution. At this time, I identified most easily with Lionel's compositional world—rooted in his pianism, eccentric, personal, and temperamentally dark—and there was a kind of symbiotic connection between us.

I had not known him before his stroke. By some accounts, the man I encountered in the summer of 1983 and got to know so well after 1985 was warmer and more emotionally available than he had been earlier in life.

A d-dimensional (bar-and-joint) framework (G, p) consists of a graph G = (V, E) and a realisation p : V → Rd. It is rigid if every continuous motion of the vertices which preserves the lengths of the edges is induced by an isometry of Rd. The study of rigid frameworks has increased rapidly since the 1970’s, stimulated by numerous applications in areas such as civil and mechanical engineering, CAD, molecular conformation, sensor network localisation, and low rank matrix completion. We will describe some of the main results in combinatorial rigidity theory and their applications to other areas of combinatorics, putting an emphasis on links to matroid theory.

The Belgian instrument-maker Adolphe Sax (1814–94) arrived in Paris in 1842. In the first edition of Berlioz's Grand Traité, of the Sax instruments only the saxophone is considered; others, such as saxhorns, are treated in the second edition (1855). Berlioz's promotion of Sax's work helped get him established in Paris; in another quid pro quo (cf. that with Alexandre; see article 42), Sax in turn offered Berlioz facilities for rehearsal and storing the considerable quantity of performing parts needed for his concerts.

The size of concert halls is generally proportionate to the love the public are supposed to have for music, and their interior arrangement is in keeping with the kind of music to be performed there. That's why we don't have a large concert hall in Paris. There are halls for banquets, halls for balls, halls for drawing lots for military conscription etc., but we haven't got a single concert-hall worthy of the name that can be hired when you need one. Hence the impossibility of performing certain compositions, if theatres either won't or can't be transformed into concert halls, and especially during the winter when the exclusive use of the furniture repository of the Crown, itself extremely small, is reserved for the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire.

Some years ago, M. Herz had an excellent hall built for medium-sized concerts, that is for those where you can hear instrumentalists and singers accompanied by a piano or small orchestra. But even apart from the fact that the stage is badly placed for even a body of forty performers, it's impossible for seating the large orchestra of today; from which it follows that one can't even think of adding any kind of chorus.

I entered medieval studies when a great loss had rocked the Arthurian world. Maureen Fries, the godmother of feminist Arthurian studies, died in 1999. Two years later, Fiona Tolhurst and Bonnie Wheeler published a Festschrift in her honor: On Arthurian Women: Essays in Memory of Maureen Fries. It was a collection very much like this one for a beloved scholar whose life – and whose loss – would forever shape her colleagues, students, and friends. Now, writing in honor of Fiona Tolhurst herself, whose death occurred two years ago – not long after I left the field – I can't help but feel that my journey has ended where it began, with a tragic loss, with a beloved, bright light flickering out.

He could now see clearly; and there was only one thing he could not see clearly—what was to be done. Should he take as a model that ridiculous duke, whom Judith had judged so unsparingly with the simple words, “I think it's overdone”? No, that would never do … And what, in any case, had actually happened? Only that which had to happen. Had he not always prided himself on his knowledge of the world and people and, above all, on his freedom from prejudice with regard to what he called the natural course of things? What now gave him the right to assume that this natural course of things would turn into its opposite for his sake?

He had returned from sister Judith's to the other wing of the mansion, and now, deep in such reflections, which constantly turned into self-accusations, he paced up and down on the rug in his room. He opened the window and looked down on the quiet street; the sounds of the city could be heard, muted, from the distance. An open carriage with a young couple in it rolled past, and the gaslight from the lanterns fell on the slender figure of a girl or woman who was leaning, tired and happy, on the shoulder of her sweetheart.

“They’re young and in love. And that's natural! I was a fool to think up something for myself—half Scheherazade but half St. Elizabeth; a lady of fashion, but at the same time, a nun; a female esprit fort, but in a cloister.