Two birth and death processes in continuous time are used in the book. The first is the Yule process, the pure birth process with constant per capita birth rate. The distribution of the number of individuals at any given time is derived, and its asymptotically exponential growth, together with the convergence of the age distribution, are also established. The process is used in the analysis of shortest path lengths in small world processes. The second process is the immigration–death process with constant immigration rate and constant per capita death rate, for which the distribution of the number of individuals at any given time and its distance in total variation from its equilibrium Poisson distribution are investigated. Multitype generalizations are also introduced, in which individuals may have any one of a number of different types. These processes are of purely technical interest and are used in deriving properties of the solutions to the Stein equations associated with the Poisson distribution and its generalizations.

In 1919, Émile Jaques-Dalcroze's former student, musician Christine Baer-Frissell (1888–1932), took over the school that was originally known as the Bildungsanstalt für Musik und Rhythmus Émile Jaques-Dalcroze. In that same year, dancer Valeria Kratina (1892–1983) joined her, and musicologist and Dalcroze teacher Ernst Ferand (1887–1972) arrived in Dresden in 1920. All three had studied with Jaques-Dalcroze and obtained diplomas in Hellerau- Dresden before World War I. In the 1960s, Valeria Kratina reminisced about their work in Hellerau in a letter to her former student and colleague Rosalia Chladek (1905–95):

It is the greatest merit of her life that after the sufferings of the war years, my colleague from the first Dalcroze period, Ms. Christine Baer-Frissell, decided to establish the Schule Hellerau in the neglected institute of Jaques-Dalcroze. She also invited Ernst Ferand and me. And we revitalized something that once used to be living. A newly formed rhythmics, improvisation, ear training and dance from the spirit of music.

Led by Baer-Frissell, Ferand, and Kratina, the school developed into one of the leading institutes of rhythmics, movement, and dance education in interwar Europe. Despite its popularity in its own time, the post-Jaques- Dalcroze Hellerau is rarely mentioned in standard dance-history books, and its artists have no place in the dance-history canon.

This chapter provides an overview of agricultural production in ancient North Africa, including Cyrenaica, Tripolitania, Africa Proconsularis, Numidia, Mauretania Caesariensis and Tingitana. These regions are characterised by a dense and prolonged distribution of farms with press installations. Surplus exportation of commodities on the regional, intraregional and interregional scale is attested by conspicuous ceramic and amphorae finds.

A week later, the church having attributed his violent death to an attack of melancholia, the funeral was in the Augustinian Church, and the Petofy coat of arms stood at the head of the catafalque, which was draped in a black velvet pall with a silver cross. Sitting in a semi-circle around the altar were his next of kin, and more distant mourners from the Asperg and Gundolskirchen families, while the entire nave of the church was agleam with uniforms. With them, a multitude of people. For the departed had at all times practiced works of mercy and had been a Christian in his deeds, however much his words might have denied it. Many people, of course, had come just out of curiosity and related in whispers what they had heard about his death: he had been leaning back in his desk chair, with no signs of outward injury at first glance, or indeed of what had happened, for he died of internal bleeding. There was speculation, too, about what had led to his death: that it had to do with a newly vacant post at court, which in earlier days had always been the preserve of the Petofys. But the emperor had been against it, either because of the young countess, or, even now, because of ‘49 and the revolution. And the old count couldn't get over that. Such was the conversation. Everyone fell silent, though, at the moment when Father Fessler appeared before the altar, and with his characteristic dignity, almost like some prince of the church, began the celebration of the funeral mass. The responsories rang out, and the candles in the crape-wound candleholders burned darker than usual, in the cloud of incense that enveloped them.

This essay focuses on rebellions against the rulers of Germany in the later Middle Ages. There were no rebellions as such against the German kings during this period, however, because there was no ‘German king’. Since the eleventh century, the ruler of Germany had borne the title Rex Romanorum (king of the Romans) and the later addition postmodum in imperatorem promovendus (later to be promoted to be emperor) showed where this king was bound: the German ruler would potentially be crowned as emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. Since Otto I's coronation in Rome as emperor in 962, many German rulers had succeeded him on the imperial throne. Thus, the king sitting on the German throne looked with one eye to Italy, and during the period of the Hohenstaufen dynasty he often looked there with both eyes as well. Friedrich II, emperor (r.1220–50) and king (r.1212–50), who was both born and raised in Italy, spent most of his life in his Sicilian kingdom. After an absence of fifteen years, in 1235 he visited Germany for the final time.

The article starts from the consideration of the important role played by the rural landscape of the Roman age in the formation of the contemporary Italian landscape and illustrates some cases of valorization of Roman villas also for the development of new forms of cultural tourism and cultural economy

Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s encounters with the works of Caribbean intellectuals – C.L.R. James, George Lamming and Frantz Fanon – helped him crystallize global blackness around the nexus between race and geography vis à vis politics of domination and resistance. Emerging from Ngugi’s encounter with Caribbean life and thought were his pronouncements on the mismatch between aspiration and deprivation of the postcolonial, post-plantation/post-slavery Caribbean inhabitants. Their experiences, variously and collectively, signalled to Ngugi the importance of language as a cultural currency with which the formerly enslaved and/or colonised people could assert their being in and of the world, and negotiate their place in discursive praxes that had for long defaulted to European languages as the most appropriate vehicles of expression. These processes played out against the backdrop of painful histories, which had raptured the Caribbean islanders’ and some Africans’ attachment to cultures, economics and geographies, due to slavery and colonial violence. Ngugi’s encounter with Caribbean history and culture through the creative and critical works of James, Lamming and Fanon rendered the Caribbean a nucleus that Ngugi germinated and nurtured to expound on his earlier thoughts in subsequent collections of essays and memoirs that amplified his concerns with ‘decolonising the mind’ and ‘moving the centre’.

The history of the Catholic Worker movement (CW) within Britain dates from 1935, just two years after the founding of the first community in America. Despite this, relatively little attention has been paid to the movement within the British context, and it is still treated as a distinctly American phenomenon. Whilst swathes of literature abound attesting to the significance of the CW for American lay Catholicism, the way the movement has impacted British Catholicism has been neglected. There is some documentation on the early years of the British movement, but a complete history from its inception until the present day remains lacking. In part, charting a complete history of the CW in Britain is made difficult due to there being very little written documentation; the years 1959-–1993 in particular hold almost no written account. Where the movement has received attention during this period, it is mostly mentioned only in passing during the exploration of other lay societies. Focus on the contemporary movement has also been somewhat atomised, focusing on select activities of the CW, such as their involvement in Ploughshares activism, or Christian anarchism. The present chapter will seek to redress this by offering a holistic history of the movement within Britain, exploring also its impact on lay social Catholicism. Whilst literature on the movement in Britain is limited, archives of the CW newspaper have been well preserved; this chapter heavily relies on these primary sources, as well as oral histories taken from those involved with the CW, to provide a coherent narrative.

This review needs to be read in the shadow of the disastrous failure of Benvenuto Cellini at the Opéra the previous year, and of Berlioz's caustic letter to the Opéra director Duponchel of March 1839, informing him that ‘I withdraw my opera Benvenuto. I am perfectly convinced that you will receive this news with pleasure’. The director of the Théâtre de la Renaissance, Anténor Joly (1799–1852), had planned to open a new Paris opera house, something until then forbidden by a decree of 1807. This plan was widely supported by the intelligentsia, including Meyerbeer. The final boost came from Victor Hugo, who persuaded the relevant minister to expand ‘la petite salle Ventadour’ into a theatre that would accommodate his recently completed drama Ruy Blas, which ran for some fifty performances. The French version of Lucia di Lammermoor followed. The phrase ‘lively intelligence, courage, and patience’ is surely as much a dig at Duponchel as a tribute to Joly.

The administration of the Théâtre de la Renaissance has made great efforts to supply us with a third opera house. For a long time, I must confess, these efforts seemed to me futile, but the striking success of their last attempt is beginning to soften my conviction. An enterprise which, without a grant or active, powerful support, has managed to reach the point where we find it, must possess a greater vitality than one imagined, and secrets of success one hadn't expected. They consist to a considerable degree in the lively intelligence, courage, and patience of the director. I have heard him reproached, it's true, for having chosen an Italian opera as the first major score to be performed in his theatre.

The range of short Middle English poems in Aberystwyth, National Library of Wales, MS Brogyntyn ii.1, in keeping with the miscellaneous nature of the collection as a whole, is strikingly wide. The twenty-four short poems dispersed across the manuscript offer moral, spiritual and practical instruction, together with prompts to diversion and celebration, and bring a multiplicity of voices into play. Generically diverse, they include examples of carol, chanson d’aventure, dialogue, epistle, and refrain poem; formally, they are constructed in couplets, tail-rhyme, and the favourite fifteenth-century ballade and rhyme royal stanzas. Both their number and diversity, when compared with the short poems included in other fifteenth-century all-purpose miscellanies, invite scrutiny. What attractions might this range of items have had for the compilers (and, by implication, the likely readers) of MS Brogyntyn ii. 1? In what forms might the poems have been available to them, and what principles or practical considerations might have determined the selection of short poems that they made?

The disposition of short poems in the manuscript

Across the manuscript as a whole the disposition of short poems sheds a little light on the principles that determined their placement (the following analysis maps their occurrence onto the structure of the manuscript according to Daniel Huws's collation, and numbers the items in bold according to the contents list in the appendix to this volume).

October 1940

German Listeners!

A German author speaks to you, whose work and person are outlawed by your rulers, and whose books—even when they deal with the most German matters, with Goethe for example—can only speak to foreign, free peoples, in their languages—while they must remain silent and unknown to you. My works will return to you someday, this I know, even if I myself no longer can. As long as I live, however, and even as a citizen of the New World, I will be a German, and will suffer under the fate of Germany, and under everything that Germany has inflicted on the world for the past seven years, morally and physically, through the will of criminal, violent brutes. During these years, the unshakeable conviction that this can come to no good end has time and again inspired me to deliver words of warning, some of which, I believe, have reached your ears. In the present state of war it has become impossible for the written word to penetrate the rampart that tyranny has erected around you. Therefore, I gladly embrace the opportunity offered to me by the British authorities to report to you from time to time on what I see here, in America, the great and free nation in which I have found a home.

This chapter theorizes place as both an object and an agent of renewal, taking, as its case study, Ben Jonson’s revision of Every Man in His Humour. Although the play was set in Florence when first performed by the Lord Chamberlain’s Men in 1598, Jonson shifts that setting to London when preparing Every Man in His Humour for his 1616 folio. Beneath this remarkable change lie several striking continuities, including Jonson’s repeated allusions to the New World. Such allusions are effectively reprinted in the 1616 folio, and yet they are simultaneously rewritten through Jonson’s change of setting. To trace the effects of such rewriting, the chapter documents the deepening imbrication of England and the New World in the first decades of the seventeenth century, showing, in turn, how Jonson’s revisions of Every Man in His Humour both acknowledge and manage the consequences of this imbrication for his comedy of humors.