In the sixteenth year, Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury and legate of the apos¬tolic see, held a general council in London in the middle of Lent [18 March 1151], at which King Stephen, his son Eustace, and the nobility of England were present, and the whole of that council was anguished with new appeals. Now appeals were not in use in England until Henry, bishop of Winchester, while he was legate, brutally introduced them, to his own disadvantage.

Henry of Huntingdon's description of the introduction of appeals to papal authority in England is known to be an exaggeration motivated by his disapproval of Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester (1129–71). Appeals had been made to the papal curia from England during the reign of Henry I (1100–35). What his remark reflects, however, is an increase in appeals made to the pope during King Stephen's reign. Typically attributed to the condition of the kingdom arising from the civil war, histo¬rians have used appeal as an illustration of both royal weakness and the increased strength of the papacy. What has been neglected is what followed many of these appeals: the delegation of papal jurisdiction to local churchmen as papal judg¬es-delegate. Stubbs argued long ago that the civil war of Stephen's reign allows us to see the underlying realities of the twelfth-century world. He was talking about royal-aristocratic relations, but an investigation into papal judges-delegate in Stephen's reign illuminates similar complexities and can contribute both to our understanding of the early years of this new office and of the reign itself.

Introduction

Due to disease, unfavourable climatic conditions, and political unrest, the late Middle Ages was a time of contraction for European agriculture. Reduced demand for bread grains caused farming to become less intensive and more oriented towards animal production. This is even more true for the North Sea Lowlands, which in addition to all these problems also had to deal with the consequences of peat shrinkage, coastal erosion, and storm surges. Changes in agricultural technology and productivity remained limited in this period. There was considerable change in property relations and holding size in the countryside, however, and the more abundant sources of the late Middle Ages and sixteenth century enable tracking of those changes for several regions. For water management these changes were crucial, because the landowners, and especially the larger ones, determined the way in which water management was organised as well as who was liable for maintenance. Therefore, this chapter on late medieval agriculture will focus mostly on property relations.

During the late medieval and early modern periods, farming in the North Sea Lowlands went through profound changes. Until the sixteenth century unspecialised smallholdings mostly producing for subsistence were predominant. Then, here earlier, there later, larger farms producing for the market and employing wage labourers emerged. Often these large farms were run by tenants, but sometimes also by owner-occupiers or a combination of both. The rise of this class of independent, commercial producers had a profound impact on rural society.

Introduction

The Second Reclamation strengthened and accelerated a process that was already discernible in several regions in the late Middle Ages: the development towards large-scale, commercial, ‘capitalist’ farming. Of course, this tendency was strongest in the areas that had been reclaimed after c. 1550 and where new property relations emerged. Therefore, they will receive most attention, but the important question of whether this development also reached earlier reclaimed wetland regions such as the Holland–Utrecht fenlands will not be neglected. For this period, the development can be traced in more detail than for the Middle Ages, because, for the Dutch/Flemish regions in particular, data on holding size and distribution of landownership becomes much more abundant. This provides an opportunity to examine the progress of large-scale commercial farming in the wetlands and its causes. In particular, the case of Holland is interesting in this respect. According to Bas van Bavel property relations in the long run tended to be stable, although Holland in his view, was the exception to this rule, due to an impressive shift which took place there towards urban landownership. He assumes that those urban landowners introduced capitalist farming. Or is Jan de Vries right and did the ‘rural population [play] an active and major role’ in the transformation of the countryside? Five regions will be discussed: Flanders, Zeeland and the South Holland Islands; Holland; Guelders and Overijssel; the Wadden coast; and the English marshes and fens. The chapter concludes with a discussion on the question of whether the developments in these lowland areas can be characterised as the emergence of agrarian capitalism.

In May 1677, James Houblon, a London merchant, wrote to his friend Samuel Pepys about the practices of officers in King Charles II's navy in the Mediterranean. He complained about excessive drinking, feasting, gaming and swearing within the fleet. In particular Houblon warned that the ‘Kings ships may not be made Baudyhouses nor the Captaines publiquely carry and entertaine their whores on bord As some of them have formerly Done’ and that this behaviour caused ‘Greate scandall of our religion and Government’ in the region. At sea, away from scrutiny by their superiors, some naval officers believed they could act as they wished. This 1677 complaint was not the first or last time that allegations surfaced about inappropriate interactions between seamen and women who visited, or travelled on, seventeenth-century British warships. As many sailors adopted what Bernard Capp describes as a ‘casual attitude to marriage’ and an ‘opportunist attitude to sex’, incidents of this type are hardly surprising. The crews of Stuart warships received leave to go ashore with reasonable frequency, and J. D. Davies argues that their sex lives were ‘in the main, confined to the shore’. Studies of mariners’ heterosexual sexual activities generally concentrate on their time in port towns rather than at sea. Research into homosexuality and sailors, on the other hand, such as by B. R. Burg and Seth LeJacq, focuses more on instances at sea. As Houblon's letter demonstrates, British sailors engaged in sexual relationships with women who spent time on their vessels, and the propriety of some of these interactions was questionable.

This essay seeks to examine some of the different types of sexual liaison that took place on Stuart men-of-war. It begins by looking at the women who went on board these ships and their connections to the crew members they called on.

In this article I offer a glance into the life of a composer in time of war, through a firsthand account of the genesis of my most recent album Resonating Voices, an art song collection in three sections for alto, baritone and piano, the digital release entitled Songs and Interludes of Love, Loss and Hope.

Background

The war caught me at a very busy time: the beginning of my second tenure as chair of the music department at the University of Haifa, which I established in 1995. The season promised a wealth of international activity with the Cleveland Orchestra, Brussels Chamber Orchestra, and London's Opera Holland Park as well as domestic projects with orchestras and chamber musicians. I was starting to work on several new commissions while continuing my life as a composer, teacher, husband, and father. The war changed everything. On October 7, 2024, the State of Israel was attacked. Within hours, the southern region of the country suffered catastrophic loss of life as the country entered what was to become the lengthiest war in its history. The harsh reality of living under fire is difficult to explain to those who haven't experienced it. Besides the uncertainties regarding the safety of family, friends, and colleagues, any attempt to create a normal routine has been nearly impossible. A major factor in this new reality, up until the January 2025 ceasefire (this article was written at the end of February 2025), was that air raid sirens sounded three to four times a day as missiles were launched from Gaza, Syria, Lebanon and Iran, which created a nervous anticipation of the next interruption at work and at home, every day and every night at all hours.

As John Tolan's Saracens demonstrates, medieval Latin Christendom expressed varied and ultimately ambivalent attitudes towards the world of Islam. In historical terms, medieval Christians struggled to rationalise the expansion of Muslim control into Asia, Africa and Europe, while maintaining their belief that God's will determined victories. Despite this experience, late medieval Latin Christendom's representations of Islam tended to develop independently from personal encounters. These latter, fictional representations produced stereotypes that Suzanne Conklin Akbari relates to Edward Said's Orientalism, an interpretive framework that explains how human agency circumscribes the East and its occupants in order to define the West. However, Akbari also notes that some rather significant disparities emerge in a comparison of medieval with modern Orientalism: despite all its differences, the Middle Ages’ East existed as a point of origin for the whole world (in the Garden of Eden) and as a physical and temporal end (during the Apocalypse). When reevaluating Orientalism himself in 2001, Said noted that Islam cannot readily be located as an external other; it emerged within the geographical borders formed by classical antiquity.

Albeit here numbered as Thirteenth Century England XIX, to avoid confusion over its appearance ahead of its immediate predecessor in this series, this, in reality the twentieth such conference, took place in Heidelberg, in mid-September 2023, as ‘England and Germany: Economic, Social and Personal Connections and Comparisons’. This was the first time in its distinguished history that the Thirteenth Century Conference had travelled to Germany. Given the extent of Anglo-German entanglements across the reigns of the first five Plantagenet kings, the delay here was perhaps somewhat surprising. It is nevertheless easily explained. England remains the focus of the conference, for many years indeed known specifically as ‘Thirteenth Century England’. As most participants are based in the British Isles, English or Welsh universities have been its customary hosts. Not until 2009 did the conference travel overseas. Inevitably this was to Paris, in commemoration of the Treaty of 1259 in its 750th anniversary year. Not for a further fifteen years did an opportunity arise to transpose the event to Germany. This occurred almost by accident, as a result of a phone call between Jörg Peltzer and Andrew Spencer (at that time joint-host during the conference's stint in Cambridge). As a result, the fifth of the bi-annual conferences, originally scheduled for Cambridge in 2023, instead migrated from the Cam to the banks of the Neckar, and from Fenland flatness to the magnificently elevated Odenwald.

Heidelberg has a distinguished tradition of research into the history of thirteenth-century England and France.

This chapter discusses how photography can help us observe the place of children in Latin American society. Even though children make up a significant percentage of the Latin American population, they are particularly absent from the official records (Rocha 15, Hecht 5). With important exceptions, most children will normally be obliged to wait until they are grown up to see if their presence will be noted in most social and historical records (Guy 139–40). As observed by John Mraz and other historians, children, women, and the marginal have a greater presence in the photographic record of society than in the written one (299). For that same reason, photographs of children are an excellent way to reveal their presence in society (Heidelberger 1125).

The presence of children in the photographic record is an important area to consider. As Edmundo Desnoes notes in “Six Stations of the Latino American Via Crucis,” children are a major focus of Latin American photography. While Desnoes explains that in his view children represent authenticity, innocence, and the future (also true of all children globally) (11), he does not expound upon the Latin American photographers that focus on them in their visual essays. Neither does he further develop his core ideas on children and the future. This chapter will add nuance and examples to the idea that seeing children as hope and the future is one of the ways in which children are depicted in some of the visual essays by key Latin American photographers. Additionally, this chapter will examine topics in Latin American photography that help us identify how some social challenges affect children and how portrayals of children help to break down misconceptions that have been promoted by Latin American intellectuals. This section will contemplate how visual evidence invites further reflection and offers new insights on these topics.

Having surveyed past approaches to registral analysis, the present chapter introduces my approach, which entails two steps. The first step is analytical; the second is theoretical. The analytic approach is to combine aspects of the methodologies discussed in the previous chapter alongside new techniques. These techniques, taken together, can account for the totality of Beethoven's manipulation of sonic space. The theoretic approach introduces new concepts and terminology to pinpoint a variety of gestures, processes and strategies that respond to and influence musical structure and expression. Terminologies refer mainly to the micro-level of local registral process, which then impact the macro, the larger structures of movements and works.

I begin by introducing the linear and computational analytic techniques, namely registral graphs and pitch-space maps, illustrate each, and discuss their scope. In the second section I introduce theoretical concepts and terminology for specific gestures Beethoven employs to contrast and to connect disparate registers at both local and larger levels of structure, including registral markers, pointers, shifts, bridges and wide spans. I illustrate each method and concept with examples from Beethoven's early and late bagatelles, his first mature variation set WoO 65, and the ‘Waldstein’ Sonata.

Analytical aims and methods: Registral Graphs (RGs) and Pitch-Space Maps (PSMs)

While my theoretical apparatus identifies and explains Beethoven's strategies in deploying pitch-space to shape compelling narratives and performative sonic journeys, my analytical method involves charting the visceral aspect of pitch-space both at local and large levels of structure, and to interpret the trajectories expressively and structurally.

Looking back on the terrain just traversed, we recognize the point where our journey ended as the omphalos whence our journey began: the ginkgo tree. How could it possibly be otherwise? Like the levitating Paters floating between heaven and earth, we stand uneasily on an airy foundation, suspended always between two realms. In the “Epilogue” that marked the final stretch of our passage through Faust, we accompanied Andrew Jaszi on a contemplative walk that led us into the umbra, a somber aporia where darkness waits hopingly upon some “distant morning,” not knowing if or when it might ever arrive. In Jaszi's autobiographical fragment it was the glimmering stars, “infinitely remote and beyond comprehension,” that provided this same, barest, beacon of hope. Dark and light, hope and despair, permanence and change, dream and reality, unity and separation: The complementary contrarieties that establish the contextual space for anything that is could be multiplied endlessly. But it's darkness which in Andrew Jaszi's vision seems to predominate here at the end, just as it did in the penultimate scenes of Goethe's Faust.

tract of land on Tobago bought in May 1765 had been the first acquisition made by Sir William Young's father on the islands ceded to Britain in 1763. Unlike in St Vincent, where there were considerable settlements of French and Caribs, the British found very few indigenous people or other Europeans already in Tobago when they took possession of it. From 1765 until 1771 lots of uncultivated land were put up for sale by the commission headed by the first baronet. Initially there were few purchasers for uncleared land in an island reputedly unhealthy and without any kind of infrastructure. Such offers as were made were very low. According to the first baronet, the commissioners felt that they must set an example to encourage other purchasers, and so they bought extensively for themselves. He and Robert Stewart, another commissioner, obtained in partnership lots amounting to some 1100 acres on what were designated as Queen's Bay and King's Bay.

Betsey's Hope

Stewart, who died in 1773, lacked the resources to develop the joint acquisition and it was left to the first baronet to turn 600 acres of the grant into a plantation, which he called Betsey's Hope, presumably in honour of his daughter Elizabeth. By 1773 a labour force of the usual craftsmen, together with eighty-six field workers, had been recruited and Betsey's Hope was then valued at nearly £27,000. The partnership of Young and Stewart was formally dissolved in 1786, the first baronet gaining outright possession of Betsey's Hope and leasing from Stewart's heirs the remaining 500 acres, which he called Delaford, after his Buckinghamshire estate.

Of the preeminent fourteenth-century French composers, Guillaume de Machaut (ca. 1300–77) also enjoyed a singular distinction as a poet during the period known as the Ars nova (New Art), in contrast to the earlier Ars antiqua (Ancient Art). He played a significant role in our narrative of early musical cryptography for finding diverse ways to project multiple authorial voices, some well enough hidden from the reader/listener to pose vexing riddles, not all of which, it seems, we possess sufficient skill to solve.

Evidently the first to use the term Ars nova was Jacques de Liege (ca. 1260– post 1330) in his Speculum musicae (The Mirror of Music, ca. 1330), a ‘voluminous and spectacularly learned treatise’ of medieval music theory. His purpose was to expose ‘errors of the composers of the Ars nova and to demonstrate the validity of the teachings of the Ars antiqua’. As a result, Jacques inveighed against the innovations of the new century that Machaut embraced while acknowledging in his music the lingering influence of the Ars antiqua. Among them was a relaxed – for Jacques – unprincipled treatment of dissonances he likened to a ‘great bestiality’: ‘It seemed as if an ass was dressed as a man, a nanny goat as a lion, a bird as a fish, a snake as a salmon’. Above all, Jacques criticized the admission of ‘imperfect’ binary rhythmic values.

INTRODUCTION

This document is a speech made in the court of justiciary by an advocate defending an accused witch. It was published in 1672 by its author, Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, as one of a collection of his ‘pleadings’ or speeches in court.

During his career, Mackenzie engaged with the crime of witchcraft in three distinct roles: as a judge, as a defence advocate, and eventually as king's advocate, in charge of the legal system as a whole. His earliest and formative witchcraft role was as a judge, and this should briefly be noted. He was a justice depute between 25 July 1661 and 8 December 1663, responsible for acting as a judge in criminal trials and in particular witchcraft trials. His tenure of office coincided with the largest and last of Scotland's national witchcraft panics, beginning in April 1661 and continuing until it faded slowly during the spring and summer of 1662.

Mackenzie's biographer Andrew Lang, who outlined his career at this point, assumed that he already held the sceptical view of witchcraft that he urged in his later writings. Lang quoted a letter by Mackenzie boasting of having ‘killd hundreths’ and called it ‘unintelligible’, but it seems clear that Mackenzie was referring to convicted witches whom he had sentenced. The number of his death sentences may have been significant, even if ‘hundreths’ was an exaggeration. Mackenzie may well have been influenced by witnessing judicial excesses during the 1661–2 panic, and most of the sceptical anecdotes that he later related about particular witches probably arose from his experiences at this time.

Book III opens with a prose headnote once intended, apparently, as a transition from the dream and the voice of Book I, offering further evidence of Gower's composition process. The headnote is followed by another prologue that briefly summarizes the second book's argument against Fortune, and reasserts the legalistic tone of the poem by terming it a libella (l. 13). What follows thus suggests this as the point at which Gower began writing. The prologue's second paragraph introduces the notion of the three estates that will be the subject of this and the ensuing three books, followed once again by a humility topos not unlike that found in Book II. The reader is again asked to overlook the author's inadequacies, God's assistance is again summoned to the work, which is again sent forth into the world with the author's hope for its acceptance, Christ is called upon once again to be the poem's guarantor, and – in a gesture rooted in classical metaphor – the poet casts off his mooring lines and apprehensively sets sail. Perhaps not quite as detailed as the second Book's prologue, this one nevertheless touches all the requisite bases and could just as well stand as the poem's actual beginning, which at an early stage of development it was no doubt meant to be.

The subject matter of Book III is the secular clergy. Its first concern is the prelates – the cardinals, archbishops, bishops, certain deacons and even sub-deacons – who are considered the princes of the Church.