The next morning saw the two once again on the veranda. “Well, Franzl, let's stick to the plan. Article One: How did you sleep? Article Two: What did you dream about?”

“I’m afraid it was a bit confused. I saw Szabo, the old colonel, in a company of beautiful ladies, who immediately formed a circle around him, full of curiosity. And then a voice told me that they would be talking about me. So I went into a window recess, the better to listen in, which is improper, but in three quarters of comedies, there's someone eavesdropping—so you must forgive me if I can't shed all of my old habits immediately. At least not in my dreams.”

“Nor should you. Stay just as you are. But go on, go on. You were eavesdropping.”

“Yes, for a while, at least. But very soon, I crept closer and could see that the circle of beautiful women had turned into a circle of old military men, all with thick gold epaulettes, and only Szabo seemed the same. But when I took a closer look, it wasn't Szabo anymore but Gorgey.”

“You saw the picture in the gallery, and that's how it got into your dream. Or is this all fiction?”

“Fiction and truth. I altered it a little, to make a bridge.” “A bridge? Where to? What for?”

“To questions that seem political, but really aren’t. They’re questions that are very personal—questions about life.”

Remembrance, the annual commemoration of men and women killed in the service of the nation, the empire and later the commonwealth, was created in the aftermath of the First World War. It differs in several ways from the early modern state anniversaries. The state did not order a religious anniversary, require church services or appoint a holiday, and in most of the inter-war years the commemoration was spread over two or even three days. Remembrance consisted of several types of commemoration, initiated and developed piecemeal by different authorities during a period of seven years, from 1919 to 1925, and was shaped to a considerable degree by public opinion, in a democratization of national commemoration. This democratic effect, indicative of large social, religious and political changes since the early modern period, was especially evident in local communities, where commemoration consisted not just of church services but also of public ceremonies associated with the tens of thousands of war memorials that were constructed in cities, towns and villages throughout the United Kingdom.

The national, imperial and commonwealth commemorations, the subject of this edition, have four main elements. Two were organized by the state on a fixed date: a two-minute silence throughout the empire, and a ceremony at the Cenotaph, the imperial war memorial in London. The heads of the Church of England and the Church of Scotland recommended religious services and prayers. The Church of England archbishops encouraged a diversity of local observances, to suit the circumstances of particular churches, in a marked change from its earlier practices.

There was a time when ‘Berlioz the critic’ would have been the title of a lesser chapter in the larger biography of the composer. Now that his complete literary works have become available in modern critical editions, however, it has been possible to wonder, with more than a modicum of seriousness, whether Berlioz displayed his greatest talents as a musician or as a writer. For Berlioz himself, this was not a question. Setting down words, he often said, as in chapter 21 of his Memoirs, was ‘work’, while setting down notes was a ‘delight’. Many are the passages in his letters where he tells of the thrill of musical ideas coming to him so fast as to be unmanageable: ‘To tell you the truth, for several days I have been unable to sleep, I’ve lost touch with reality, so absorbed have I been by my work [Roméo et Juliette]’; ‘the music settled readily upon the words like a bird on a ripe fruit [the love scene from act 4 of Les Troyens]’; ‘the music is crowding my brain; I cannot even tell which number I prefer [in Béatrice et Bénédict]’. Years earlier, at the very moment he veered away from the medical study prescribed by his father in order to embrace harmony and counterpoint, he expressed extraordinary confidence in his musical future: ‘I am involuntarily drawn to a magnificent career’, he wrote in 1824; ‘I am certain that I shall distinguish myself in music […]; I should like to make a name for myself; I should like to leave upon this earth a trace of my existence’.

On returning to Deal from Eastry in October 1786, Elizabeth Carter wrote to Elizabeth Vesey describing the view from the churchyard: I took a solitary walk one evening to a church about two miles distant, and sat myself down upon the pedestal of a dial, to survey a prospect with which I think you would have been charmed. Before me was a most beautiful landscape of hill and dale, woodland and open field. Opposite to this the spires of a distant town, terminated by a long extent of calm blue sea, and the white cliffs of the isle of Thanet. On another side was a rough romantic mount, which sunk abruptly into a deep woody dell.—Now do not think I have been playing one of your tricks, and describing places and things formed only in your own brilliant imagination; for I really and truly did see all that I have endeavoured to describe. I wish I could complete it by sending you an epitaph, much beyond the common style of church-yard poetry, but it required more time than the setting sun would allow me to make out some of the lines, which were almost effaced by time.

Revealing an encompassing prospect, the churchyard forms the centre of a rural landscape. The topography is briefly sketched, but its specific locality and status as a ‘real’ place is mapped through Carter's two-mile walk to the churchyard, permitted by fine weather.

The representation and reinterpretation of hospitality in Judges 19 invite analysis through multiple dimensions: linguistic and textual, religious and philosophical, social, political, and sexual. All these domains intersect and inevitably link together from the perspective of hospitality. When we follow the links, risks and possibilities come into view. “Lethal differences”3 arise, often to be subtly undermined, as we move around a circuit connecting books and bodies: from textual bodies, metaphorical bodies, and real bodies made of flesh and blood, to books open or closed, held high and falling down, scroll or codex on parchment skins scraped clean of flesh and blood. In Vienna 2554 bodies become books and books bodies. As we shall see, these biblical encounters cover the gamut of possibilities explored in previous chapters – opposition and conflict, dialogue and relationship, experience and contamination, all in play in the struggle between Judaism and Christianity, Jews and Christians. In this chapter, hosting quarrels continue, adding new dimensions to the contact zone, as Hebrew Tanakh meets Old Testament and New through translatio, and encounter as confrontation hides in the rivalry between Ecclesia and Synagoga.

Emerging during the Celtic Tiger period, Riverdance first debuted as an interval entertainment act during the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest and was developed as a full-length stage show the following year. Following a dispute with producers, Michael Flatley, the lead man dancer in the original interval act, left Riverdance to produce his own show Lord of the Dance (1996), and subsequently created numerous follow-up shows including Feet of Flames (1998), Celtic Tiger (2005), and Lord of the Dance: Dangerous Games (2014). Since then, Flatley's Lord of the Dance has been seen by over 60 million people in 60 different countries, “making it one of the most successful dance productions in the world”. His total number of productions are said to have grossed more than $1 billion dollars. Since its debut, Riverdance has also sold over 11,000 shows across 46 countries and has been seen live by over 25 million people.

With this resounding success, both Riverdance and Flatley's dance shows provided a new world-wide platform for Irish traditional music and dance, ultimately aiding the commercial music industry expansion and consumer consumption of Irish culture. Bearing in mind the number of platforms provided by these shows, particularly for women, the implications and the roles available to performers are significant.

“The Rolling Hills of Ireland”: Understandings of Irishness

Emerging during the Celtic Tiger period, Riverdance and Flatley's Irish dance shows capitalised on and benefited from the “Celtic Tide” and the increased consumption of Irish culture. In doing this, they reinforced the correlation between Irishness and Celticity through the use of Celtic imagery displayed on the dancer's costumes, wigs, staging, and music.

In this chapter, the mathematically simplest random graph, the Bernoulli random graph, is introduced. Each of the possible edges is present, independently, with the same probability, so that the model is one of a network entirely without structure. To start with, the structure of the graph in the neighbourhood of a point is investigated and is shown to be very similar to that of a branching process with Poisson-distributed offspring numbers. Explicit bounds on the accuracy of the approximation are derived, using the Poisson approximation techniques derived in Chapter 7. The classical threshold theorem for the existence of a giant component is then established; the precision of the neighbourhood approximation simplifies the proof. The counts of small subgraphs are then investigated, and a subgraph threshold theorem is proved. Finally, the distribution of the length (in graph distance) of the shortest path between two vertices is investigated. These grow logarithmically with the number of points, if the expected degree of a vertex is kept constant. Once again, the approximation of the neighbourhood structure is a key element in the proofs, and the statement of the main theorem involves the Laplace transform of the distribution of the limit random variable associated with the approximate branching process.

Introduction

This chapter delves into the ways in which migration contributed to the betterment of local communities in the absence of colonial development initiatives. It sheds light on how the development of one's hometown became a crucial aspect of migrants’ interaction with the concepts of citizenship and belonging. Through the establishment of township associations, migrants served as symbolic intermediaries between the colonial state and local society.

The chapter takes a close look at the pivotal role played by remittances from Ghana and northern Nigeria in fostering local development within select Yoruba towns. Specifically, we focus on two towns, Ogbomoso and Inisa, which witnessed significant waves of mass migration to Ghana and northern Nigeria. Here, we meticulously analyze the developmental endeavors initiated by diaspora organizations, with a special emphasis on areas of human development, including education, infrastructure, and religious institutions.

This exploration reveals the profound impact of migration on local communities, highlighting how it became a catalyst for socio-economic advancement and transformation, particularly in regions where colonial development was lacking. By investigating the role of remittances and the contributions of diaspora organizations, this chapter offers valuable insights into the intricate interplay between migration, citizenship, and local development in colonial Yorubaland.

Yawning Gaps in Colonial Development

Britain recognized that the economic development of its politically dependent territories was a shared responsibility between the metropole and the indigenous colonized peoples. In the case of British colonies in West Africa, they were expected to be self-financing. This meant that funding for public projects and administrative expenses had to come from various sources, including taxes (which stood at 3s. 6d. per head before World War II) levied on the subject population, revenues generated from mining and mono-crop exports, communal or forced labor, and even prison labor.

Many of the Espill's readers and owners from the sixteenth century on were men who belonged to conservative religious communities or to political parties that were aligned with the Church's orthodoxy and antifeminist morality. They left a range of glosses that coincided with their conservative professional, leisure, and political affiliations, demonstrating the compatibility of misogyny and religion, and the general preservation of the status quo. Readers’ annotations upheld the Espill's criticisms of nuns and male clergy, which further sustained antifeminist Christian morality without questioning its tenets, unlike Isabel de Villena's Vita Christi (VCV), which presented a version of Christian morality that supported all women, whether secular or holy, through trinitarian dogma and theology. The VCV was solidly ensconced in Valencia's sixteenthcentury patriarchal religious organization, although the work forges a path for ordinary women's vindication within that patriarchal structure through its treatment of maternity and the body. The ideological and sociohistorical implications of the Espill's annotations come into sharper focus when examined in relation to the larger fifteenth- and sixteenth-century panorama of Villena's VCV and prevailing discourse on women, called the querella de las mujeres.

The Espill's juxtaposition to the VCV starkly illustrates the choice that someone as knowledgeable, educated, and socially integrated as Roig would have had with regard to his representation of women and gender relations.

In 1832 the author, watercolourist and lithographer George Frederick Prosser (1805–82) visited Rookesbury, a large and newly constructed house in Hampshire. While its temple front with Ionic columns could belong to many a Georgian classical house, the interiors reveal that it had been built in the new ‘Grecian’ style. Greek Revival, as it is now described, was as fashionable among wealthy families in Hampshire as it was in London. Prosser made a drawing from the north-west side of the new house, engraving it for his publication in 1833 of Select Illustrations of the County of Hampshire comprising Picturesque Views of the Seats of the Nobility & Gentry, Lodge Entrances &c with descriptions.

His descriptions of the house and its contents have been explored by the author, together with its orientation in the park. One comment by Prosser invites further investigation.

Prosser mentioned a ferme ornee, visible from the main drive: ‘The Park, in extent about 200 acres, is entered by a neat lodge […] The ferme ornee is a pleasing object in the ascent to the mansion.’ This was a puzzle both to scholars and to Garnier descendants. There was no evidence of any earlier building on the current main drive, near to which the old house at Rookesbury had been situated until it was pulled down in the early 1820s.

Sex makes HIV problematic for the institutional Church. That was true when AIDS first emerged in the early 1980s and it remains true today. The Catholic Church is the largest private provider of healthcare for people living with HIV globally today,1 but tensions have always been evident between effective HIV prevention, education and treatment strategies, and the teaching of the Church on matters of sex and sexuality. When it comes to any discussion about the Catholic Church and HIV, this apparent conflict between Church doctrine and widely accepted approaches to public health has dominated public debate for more than forty years now, overshadowing the important contribution the Church has made and continues to make today.

This chapter will argue that the inability of the Catholic Bishops of England and Wales to reconcile this tension explains, in part, why the institutional Church was slow to respond to the reality of AIDS in England and Wales. Without any coordinated response from the Bishops Conference to what eventually became an international health emergency, it fell to lay people to take responsibility for the moral leadership, HIV education and pastoral care required, on behalf of the Catholic Church.

The creation of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles was a vast endeavour over an extended period of time, involving the work of multiple generations of authors, compilers and scribes. Commitment to the annals’ record waxed and waned across more than two-and-a-half centuries, but it is clear from the surviving versions and other witnesses that after the initial circulation of the common stock annals c.892, the Chronicle was included in many libraries in many places, always ready for revisiting by those interested in extending or revising it.

The genesis of the common stock annals in the ninth century is largely hidden from view. However, the two most prominent figures among the early makers of the Chronicle are the first compiler and a later chronicler who revised and continued the annals. The first compiler's work is discernable in the creation of the annals’ anno domini sequence building on two sources: Bede's Epitome and a series of annals derived from Canterbury. The first compiler framed his annals in the time of grace, the last age of the world initiated by the birth of Christ. This chronicler had a great taste for Anglo-Saxon royal pedigrees, and not just those of the house of Wessex. Nevertheless, the kings of the West Saxons were his primary interest, and from the origins of the Cerdicing line in the fifth century down to his own time none of these kings is omitted from the annals’ story. Precisely when this compiler's own time might have been is uncertain.

Many networks are not completely known; the only access to them is by taking samples. This chapter presents methods for deducing information about the whole network from samples. First, some classical sampling methods are briefly considered; random sampling, with and without replacement, stratified sampling and the Horvitz–Thompson estimator. Then sampling methods based on the network structure are introduced, including two-level sampling, induced subgraph sampling, star and snowball sampling and traversal sampling. The differences between the structure of sample networks and those of the parent network are illustrated for some simple models. Finally, the problem of assessing whether a particular network sample is `interesting’ is discussed; interesting, in that it differs from what might be expected of a typical network sample.

Following the death of Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart in October 1791, a necrology authored by one of his friends, the theologist Karl Friedrich Stäudlin, was published in Schubart's own Deutsche Chronik. Stäudlin reminisced about a performance he had heard with Schubart reading out loud Klopstock's most celebrated ode, ‘Die Frühlingsfeier’. Stäudlin does not specify the date, but the reading must have taken place c. 1770–76: Schubart had started during that decade to give public readings of his favourite poet, until in January 1777 the Duke of Württemberg, Karl Eugen, ordered Schubart's imprisonment at the fortress of Hohenasperg where he would spend the next ten years before being freed by Friedrich II. In the 1770s, such performances were not yet known as Deklamatoria, but they were already popular, with Schubart's celebrity as a reciter of Klopstock's poetry at its peak.