Fieldwork is a collection of fourteen essays on the relations between Irish music and cultural history. Although I have been writing about this topic for forty years, this book is anything but retrospective in its preoccupations. Instead, it seeks to prepare the ground for a monograph, now in progress, on how representations of Ireland and Irish experience have been imagined musically through the agency of individual artworks, compositions and practices. Fieldwork is a vital prelude to this enterprise.

It is also (I trust) a coherent ingathering of my recent research on Irish music and music in Ireland. Of the seven previously published essays in this book (all of which postdate the appearance of The Encyclopaedia of Music in Ireland, which I edited with Barra Boydell in 2013), four have been substantially revised and enlarged. Seven essays appear here for the first time. The selection of these pieces, admittedly from a much larger crop of publications, addresses and conference presentations, was determined by the extent to which they could contribute to the three prevailing themes considered in this collection, namely, musicology in Ireland (Part One), the relationship between music and literature in Ireland (Part Two) and the contextual domains in which Irish music has been received, transmitted and sometimes ignored (Part Three).

Part One of this book (‘Irish Musicology and its Affordances’) contains five essays. The first of these, ‘Remembering Grattan Flood’, originated as a plenary address delivered at a conference on musical historiography and identity that took place in October 2011 at the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts in Zagreb; it was subsequently published in the edited proceedings of that conference in 2013.

Bristol Archives

• • CC/2/7. The Maire of Bristow Is Kalendar [Ricart's Kalendar]. 1479–1899

• • P.AS/B/12. Augustine, De trinitate, etc. 1465

• • P.AS/B/11. William Peraldus, Sermones, etc. 15 ½

• • P.AS/B/10. Gerard Zerbolt, De spiritualibus ascensionibus, etc. 15 1/2, the

• main portion pre-1432

• • P.St T/PM/1. The St. Thomas Bible. c. 1420

Bristol Central Library

• • MS 1. Bible. The Corporation Bible. 13 ½

• • MS 2. Missal. 15 4/4 or 16 ¼

• • MS 3. Anthology of Isidore and Augustine. Pre-1242

• • MS 4. Peter Lombard, Libri sententiarum quattuor. c. 1200

• • MS 5. Jacob Voragine, Sermones quadragesimales. 15 2/2

• • MS 6. Devotional Compilation. 1502

• • MS 7. Hugutio, Derivationes. 13 2/2

• • MS 8. John Lydgate, Troy Book. 15 2/4

• • MS 9. John Trevisa, Proprietatibus rerum. 15 4/4

• • MS 10. Medical Compendium. 15 2/4

• • MS 11. Book of Hours. 1479

• • MS 12. Psalter. 12 ¾

• • MS 13. Missal. 15 ¾

• • MS 14. Book of Hours (The Ruddok-Clyve Hours). 14 4/4 with additions

• 15 1/4 and 1/2

• • MS 15. Bible. 13 2/2

• • MS DM 268. Innocent III, De miseria humanae conditionis. c. 1350

• • MS DM 832. Cobden Book of Hours. 15 ¾

• • MS DM 2196, Franciscan Office of the Dead and Antiphonal. 15 2/2

• • MS DM 2226. Homiliary with Lections. 15 2/2

When we can identify a manuscript's first owner or a scribe involved in the initial production of the manuscript, then we can discuss their socioeconomic class(es), their occupations, and their location(s) with historical data as our evidence. However, in the case of Aberystwyth, National Library of Wales, MS Brogyntyn ii.1, a small codex produced between 1463 and 1470 by eleven scribes in Warwickshire, neither the first owner nor the scribes have been identified. We can nevertheless examine other kinds of evidence and the inferences that may be drawn from them. The first section of this chapter will conclude that what evidence is available points to the probability that the manuscript was made for a person, family, or household in the gentry class. The second section will consider what this probability implies for understanding the manuscript better and connecting its contents to its historical context. The third section will look at later uses of the manuscript,

first as an exemplar of another fifteenth-century manuscript and then as a site of writing practice. Most of the writing added to Brogyntyn ii.1 in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries suggests that its early modern owners were also members of the gentry. For codicological reasons, this chapter will concentrate on the gentry connections of Quires 2–27. Most of Quire 1 was copied by three scribes (A, D, 14 Nancy P. Pope and H) who do not seem to have been collaborating with the eight scribes (I, J, K, L, O, Q, R, and S) who wrote the remaining twenty-six quires, the last of which is defective through loss of leaves. Henceforth, references in this chapter to Brogyntyn scribes refer to the eight scribes who copied the bulk of the manuscript.

1

George Moore and Charles Villiers Stanford were exact Irish contemporaries: both were born in 1852. In the remorseless annals of reception history, moreover, both invariably defer to their better-known and more generously regarded peers, namely James Joyce and Edward Elgar. No matter how strenuously we might argue otherwise, Moore is unlikely to unseat Joyce's exemplary claim to pre-eminence as an Irish literary modernist who worked in the world at large. Stanford, likewise, will remain in Elgar's shadow. But it seems fruitful nevertheless to consider all four members of this quartet in relation to each other, no matter how unevenly they may have fared as writers and composers in the aftermath of their achievement. This is not only because of the precursory relationship that exists between Moore and Joyce and between Stanford and Elgar, but also, as I wish to argue here, because of the culturally formative differences between Ireland and England in the emergence of late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century art music in either country.

The stakes of representation in the media are high for minority populations since the majority society typically has little personal contact with them. This holds particularly true for people of color owing to the legacy of European colonialism and the racialized images it produced to legitimatize the subjugation of African and Asian nations. The depiction of people of color in film and television has, therefore, a disproportionate impact on their perception by mainstream society. It is not simply a matter of quantitative but qualitative visibility of minority populations in the media. Concerning entertainment formats, the key questions are: “What kinds of roles are people of color given, and what messages do those roles send to audiences?” The experience of the Vietnamese German actor Aaron Le is a case in point: “[A]s an Asian person you are only cast as a cigarette seller or monk.” Echoed by other actors of color, such “migrantisches Casting,” i.e., casting roles according to phenotype and racial cliches, remained prevalent in German film and television well into the twenty-first century. Current stereotypes circulating in the public sphere are part of a representational regime that historically restricted “asiatisch gelesene,” i.e., German actors perceived as “Asian,” not German, because of their phenotype, to playing villains, victims, or dimwitted sidekicks speaking their native German with fake foreign accents.

The Introduction sets out the historiographical debates, theoretical approaches and arguments of this study into enslaved people’s emotional lives. Enslaved people’s testimony often includes deeply emotional content, yet slavery historians have been reluctant to utilise emotion as a category of analysis when analysing slavery’s impact. The Introduction outlines how this book brings together methods from the history of emotions, slavery studies, memory studies and oral history to analyse enslaved people’s emotional ideologies, experiences, practices and expressions in the antebellum US South. Applying these methods to a range of testimony by enslaved and formerly enslaved people, the Introduction outlines this book’s key argument: that enslaved people created their own affective value system to refuse, resist and survive the system of slavery.

This is a study of coastal administration and coastal policing in eighteenth- century Britain. Its argument is twofold: with the rise of the British fiscal-military state during the seventeenth century, the political significance of the coast changed dramatically. Driven by economic and political concerns, the coast became, for the first time, a politically distinct space complete with designated legislation and unique bureaucratic structures. The study shows both why and in response to what circumstances the necessity for coastal enforcement first arose, and how this political interest in coastal policies fluctuated in relation to political events and economic policies across the century. In mapping these fluctuations the book argues, secondly, that satisfactory solutions to the problem of coastal enforcement remained forever elusive. Endless debates could not solve the political riddle that the coast presented, namely that the apparent ineffectiveness of coastal policies was a result, not of bureaucratic failures or the criminal ingenuity of the smuggler, but of the inherent contradictions of the fiscal-military rationale itself. This failure was twofold: an exclusively fiscal focus on coastal enforcement fell forever short of its administrative complexity. And economic policies of protectionism combined with political interventionism in imperial and European affairs ensured both the necessity for stricter coastal policing and rendered its execution more difficult. Taken together, these arguments aim to bring the well-established conceptual findings about the ambiguity of the coast to bear on the domestic setting. By placing the political awareness of the coast and the instruments of coastal administration into the context of the eighteenth-century British state, the study exposes important limitations of the fiscal-military state, ultimately arguing that it was precisely on the domestic coasts that the process of state-building remained, in many ways, inconclusive.

INTRODUCTION

Jean Craig lived in the parish of Tranent in Haddingtonshire. She was married to William Steill, a coal-miner; she herself also worked in a coal-pit, probably as a coal-bearer. Her mother was Beigis (Margaret) Wallace, who had been burned as a witch in 1629, during the panic of 1628–31. Wallace had named her daughter as a witch shortly before her execution. Family relations among women came to the fore in this trial, as one of the witnesses against Craig was her sister-in-law. The voices of the witnesses, the accused and the judiciary come to the fore.

Craig's investigation and trial took place in March and April of 1649, which was another period of panic over witchcraft. Our earliest dated evidence, from 17 March, is a letter from James Baillie, brother of the politician Sir William Baillie of Lamington who was a member of the committee of estates that then governed Scotland. Lamington was in Lanarkshire, but Sir William Baillie also owned a coal-mining estate at Penston in Haddingtonshire, which James Baillie seems to have managed. Craig had worked at Penston when she had allegedly bewitched Beatrix Sandilands; James Baillie's letter outlined this incident, which would soon be investigated in much more detail. He also mentioned Craig's association with the witches of the 1620s. He wrote his letter, to the minister of Tranent, in response to an enquiry from the parish elders; we do not know what prompted these elders to open the investigation.

By 28 March, Craig had been arrested and imprisoned in the tolbooth of Tranent. This was by warrant from the chancellor, according to the presbytery record. Local secular authority, in the form of the baron bailie of Seton and Tranent, was also operating in co-operation with the ministers.

INTRODUCTION

This case is about much more than ‘witchcraft’. It is one of the most spectacular instances of necromancy and elite magic ever to have occurred in Scotland. It involved political conspiracy at high levels of government, the ritual summoning of spirits using a book of learned magic, and prophecies by witches in Scotland and Norway. The central figure in the conspiracy was Sir William Stewart.

William Stewart was a herald, one of the ceremonial messengers of the crown. This did not give him great political power, but he moved in elite circles and was involved in international diplomacy. He was probably the son of Alexander Stewart of Dalswinton, in Dumfriesshire, and may have been born around 1540. He married a Norwegian woman, Dorothea Christoffersdatter Thronsden (or Tronds). His father, knighted in 1565, was a kinsman and ally of the earl of Lennox, and Stewart himself may have owed his initial advancement to this Lennox connection during the personal reign of Mary Queen of Scots. He first appears as Ross herald in 1566. He had connections with the Protestant church, contributing a prefatory ‘Table for the shyneing of the Mone’, and a sonnet, to Scotland's new Protestant prayer book in 1565. The table shows him to have had an interest in astronomy and numbers which must have fed into the astrological activities revealed at his trial. Also in 1565, he published a Scots translation of a French Calvinist tract, displaying a learned acquaintance with theology and etymology.

Stewart was also connected with the queen's illegitimate half-brother, James Stewart, earl of Moray, who became regent of Scotland in August 1567 after Mary's deposition. We are told that William Stewart had been ‘brocht up witht the regent’.

Introduction

This chapter explores the radical, evangelical vision of improvement developed by the British labouring-class writer James Woodhouse (1735–1820) across his extensive literary career. Considering his early 1760s poetry and the 28,013-line verse autobiography that he produced as a London bookseller in the 1790s, The Life and Lucubrations of Crispinus Scriblerus (hereafter Crispinus Scriblerus), this chapter illuminates Woodhouse's increasingly overt communitarian understanding of improvement in the context of changing attitudes towards estate management. It begins by re-considering Woodhouse's fractious relationship with Elizabeth Montagu, by whom he was employed as land steward of Sandleford estate in 1767, before being dismissed – first in 1778 and again, after several years as Montagu's majordomo, in 1788. Montagu was not only a well-connected woman of letters but, increasingly across this period, a ‘Bluestocking businesswoman’, who transformed her late husband's (d. 1776) fledgling coal-mining operation in Northumberland and was eager to increase the agricultural productivity and profitability of Sandleford. Focusing on this period in Woodhouse's life, the chapter explores how a divergent, classbased conception of improvement was a central feature of his disagreement with Montagu, and how his experience as farmer and land steward at Sandleford led him to further develop his sense of the injustice of land improvements then increasingly practised, as a means of enhancing one's private property rather than the collective good.

Before chronicling the reigns of the ‘kings’ in the title of his 1137–39 Historia regum Brittaniae [History of the Kings of Britain, hereafter HRB], Geoffrey of Monmouth fabricated a national myth of origins for Britain, founded by Aeneas's grandson Brutus, a Trojan War refugee seeking land on which to establish a ‘New Troy’. Preceding Geoffrey's HRB were accounts about Brutus by Isidore of Seville, Bede, and Geoffrey's probable source, the ninth-century compilation, Historia Brittonum, generally associated with Nennius. The Galfridian version of Brutus's colonization inspired subsequent vernacular adaptations: Wace's 1155 Roman de Brut, Laȝamon's thirteenth-century Brut, and Castleford's Chronicle (1327). In HRB, Geoffrey reworked Historia Brittonum's negative characterization of ‘Brutus exosus’ from a parricide- and matricide-committing pariah into ‘a brave and generous leader’ and ‘worthy ancestor’ in whom all Britons could take pride as the ‘founder of a new nation’. As depicted in HRB, upon reaching the island ‘Albion’, Brutus claimed and renamed it ‘Britain’, for himself, after exterminating its native population, whom Geoffrey labeled ‘giants’. Although Jeffrey Jerome Cohen and Michelle Warren have treated Geoffrey's invented foundation myth as examples respectively of ‘Monster Theory’ and ‘postcolonialism’, I view this episode through the lens of the philosophy of primitivism, which complements these discourses. Indeed, Albion's giants are analogues of the physically huge, clothing-free, cave-inhabiting, club-wielding, medieval Wild People who exemplify primitivism.