The rise of the court as the most important stage for politics was a major trend in the nineteenth century. Here the political infighting between different factions took place, here the victories over rival factions had to be won. Successful political careers were made at the court and nowhere else. The capital thus was also the place where a new elite emerged. The emerging political centres tried to push through a growing bureaucratisation, best visible in an array of new offices and titles among the king's entourage. Nonetheless, the number of new offices does not inevitably indicate a growing bureaucratisation. Offices were often awarded to loyal clients as were slaves, estates and the spoils of war. More important, however, was the marginalisation of power loci outside the court as the centre tried to grab the political and economic decision-making from the local authorities. This, however, was a fragile and often incomplete process, where established patterns of power-broking mingled with the new models enforced by the political centre. For the expanding states like Buganda and Rwanda, the logistical and infrastructural challenges were enormous. Military expeditions had to be organised and supported with food and labour; newly acquired territories had to be incorporated and administered. War, however, was only one dimension of this expansion. Interlacustrine states intensified their diplomacy with each other and with other powers outside the region. Trade brought an influx of new goods and of new actors. To manage these contacts, the interlacustrine powers needed skilful diplomats and administrators. New offices developed from the households of the ruler, while others were created from scratch, based on new understandings of territorial administration and state power. Some societies adopted successful models from their neighbours, other were forcefully pushed to do so by the hegemonic powers of the region.

Fantasy, Imagination, and Wonder

Among several detailed, step-by-step medieval guides to contemplative technique that were composed within the century between about 1165 and 1270, two stand out as particularly influential: Richard of St. Victor's De contemplatione maior (alternatively called “The Mystical Ark” or “Benjamin Major” in English) and greatly influenced by it, composed around one hundred years later, Bonaventure's Itinerarium mentis in Deum (“The mind's journey into God”). In this chapter, I focus on the central importance of “envisioning,” a particular kind of mental visio, as the primary engine of meditation for theological contemplation. In medieval monastic life envisioning was a learned craft practice, not reserved only to momentary rapture (though for a very few, it might include such a rare, divine gift), nor was it a medical or drug-induced condition (though my own students have sometimes assumed it must have been). Indeed, the craft of mental envisioning was not thought to be different from reasoning, but the first essential step in every sort of rationally imagined composing.

Rhetoric is a profoundly social art, directed primarily to composition with the goal not of “self-expression” nor of communicating over a distance to some statistically constructed market of consumers, but of publicly persuading a particular audience of various people who are physically present with you in a particular place and time to do something, such as to believe you because they have enough trust (fides) in what you say to be willing to believe and act as you have convinced them to do.

Oxford's colleges are home to one of the richest concentrations of medieval charters anywhere in Britain and Ireland. If this fact has not exactly gone unnoticed, it is not since the days of Herbert Salter (1863–1951), whose knowledge of Oxford and its history made him the undisputed heir to Anthony Wood (1632–1695), that they have been worked on systematically as a collective whole. This article focuses on what is easily the largest single collection of charters within Oxford, which is today housed at Magdalen College, where Salter himself held a research fellowship from 1918 to 1939. It does so within the context of scribal identification – and self-identification – in the period before c. 1300. As any undergraduate student of medieval history soon learns, this was a crucial period for the development of the written word in northern Europe, the mechanics of which, in England, have been traced most memorably – and most influentially – by Michael Clanchy. It is nevertheless one in which most scholarly attention has focused on the literary and documentary cultures found in medieval England's most celebrated abbeys, cathedrals, and major urban centres, of which Oxford itself was one.

This article takes a different approach by exploring the activities of those working as charter scribes in what might be considered somewhat more ‘ordinary’ – although no less important – settings, specifically those found in medieval England's small towns, villages, and hamlets (what might otherwise be referred to as its ‘hinterlands’).

5.1 Introduction: Viking Raids on Churches and the Political Imperative

As was shown in Chapter 4, after 850, Viking theft of church metalwork is unheard of, and church burning – perhaps to extort protection payments, if English and Frankish evidence be a guide – is rare. Since they run counter to the tendency to report some raids in greater detail after c. 850, there seems little doubt that both of these were real developments. Such modified behaviour must be linked with Viking aims and strategies, perhaps with settlement at Dublin and elsewhere. This would also explain sparing churches within a radius of thirty-five kilometres of Dublin, noted in Chapter 3. A further significant development was alliance with Gaelic Irish leaders to raid churches, first noticed in 842 and again in 850. At this level at least, political considerations began to play a part. A direct link between Viking raiding and involvement in Irish dynastic politics is studied closely in the chapters that follow this. Alfred Smyth long ago proposed that Viking politico-military alignments determined the choice of some churches raided in the first half of the tenth century. Poul Holm made a similar point about several later ninth-century raids.

These are valid insights, and in an earlier publication I detected such a dimension to many Viking church raids in the second half of the ninth century. After 850 up to 900, some three quarters of Viking raids on churches may be linked with various degrees of confidence to documented relations between Vikings and Gaelic Irish dynasts.

The 47th Battle Conference took place in Durham between 19 and 22 July 2024. Proceedings began with short visits to look at some of the manuscripts from the cathedral library, now housed on Palace Green. I am very grateful to Professor Richard Gameson both for selecting the manuscripts and for talking around them so enthusiastically, entertainingly, and informatively to each of the four groups in turn. I would also like formally to thank Judy Burg and Richard Higgins for allowing us into the library, with the associated disruption to the normal Friday afternoon schedule – with additional thanks to the latter for joining in with the visits, too. The Allen Brown Memorial Lecture, delivered by Professor Graham Loud, took place in the Pemberton Building, just across Palace Green from the library. The lecture was followed by drinks and dinner in the castle – which also allowed some of the delegates to seize the opportunity to look around the Norman chapel and at the Le Puiset doorway outside the usual castle opening hours.

The remainder of the conference took place at Collingwood College. Thanks are due to Jessica Stott and Elaine Halliday of Event Durham for their help with the booking. I am even more grateful to the staff who looked after us while we were there, with particular thanks to Kate (surname, alas, unknown) and her colleagues who opened the bar for us before dinner – and for some hours afterwards – on the Saturday and Sunday. The terrace outside the bar was the setting for an intense Jenga competition (one of the conference traditions), which provided entertainment for all concerned on the two nights we spent at Collingwood – and which really helped to bring the conference (including the Collingwood bar staff) together.

The author of this book is neither Romani nor Hungarian, or Austrian, nor do I have ties of family or heritage with any of these peoples. I come to this subject, however, as a lifelong professional musician who has made most of my living for decades as a player in small bands on the fringes of mainstream classical music, though I would be the first to admit that none of them are as successful as most of those in this book, nor have I had to overcome anything like the same obstacles of class and prejudice. The word “band” is often used ironically in the classical world, in deference to its associations with what is often perceived as the antithetical popular end of the music spectrum, but it is still the word that best captures the professional milieu of the musicians in this book. Although they played traditional orchestral instruments (though with a particular emphasis on the cimbalom), their trademark reinvention and improvisation made them a liminal enigma outside the paradigms of “great composers” and “great works”; after-hours denizens of an urban demimonde who were viewed as charlatans and tricksters by many and later disowned by the non-Romani Hungarian musical establishment. At the same time, though, they were standard-bearers for an intense Hungarian musical patriotism, intrepid travelers over remote continents, and venerated by musicians of the caliber of Liszt and Brahms.

The period chosen for this book begins in the second half of the nineteenth century, when Hungarian bands were still only occasional visitors to Vienna, and is extended forwards to 1914 to encompass the first flourishing of commercial recordings.

INTRODUCTION

This composite publication mainly narrates the events that transpired during and after the demonic possession of Christian Shaw, daughter of John Shaw of Bargarran. Shaw's tower-house of Bargarran was in the parish of Erskine, presbytery of Paisley and county of Renfrewshire. Christian Shaw, who was approaching the age of 11 when the events began, behaved in various bizarre ways between the autumn of 1696 and spring of 1697, and accused several people of causing her ‘fits’. The ‘Narrative’ itself, at the heart of the tract, relates the story of Christian's behaviour.

The publication also contains further material. It goes on to discuss the trial, in Paisley in April and May 1697, of seven accused witches who were said to have bewitched Christian: Katherine Campbell, Margaret Fulton, Margaret Laing, James Lindsay alias Curate, John Lindsay alias Bishop, John Lindsay in Barloch, and Agnes Nasmith. All of these were convicted on 19 May, and executed in Paisley on 10 June. An eighth suspect, John Reid, hanged himself in prison on 21 May. Numerous further suspects had initial proceedings brought against them, and some of the promoters of the prosecutions sought to continue the trials for some time afterwards. The trial records themselves have been published in the companion volume to the present one. During the trial, the prosecution produced detailed, learned and wide-ranging arguments combining demonology and law – arguments that the tract expounds and links to the case.

These events occurred during the later and declining stages of the Scottish witch-hunt. Executions on this scale attracted attention at the time, and the Bargarran case has often been discussed since. It was the last local panic to result in significant numbers of executions in Scotland.

When giving a library tour, former Cathedral Librarian Nicholas Bennett would begin by saying, ‘In terms of its buildings and collections, Lincoln Cathedral Library ranks among the top five cathedral libraries in the country’. These buildings are the Medieval Library of c. 1422 and the Wren Library of 1676. It is remarkable that both are still in use, that the building of the more modern library did not replace the old one, and that they both retain original fittings that were purpose-made for them. Of outstanding importance is the fact that Dean Michael Honywood's collection of books is still kept in the library he asked Sir Christopher Wren to design. These two buildings, which take up the north side of the cloister, have the appearance of a unified, classical design when viewed from the cloister garth. Most of this expanse is the Wren Library; behind the two cross windows on the north is the Medieval Library. When its length was truncated in 1789, its façade facing the cloister was made to look as if it was part of the classical Wren Library.

Before Building a Library

The first library catalogue was compiled by Chancellor Hamo in the mid-twelfth century, naming donors and the books they gave or bequeathed to the cathedral. It is bound in Volume I of the Lincoln Chapter Bible (MS1), which was given by Archdeacon Nicholas of Huntingdon for use in the new cathedral. Additions to this page continued until the early thirteenth century, including three books given by St Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln.

This is how Joan Didion describes the process of falling out of love with New York, the city she called home in her twenties, and felt compelled to leave at twenty-eight – when she realised that ‘it is distinctly possible to stay too long at the Fair’. Didion is celebrated for her mastery of the personal essay, her slick centring of the self as she chronicles the social landscape of modern American life and culture; as a less-than-enamoured critic once wrote, ‘her subject is always herself’. It is possible for Didion to narrativise her life: to look back on herself productively as protagonist (or rather tellingly, ‘heroine’, even) and impose a literary and structural order onto her lived experience. Ends must always begin in medias res; Didion, a writerly writer, demonstrates here the eschatological impulse that Frank Kermode once argued has charged all narrative since St Paul and St John: the end as already happening, as imminent, and immanent.

In discussing witchcraft beliefs in the first section, interviewees frequently employ the terms spirit possession, unclean spirit, evil, demonic spirit, and so forth interchangeably.1 Generally, spirit possession denotes the control over an individual by an unknown spirit. However, in the African context, witchcraft is often perceived as one of the Devil's demonic spirits. This belief explains why someone can be regarded as a witch without knowing it, as the spirit is believed to control them to cause harm. To gain a more comprehensive understanding of the subject, it is essential to broaden the population sampling beyond Yorubaland to encompass other Nigerian ethnic groups. Although most of the participants in this study are Yoruba, others hail from different ethnic backgrounds, as indicated by their names. This deliberate choice was made for two reasons: (1) to prevent limiting the sampling solely to the Yoruba, and (2) because witchcraft is a sensitive topic among many Nigerians and perhaps many Africans in general. Snowball sampling was employed, which led to the inclusion of pastors from various ethnic backgrounds, not just Yoruba. Some of these pastors speak Yoruba, but excluding them would have significantly reduced the study's participant pool.

Yoruba (Nigerian) Pentecostal Explanations for Child Witchcraft Beliefs and Practices

This theme groups together responses of Yoruba (Nigerian) Pentecostal leaders on child witchcraft beliefs and practices. For these leaders, witchcraft is real. Asked whether they believed in witchcraft, forty-six responded affirmatively. Only two out of forty-eight participants said witchcraft does not exist, and both live outside Nigeria. Justus Wilson, based in the UK, said, “I don't believe in witchcraft.

Introduction

In 2018 and 2019, the touring exhibition Vote 100: A Lincolnshire View of Women's Suffrage celebrated one hundred years of British women's right to vote. It narrated national events from a regional perspective, and brought stories back to life with the support of archival material, including letters, and national and local newspapers. The exhibition was created by staff and students at Bishop Grosseteste University (BGU), in collaboration with Lincoln Central Library, the City of Lincoln Council and the Lincolnshire Branch of the Fawcett Society. The exhibition invited visitors to engage with the arguments for and against women's suffrage by asking them to leave their comments, using a card that reproduced the form and style of a ‘Ballot Paper’ (Fig. 1).

The comments card incorporated as ‘slogans’ abridged quotes extracted from two features written by two teachers who studied at the Lincoln Diocesan Training College (LDTC, now BGU), at the time a women-only institution. Their conflicting opinions were published in 1909 in the Lincoln Training College Magazine, a publication launched in 1895 to which current students and alumni contributed. Their opinions outlined the long-standing contrast between supporters for, and opponents to, the women's campaign for the vote. Their contrasting views encapsulated the complexity of the historical debate so effectively that they became a central inspiration for A Lincolnshire View of Women's Suffrage, and several public events associated with it.

1. Not just repression: a ‘conditional’ judicial system for violence prevention

I, the undersigned Priest, testify and affirm on behalf of Antonio Capodanni, that he forgives and pardons any harm, injury, or offence, whether in deeds or words, received from Nicola Papa. He declares to do this sincerely, from the heart, for the love of God, and for no other reason, in the presence of the undersigned witnesses.

I, Sebastiano Pier Cassini, by commission of this sacred apostolic mandate.

Cross † of the aforementioned Antonio Capodanni, as he does not know how to write.

Cross † of Lorenzo Verroni, who stated he does not know how to write.

Cross † of Filippo Iosa, as he does not know how to write.

In Macerata, on 23 September 1777, a scene that had been part of the daily life of the population for centuries, regardless of social rank, was repeated. A priest, Sebastiano Cassini, took on the role of mediator and guarantor for the granting of forgiveness and the renunciation of pursuing future offences received by Antonio Capodanni in favour of his adversary, Nicola Papa, in the presence of two witnesses, Lorenzo Verroni and Filippo Iosa. All, except for the priest, were illiterate. A few days later, on 28 September, again in Macerata, Luigi, son of Giuliano Pannelli, known as Aurelio, who had previously lodged a complaint against Sebastiano Pagnanelli, Pasquale Scarponi and Giuliano Menchini for a stone thrown directly at his face, also granted forgiveness: ‘having considered that being a Christian requires forgiving all injuries’, ‘for the love of God, he absolves and forgives all the affronts received from them, both in deeds and in words, and willingly consents to have the complaint filed against them withdrawn’.

Note: The original monopoly presented only the shortened titles in a block paragraph. They have been separated, numbered, and identified by short title and Wing/STC numbers (Clancy is given for relevant entries not in Wing). Editions that emerged between 1686 and 1688 are prioritised, though the monopoly extended to selling older texts. For titles without editions produced under James II, the closest edition is listed. Works that appear in Turner's catalogues or contain his imprint have been marked with (*).

15 August 1687: Warrant to the Attorney-or Solicitor-General to prepare a bill granting to Matthew Turner of Holborn, bookseller, and his assigns sole power, licence, privilege and authority to print and sell in Latin or English any of the books specified without penalty under former statues; the number of any of the said books printed in one year not to exceed four thousand.

• 1 The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent*

• • The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent (London, 1687) – Wing C446

• • The Catechism for the Curats (London: Henry Hills, Matthew Turner, 1687) – Wing C1472

• 2 The works of Lewis de Granade [sic]*

• • Luis de Granada, A Memorial of a Christian Life (London: Matthew Turner, 1688) – Wing L3471C

• 3 The works of Francis de Sales*

• • An Introduction to a Devout Life (London: Henry Hills, Matthew Turner, 1686) – Wing F2071

• • Conduite de la Confession et de la Communion (London: Henry Hills, 1686) – Wing F2068

By the fifteenth century, Italian humanism had incorporated dance into the instructional programme of the nobility. This humanist backing of dance was based on a double theory of metaphysics and ethics that dated back to Antiquity. On the one hand, humanism reclaimed Pythagoras and Plato's concept of universal harmony (Timaeus, 47) and the idea of a continuum between macro and microcosms. In this context, dance was understood as a representation of music through movement (Laws, VII, 795), thereby reflecting the harmony of the soul and, accordingly, the harmony of the celestial spheres. Considered a powerful art, dance allowed man to join the concert of the heavens and to perform it through rhythm. The story of King David (Samuel 3:6), who danced before the Ark of the Covenant to appease God's rage, gave biblical weight to this discussion; humanist texts in praise of the prince's dance frequently used this tale to illustrate their arguments. On the other hand, in Plato's Timaeus the metaphysics of harmony is considered the foundation of an ethics that the philosopher discusses in his Laws, an idea later adopted by humanism: man must coordinate the movements of his soul with the movements of the world's soul. On this basis, the civility manuals and espejos del príncipe of the humanist period detail how dance allowed the monarch to cultivate moderation both in his body and his mind's movements, as well as in the exercise of power.

The Dance of the Spheres and the Joy of Movement

Under Charles V and then under the auspices of his son's rule, Spain was a full participant in the discourse of humanist praise for dance in Galenic medical treatises, such as Cristóbal Méndez's Libro del ejercicio corporal (1553) or the works of renowned humanist Sebastián Fox Morcillo.