The Admiralty's standing exhortation to its captains, incorporated in every commission, was to ‘protect the trade and annoy the enemy’, and with a little help from private enterprise, they did succeed in annoying the enemy. This book is not about privateering activities. These were a way of employing private enterprise to assist in the reduction of the enemy's trade, as every prize taken by a privateer weakened the trading wealth of the enemy and reduced the number of men available to the French navy, at no cost to the naval administration. Instead the focus has been on the activities of the young men who were captains of sloops and frigates, and so involved in individual captures, rather than those in the larger ships, highly enough rated to fight in the line of battle as ‘ships of the line’. There were fleet actions during the war, and they play their part in the story, but John Elliot was not the only captain content to stay in a sixth rate frigate rather than receive the higher pay due to a captain in a larger ship. He was much more likely to win prize money. In the time of Queen Anne there had been restrictions on the behaviour of the captors, and these restrictions still applied. Furthermore, British ships of war or privateers were expressly forbidden to ransom any ship taken as prize, in order to reduce the men available to the French. The commander of a privateer who did so ‘shall forfeit his commission to all intents and purposes and shall, together with his bail, be proceeded against according to the Law, and be condemned in costs and damages’.

I had left Columbia assuming I would never be a professor. Eight years later, I was one, although at a progressive college that doesn't use the term.

I used to say that I was “Half of Vivian,” since she was now half-time and we taught in the same classroom. I also told her that I thought we had been “married in a previous life.”

What was literally true was that my father remembered seeing her at the piano during the 1930s, when he had briefly composed for musical theatre and for the dance duo Gluck Sandor and Felicia Sorel. He and Vivian had both come from Chicago to New York, seeking a life in its artistic community. My father had even once brought some of his music to show to Aaron Copland, a mentor figure of Vivian's during the years she was a sought-after pianist, expert in new music.

While I felt a strong human connection to her, I was not yet able to entirely connect with her music; its language held me at arm's length. It was only many years later, when I taught classes about her music, that I began to fully appreciate what she had achieved and better understand her unique evolution. At this time, I identified most easily with Lionel's compositional world—rooted in his pianism, eccentric, personal, and temperamentally dark—and there was a kind of symbiotic connection between us.

I had not known him before his stroke. By some accounts, the man I encountered in the summer of 1983 and got to know so well after 1985 was warmer and more emotionally available than he had been earlier in life.

The Belgian instrument-maker Adolphe Sax (1814–94) arrived in Paris in 1842. In the first edition of Berlioz's Grand Traité, of the Sax instruments only the saxophone is considered; others, such as saxhorns, are treated in the second edition (1855). Berlioz's promotion of Sax's work helped get him established in Paris; in another quid pro quo (cf. that with Alexandre; see article 42), Sax in turn offered Berlioz facilities for rehearsal and storing the considerable quantity of performing parts needed for his concerts.

The size of concert halls is generally proportionate to the love the public are supposed to have for music, and their interior arrangement is in keeping with the kind of music to be performed there. That's why we don't have a large concert hall in Paris. There are halls for banquets, halls for balls, halls for drawing lots for military conscription etc., but we haven't got a single concert-hall worthy of the name that can be hired when you need one. Hence the impossibility of performing certain compositions, if theatres either won't or can't be transformed into concert halls, and especially during the winter when the exclusive use of the furniture repository of the Crown, itself extremely small, is reserved for the Société des Concerts du Conservatoire.

Some years ago, M. Herz had an excellent hall built for medium-sized concerts, that is for those where you can hear instrumentalists and singers accompanied by a piano or small orchestra. But even apart from the fact that the stage is badly placed for even a body of forty performers, it's impossible for seating the large orchestra of today; from which it follows that one can't even think of adding any kind of chorus.

I entered medieval studies when a great loss had rocked the Arthurian world. Maureen Fries, the godmother of feminist Arthurian studies, died in 1999. Two years later, Fiona Tolhurst and Bonnie Wheeler published a Festschrift in her honor: On Arthurian Women: Essays in Memory of Maureen Fries. It was a collection very much like this one for a beloved scholar whose life – and whose loss – would forever shape her colleagues, students, and friends. Now, writing in honor of Fiona Tolhurst herself, whose death occurred two years ago – not long after I left the field – I can't help but feel that my journey has ended where it began, with a tragic loss, with a beloved, bright light flickering out.

He could now see clearly; and there was only one thing he could not see clearly—what was to be done. Should he take as a model that ridiculous duke, whom Judith had judged so unsparingly with the simple words, “I think it's overdone”? No, that would never do … And what, in any case, had actually happened? Only that which had to happen. Had he not always prided himself on his knowledge of the world and people and, above all, on his freedom from prejudice with regard to what he called the natural course of things? What now gave him the right to assume that this natural course of things would turn into its opposite for his sake?

He had returned from sister Judith's to the other wing of the mansion, and now, deep in such reflections, which constantly turned into self-accusations, he paced up and down on the rug in his room. He opened the window and looked down on the quiet street; the sounds of the city could be heard, muted, from the distance. An open carriage with a young couple in it rolled past, and the gaslight from the lanterns fell on the slender figure of a girl or woman who was leaning, tired and happy, on the shoulder of her sweetheart.

“They’re young and in love. And that's natural! I was a fool to think up something for myself—half Scheherazade but half St. Elizabeth; a lady of fashion, but at the same time, a nun; a female esprit fort, but in a cloister.

Anyone who knows Berlioz's music could probably guess the likely tone of his comparison between the two composers. But at least Berlioz has the honesty to doubt its value …

I don't think the review of this concert will occupy my readers for long (one always imagines one has readers). The concert was entrancing, it must be said, and the orchestra performed miracles, especially in Beethoven's First Symphony. You have to hear our violins and see them flying away in [the Trio of] the Scherzo, to believe in the possibility of such nuances being observed by thirty bows simultaneously. It's astonishing. I’m not talking about that pattern which wends its way through the wind section, as light and swift as a puff of wind: we know what our violinists are capable of technically. In any case, that in itself does not present any problems; it's the delicacy of the legato that calls for praise, because there are a score of ways of playing such a passage correctly, and a score of ways passably; this is the right, excellent, and marvellous way. The audience was thrilled and demanded an encore of the Scherzo. For Beethoven this symphony was the point of departure. Its form is smaller and its style less grand than in the symphonies that followed; that it even lacks the sublime aspirations that marked the composer's later works is beyond doubt. But such as it is, how far superior I find it to Haydn's G major Symphony (Opus 51) that we heard in the same concert!

I’m very far from lacking respect for Haydn's genius, and further still from belittling the admirable music in this same work, the Andante of which is delightful.

The Appeal Court consisted of at least three Lords Commissioners from the following list: Lord President of Council; John Carteret 2nd Earl Granville; Earl Cholmondeley; Earl of Kinnoul; Lord Berkeley of Strathclyde; Lord Sandys; Lord Mansfield; Robert Nugent Esq.; and Welbore Ellis Esq.

The Lords Commissioners were advised by two experienced Council, men of the standing of Dr George Hay, of Doctors Commons, or William Murray when he was Attorney General. Between 1751 and 1766 the Lords Commissioners heard and determined 234 Prize appeals. Of these, 44 came from the English High Court of Admiralty, 88 came from Jamaica, 23 from New York, 19 from Antigua, and the remaining 19 from the other nine Vice Admiralty Courts.

A shared capture took place before war was declared, when William Gordon, St Albans (60), Hugh Palliser, Eagle (60), and Mark Milbank, Romney (50), were detached in May 1756 by Admiral Boscawen to cruise off Cape Ortegal. They took La Fidelle and jointly took Thisbe before they separated to chase three other French vessels, Triton, St Mark and Venus, successfully capturing them all while the British ships were in company although not always in sight. There was no contesting the fact that the Admiral was entitled to his eighth share. At the appeal before the Court, the first question was whether the crew of Admiral Boscawen's vessel and the other ships under his command were also entitled to a share of the prizes.

Around 1528, the Bruges playwright Cornelis Everaert (?–1556) started an autograph collection of his dramatic oeuvre in which he copied his plays and added several notes which allow us to situate some plays in their performance context. As a result, we know that he took considerable pride in the fact that some of his politically conformist plays were awarded prizes by the authorities. His Tspel van den Hooghen Wynt ende Zoeten Reyn (‘The Play of the High Wind and Sweet Rain’), which was composed ‘in honour of our Emperor Charles, when the King of France was taken prisoner at Pavia in the year 1525’ (ter eeren van Kaerle onsen Keyser, als den conync van Vranckerycke ghevanghen wiert voor Pavyen ao 1525: headnote), comes with a marginal annotation that states that it had won ‘the first prize awarded by the city, which was a silver tray’ (uppren prys van den stede upghestelt ende was een selveren scale). At the same time, he also chose to include in his collection two plays which he claims had been banned from being performed due to their controversial content. Everaert's collection therefore stands witness to the complicated relationship between plays and censorship, drama and authority in the sixteenth-century Low Countries and allows unique insight into both political critique and censorship in action.

Although scholars have acknowledged the inclusion of these two banned plays, they have nevertheless been at best tentative in acknowledging quite how critical the playwright could be. Jacob Wijbrand Muller labelled Everaert a ‘semi-revolutionary playwright’ (halfrevolutionnaire toneeldichter) whose ‘half-hearted criticism’ (halfslachtige critiek) is ‘smothered halfway’ (halverwege gesmoord) with the plays ending in praise.

Abstract: This essay argues that Faust is no homo economicus in part one. He is not the self-interested, future-oriented, rational agent with stable preferences that he becomes in part two. Rather, he represents an error-prone human making risky decisions that are, in fact, gambles. Gretchen also makes a series of increasingly risky bets, but the stakes are very different for her. In Faust I, Goethe demonstrates insight into human behavior that aligns with and illustrates fundamental elements of behavioral economics, which studies how people act in the real world and thus human error. Combining economic and psychological methods, behavioral economics has identified heuristics—mental shortcuts or rules of thumb—and biases that do not conform to the model of the calculating, self-interested homo economicus long championed by economists. The tools of behavioral economics—prospect theory, nudging, and loss aversion—illuminate the all-too-human decisions made by Faust, Gretchen, and others in Faust I. Goethe exhibits an advanced understanding of decision-making that he embeds in the choice architecture of part one.

Keywords: behavioral economics, decision-making, loss aversion, nudging, choice architecture, gambling, homo economicus

Introduction

Homo economicus is a mainstay of economic theory. Economic historians credit John Stuart Mill with introducing the concept without naming it in “On the Definition of Political Economy; and on the Method of Investigation Proper to It” (1836).

Count Egon was as good as his word, and two days later, when the two friends returned from their midday stroll, they found two visiting cards, which had been delivered by a hired servant while the countess herself had waited by the veranda in an open carriage. Phemi turned her card this way and that in her hands and read, as she emphasized every single word, “‘Imperial Countess Judith von Gundolskirchen, nee Petofy.’ Marvelous. And when I’m back in Vienna, this is going on the top of my tray. I have no lack of counts—but by the same token, countesses are much rarer. Trust me, Franzl, this kind of thing doesn't just look nice; it's useful. And you have to make use of every favorable breeze … And in a carriage, you said, Hannah?”

“Yes, a carriage,” Hannah confirmed. “It was just the carriage from the hotel, but everything was fit for an aristocrat. The driver had gloves on. He looked so solemn that I had to laugh. And on top of that, that tall fellow Sepp as a hired servant, with a frock coat on. And it was all just for us, Fraulein Phemi, truly, just for us. Because I saw them turn around at the next corner, and before I could count to a hundred, they were drawing up at the King of Hungary again.”

Franziska was more dismayed than pleased. It was true that the winter evenings at the countess's were an entirely pleasant memory, but she had no wish to see a resumption of those earlier relations.

The Northumbian saint Cuthbert, bishop of Lindisfarne, who eventually abandoned the labor of ecclesiastical leadership to pursue his spiritual opus as a hermit, was known for ‘singing his psalms [while] he worked with his hands, and so by toil [driving] away the heaviness of sleep’ (inter psallendum operabatur manibus torporemque dormiendi laborando propellebat). Integrating his opus and labor as a dedicated ascetic, Cuthbert worked all his life, famously building his own hermitage on Farne Island. Bede's vita of Cuthbert supplies details about his process in ‘[building] a city fitted for his rule’ (condidit ciuitatem suo aptam imperio): on a round, sunken floor hewn from ‘the living rock’ (uiuam … rupem), Cuthbert built two structures of uncut stone, ‘an oratory and another habitation suitable for common uses’ (oratorium scilicet et aliud ad communes usus aptum habitaculum), roofing them with ‘rough-hewn timber and straw’ (de lignis informibus et foeno). While Bede's vita provides a somewhat rare account of an individual saint working alone to build a modest, humble dwelling, many such basic structures survive from the early medieval period, including many ‘sunken-featured buildings’ or Grubenhäuser and clocháin, stone beehive huts, at Skellig Michael and An Riasc, County Kerry (Figure 13). In undertaking such building projects in their vitae, saints like Cuthbert demonstrated their entanglement in a complex process of work that both provided necessary shelter for daily living and transformed the landscape with monumental structures, particularly churches.

Introduction

Water is a major natural resource because of its importance in human survival and society. Most importantly, water is both social and economic in scope; this is because it acts as a transport channel, provides irrigation systems for agriculture, and is useful for domestic uses, for instance, in drinking and food preparations. Countries with abundant water resources possess a significant strategic advantage on the global stage. They can leverage this advantage for political gain or economic benefits. Conversely, countries without adequate water resources or facing restrictions on access to water from neighboring nations may experience conflict or become dependent on other countries. A 2022 report from the WHO/UNICEF Joint Monitoring Program estimates that 411 million Africans, or approximately one-third of the population, still lack access to safe drinking water. The water crisis in Africa, with its geopolitical implications, has contributed to a larger ongoing narrative of internal conflicts between different communities as well as a shaping of the political, economic, and sociocultural contexts in different regions. This chapter aims to usher in a conversation on African rivers and development, which could then inform discussions on hydro diplomacy on the continent. This chapter explores the geopolitical significance of African rivers and examines their role in shaping hydro-political discourse and development in African countries. It aims to analyze how African rivers influence geopolitics and contribute to hydro-political issues, which ultimately impact development.

Geopolitics of Water

Water as a natural resource is one of the most important because we humans cannot do without water, and it can help our society develop. Firstly, water as a natural resource plays both social and economic roles.

The transmission of Dalcroze ideas and practices to countries far from Europe in the southern hemisphere is a story of determination and idealism. The London School of Dalcroze Eurhythmics (LSDE) was founded in 1913 and offered the first year of training to prepare those who intended to study with Émile Jaques-Dalcroze in Hellerau, Germany. However, in 1914 when World War I broke out, he was in Geneva and did not return to Hellerau, and he soon approved a full three-year training course to be offered in London. He visited the LSDE each year to teach, examine, and present public demonstrations, developing a close friendship with the school's founder, Percy Ingham. As the only teacher training in English, the LSDE was central to the spread of the work in Australia and New Zealand. In the early days, enthusiasts from the Antipodes traveled by ship to London, and during the 1920s there was an active push to spread the method to the Dominions of the British Empire. This chapter surveys the four decades from 1919 to 1959.

Dalcroze teachers in Australia were inspired by a belief in the benefits of this holistic approach to education. At the forefront were the advocates of kindergartens who recognized its value for the musical, social, and physical well-being of young children. From the first demonstration in Perth in 1919 to the radio broadcasts of the 1940s and 1950s, the role of kindergarten colleges was crucial throughout the four decades from 1919 to 1959.

The news of a betrothal between the count and Franziska was much talked about. But a month later, when the double ceremony had taken place, first in the Augustinian Church and then in the Protestant church in Gumpendorfer Street, the excitement subsided, and all the more quickly because all that might be said in the way of spiteful bon mots had already been put into circulation in the days beforehand. In any case, none of it reached the ears of the noble couple, who had immediately left to spend several weeks in northern Italy. They took with them only Andras and Josephine, a freshly engaged lady's maid, Viennese through and through. Their return trip would take them directly to Arpa Castle; Hannah and several of the servants had already gone there as soon as the wedding was over. Franziska had found it hard to part from her, but, precisely because they were so very close, had judged this separation necessary.

The stay in Italy began at Lake Garda; then came a visit to Venice, which was even lovelier than the Venice of Franziska's thoughts and dreams. Nonetheless, after ten days of eating ice cream of every kind and feeding countless bags of peas to the pigeons in St. Mark's Square, she was happy on the eleventh day to see their sojourn end, especially since the count was prepared to make stops along the way back; most importantly, in Verona, his garrison town of more than fifty years ago, and the scene of his first triumphs.