Since the readmission of Jews into England during the 1650s, the Jewish religious communities have consistently expressed their loyalty to the English and British state. Prayers for the sovereign have been part of their regular services since the 1660s. From an early date, the communities appear to have joined in the occasions of special worship ordered by the crown for observance in the Church of England, beginning at their synagogues in London: at Bevis Marks for the Sephardi or Spanish and Portuguese Jews, and at Duke's Place, in the Great Synagogue for the Ashkenazi or German Jews. The earliest surviving forms of prayer for these occasions, for Bevis Marks and published in Portuguese or in Hebrew, date from the early eighteenth century. Particular synagogues – including from the 1840s those of separatist Reform and Liberal synagogues – have continued to publish their own forms for occasions of special services or prayers.

As the main communities grew and as they founded new synagogues, they began, in the same manner as the Church of England, to organize general acts of special worship, observed in numerous places of worship on the same day or for a specified period, and to issue and distribute special forms of prayer (or ‘orders of service’) for general use.

Again weeks had passed, and in place of the sunny days that had shone over Arpa Castle since early August, rainy days had set in. “This rain is like the Szekely assembly,” Franziska said, as a jest, and when the count asked what this meant, she recited Chamisso's poem of that name to his no little amusement.

“Just think, I have to learn about the Szekely assembly from a North German poem!” the count laughed, and whenever he encountered Franziska, he would point to the incessant downpour outside and repeat the refrain, “The rain is raining, raining still.”

When this weather began, they first tried to continue their walks, but after three days, the paths had become so muddy that they had to abandon them. They were reduced to strolling through the hothouses and the dutiful daily game of billiards, which Franziska, at least at first, made visible efforts to learn. But neither one nor the other gave her any real pleasure; in the hothouses the air was too warm and muggy, and playing billiards was vexing since she could not master it all at once. She wished for rapid results in all she did. Nonetheless they kept their spirits up and found ever-new ways of warding off the lurking threat of unease. There were immense fires blazing in all the fireplaces; the little priest, when he came for lessons, was prevailed on to stay for half the day; and Toldy's youngest daughter Marischka, barely three years old, saw her birthday celebrated as if she were a princess at the very least.

Jaume Roig was born in Valencia toward the beginning of the fifteenth century and died there in 1478. Like his father, he worked as a physician and served as the medical examiner of physicians, surgeons, and veterinarians for the city on different occasions between 1434 and 1477. The position of medical examiner contributed to the ideology and legal strategy of the professionalization of medicine, an initiative that was supported by municipal and royal authorities in different municipalities throughout the Iberian peninsula to dignify the male physician and elevate the discipline of medicine as the ideal approach for treating people's health and well-being. One of the consequences of the professionalization of medicine were the royal and municipal efforts to marginalize and disempower traditional women and Jewish and Muslim men healers who had dominated healing practices until the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Roig served as physician to fifteenth-century royals and practiced medicine at various hospitals in Valencia until his death. He was active among Valencia's powerful elites, including the Catalan-Aragonese crown, municipal authorities, and the city's most important religious institutions.

Roig composed only two literary works during his life, the caustic and misogynist Espill and a praise poem to the Virgin, which was included in a collection that might have been the first literary book printed on the Iberian peninsula.

Climate change has been duly recognized as a common concern of humankind (UNGA 1988). Nevertheless, its effects are not commonly shared. Instead, marginalized individuals, especially women in the Global South,1 have been primarily acknowledged to bear the brunt of climate degradation despite being less responsible for its advancement than individuals and nations in the Global North (UNGA 1992, Principle 7; Kakota et al. 2011; Singh, Feroze, and Ray 2013; Pearse 2017; MacGregor 2017). Against this background, efforts for addressing the differentiated impacts of climate change on the lives and livelihoods of Southern women have been mobilized at the international level, including through the issuing of dedicated decisions and programmes for action under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) (see, among others, COP of the UNFCCC 2010, 2017, 2021).

Within this broader debate, however, feminists have been wary that a disproportionate focus on the specific vulnerability of women to climate change can produce inadvertent effects in terms of policy discourse, negotiation, and design (see MacGregor 2009; Arora-Jonsson 2011; Resurreccion 2013; MacGregor 2017). For instance, feminist scholars have highlighted that this narrative has limited feminist transnational activism on climate change by fixating the frames of reference for women as poor subjects more vulnerable to the impacts and risks of climate change (MacGregor 2009; Arora-Jonsson 2011; Resurreccion 2013; MacGregor 2017).

This chapter is interested in understanding the appropriation of literary templates which African writers like Ngugi draw on; their relevance and limits as they travel into new contexts. How does Ngugi, in the instance of Devil on the Cross, complicate his borrowing and what cultural formats does he draw on to mediate and revise received templates? What do these forms of borrowing tell us about the world of the writer? Ngugi has increasingly turned to allegory in his narration of the postcolonial situation in Kenya. The chapter argues that it is not difficult to see why Ngugi resorts to allegory in his postcolonial narratives in Kenya because, as a writer of praxis, whose freedom of expression has constantly been suppressed by successive postcolonial regimes, Ngugi is always dogged by conditions of fragmentation. He was detained for his writing by the authorities and he wrote his most compelling example of allegorical narrative, Devil on the Cross, in prison. As Bunyan wrote The Pilgrim’s Progress in Bedford gaol, Ngugi wrote Devil in Kamiti Maximum Security Prison in Kenya. Both Ngugi and Bunyan fought for the underdog and were scathing of the rich, and they both evoke the image of Lazarus.

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.

Systematic incompatibilities between secular and regular clergy required recurrent papal arbitration. Bishops predated renouncers – monks, regular canons and friars. They claimed succession from the apostles and governed dioceses, the principal units of pastoral care above parish level. Monks and friars advanced a different claim to elite status. In addition to sexual renunciation, which bishops and all clerics in major orders shared, they relinquished individual property and personal decision making. These two elite systems were not incompatible in principle, but in practice they frequently were. Popes were regularly asked to broker settlements, yet definitive resolution of the underlying tensions was unattainable, since both systems evolved and the world around them changed as well. New problems and frictions continually emerged, and the papacy was repeatedly called upon for what might be termed technical support to resolve them.