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‘The great rebel’, as Machiavelli now called Piero, was a fugitive for the nine years between his escape from Florence on 9 November 1494 to his death by drowning on 28 December 1503. It was a time of great turbulence. The two French expeditions to claim the kingdom of Naples in 1494 and 1499 not only exiled the Medici from Florence and the Aragonese from Naples, but also destabilised the whole of Italy as they came and went. As the Florentines predicted, Piero ‘threw himself’ wherever Florence had enemies, and these enemies in turn used the Medici as ‘instruments and, as they say, a lure’, in order to foment trouble in the city and uprisings in its territory.1 Like a matador who wears out his victim by endless prodding from different flanks, Piero constantly threatened Florence as he crossed and recrossed Italy – moving from Venice to Pitigliano, Bolsena and Narni to Rome; back to Venice, then to Milan and Pisa, before returning to Rome; to Perugia, Viterbo and Bracciano, Naples and back to Rome. His relatively few surviving letters from this period initially reflect shock and self-pity for what had happened to him, then anger and alienation. More revealing of his state of mind are the poems he wrote during his exile. The two opening poems allude more obviously to his grief, his face ‘washed with tears’ as he thinks ‘of what I am and what I was’ and his one hope, if not allowed to return, of being buried in Florence with his father, ‘who once made the city so glorious and eminent’. It is the third poem, ‘Cruel, unhappy day and full of grief’, that shows the extent of his bitterness in using the unexpected images of the two exiles Thyestes and Medea (the father who ate his children and the mother who slaughtered hers) to depict the depths to which they sank and the fate of their unhappy children – perhaps with his own children in mind. Instead of returning to Florence, he died far away in southern Italy, and all ‘the great rebel’ achieved, according to Machiavelli, was ‘the burial of five citizens’, his most loyal supporters in the city, who were executed after his failed attempt to return to Florence in 1497.2 These years offer a sad but revealing coda to his early years in power.
This chapter explores some of the major strategic questions faced by Callwell as Director of Military Operations, including the German colonies, Salonika and Mesopotamia. It also assesses his views of other important issues with which he was concerned, such as munitions, manpower and the army’s relations with the press. The chapter looks at his time as an ‘odd-job’ man for the War Office (1916-18), during which he was engaged in various interesting (and not unimportant) roles. Finally, it examines his later works, especially his autobiographical and biographical work. Most infamous is his study of Sir Henry Wilson, a highly controversial work.
National courts have generally embraced a multifold account for causation in virtually all Member States. However, the different national tort law systems structure the multi-stage accounts differently. National judges enforce competition law rules largely relying on their domestic laws of obligations. For this reason, this chapter examines the bundle of tort law and competition law that applies to establish causation in competition damages actions before national courts of England, Germany, France and Italy. These four jurisdictions were selected because of the size of their economies, the amount of litigation and the fact that they show four different, almost paradigmatic, approaches to causation.
The US Supreme Court has the power of certiorari. It may pick its fights. As a beneficial side effect, the court may allocate its resources, in particular the time and energy the justices spend on a case, to worthy causes. In economic parlance, this discretion makes the court more efficient. Efficiency comes at a political cost, though. This discretion also gives the court political power. It may direct its verdict to causes that are politically most relevant, or it may put an issue on the political agenda. Officially German constitutional law does not have certiorari. The Constitutional Court must decide each and every case that is brought. Yet over time the court has crafted a whole arsenal of more subtle measures for managing the case load. This paper shows that it uses these tools to engage in its version of allocating resources to cases. It investigates whether the ensuing efficiency gain comes at the cost of biasing the court’s jurisprudence. The paper exploits a new comprehensive data set. It consists of all (mostly only electronically) published cases the court has heard in 2011. While the data is rich, in many technical ways it is demanding. The paper uses a factor analysis to create a latent variable: to which degree has the court taken an individual case seriously? It then investigates whether observed indicators for bias explain this latent variable. Since the paper essentially investigates a single (independent) case, in statistical terms the findings are to be interpreted with caution. The paper can only aim at finding smoking guns.
The chapter begins with a survey of musical comedy of the 1890s and early twentieth century. A brief account of Edward German and his operettas follows. Noël Coward established himself as a British operetta composer with Bitter Sweet in 1929. However, the person who did most to keep English operetta alive in the 1930s was the Welsh composer Ivor Novello (1893–1951). He gained a considerable amount of experience both as a composer for the stage and as an actor before completing his first operetta, Glamorous Night, in 1935. This chapter assesses Novello’s achievements, musical and dramatic, and investigates the critical reception of his operettas. It places him in the context of what came before (Fraser-Simson, Montague Phillips, Noël Coward) and what came after (Vivian Ellis, Julian Slade, Sandy Wilson).
With his flight from Paris to Strassburg and arrival in Basel in January 1535, Calvin entered the sphere of the Swiss and South German Reformation.1 Geographically, the Reformed towns of the Swiss Confederation lay within this area: Zurich, Bern (with its strong influence reaching west to Lausanne and Geneva), Biel, Basel, Schaffhausen, and St. Gallen, joined by a number of South German towns such as Mülhausen, Strassburg, and Constance. These towns all experienced the Reformation as an urban Reformation, introduced by elected town councilors.2 The guilds often had significant influence. The town councilors believed themselves responsible for the construction of a Christian church in accord with the Word of God within the area covered by their political authority. Communications networks on various levels linked the towns with each other. Thus, variously constituted gatherings met regularly or as needed and, additionally, information was exchanged, the position of other towns on important questions was ascertained, and letters of recommendation for urban reformers or scholars were supplied. While the towns were conscious of their confessional bonds, each retained its full autonomy and went its own way when it came to the implementation and organization of the Reformation. The Zurich urban reformation served as a model, but as a source of inspiration not a type to be copied wholesale. Disputations often preceded the introduction of the Reformation in these towns, as had been the case in Zurich, with various Reformers from the Swiss and South German network participating.3 The Reformers’ role was to suggest how the reformation of the Christian community might be accomplished, but the political authorities rarely followed such suggestions without reservation, and discussion and conflict were the order of the day. However much they supported a reformation of Christendom, the political authorities were always concerned to retain decision-making rights, including in church affairs, in their own hands.
Chapter 5 describes the decline and apathy of student and youth politics in the mid-1960s in political and religious institutions. I argue that the protest movements of the late 1960s emerged in response to the attenuation of student politics and the decline of traditional organisations. The protest movements sought to make politics possible via a model of provocation and protest rather than debate, critique and compromise. In western Europe, fears of authoritarianism, disappointed hopes for democratisation and disillusion with electoral compromise provided the background for protest. In each location, a mix of socialism, anarchism and anti-authoritarianism marked the nascent protest movement, in particular the German Student Socialist League (SDS) in West Germany, the Movement of 22 March in France, and the Anti-Authoritarian Student Movement at Trento in Italy.
On the evening of 23 July 1918, twenty-nine British prisoners at the officers’ camp at Holzminden in Lower Saxony escaped after spending nine months digging a tunnel beneath their enclosure. Among them was Lieutenant Peter Lyons, a Western Australian of the 11th Battalion, who had tried to escape from Holzminden on two other occasions. Armed with a compass, a map of Germany, some money and a cut of bacon, this time Lyons was successful and took off across Germany towards neutral Holland with two other British officers. Lyons recalled hiding in woods during the day and avoiding all major roads and villages by night. ‘When night came and things were quiet, we would set out again … we travelled in this manner for 12 days, covering 185 miles [298 kilometres].’
Six months after his capture at Fromelles, Captain Charles Mills was at a camp for Allied officers at Hanoversch Münden in Lower Saxony, where he wrote to his commanding officer describing life as a prisoner of war. ‘Our daily life is much as we make it. Daily routine is in our own hands, and except for a roll call at 9.30 morning and night, we are left alone, which suits us very well.’ Mills spent his days reading, exercising, studying French and German, and enjoying walks beyond the prison walls. His captors were ‘uniformly courteous’, and the food was decent and better than expected. His greatest concern was the uncertainty of the war’s duration. ‘Time hangs! Day after day with absolutely nothing to do! I have led a busy and active life and find this enforced lack of occupation very trying.’
Spanning the years 1907 to 1909, this chapter deals mainly with two crucial imperial conferences. The first debated the constitutional meaning of “Dominion status” for a select few British colonies, while the second looked to the empire’s geostrategic survival in light of the German naval threat. At both conferences, British and colonial representatives responded to constitutional and security crises, hoping to forge a new imperial community in which the rights of membership hinged on contribution to collective security.
The concept of constitutional identity (Verfassungsidentität) has been unfolded by the German Federal Constitutional Court (GFCC) to frame and control the process of European integration. Jurisprudence ranging from the renowned Solange to the famous Lissabon judgments has never been undisputed. Although not found in the wording of the German Basic Law, constitutional identity is nowadays mainly associated with the Basic Law’s Art. 79(3). Accordingly, the notion primarily comprises the protection of human dignity, the principle of democracy, the social state objective, and the rule of law. The GFCC exercises its control by a fundamental rights review, the ultra vires review, and the constitutional identity review. All three types lately seem to have been merged under the umbrella of constitutional identity review. Meanwhile, the concept of Integrationsverantwortung‘ (responsibility for integration) requires all German constitutional bodies to respect the European integration agenda and to protect German constitutional identity. Arts. 4(2) and (3) TEU underpin the necessity of close and constructive judicial dialogue between the ECJ and the national constitutional courts.
This paper develops a generalization about agreement in German copula constructions described in Coon et al. (2017), and proposes an analysis that ties it to other well-established hierarchy phenomena. Specifically, we show that “assumed-identity” copula constructions in German exibit both person and number hierarchy effects, and that these extend beyond the “non-canonical” or “inverse” agreement patterns described in previous work on copula constructions (e.g., Béjar and Kahnemuyipour 2017 and works cited there). We present experimental evidence to support this generalization, and then develop an account that unifies it with hierarchy phenomena in other languages, with a focus on PCC effects. Specifically, we propose that what German copula constructions have in common with PCC environments is that there are multiple accessible DPs in the domain of a single agreement probe, the lower of which is more featurally specified than the higher (see, e.g., Béjar and Rezac 2003, 2009; Anagnostopoulou 2005; Nevins 2007). We also offer an explanation as to why number effects are present in German copula constructions but notably absent in PCC effects. We then place our account within the broader context of constraints on predication structures.
The American Civil War presented an exceptional state of affairs in modern warfare, because strong personalities could embed their own command philosophies into field armies, due to the miniscule size of the prior US military establishment. The effectiveness of the Union Army of the Tennessee stemmed in large part from the strong influence of Ulysses S. Grant, who as early as the fall of 1861 imbued in the organization an aggressive mind-set. However, Grant’s command culture went beyond simple aggressiveness – it included an emphasis on suppressing internal rivalries among sometimes prideful officers for the sake of winning victories. In the winter of 1861 and the spring of 1862, the Army of the Tennessee was organized and consolidated into a single force, and, despite deficits in trained personnel as compared to other Union field armies, Grant established important precedents for both his soldiers and officers that would resonate even after his departure to the east. The capture of Vicksburg the following summer represented the culminating triumph of that army, cementing the self-confident force that would later capture Atlanta and win the war in the western theater.
German military history of 1871 to 1945 is often seen as a direct continuation of Prussian military history. Taking a closer look at the organizational and cultural background of German military forces produces a slightly more nuanced picture and makes it possible to divide the history of the German Army into five phases. Initially, the German Empire effectively had four different forces – the Prussian, Bavarian, Saxon, and Württemberg armies – united only in times of war. During the First World War, these German "armies" increasingly lost their prewar independence, while the war itself had a unifying effect on German society and on its armed forces. Following the defeat of 1918, the army of the newly founded Weimar Republic was developed as a small, elite force exclusively based on Prussian traditions. The 1936 rearmament then turned this force into a mass army, the Wehrmacht, which, while still sticking to Prussian traditions, struggled with various issues caused by rapid expansion. Finally, during the Second World War, the Wehrmacht evolved from a purely German force into one in which significant numbers of foreigners from all over Europe served as volunteers, resulting in an army transcending the boundaries of the nation-state.
This article concerns English proper noun modifiers denoting organizations, people and places and their German and Swedish correspondences. It supplements previous studies touching upon contrastive comparisons by providing large-scale systematic findings on the translation correspondences of the three aforementioned semantic types. The data are drawn from the Linnaeus University English–German–Swedish Corpus (LEGS), which contains popular non-fiction, a genre previously not studied in connection with proper noun modifiers. The results show that organization-based modifiers are the most common and person-based ones the rarest in English originals. Compounds are the most frequent correspondences in German and Swedish translations and originals with genitives and prepositional phrases as other common options. The preference for compounds is stronger in German, while it is stronger for prepositional phrases in Swedish translations, reflecting earlier findings on language-specific tendencies. Organization-based modifiers tend to be translated into compounds, and place-based modifiers into prepositional phrases. German and Swedish translators relatively often opt for similar target-language structures. Two important target-language differences emerge: (i) compounds with complex heads are dispreferred in Swedish (US news show > *USA-nyhetsprogram) but unproblematic in German (US-Nachrichtensendung), and (ii) compounds with acronyms (WTO ruling > WTO-Entscheidung) are more frequent in German.
Chapter 6 examines how later stories about artistic competition, related by al-Maqrizi, Mustafa ‘Ali, and Qadi Ahmad, consider painting in the context of deceptive rhetoric in pursuit of truth, as advocated in Plato’s Phaedrus. The chapter concludes by comparing this understanding of painting with that rooted in a similar story, the competition of Zeuxis and Parrhasius. Adopted from antiquity by German Enlightenment thinkers as the paradigm for representation and the disinterested observer, this story establishes paradigms of artistry and mimesis in the Western tradition that cannot account for opposite premises established in Islamic discourses. The comparison between the two narratives underscores the antique tradition as part of a shared Islamic and European heritage diverging through distinct histories of interpretation. Comparison with European theorization of the image uncovers the bias inherent to normative art-historical premises about the social and psychological functions of the image that obscure alternative modes of perception, whether in cultures whose alterity is determined by being in the past or by being elsewhere. The story of the competition of the artists outlines an alternative paradigm, rooted in spiritually trained subjectivity rooted in the heart and resisting the rationalist exteriority of representation presumed in dominant modern models.
Sports participation contributes to maintaining health and wellbeing in old age, hence a deeper understanding of its various determinants is necessary. Previous research has primarily focused on either the effects of individual resources or age-specific attitudes to sports participation. However, a deeper understanding of the inter-relationships between these variables is required to develop effective policies to promote sports participation in ageing societies. To address the hypothesised inter-relationships, we consider both individual resources as well as age-specific attitudes and behaviours in order to integrate them simultaneously in our analysis. Furthermore, the analysis will be differentiated according to the three social status groups. The sample contains 1,560 retired persons, aged 65 years and older, based on the fifth wave (2014) of the German Ageing Survey. Multiple Poisson regression models were estimated to test our hypotheses. After adjusting for demographic variables, greater individual resources are associated with more regular sports participation. The findings also reveal that positive age perception and healthy behaviours are related to sports participation. Slight mediation effects between the different variables can be observed. Furthermore, the effect structures vary across different social status groups. The findings show that both individual resources and age-specific behaviours and attitudes are independent determinants of sports participation in older age. Our results confirm slight inter-relationships between socio-economic resources and age-specific attitudes.