This paper discusses the succession ceremony organized by Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn in 270/884 for his son and heir, Khumārawayh, as described by Egyptian Arabic sources, notably Sīrat Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn of al-Balawī, an underutilized text for Abbasid history. The paper considers three overlapping questions. First, how should the accounts be read, as “representational” or, alternatively, as prescriptive, thus of a piece with elements of the Mirror for Princes literature? Second, were Ṭūlūnid networks of loyalty and dependence solely reliant on material inducements or did individuals invest themselves in the Egyptian regime beyond the point of self-interest? The question goes to the problem of material vs. emotional ties of dependency. And, third, was Ibn Ṭūlūn successful in creating a lasting power base? The question goes to the extent to which his contemporaries signed on to his “project” of redefining relations with the Abbasid center.

If God is eternal, then he has no beginning and no end, and His action extends to every moment, rather than being limited in time as our action is. St. Thomas unpacks the implications of these ideas. We already know from the previous Article that eternity has to do with changelessness, and we already know from Question 9 that God is changeless – so He must be eternal too, and there is nothing left to do in this Article – right? Not quite. Besides, most of the heavy lifting in this Article is in the Replies to the Objections.

Between the late second and the early fourth century CE, several empresses received the title Mater Castrorum, either in official documents, inscriptions, and coinage or in unofficial honorific or dedicatory inscriptions erected by subjects. Scholars have assumed the title was indicative of a tight-knit relationship between the empresses and the soldiers. Recent studies of the numismatic and epigraphic evidence, however, have demonstrated that, at least in the cases of the early Matres Castrorum, the title was not descriptive of an actual relationship with the military. These studies argue it was the product of dynastic propaganda that prepared a smooth path for successors. Given this new, demonstrated understanding of the title’s original purpose this chapter investigates how the title fits into ideologies that emperors “negotiated” with the constituencies in the Empire. Based on the evidence, we conclude that the meaning and use of the Mater Castrorum title changed over time according to the agenda of those who employed it. The evolution of the title is not surprising, but as with so many aspects of investigations into women and the military, the complexities of its use have not previously been conceived of in this way.

This chapter discusses the crises Alexander faced leading up to his succession to his father, Philip II: his dispute with Attalus at Philip’s wedding to Cleopatra, its causes, significance and aftermath; and the Pixodarus affair. It then turns to the crisis of the succession itself: the circumstances of Philip’s assassination at the hands of Pausanias, Alexander’s movements at the time of it, and the steps by which he secured the throne himself and legitimated himself as Philip’s successor.

Chapter 5 challenges accounts of the ‘Union’ debate of 1603–1608 as a story of English constitutionalist resistance to James’s absolutist Union. Edmund Plowden’s Treatise (1567) used the ‘King’s Two Bodies’ to locate sovereignty in the ‘body politic’ of the English common law. He transformed the old Galfridian notion of English overlordship into an allegory of Scotland’s jurisdictional sub-nationality, Scotland’s body politic kneeling before England’s. The problem created by James’s accession was how, after Plowden, to deny Scots the rights of English naturalisation. How to justify excluding Scots from free trade with England and from the common law liberties of Englishmen? Sir Henry Savile and Sir Henry Spelman drew ingeniously on myths of King Edgar’s (943–975) thalassocratic rule over the British islands to argue simultaneously that Scots were aliens and (lest that suggest that a Scottish accession had brought England geopolitical advantages to be recompensed) that this alien nation’s coastlines had nevertheless always been under English sea-sovereignty. England’s trade expanded while Scots, though subject to English foreign policy, were excluded as aliens from participation.

Utilitarian conservation focuses on a few ecological processes: population regulation in resource-limited systems, succession, predation, and competition. This approach assumes that nature tends toward equilibrium. According to this balance-of-nature mindset, populations are regulated by density-dependent processes. Exponential population growth can generate high numbers quickly, but competition for limiting resources generally keeps populations near the carrying capacity of their environment. In the absence of predation, however, populations may erupt, deplete their food supply, and crash. Similarly, plant associations go through predictable sequences of seral stages culminating in stable climatic climaxes that are able to reproduce themselves indefinitely unless in the absence of disturbances such as fire. Plant associations are groups of interdependent species that all react in the same way to their environment. Utilitarian conservation focuses on keeping populations of economically valuable species such as game animals and commercially harvested trees in balance with their environment.

The emergence of a Mongol state in succession to the Kereyit khanate led to the creation of the largest land-based empire in history and a new people. The Mongols and their partners deployed and elaborated shared steppe political traditions that valued trade and customized the resources of both steppe and sedentary worlds. Under Chinggis Khan’s successor Ögödei, the mission of sacred world conquest and the ideology, governing mechanisms, and fiscal policies that enabled the attainment of this mission achieved sturdy articulation. Chinggisid priorities engendered massive demographic dislocation and transfers of peoples, and new patterns of commerce to support a robust imperial culture of consumption, patronage, and display. Early qa’ans’ ideological prerogatives and attempts to assert tighter control over resources inevitably clashed with their kinfolk’s customary claims. Tensions erupted into open civil war in 1260, but the new Chinggisid communicative space across Eurasia survived the breakup of the United Empire.

This chapter focusses on the importance of conspicuous generosity to the emperors and their heirs. Euergetism describes a performed relationship between rulers and ruled, where exchanges of goods, money, and clout are transacted. The expectation of such generosity is important for the stability and legitimacy of an emperor’s reign, which makes the question of succession a secondary focus of this chapter: how did the Roman emperor secure the future legitimacy of his position?

This chapter examines the effects that individual leaders have in shaping foreign policy, including decisions for war. It first presents general international relations debates about whether international structure makes leaders irrelevant, or if instead leaders can make a difference. It then examines regular and irregular processes by which leaders can come to power. Then it describes how differences among leaders might translate into different patterns of foreign policy decisionmaking, including differences regarding beliefs and ideology, background experiences, sex and gender, personal health, and age. It also examines how variance in domestic politics – including the role of political parties, bureaucracy, and the firmness of a leader’s hold on power – can affect how and whether leaders can affect foreign policy choices, The chapter also discusses other concepts and debates, including the diversionary theory of war and whether reputation resides in leaders or in states. It then applies several of these concepts to a quantitative study on whether leaders who are former rebels are more likely to acquire nuclear weapons, and a case study on leaders and the causes of World War I.

Quentin Skinner offers a powerful new interpretation of Hobbes’ understanding of time, and its implications for Christian belief and for politics. For Hobbes time is merely a subjective experience of continual succession. It follows that the Christian view of eternity as a state of timelessness must be a mistake, since there can be no such state. A further consequence is that the orthodox view of the Last Judgement must likewise be mistaken. It makes no sense to think of the saved living timelessly in heaven after the Second Coming; the only possibility is that they will live endlessly on earth. Hobbes also explores two political implications of his understanding of time. One is that, if time is mere succession, it cannot have any normative significance. The Common Law view that custom can make law is thus put in question. Hobbes also discounts the political significance of learning how to act with timeliness, offering instead a view of statecraft as a matter of following rules. The chapter ends by asking whether Hobbes succeeds in presenting a coherent criticism of the view – prominent in classical and Renaissance thought – that in politics it is essential to learn how to seize opportunities.

This chapter introduces compound sentences, as the components of these complicated sentences have equal importance. Four types of common compound sentences are examined: coordinative, successive, incremental, and alternative. Each type is introduced in terms of specific correlative markers and their meanings and uses.

This chapter explores how the term sympathy was co-opted into political discourse in the first part of the seventeenth century, and how Jacobean literary and dramatic texts debated the political aspects of pity and compassion. Focusing on responses to the crises of succession and the plague, the chapter discusses the representation of sympathy in William Muggins’s Londons Mourning garment (1603), William Alexander’s The Tragedy of Croesus (1604), and Shakespeare’s King Lear (1608). It argues that King Lear exposes the ethical and philosophical problems involved in emotional perspective-taking, and points to the ways in which concepts of sympathy in this period were complicated by an individual’s class and status. The chapter then turns to royal elegies from the 1610s and 1620s, including poetic responses to the deaths of Prince Henry and Queen Anne. The chapter also explores several religious works that express concerns about a decline of sympathy during this period, and proposes that the increased bleakness of the 1623 Folio text of Lear may reflect wider social anxieties about what Thomas Medeley calls ‘this iron and flinty age’.

In a hereditary monarchy, kinship mattered; yet, royal family members are too often relegated to the background in contemporary scholarship on the princely states. This chapter shows that royal family members could muster significant social, political, cultural, and economic capital in support of their various personal and political projects, and often figured prominently in the records as the Resident’s greatest allies, or greatest foes. Residents developed a range of strategies for co-opting or side-lining younger brothers, uncles, and nephews, who, despite being useful informants, were also destabilizing forces in regional politics, and a drain on the Company’s time and resources. Women played an even more important role at court, one that has been obscured in previous accounts of the Residencies. This chapter shows not only how the Resident sought to mobilize royal women for his purposes, but also how royal women themselves laid a claim on the Resident’s services through the idiom of kinship and protection, often with significant consequences for the Resident’s political strategy at court. Rather than simplifying their job, the Residents need to work through royal families in fact introduced significant complications.

Chapter 2 argues that the early modern theater’s techniques for the production of narrative suspense emerged from its cultivation of spectators’ phenomenological uncertainty. Attending to moments of temporal suspension in history plays, including Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II, William Shakespeare’s Richard II, and John Ford’s Perkin Warbeck, the chapter shows that theater practitioners regularly aimed to resist the unrelenting forward momentum of live performance by grinding dramatic time to a halt. Narrative suspense was especially hard to come by in the history play, which emerged as a new genre in the 1590s by dramatizing well-known chronicles of English kings. But the playgoers who flocked to theaters to see these stories of succession were living through a succession crisis of their own, for Elizabeth I’s lack of an heir rendered England’s dynastic future crucially opaque. The theatrical invitation to unknow England’s past trained spectators in speculative thinking oriented toward their own politically uncertain future. History plays transformed the anxious wait for Elizabeth’s successor, that is, into the pleasure of theatrical possibility.

In the Middle Ages, the dismemberment of Agrippina, Emperor Nero’s mother, was not simply a gruesome family affair, but it had links to the emerging practice of dissection and the anatomical difference between the sexes. According to classical authors, after an unsuccessful assassination attempt involving a self-sinking boat, Agrippina was slayed by Anicetus upon Nero’s orders.1 In Roman History, Cassius Dio added that Agrippina opened her dress and asked Anicetus to strike at her womb “for this bore Nero.”2 Nero wished to see her corpse to verify the death, “so he laid bare her body, looked her all over and inspected her wounds.”3 The emperor examining the wound of the womb is transformed in the Middle Ages into the image of the ruler ordering the dissection of the female body.4 Jacobus de Voragine described such episode in the Golden Legend (c. 1260).5 Jean de Meun, in his continuation to The Romance of the Rose (c. 1275), wrote that Nero “had his mother dismembered so that he might see the place where he was conceived.”6 Jean de Meun is documented between 1265 and 1269 in Bologna, where post-mortem medical examination was practiced from the thirteenth century onward.7 Giovanni Boccaccio reports the story at length, including the wound of the womb, and mentions that in some sources “after her death Nero inspected the corpse, criticizing some parts of her body and praising others.”8