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For kingship to be more than testimony to an individual’s ambition, it had to be passed on to the next generation. In theory, that should be a ruler’s eldest son. In practice that occurred in only a third of royal successions. Almost by definition, successions were therefore moments of uncertainty – for the realm, for a dying king’s relatives, for his dependents and followers. Yet because successions were inherently uncertain, the people at large played a far more significant role than scholars have often recognised. They would be called upon to conform a proposed settlement, for instance, but they were not bound by it. On a ruler’s death, it fell to them to reconsider and confirm. In other instances, they had to choose between a range of candidates with equally valid claims. Matters were complicated further by the fact that successions were supposed to be organised according to principles of descent and suitability. Ideally, each reinforced the other. In practice, the latter was frequently used to trump the former. Legitimacy was therefore in the eye of the beholder, which made it all the more important that the selection of an heir was recognised and accepted by the people at large.
From his two historical tetralogies to his great tragedies, civil and dynastic conflict is a near-constant presence in Shakespeare’s plays. This chapter sweeps across his career to explore the political ferment against which he developed his nuanced depictions of civil discord. It begins with the political contexts that shaped the rise of the English history play in the 1590s and extends through the bitter dynastic rivalries that mark Shakespeare’s depictions of Greek and Roman history, his tragedies, and the full body of his plays. It finds that, while Shakespeare studiously avoided taking sides in the warring factions he depicts, he embraced the opportunity to study the genesis of civil strife – its causes, personal motivations, and means by which it is intermittently brought under control. Civil and dynastic conflict serves Shakespeare brilliantly as essential to his craft as playwright, with implications about civil discord at all times and in all places.
‘I have always sought to stand by myself’ Arnold announced in 1865.1 The remark is the more intriguing for its appearance in the first series of Essays in Criticism, a collection which, with its consideration of cultural tradition and the intricate relationality of writers, both affirms and denies autonomy. A poet-critic deeply interested in the legacy of the past and the influence of previous generations of writers, Arnold was very conscious of the particular challenges of pursuing a literary voice of one’s own in an age when the place and purpose of the arts was being questioned (not least by him), and with the Romantics still in living memory. The irony of Arnold’s wish ‘to stand by myself’ is that its registering of distinctness carries Byronic airs. With one eye on his present fame and one on posterity Byron had declared ‘I stood and stand alone’, sounding more sure of it than Arnold.2 Whether it was his powerful individualism and desire to go his own way, his defence of personal liberties and resistance to authority, or his estranged and egoistic heroes, Byron was the embodiment of self-determination for contemporaries and subsequent generations. Arnold admired Byron’s independent streak, and, ironically, found in it means of self-recognition as well as self-evaluation with which to carve out his own career. He sets up Byron as an example of what he wanted to be, as well as – more negatively – what he was prone to being, what he could not quite manage to live up to, or wanted to avoid becoming. Regard for Byron also enabled him to evaluate the legacy of different strands of English Romanticism and put his finger on what he felt was lacking in Victorian life and culture.
Chapter One emphasizes the relationship between English property law and slavery. I follow colonists as they sought to classify slaves as property, and as they deployed their knowledge of English property law on a daily basis to manage slaves. Fitting slaves into an extant legal system that bifurcated property into real estate or chattels personal was an act with long-term practical consequences. American colonists – including those beyond plantation America – understood that each particular category unlocked different ways of proceeding at law that impacted their ability to buy and sell slaves and to shield them from creditors. Building upon customary practice in the transatlantic slave trade, South Carolina colonists treated enslaved people as chattel property, at first by custom and later via statute. Whereas most plantation colonies settled upon some mixture of chattel and real property when they determined how to classify their slaves, South Carolina colonists ultimately adopted pure chattel slavery in order to facilitate commercial transactions involving enslaved people and to expand their credit with British merchants. Treating slaves as a chattel property was economically beneficial for South Carolinians, but it had far-reaching cultural implications. Through close readings of legal forms, including marriage settlements, trusts, and wills, I also watch small acts of legal transformation, moments in which colonists analogized slaves to things. In these acts of legal transmutation, South Carolina colonists compared enslaved people to livestock and other valuable moveable objects, not because they believed them to be the same as those objects, but because they believed them to be the same at law.
An inheritance dispute heard before one of the chiefs’ courts established in Asante under indirect rule illustrates the multivalent, dynamic character of social institutions at a time of economic and political transition. Litigated in 1951, the dispute raised questions about the meaning of ‘family’ and ‘belonging’, and their significance for people's access to wealth and their obligations to one another. Played out against a backdrop of potentially far-reaching social and political change in Ghana and beyond, cases such as this one suggest that terms such as ‘belonging’ and ‘family’ are best understood as labels for complex social processes, rather than facts that determine people's social identities and entitlements.
The legal incompetence of wives (cheo-ui muneungnyeok) and its inhibitions on women’s legal rights in Korea during the Japanese colonial rule (1910–45) were emphasized during the postcolonial period. As a result, the actual legal activities of women during the colonial period have been overlooked. This chapter examines women’s lawsuits at the High Court of Colonial Korea (Chōsen kōtō hōin) over separate property rights during the colonial period. I show that women actively struggled in the colonial legal system to have their rights over separate property acknowledged against their opponents’ claims that Korean custom categorically denied property rights to women. Surprisingly, women won many of these cases. I argue that the colonial household registration system, where the rights of household heads over family property were strengthened, inadvertently resulted in the protection of separate property rights, many of which were held by women.
This paper explores the category of neighbor from a literary-critical perspective. Hesiod’s depiction in Works and Days of the relationships between neighbors as characterized by random proximity and uncertain ethical status is adopted as a frame for understanding the stylistic approach of the epic poet and the affinities that Pindar’s epinicians show to his work. A case is made for the interpretive utility of the lateral and arbitrary structure of neighboring, and the desirability of such a model alongside the more common idea of genealogical inheritance within the modern scholarly treatment of ancient receptions.
The sixth chapter continues this focus on the theme of adoption by considering the portrayal of orphans and foundlings in the ‘adoption’ novels of George Eliot. At a time when questions of filial dependence or entitlements were being rigidly regulated in the colony, writers from Charles Dickens to Charlotte Brontë and George Eliot imbued adoptive relations with special sentimental and social value to expansively reform ideas of how family, home, and kinship are understood. So, for instance, this chapter shows how Eliot’s Silas Marner (1861) champions the surrogate parental relation over wealth and property inheritance precisely when the Sumroo case legally restricts these ties in the Indian context. Yet, even for Eliot, when adoption raises the specter of racial or national difference as in Daniel Deronda (1876) kinship remains ancestral, its hallmark being genealogical and not open to the caprice of nurture. What this chapter thus clarifies is a contrapuntal relationship between law and literature around the question of adoption. Some of the most celebrated nineteenth century English novels use adoption to break with the family romance plot, upending legal assumptions about rights and descent. However, race proves a limit point even for these works with otherwise capacious imaginations.
The fifth chapter examines eighteenth and nineteenth century inheritance laws in India in order to analyze the intersections between state power, gender, and colonial policies of annexation. In particular, I focus on the case of Troup v. East India Company (1857), which involves the estate of Begum Sumroo, one of the wealthiest and most unconventional women in colonial India. Sumroo, who did not have biological heirs, sought to transfer her wealth to her son through adoption. In a case that revolved around the distinction between private and state property for native principalities, the colonial state declared that the Begum’s property was subject to annexation. The annexation inaugurated a series of legal cases that unfolded over the unfortunate life of her adopted heir David Ochterlony Dyce Sombre. Taking the case of Begum Sumroo as my starting point, I explore the ways in which the normativization of western notions of inheritance and property worked to undergird the expansion of Empire. Assertions of colonial sovereignty thus sought to disrupt unruly forms of sexual and social organization in order to more efficiently manage both affective relations and property ownership
This chapter takes stock of Heaney's role as a public figure across his career. It begins with a recolletion of Heaney in the National Museum of Ireland in 2013, speaking as a public figure who wished not to be part of 'Irish heritage', not to be 'inherited' as an asset but to be 'handed down' with the sensation of human contact. In a close reading of an early poem, ‘The Last Mummer’, the chapter examines the tension in Heaney’s work between the public need for a response to the political crisis and the private need to be true to his poetic impulse.
This essay explores the significance of genealogy and inheritance in Shakespeare’s history plays; specifically, the idea that national and racial characteristics were passed down through the generations in the blood. The word "race" is often applied to peoples produced by the intermingling of different lineages and with different characteristics. The essay shows that such issues were important not just for royal dynasties but for the people they ruled, as is demonstrated through readings of King Henry V, King Richard II, and King John. When races are imagined in such ways the word "bastard" assumes particular importance, as the progeny of two different people(s) taking on new characteristics from a combination of those of the parents. Shakespeare demonstrates in his English history plays that nations and races are never pure, but are always intermingled, compromised, revitalized, and constantly transformed by their union with other peoples, especially the neighbours in terms of whom they define themselves.
Mass migration to the US ended in 1931 but American and Irish consuls continued to engage with the process of transatlantic departure and arrival and it involved diplomacy. This chapter examines the trends in emigration and immigration against the context of the unfolding depression and increasingly restrictive legislation and its impact on the respective societies. It suggests that both governments shared the same intention to close their borders to certain categories of immigrants. The pattern of migration work, therefore, changed and focused mainly on the needs of the settled immigrant in Ireland and the US. The consequences of social mobility and ethnic assimilation are investigated through the financial and legal aspects of consular work. Regardless of economic conditions, the movement of peoples and monies across the Atlantic continued to give substance to the different phase of transatlantic migrant ties in the 1930s
This chapter investigates issues of class and stratification in Japan, which experienced a dramatic paradigm shift towards the end of the twentieth century. Although widely portrayed as an egalitarian and predominantly middle-class society during the period of high economic growth until the early 1990s, Japan has suddenly been deemed a society divided along class lines under the prolonged stagnation that has characterized the Japanese economy for three decades. Based on macrosociological data, this chapter delineates the focal points of debate on the analysis of class and stratification in Japan as a general prelude to specific spheres covered from Chapter 4 onward: cultural diversity and class competition in relation to, for example, generation, region, labor, education, gender, and ethnicity.
In 1760, Anna Maria Lopes de Brito, knowing that she was suffering from a life-threatening disease, made the necessary preparations for her death. Brito registered a will, where she identified herself as a native of the Coast of Mina, in Africa. She also revealed that her owner “mercifully” freed her and her husband, “for which reason they married each other,” and that the couple had built a modest estate through gold mining. Finally, Brito declared that, as a member of the black brotherhood of Our Lady of Rosario, her body would be buried in the brotherhood’s chapel, where masses would be celebrated for the benefit of her soul’s salvation. The records Anna Maria Lopes de Brito left behind reveal something of the life of a freed African woman in colonial Brazil’s slave and mining society. Brito’s freedom was marked by limitations she faced in her choice of life partner, occupation, and social relationships. Still, Brito used different legal resources available to her to secure in death some of the benefits freedom had to offer: the care of her community for her well-being in the afterlife, and the assurance that the fruits of her labor would continue to benefit her children.
There is a common misconception that our genomes - all unique, except for those in identical twins - have the upper hand in controlling our destiny. The latest genetic discoveries, however, do not support that view. Although genetic variation does influence differences in various human behaviours to a greater or lesser degree, most of the time this does not undermine our genuine free will. Genetic determinism comes into play only in various medical conditions, notably some psychiatric syndromes. Denis Alexander here demonstrates that we are not slaves to our genes. He shows how a predisposition to behave in certain ways is influenced at a molecular level by particular genes. Yet a far greater influence on our behaviours is our world-views that lie beyond science - and that have an impact on how we think the latest genetic discoveries should, or should not, be applied. Written in an engaging style, Alexander's book offers tools for understanding and assessing the latest genetic discoveries critically.
This chapter focuses on Clara Reeve’s The Old English Baron (1778), published during the early years of Britain’s war in America. It discusses how Reeve responded to Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto (1764), not only by rejecting the extravagance of his work but also by situating her tale in fifteenth-century England. Attempting to recover the political significance of this decision in the context of the American war, it considers the way in which the novel offers an allusive narrative of national reconciliation and repair. Even as Reeve claimed that her ‘picture of Gothic times and manners’ served the improving purposes of ‘Romance’, however, her work also acknowledges that its resort to the Gothic past is unable entirely to escape the ‘melancholy retrospect’ of ‘History’. With Reeve’s distinction between history and romance in mind, the chapter concludes by suggesting that, through its mediation of Otranto, The Old English Baron helped to make the diverse resources of the Gothic past available to subsequent writers, and at the same time to ensure that its questioning of Britain’s Gothic inheritance remained integral to the tradition of ‘domestic Gothic’ that it inaugurated.
Mungbean yellow mosaic virus (MYMV) disease is one of the most devastating biotic constraints of mungbean production in India. Dependable knowledge on the number and mode of action of genes controlling resistance to MYMV disease is one of the keys to develop resistant cultivars. The F1s of four crosses derived from four MYMV resistant genotypes × one highly susceptible genotype, their parents, F2s and F3s along with a susceptible check were screened for responses to MYMV disease following the infector-row technique under natural infection conditions. A good fit of F2 population segregation to the hypothesized ratio of 15 susceptible:1 resistant and that of F3 population segregation to the expected ratio of 55 susceptible:9 resistant at 55 days after planting confirmed the involvement of two recessive genes in imparting resistance to MYMV disease.
This chapter introduces object-oriented programming and explains how to make use of it in Python. It covers the basic syntax of defining and using objects. It also introduces the object inheritance system and closes with an extended example of object-oriented syllable structure.
This chapter concludes the detailed examination of co-rule with two responsibilities most intimately connected with lordship in medieval thought and modern scholarship: war and justice. During the succession dispute, the Montfortists raised the standard complaint that a woman could not undertake these duties, but the Penthièvre case argued that inheritance and shared power circumvented this objection. Jeanne’s actual engagement with responsibilities of jurisdiction and warfare demonstrates that although her role expanded in Charles’ absence, she continually acted in her own right rather than as a proxy or intercessor, two dynamics strongly linked to women’s exercise of power (and particularly to queenship). This independence allowed Jeanne to use power-sharing as an active strategy to stabilize her and Charles’ position during periods of protracted negotiations, as two case studies show. At the same time, theoretical and practical distinctions made between performing these seigneurial responsibilities in service to one’s lord, and one’s own exercise of lordship, embedded the gender dynamics of spousal co-rule within the negotiation of power across the French sociopolitical structure.
This critical biography of Jeanne establishes a framework for the thematic analyses of subsequent chapters. It outlines Jeanne’s family background, marriage, and motherhood, before detailing the paternal and maternal inheritance which was the basis of her eventual power. It argues that Jeanne’s succession seemed more secure in the lead-up to 1341 than has generally been assumed in light of the war’s outcome. For the period of the war itself, it turns away from the standard military-oriented account to highlight the turning points that most influenced Jeanne’s governance and role. It also examines the neglected final twenty years of Jeanne’s life, including her financial difficulties and her position during the 1379 rebellion, as an important comparison with her official tenure as duchess.