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Gaudete begins with a Prologue in which the Reverend Nicholas Lumb, vicar of a sleepy modern English village, having been abducted by the spirits and taken to the underworld to perform the healing of a sick female figure, is replaced in the ordinary world by a double of himself made from a lopped oak, whom I shall call Lumb 2. The Main Narrative which follows recounts the events of this Lumb 2’s final day. Though the spirits have made him resemble the original in appearance, they have given him a very different nature, that of a fertility spirit whose whole being is dominated by his sex drive. In trying, desperately, to be both substitute vicar and fertility spirit, Lumb 2 has formed the women of the village, both married and unmarried, into a secret society connected with a new religion. He has sex with as many of them as possible, explaining when necessary that one of them is to bear the new messiah. Great passions have been aroused, leading to murders, suicides and other disasters. The menfolk learn of Lumb 2’s sexual exploits with their women and hunt him round the parish until he is shot dead by one of them, Major Hagen. The Epilogue consists primarily of a set of short religious poems written by the original Lumb and centring on the nature of an unnamed goddess and his experience of her.

When Bakunin left the League of Peace and Freedom, he had been for two months past enrolled as a member of the Inter-national. He had declared, from the tribune of the League, his allegiance to the International; and the ordinary observer might have supposed that now at length he would place his restless energy unconditionally and unreservedly at the disposal of that organisation. But it still did not occur to him to follow this simple course. He still had no intention of taking his place in the ranks of the International in the humble and inconspicuous capacity of a new recruit. He would march in as a general at the head of his men. And since the League of Peace and Freedom had disappointed his hopes by refusing to supply him with an army, he must create an army of his own. On the same day on which he handed in to the Berne Congress the document announcing his exit from the League, he rallied around him his faithful followers, and founded an International Social-Democratic Alliance.

FORM AND PATTERN have helped man to discover order in the chaos of the universe. The Pythagoreans saw order in the logic of numbers. These men were members of a secret society founded in the middle of the sixth century B.C. by the Greek philosopher Pythagoras. The society was perpetuated for more than one thousand years. In elevating number above all else, the Pythagoreans searched for patterns, such as those formed by pebbles in the sand. They formed triangles with pebbles for the “triangular” numbers, rectangles for “rectangular” numbers, and squares for “square” numbers.

In the early nineteenth century the social structure of Greater Syria, the birthplace of Arab nationalism, was similar to that of Egypt before the reforms of Muhammad ‘Ali. The system of tax-farming known as iltizam in Egypt was called muqata‘a in Syria.1 Although also under Ottoman rule, Syria differed from Egypt in that it had not been governed centrally, but by a number of contending independent local dynasties. Hence it was more difficult to surmount the feudal system in Syria than in Egypt, and the feudal system in fact survived longest in this part of the Ottoman Empire.2 In Egypt the social structures had undergone an almost complete transformation as a result of the destruction of the feudal system 3 by Muhammad ‘Ali after 1805. In the Ottoman heartlands a similar transformation had taken place in the reign of Mahmud II (1808–39), particularly after the dissolution of the sipahis and the Janissaries.4 In Syria, however, social conditions remained virtually unchanged until the 1830s.5 The continuous internecine struggles between the local dynasties on the one hand and between themselves and the civil and military representatives of the Porte on the other had exhausted the country. Furthermore, outlying cities were regularly pillaged by Bedouin raiders, and, ‘the inevitable consequence of this state of affairs was the impoverishment and depopulation of both towns and the countryside’.6

The carboneria was one of many loosely organized secret movements. It was especially strong in Naples, but had affiliations throughout Italy and further afield. Although its political program was thoroughly indeterminate, it represented a number of minor grievances and had some importance as a generalized movement of protest. Some of its followers wanted constitutional government; some simply wanted more personal freedom and lower taxes, or were being nostalgic for Napoleon’s “career open to talents.” Until Mazzini arrived with a more positive patriotic doctrine, carbonarism was a focus of discontents which undermined loyalty to the restored monarchies after 1815.

But before following Bakunin into his life of retirement at Locarno, the biographer must first retrace his steps by some months; and the story of the slowly widening rift between Bakunin and Marx must be suspended while a new character is brought upon the stage. Bakunin’s energy had not been ex-clusively devoted, during the spring and summer of 1869, to those public or semi-public activities which have just been chronicled. A separate chapter, brief but significant, had opened in his life when, early in March 1869, there arrived at Geneva a young Russian called Sergei Nechaev.

One of the most intriguing aspects of Haitian governmental politics during the Duvalier era was its pervasive ramifications and far-reaching influence on the Voodoo belief system and its co-optation of local Voodoo leaders (Manigat 1964). It is not possible to fully understand the functioning of local Haitian politics over the past two decades without paying attention to the pivotal role played by some Tontons Macoutes (militiamen), who were also influential Voodoo priests in their communities (Diederich and Burt 1969; Laguerre 1982a). During the administrations of Francois ‘Papa Doc’ [1957–71] and Jean-Claude ‘Baby Doc’ [1971–86] Duvalier, Voodoo became so central in the organisation of the Haitian political system that its political content deserves further analysis.1

Yeats’s “On a Child’s Death” (see Plate 16) is transcribed into Lady Gregory’s copy of Poems (1899), now in the Robert W. Woodruff Library for Advanced Studies at Emory University (see p. 153 of this volume). That edition (Wade 17) was published in early May, and Yeats inscribed his copy to Lady Gregory in Dublin on 10 May 1899, during the opening performances of the Irish Literary Theatre. Why the poem bears the date 5 September 1893, and when it was transcribed into the volume are not known, but these questions raise further queries about Yeats’s knowledge of Maud Gonne’s child and about the circumstances that led him to unearth the poem at least six years later for private preservation. Some probable answers emerge from a chronological review of Yeats’s unrequited relationship with Maud Gonne in the 1890s.

Before finding the vision which was missing from Fielding’s Amelia we have to wait for the appearance of the novels of Sir Walter Scott. Scott’s work is interfused with a particular spirit, recognised by contemporaries and successors as equally original and important. He saw human life as a whole, as the point of union between forces dramatically opposed and yet essentially unified, and developed a standpoint fundamentally different and yet strikingly similar to that of the great Renaissance writers. There is a scene in Rob Roy (1817) which demonstrates this perhaps more clearly than any other. In the Highland fastness of Rob Roy, having recently destroyed a troop of infantry sent in search of him and learned that he has been captured by the treachery of the gauger Morris, Roy’s wife condemns the latter to immediate death: She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, two of whom seized upon the prostrate suppliant, and hurried him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the flood. He set up the most piercing and dreadful cries that fear ever uttered—I may well term them dreadful, for they haunted my sleep for years afterwards….

At present it is historiographically fashionable to see nineteenth-century Ireland in the context of its being part of Victorian Britain. As one writer has put it, ‘the Victorian context of Irish culture in mid-century (and after) has been neglected in favour — on occasion — of an exclusivist attention to “the national tradition” ’.[1] This statement would be more true of the GAA than of any other manifestation of Irish culture — popular or otherwise.

During the Ottoman Constitutional era, the politics of the Arab lands of the Ottoman Empire — of Syria, Palestine and Lebanon in particular — were dominated by a deep cleavage. This political cleavage, mirrored in the local press which flourished in the wake of the lifting of the Hamidian censorship, and recorded in the diplomatic despatches of foreign observers, grew deeper and more intractable in the years following the 1908 revolution, until it culminated in the Arab Revolt and the hanging by the Ottoman authorities, in 1915 and 1916, of dozens of its leaders.

To my knowledge, there has been no organized synthesis describing the historical development of horse handling, management, lore, and training. This discussion offers, in capsule form, some of the historical, psychological, and social considerations which might be taken into account when evaluating horse-handling skills.

At the end of the last century there lived in the townland of Prillisk, in the parish of Clogher, in the county of Tyrone,1 a farmer named Carleton. Among his neighbours he was noted for his great memory. A pious Catholic, he could repeat almost the whole of the Old and New Testament, and no man ever heard tell of Gaelic charm, rann,2 poem, prophecy, miracle, tale of blessed priest or friar, revelation of ghost or fairy, that did not already lie on this man’s tongue.

‘Most of us who are writing books in Ireland to-day’, Yeats once observed characteristically, ‘have some kind of a spiritual philosophy; and some among us when we look backward upon our lives see that the coming of a young Brahmin into Ireland helped to give our vague thoughts a shape’.2 Those retrospective words were published on 14 April 1900.3 At the very hour almost Yeats was engaged in a bitter struggle for the preservation of The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a secret society to which he had belonged for more than ten years.

Jack of Hearts, Jack O’Lantern, Jack the Giant-Killer, Jack the Lad — ‘Jack’ is a common name that represents ubiquity: the nomenclature of the ordinary. In the nineteenth century there was only one Jack — the Ripper; of the famous nineteenth-century criminals this one alone has endured into legend. Of Charlie Peace, Neill Cream or Israel Lipski little is remembered; of other famous murders only the victim is recalled: Maria Marten offering herself to melodrama and Fanny Adams to a coarse joke. Jack survives, but not merely because he was not caught.

In the present article, it is my intent to consider the morality of the Hippocratic Oath in the context of a larger discussion of bioethics. That discussion is itself so remarkable, and so contrary to the morality of the Hippocratic Oath, that I shall take its existence as the starting point for my present reflections. The existence of bioethics is remarkable because it presupposes a common ground of dialog between philosophers and physicians, a willingness on the part of both professions to contribute insights from their specialized literature and their diverse experiences to the solution (or at least the clarification) of problems that sprawl across the historic boundaries of either one. And it is contrary to the morality of the Hippocratic Oath that such willingness should be there on the part of the physicians. Those in the field tend to begin all such articles or discussions with a comment on the “recent interest in bioethics”: this odd mannerism should call our attention to the profound changes in medicine proper that have made discussions of bioethics at all possible, changes specifically in the very influence of the Hippocratic Oath on those practicing in the field.

Sir Stewart Duke Elder in 1972 rightly said: ‘trauma is one of the Captains of the Men of Death’.

The stated aim of this book is to explore “the influence of the secret societies” upon the work of five British poets — Smart, Burns, Shelley, Kipling and Yeats — all of whom were either members, alleged members or admirers of “one or other secret society”: for the author believes that “artistic inspiration may be derived from participation in a secret creative underworld” and that “a survey of the relationship between poets and clandestine brotherhoods will open up this neglected area of literary history and criticism”. So it may, and so it might, but such a thesis demands rigorous standards of accuracy, objectivity and consistency if it is to be maintained — standards that Dr Roberts consistently fails to apply to her own work, preferring instead to say with Humpty Dumpty, “When I use a word it means just what I choose it to mean”.

The dramatic episodes of Nechaev and the Franco-Prussian war had diverted Bakunin’s attention from the essential issue of this period of his career—the struggle between him and Marx to dominate the International. The Bâle Congress in the autumn of 1869 had been the declaration of war. From this time onward, with many interruptions and with the lack of system characteristic of all his activities, Bakunin worked to undermine Marx’s commanding position in the International. From this time also Marx, more systematically but not less intermittently (for he too had other preoccupations), plotted and counter-plotted until he compassed his rival’s destruction at the Hague Congress of 1872. For eighteen months after his last ill-starred expedition to France’in the autumn of 1870, Bakunin remained, except for his one brief visit to Italy, at Locarno. During this period he completed the organisation (in so far as any organisation existed) of the anti-Marxist group within the International; and he elaborated (in so far as he was ever capable of systematic elaboration) those anarchist doctrines which he opposed to the authoritarian communism of Marx.

WE COME now to our main problem. What manner of cognition is the religious man’s awareness of God, and how is it related to his other cognitions?

Alexander Herzen’s sense of history, his understanding of contemporary events and the people who made them, his political judgements and political programme during the last year of his life, deserve reappraisal. New material which has become available with the publication of the Soviet Academy edition of his works1 makes possible a more complete understanding of his ideas and his endeavours at that time. He was more in sympathy with the international working-class movement than is generally supposed, and his thought was more an amalgam of ideas held by the most radical European socialists than it was the political liberalism first attributed to him by the younger generation of Russian revolutionaries.

Clements and Vlasopolos offer different interpretations of nineteenth-and twentieth-century literary relations: the former bases her discussion on the nature of Baudelaire’s influence and uncovers a “history of relations among generations of English poets” (p. 9); the latter attempts to establish a methodological tradition stemming from Coleridge’s process of “symbolization”.

That Jesus Christ is a God-man is generally acknowledged. That he is the Incarnation of God is dogma in the Christian religion; that he is an Avatar is to view him through Hindu eyes. In the West there has emerged a gradual recognition of Jesus Christ as an Avatar, and it developed circuitously, partly through secret societies, mystery schools, esoteric groups, and non-Christian religions such as Islam. It has already been shown how in the 1870s, Ramakrishna embraced Jesus as an Avatar and placed him within the Hindu pantheon. Half a century later a Hindu convert to Christianity, V. Chakkarai, in his book Jesus the Avatar,2 stated that according to the Christian view Jesus Christ was ‘the Avatar of God’.3 And it has been shown in Chapter 3 how Christ replaced Krishna as a Western Avatar.

Francoise Lionnet, in her important study of race and gender in acts of ‘self-portraiture’, asserts that the ‘problematics of authorship’ for women autobiographers turns on the splitting of the ‘subject of discourse’ into a ‘narrating self and an experiencing self which can never coincide exactly’ (Lionnet, 1989: 92). For Lionnet: The female narrator gets caught in a duplicitous process: she exists in the text under circumstances of alienated communication because the text is the locus of her dialogue with a tradition she tacitly aims to subvert. (93)

In the early 1820s when a young man named Heinrich Bornstein left his home in Lemberg in Galicia, Austrian territory since the partition of Poland, in order to make his way in the world, his father warned him, Keep out of any conversation on politics and the organization of the state; even among close friends keep completely silent on these matters. Believe that each state is just as important for the temporal affairs of humanity as religion is for eternal salvation. Only simpletons and frauds pretend with their limitations to know everything better than anyone else, to be able to do everything better, and even to intend better. Don’t even joke about matters of government. If something seems questionable or even wrong, then trust that your lack of insight has given you a mistaken point of view.1

THE history of the Gorsedd of the Bards is closely bound up with the history of Glamorgan. Early in the history of the winning of the district by the Anglo-Normans, one of the earls of Gloucester, as lord of Glamorgan, took the institution under his protection and patronage, and it became known as Gorsedd Tir Iarll, “Gorsedd of the Earl's Land”, and the district, comprising the parishes of Liangynwyd, Bettws, and Margarn, is still called after the title of the noble patron of the bards. From about the middle of the twelfth century, the history of the institution, as well as the succession of presiding bards, is as clear as one might expect to find the history of a largely secret society to be. What history is recorded in bardic writings of the institution before that date represents it as Arthur's Round Table, moved from place to place with the seat of government, from caerleon-upon-Usk to Loughor, back to Cardiff, its wanderings having been confined within the boundaries of the diocese of Llandaff, until finally it found a resting-place in the Earl's, Land. There is little reason to doubt the substantial truth of such records, and it is something to note that Arthur's Round Table, by name, has been all along regarded as the living institution known as Gorsedd of the Bards of the Isle of Britain.

The following interesting account of aboriginal medical art is just received from Dr. F. Andros. now of Mitchell, Dakota Territory, but formerly well-known and eminent at McGregor, Iowa. Dr. Andros is said to be the grandson of Sir Edmund Andros, the British governor of New York in colonial times. He is now over eighty years of age, but writes a firm hand, and is still actively engaged in practice. He has lived nearly all his adult life in contact with the Indians. Among the Winnebagoes he was a “great medicine man,” and was admitted to the lodge of their secret society, which has its signs and passwords, and is in many respects like some of the secret orders among the whites. Being thus closely intimate with the Indians at a very early day, before they were much modified by contact with civilization, his testimony as to their original medical and

The secret state police surveys the entire territory of the state so as to discover every danger to security at home or abroad, so a Hapsburg Police Minister explained to the Emperor Francis in 1807. Although this police was publicly authorized and organized, they frequently acted secretly so as to be most effective. Hence their name of secret state police or, as they were also called, the higher state police. In contrast, the public or regular police dealt with a particular part of the country and occupied themselves with the security and the welfare of the inhabitants of a single locality.1 Count Pergen, the organizer of the Hapsburg Police Ministry, had repeatedly insisted upon these conceptions and practices while he brought a centralized police system into operation.

This section describes something of the life of the modern peoples of Kenya and Northern Tanzania. Even today we are painfully ignorant of most of the old customs and particularly among the Bantu and the Nilotes, the societies are changing so rapidly that much of what was written only a few years ago is now hopelessly out of date. A vast effort is required to record and work out the customs and inter-relationships of all these peoples but the number of research workers currently involved in this task is painfully small. Fortunately the Hamites and Nilo-Hamites are changing relatively slowly but for many of the Bantu and Nilotes it may already be too late. Table i shows the main African groups living in the region today. There are many other small tribes, particularly among the coastal Bantu, which have been omitted for reasons of simplicity.

This paper draws on a detailed empirical study of the New Zealand newspaper industry undergoing technological transformation to illustrate why an analysis of the labour process which adopts the classic Marxist problematic, class-in-itself and class for-itself, is limited. Instead the paper uses a 'relational' analysis (see Elbaum et al., 1979; Stark, 1980; Hill and Novitz, 1985) to show that answers to questions about control in the workplace must be sought by -analysing gender as well as class relations, and the complex interaction between the two.

Speransky’s exclusive preoccupation with his work on the administrative reform of the provinces did not prevent his being affected by the dramatic events which took place in December 1825 on the occasion of the death of Alexander I and the ensuing interregnum. Much against his will, he was at first himself implicated in the Decembrist movement, and later given an important part in the trial of the conspirators of December 14. This involvement affected his relations to the new sovereign, Nicholas I and his position in the new reign. It deserves therefore some consideration in a political biography.

‘There is a bookseller’s shop in High Holborn. It is in every sense an unpretending establishment. … An inscription above it calls it “The Reformers’ Library”. … There are sights more hunted after by mere sightseers. There are edifices linked with many an historic narrative or fable. Yet we would venture to set that undistinguished shop above more than one palace and monument. For there are the headquarters of a society whose behests are obeyed by countless thousands from Moscow to Madrid, and in the New World as in the Old, whose disciples have already waged desperate war against one government, and whose proclamations pledge it to wage that war against every government — the ominous, the ubiquitous International Association of Workmen.’

Toward the end of 1849, Cattaneo, Dall’Ongaro and Repetti worked steadily to gather and to arrange different kinds of materials for publication in Archivio triennale. In a Manifesto dated January 15, 1850, they published a fairly detailed outline of their project and once again they appealed to people from all parts of Italy to contribute letters, documents or pamphlets concerning the events of 1847–49.1

BELFAST alone among the great towns of Ireland has been a political community almost from its beginning, which can be dated precisely to the first decade of the seventeenth century. Like all the other towns, with the exception of Kilkenny, it was built on tidal water at a ford across the river Lagan. Although some habitations existed since prehistoric times, they were insignificant until the conquest of Ulster under Elizabeth and James I. During the first five hundred years after the Norman invasion the ford of Belfast was the object of a long struggle between the Anglo-Normans and the Irish, and a twelfth-century castle was built there, not twenty miles from the first and greatest Norman castle of Carrickfergus. From the fourteenth to the sixteenth century Belfast was in the hands of native chiefs who dominated the whole of Ulster except Carrickfergus, and a small part of County Down. The next efforts to gain control of Belfast were almost contemporary with the coming of the Reformed religion to Ireland, and the reign of Elizabeth witnessed the subjugation of the Gaelic chiefs and the granting of the castle and harbour of Belfast to a succession of royal retainers, including Essex. The conquest was complete after the final desperate rebellion of the remaining Ulster chiefs, the Earls of Tyrone and Tyrconnell in the last years of Elizabeth’s reign, their submission and eventual flight to the continent in 1607.

This paper explores the links between the socio-cultural power structures of the Poro and Bondo secret societies and their interactions with internationalist human rights discourse in postconflict ...

Masques, peintures faciales, sculptures associees a l'association feminine Bondo (ou Sande) de la Sierra Leone et du nord-ouest liberian. Etude stylistique et semiologique. Symbolisme de la chrysalide des masques-heaume, des motifs geometriques, zoomorphes, botaniques| semiotique de l'inversion sexuelle dans la danse masquee| analogie linguistique entre les termes designant le cosmos et les cosmetiques, associant les principes de beaute et d'harmonie universelle

I want to compliment the participants on a rich and varied conference, one that was very thought provoking. I feel I have been initiated into a secret society: the ancient and honorable circle of plea bargaining experts. To a newcomer, some of the arguments were not as clear as they might have been; there were private signals and understandings I did not always catch. In short, my position is very much like that of George Kaufman who was called up by Moss Hart about 11 o'clock one night and asked, "What are you doing for dinner?" Kaufman replied, "I'm digesting it."

The Excavation of the Apasht is an exhibition in the genre of archaeological fiction in which artifacts from an imaginary culture are fabricated and documented as if authentic. Using this definition, the author proposes a paradigm for archaeological fiction based on a story by Jorge Luis Borges entitled “Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius”. (In this story, all of the aspects of a hypothetical culture are documented in an encyclopedia which is published by a secret society of artists and scientists.) The author then describes his most recent exhibition, The Excavation of the Apasht , and identifies aspects of the work which are derived from this paradigm. In concluding, issues related to archaeological fiction are addressed.

Les danses masquees organisees par les associations de classe d'âge, ton, chez les Bambara et les Malinke du Mali. Leur organisation, leur symbolisme et leur evolution.

Description de l'organisation de la societe secrete du Leopard au Cameroun, de son systeme de grades et de ses masques. Variations selon les groupes ethniques.

HENGTU, the capital of Szechwan province in west China, was '..the last major city on the mainland to be taken by the Communist People's Liberation Army (PLA). It was to be expected, then, that the liberators would, in Chengtu, be able to draw upon more practical experience and to effect a more thoroughly elaborated policy than in other Chinese cities. The obstacles to the Communist program in Chengtu and vicinity were tremendous: less urban modernization than elsewhere in China, one of the most strongly entrenched groups of large landlords in the country, a powerful anti-Communist secret society, and an especially large concentration (in this, the last Nationalist stronghold on the mainland) of Kuomintang bureaucrats and hangers-on and of turn-over and captured Kuomintang troops. But the stakes were correspondingly high: the Chengtu Plain is probably the richest and most densely populated agricultural region in all of China, and Communist strategy counted on a sufficient rice surplus from the Plain to feed the PLA units destined for the Tibetan campaign. Szechwan was clearly the key to the entire Southwest.'