Khushhal Khan ‘Gunasamudra’ was the most feted court singer of the mid-seventeenth century. Great-grandson of the most famous Mughal musician of all time, Tansen, and chief musician to the emperors Shah Jahan (r.1627−1658) and Aurangzeb (r.1658−1707), he was written about extensively in his lifetime as a virtuoso of exceptional merit. Yet this was not how he was memorialised in the 1750s, when legends of the great Mughal musicians of past and present were first compiled into biographical collections. Rather, he was remembered as the instigator of a shocking political scandal that supernaturally sealed Shah Jahan’s downfall. In this chapter I retell Khushhal’s story from the vantage point of the 1750s, in the light of the canonical Mughal music treatises of Shah Jahan’s and Aurangzeb’s reigns. I consider what they together tell us about the role and power of music in the Mughal empire, just before everything began to unravel.

In 1799, Mahlaqa Bai “Chanda”, “The Moon”, presented a book of her songs to the Deputy British Resident of Hyderabad, John Malcolm, in the middle of a music and dance party. Renowned as the first Indian courtesan to write a collection of Urdu poetry, she was equally famous for her affairs with powerful men at the Nizam’s court. Obscured by Mahlaqa Bai’s luminescence today is the man behind the Moon, her ustād (master-teacher) Khushhal Khan “Anup”. A hereditary musician in exile from Mughal Delhi, Anup left behind an enormous corpus of songs, several music-technical treatises, and an illustrated rāgamālā. In this chapter I use the illustrated writings of this single hereditary musician to unravel the stories of musical life, and the lives of these two extraordinary figures and their patrons, in Nizami Hyderabad c.1780−1830.

Chapter 1 establishes the intellectual and cultural backdrop for royal justice in late fifteenth and early sixteenth-century England. It explores what justice meant for the wider populace of this period, drawing from a range of elite and non-elite sources: coronation oaths and proclamations issued by the Crown; sermons and speeches made by the chief ministers of the realm in Parliament and Council; and bills of complaints, popular poetry, rebel petitions, and commonplace books produced by humbler people. Surveying this range of differing perspectives, the principle of justice supplied by the king proves to have been deeply ingrained across society. Yet how, exactly, it might be put into practice proved a more contentious topic, and one that opened even the existing royal courts up to criticism. This nebulous ideal, with its cognate concepts of mercy, pity, and charity, was already at odds with the law of the land by the middle of the fifteenth century. These fragmentations help to explain why a more extraordinary kind of royal justice was in demand, and to show the expectations that weighed upon it.

This chapter introduces the framework for the comparison between Massachusetts and Nova Scotia, the factors individuals confronted when they decided what type of proceeding to take over expression they disliked, the conceptual transition from the law concerning libels to libel law, the development of the defenses of privilege and truth, the emergence of the idea that obscene texts could be prosecuted as criminal libels, and the establishment of the courtroom as the site where individual claims to freedom of speech and conscience were brought in Massachusetts – but not Nova Scotia – against a backdrop of majoritarian violence.

In 1967, AWB Simpson published a landmark article which demonstrated that the concept of ‘continuous and apparent’ easements, a fundamental part of English law (then and now) on the implication of easements was derived from the French Code civil via an English treatise written by Charles Gale in 1839. Simpson justifiably described his contribution as ‘a cautionary tale, containing several morals’. However, his account is incomplete principally because he used only English sources. This chapter shows that many other ‘morals’ emerge from a more extensive comparative and historical analysis of this reception. The roots of the concept of ‘continuous and apparent’ did not run very deep in the pre-Revolutionary law when it emerged in the Code civil in 1804 and, remarkably, it had never before been used for the purposes of implying easements. Unsurprisingly, given these inauspicious origins, the interpretative problems which the concept caused in English law were already visible in French law in 1839 but, intriguingly and significantly, they were omitted in the first and subsequent editions of Gale’s treatise. This omission is critical; the inherently flawed French concept of ‘continuous and apparent’ was absorbed into English law by judges who relied almost exclusively on the various editions of Gale’s treatise. Filling in the gaps in the story told by Simpson reveals much about English private law in the second half of the nineteenth century and in the first decades of the twentieth; it also has important implications for theoretical thinking about transplants in comparative legal scholarship.

Jean de Blanot, the enigmatic Iacobus Aurelianus, and Jean Blanc de Marseille are the first known French lawyers trained in Italy to have shown interest in one of the most famous custumals in medieval Europe, the Lombard book of fiefs known by the name of Libri Feudorum. Considering that this compilation was increasingly gaining authority in the Italian law schools, this chapter shows how these three lawyers re-elaborated these teachings and compared (or opposed) them to local bodies of norms. By observing how they developed different notions of custom and argued about the validity of the Libri Feudorum outside Lombardy, the chapter unveils the problematic dialectics between Civil law, local custom, and practice, and provides some insights into the making of the ius commune, its practical and historical roots, its geographical dimensions.

This paper discusses Regiam Maiestatem, known by the mid-fifteenth century to constitute much of Scotland’s ‘ancient law’.Although it was used and cited as an authority of Scotland’s common law into the modern period, Regiam has an unusually controversial past. It is currently understood to have been compiled during the reign of Robert I (1306–29), during Scotland’s ‘wars of independence’ with England, although much of its material is based on the late twelfth-century English legal tractate known as Glanvill. As a result of the relationship between it and Glanvill, Regiam has been both dismissed as constituting ’no part’ of Scots law and as providing evidence for the shared legal framework of Scotland and England. Yet it remains a remarkably understudied work in itself, partly because of its complicated manuscript tradition and its confused and often conflicting readings. This lecture offers a new interpretation of Regiam’s intended purpose by situating it in the context of later thirteenth- and early fourteenth-century political thought and, in so doing, offers a different interpretation of the intellectual underpinnings and practice of Robert I’s kingship.