The relations between Gregory, metropolitan of Tours, and Felix, suffragan of Nantes, were not always felicitous. O. M. Dalton in the monumental introduction to his translation of the Historiae commented (1.12):

In his own province, too, even before Chilperic's tragic end, a source of discord had been removed by the death of one of his suffragans with whom his relations had never been harmonious.

Although the text of the Old English Exodus poem, as C. L. Wrenn remarked, is one ‘whose almost every line contains a crux or a challenge,’ certain passages of the poem present especially numerous and complex difficulties. One such passage is lines 135–153, immediately following the description of the Israelites’ advance through the third and fourth mansiones and preceding the description of Pharaoh's pursuit:

135 Đær on fyrd hyra færspell becwom,
oht inlende. Egsan stodan,
wælgryre weroda; wræcmon gebad
laðne lastweard, se ðe him lange ær
eðelleasum onnied gescraf,

Of the documents that concern the relationship between Byzantium and Western Europe in the early Middle Ages, none is more famous or more frequently read than Relatio de Legatione Constantinopolitana, Liudprand of Cremona's description of his mission to Constantinople in 968 for Otto I. Much has been learned from his vivid if acid narrative about the Byzantine court of Nicephorus II Phocas and about East-West relations in the tenth century. Over the last forty years research has reached beneath the vivid prose in search of the true significance of that mission. But since Liudprand's is the only first-hand, detailed record of an embassy to Constantinople of that era, some scholars have given it more contemporary importance than it actually had, and, by extension, they have turned Liudprand's thoughts into subtle expressions of official Western policy. The danger in these inquiries has been to divorce the mind and moods of the creator from his creation and bestow on Relatio undeserved exaltation. The problem is to keep the document in its perspective while draining every sentence of its implications.

Recent interpretations of the Old English poem Judith have discussed it either in the light of the interpretations suggested by Ælfric, or in terms of widely known patristic treatments which antedate the poem. Thus Professor J. E. Cross refers to Ælfric's Letter to Sigeweard, and discusses the poem as an exhortation intended for ‘contemporary stiffening’ of resistance to the invading Danes. Professor B. F. Huppé, who cites both the Letter to Sigeweard and the peroration of Ælfric's homily on Judith, revives an interpretation originally proposed by T. G. Foster in 1892, and later supported by A. S. Cook in his 1904 edition of the poem: that the heroine Judith was meant to represent Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, in her victorious exploits against the Vikings of the eastern Danelaw, so that the poem is a celebration of English success in countering Danish attacks. This particular interpretation was discussed by Timmer in his introduction to the Methuen edition of Judith, and dismissed, primarily for the reason that there is no evidence that an Old English poem written about a religious figure could symbolize a secular hero. A perhaps more compelling reason for dismissing Huppé's interpretation is the West Saxon ‘conspiracy of silence’ about Æthelflæd: a southern poet of the tenth century would hardly have praised the Mercian leader when West Saxon policy was to cast ‘a blanket of official silence over all [her] achievements.’ In more general terms, however, Huppé agrees with Cross that the poem is a patriotic work, with ‘direct relevance’ to the situation in England, and he elaborates on the idea that the heroine is depicted as an example of ‘heroic virtue.’ In this, his interpretation relates to a third recent interpretation, that of Jackson J. Campbell. Like Huppé, Campbell considers the poem in the light of the exegetical commentaries on the Vulgate Book of Judith. There are not a great number of these, but they are all similar, or easy to relate to one another. The Fathers discuss Judith tropologically as an example of chaste widowhood, or simply as an example of chastity, ‘chaste purity’ (Aldhelm), the life of the dedicated contemplative, vowed to chastity (Jerome); in this case Holofernes represents the flesh, or carnal temptation, ‘the vice of the wicked flesh’ (Aldhelm). Secondly, they see her as a type of the Church, cutting off the head of the Old Serpent symbolized by Holofernes. Most Anglo-Saxons who knew the story of Judith would probably have known these stock interpretations; in particular Campbell shows how the poem suggests the interpretation that Judith is a type of Ecclesia.

In the annals of medieval medical as well as cultural history the name and authority of Hippocrates of Cos knows no rival other than his later disciple, Galen. Yet there has so far been no systematic attempt to gather together, with any degree of completeness, the names and locations of manuscripts of the individual treatises that circulated in the Latin West before 1500 under the name or aegis of the famed physician of Cos. The present investigation of this subject, that is of the constituents of a ‘Repertorium of Hippocratic Writings in Latin’ or of a ‘Hippocrates (Ypocras) Latinus,’ was begun nearly four decades ago, particularly in the ill-fated years 1938 to 1939, while on a sojourn in Europe before the outbreak of World War II. The intention, then as now, was to provide the basis for determining the extent to which there was continuity in the transmission of Greek medicine, albeit in Latin dress, from antiquity to the early and later Middle Ages. The research was thereafter continued sporadically whenever there was an opportunity to examine manuscripts in European depositories. In recent years the work has been greatly facilitated by the published results especially of the researches of two late scholars of medieval medical manuscripts, Augusto Beccaria and Ernest Wickersheimer, as well as by the cataloguing of various manuscript collections. However, there still remains the task of drawing out the individual works appearing under Hippocrates' name together with their commentaries, not only in the pre-Salernitan, but also in the succeeding centuries before about 1500. To this endeavor the present investigation is directed.

The Entheticus de dogmate philosophorum of John of Salisbury has come down to us in three manuscripts: a twelfth-century codex in the British Museum (Royal 13. D. IV); a fourteenth-century manuscript in the University Library at Cambridge (Ii. II. 31); a seventeenth-century codex now located in the Staatsbibliothek, Berlin (Hamburg Cod. Phil. 350). The editio princeps was published by Christian Petersen (Hamburg 1843), and it has remained the standard edition. However, important deficiencies in that work have made a complete re-examination of the text necessary.

Early in 1295 the newly elected Pope Boniface VIII appointed as his legate to France Simon of Beaulieu, a former archbishop of Bourges who had recently been made cardinal by Boniface's predecessor Celestine V. As it happened, Simon's legation, which lasted until the spring of 1297, was an eventful one. The pope had instructed him to attempt to mediate between Kings Edward I and Philip the Fair in their war over Gascony, a task that proved arduous indeed. Moreover, in the second year of the mission, there began the well-known quarrel between the French king and the pope over the question of royal taxation of the clergy. During the struggle Simon was in the awkward position of having to implement papal policies that were unpopular with the French court.

On November 8, 1357 Archbishop Richard FitzRalph of Armagh preached the Proposicio ‘Nolite iudicare,’ known also as the Defensio Curatorum, before a full consistory of cardinals at Avignon. This was the opening round of a legal battle in the papal courts over the pastoral functions and privileges of the four orders of mendicant friars, Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, and Carmelites. The case of the archbishop of Armagh versus the procurators general of the mendicant orders may with some justice be regarded as the climax of the long struggle between the friars and the secular clergy. The episode is unusually well-documented, but although much attention has been devoted to FitzRalph's sermons against the friars preached in London during the winter and spring of 1356–7 and to his dialogue on poverty and dominion De pauperie Salvatoris, little consideration has been given to the later developments which followed the transfer of the case to the papal curia. There the dispute became the subject of an inquiry heard by a tribunal of cardinals. Copies of the statements by both parties to the dispute survive in a number of manuscripts, English and continental, and it is possible to trace in some detail the progress of these curial proceedings.

Because depositions lie at the heart of that process through which England developed a limited monarchy, historians have long studied them. Nevertheless, this scholarly attention has been unequally bestowed. Edward II and Richard II are familiar figures in the depositional literature, but one seldom encounters Henry VI, and Edward V is never mentioned at all.

The reasons for these differences are readily comprehensible. Edward II and Richard II had significant reigns, and in the very process of their depositions the limits of legitimate monarchical power were defined. The fall of Henry VI offers few similar opportunities: if his policies also led to revolt, they were sui generis, no more than a byproduct of his lamentable mental state and, as such, of no lasting concern to those studying the growth of the constitution.

Throughout much of the Middle Ages the Iberian Peninsula had been responsible for the transmision to Europe of many of Aristotle's works and those of his Arab commentators. Without the ‘school’ of translators, which flourished at Toledo for nearly a century after its foundation in the 1120s by archbishop Raimundo, the twelfth-century revival of Aristotelianism at Paris would scarcely have been possible. But the motley Christian kingdoms of the Peninsula benefited less from the tradition of Arab scholarship than did their northern neighbours. Intellectual concerns were rather narrowly limited to the requirements of the schools and interest in the moral writings of Aristotle was therefore less pronounced than it was in the sphere of natural philosophy. The evidence for Spanish scholarly initiatives in respect of Aristotle's moral philosophy before the beginning of the fifteenth century is, indeed, slender; there are some commentaries and compendia used in teaching but certainly nothing to compare with the activities of Grosseteste, Moerbeke, Burley, and Oresme.

In 1953, R. J. C. Atkinson made the first discovery of prehistoric carvings on Stonehenge: a dagger and several ax-heads on the inner face of sarsen stone no. 53. Since then a number of other carvings have been identified, including two additional daggers on the west side of stone 53 and the south side of stone 23. In May 1972, on a casual visit to Stonehenge, I noticed what appeared to be an incised cartwheel with eight spokes, low on the southeast side of stone 30, within the main entrance; this same apparent design was immediately recognized by my wife and son, with no prompting from me. When I re-examined the area in July 1974, I was astonished to find not only that I could see no cartwheel, but that I could see nothing which might plausibly have led me to think of a cartwheel. This striking discrepancy between two clear visual impressions of the same surface made me suspect that some delicate trick of lighting must be involved, and I accordingly visited Stonehenge at night to explore the problem with the help of crosslighting.

Im 10. Traktate Priscillians steht folgendes Ungetüm eines Satzes:

In hac parte psalmidici sermonis, quos fides constans ad Studium veritatis vocat, non tantum excipere auditu, sed introspicere sensu convenit, qualiter ad omnem se intelligentiae nostrae inbecillitatem psalmus adcommodet et dispositione sermonis profetici opeis modum temperans arduum divinae intelligentiae iter velut clivo molliens leniori faciliori instituit ascensu, ut, quia conversis ad fidem facilius est peccatorum suorum mala nosse quam dispensationem divinae in se intellegere naturae promptiusque est homini peccatum nolle quam velle divinum, ita in psalmo aptissimus profectibus legentium ordo succederet, ut leservata in processu psalmi cognitione sui deo, qui nisi per se cognitus non est, primum redarguitio domini agnitio peccati divino muneri faceret ingressum et, ubi homo naturae suae locus factus quid deus vellet agnosceret, sensatae historiae sermo sequeretur dicens: ‘deus locutus est in sancto suo,’ ut qui se sanctificasset deo, loquente in se domino, deum loqui audiret in sancto et omne quod in historiis sanctorum virtus fecisse putabatur humana, naturae suae legibus metiens inter divinas professiones habitae de se protestationis expenderet, ut profeticus sermo semel loquens et duo praedicans exultationem salvati hominis in Christo et gloriam Christi in homine triumfantis velut germanum insigne circumferens ad doctrinam nostrae eruditionis aperiret, ut, dum sanctorum gesta cognoscimus, triumphum bonae vitae absoluta dictorum dispensatione teneamus.

The insurrections of peasants in Gaul and Spain who were collectively known as the Bagaudae ≃ Bacaudae constitute one of the more intriguing yet obscure conflicts in the Later Roman Empire. The meaning and origin of the word Bagauda ≃ Bacauda are equally obscure and have been unresolved since the Middle Ages.

The encounter of imperial Rome with the nascent Christian religion produced the tradition upon which our culture is based. So legion are the examples of their mutual interaction that the source of certain facets of imperial Christian thought, art, and culture is not always clear. In seeking traces of Christian impact on the empire in the Age of Constantine, it was natural for scholars to look to the coinage, the largest surviving body of imperial art and propaganda, and find such traces they did. More recent thought, however, has re-analyzed most of these alleged examples of Christian symbolism and has correctly found them to be either personal symbols of the emperor or merely minor adjuncts supplied by lesser mint-officials who, in their selection of mint and/or sequence marks, most probably in no way reflected imperial policy or belief.

Bede believed in miracles. They were basic to him, both as a practicing Christian and as a working historian. Without accepting this we can understand him neither as a man of the seventh and eighth centuries ncr as the author who carefully constructed the Ecclesiastical History.

One of Bede's warmest admirers, the late Bertram Colgrave, was rather embarrassed by what seemed to be the naíveté of his hero. To rescue Bede from the charge of being either overly credulous or simply simple-minded, Colgrave did a useful study of the use of miracle stories in Bede's works, particularly in the Ecclesiastical History. And yet, despite himself, he always remained a little uneasy. His comments to the British Academy reflect a continuing ambivalence, and his last words on the subject were still apologetic in tone.

The development of the pre-Carolingian seigneurie has received little attention, although this neglect is due in large part to a scarcity in source material. This lack may be supplemented by relying on other material, such as that supplied in the Lex Baiuvariorum. The latter, the Bavarian code, was promulgated within the first half of the eighth century and slightly before the appearance of the Carolingian estate organization. The development of manorial obligations in eighth-century Bavaria is illustrated by one major law in the Lex Baiuvariorum, and this law is I, 13. However, the study of the seigneurie in Bavaria is complicated by differing interpretations of the evidence. What follows is an attempt to re-evaluate the evidence as supplied in L. Baiu. I, 13 and to show its relationship with the Carolingian estate organization.

Lorenzo Valla in his De Linguae latinae elegantiis is highly critical of previous Latin grammatical studies. In particular Valla seeks in this linguistic treatise to revise for his contemporaries the teachings of Donatus, Servius, and Priscian which he found in conflict with his ideal of classical Latin usage; and in general he seeks to complement the extant grammatical tradition of antiquity. In Book VI of the Elegantiae Valla treats topics explicitly drawn from ancient grammatical sources, which he further explicates and clarifies. Moreover, many of the topics of Books I–III are drawn from these same sources, as Valla's frequent citation of them indicates. In contrast with ancient and imperial grammarians, Isidore of Seville is named only twice in the Elegantiae. In the preface to Book II (II. praef. 41). Valla brands him ‘indoctorum arrogantissimus, qui quum nihil sciat, omnia praecipit.’ He mentions Isidore once more when rejecting an ‘inept’ etymology of oratio from oris ratio (VI. 36.217). Despite the paucity of explicit references to Isidore in the Elegantiae, however, a comparison of Valla's and Isidore's linguistic discussions suggests that Valla intended a direct response to Isidore's verbal distinctions (differentiae), definitions, and etymologies in his own section on signification, Books IV and V of the Elegantiae.