This is the first of several essays investigating the continuity of literary theory and of the principles which may account for its development. While critical terminologies change as they respond to problems emerging from the immediate historical process, a continuity, nevertheless, may be observed in the necessity for literary theory to take account of certain persistent relationships which underlie all intellectual disciplines. Among others, for instance, is the epistemological relation of the concept itself to the materials out of which it is formed and to the functions which it is subsequently to fulfil. Although the type of materials and functions will vary with the subject under consideration, the relation of the mental construct to its sources of sensation and to its role in the formation of knowledge remains relatively constant. The relation of the poet's mind, for instance, to its ethical materials, as described by Sidney, is strikingly near to the relation of the natural philosopher's mind to his data as described by Francis Bacon. Bacon seeks a ‘middle course [ratio media]’ between the rationalistic spider and the empirical ant, and finds that the bee ‘gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own.’ The bee goes about the true business of the scientist and represents ‘a closer and purer league between these two faculties, the experimental and the rational, (such as has never yet been made) …. ’ The ratio media in Bacon's material holds a position analogous to that of poetry in Sidney's: the balance between philosophical precept and historical example. This middle way is new, Bacon says, in the scientific method; it defines the intention of literary discourse, however, from its very origins, as I shall try to show, as well as a relationship which literary theory continually attempts to reestablish.

The Christian teaching on usury did not develop in a vacuum. Christianity was born in a semitic milieu and spread rapidly through the Graeco-Roman world. Naturally, its ancestry and its environment influenced its moral thinking. The Fathers of the Church were well acquainted with the thought of others about usury. Besides many references to the clear Old Testament usury prohibition, the writings of the Fathers reflect and interact with attitudes toward interest-taking in Greece and Rome and in early rabbinical literature. It will thus be helpful to examine those strains of thought that existed side by side with the early patristic teaching and influenced it.

Perhaps not unnaturally, but disastrously for itself, Byzantine historiography has so far, if at all, tended to view the role played by the Caucasians, especially Armenians, in the history of the Eastern Empire with somewhat parochial, or microcosmic, eyes. To those eyes, Armenia, and Caucasia in general, remain largely a terra incognita, despite occasional inroads into that unknown territory. Thus, even when, as of late, the importance of, especially, the Armenian element for Byzantine history has at last been recognized, insufficient acquaintance with the historical, cultural, and social background of the part of the world where that element originated and whence it came to the Empire is nevertheless still too much in evidence. And yet, precisely because of the importance for Byzantine history of the element in question, its background ought to be of interest to the Byzantine scholar, for it alone can fully explain the nature of the role which was played by that element. This is precisely the scope of this study: not merely to repeat what has at last been admitted, but also to supplement it and bring it into focus; in other words, to describe the background in order more fully to explain the role.

The Old English Elene has generally been considered Cynewulf's most successful poem; but while critics have admired specific passages in it, they have generally either ignored or patronized the poem as a whole. Thus Kemp Malone writes that in Elene, Cynewulf ‘told his tale simply and clearly as Old English poets go. Here he doubtless owed something to his Latin source ….’ The most recent editor of the text, Gradon, remarks that apart from the descriptions of the battle and the sea voyage, ‘there is little in Elene that can be shown to be original … a glance at Holthausen's composite text shows that, poetic circumlocution apart, there is little not to be found in some version of the Acta Cyriaci.’ One recent critic to deal with Elene, S. B. Greenfield, in his Critical History of Old English Literature, argues for a more sympathetic view of the poem, suggesting that ‘the struggle between good and evil that preoccupied Cynewulf is here [in Elene] presented thematically as a contrast between darkness and light, both on a physical and spiritual level’; he goes on to argue that the central episodes of the poem (i.e. Elene's quest for the cross) have a distinct literary if not necessarily poetic power.’ But Greenfield does not develop these suggestions in detail and it would, I think, be a fair summary of his discussion of the poem to say that where previous critics have been cool, Greenfield is lukewarm.

No law of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and few incidents in its constitutional history have received so much attention from recent historians as the Assise sur la ligece and the establishment of the Commune of Acre. But perhaps for the reason that a great achievement of the last few years has been the delineation of the twelfth-century monarchy, the later history of the Assise and its practical application in a series of disputes between the government and the baronage have not received much attention. The sources for the Assise all date from the middle years of the thirteenth century, by which time the Palestinian jurists' interpretation of it was at the end of a long period of development; and there is something to be said for trying to trace its history from that moment towards the end of the twelfth century when it became the basis for baronial resistance to the crown. In this paper, therefore, I will study the law's development from the reign of Aimery (1198-1205). I will argue that it was in the course of a dispute between that king and Ralph of Tiberias that the Assise was interpreted in such a way as to justify open opposition to arbitrary acts by the king; that this interpretation was used with most success early in 1229, during the Crusade of the Emperor Frederick II; but that, as far as the Kingdom of Jerusalem was concerned, the creation of the Commune of Acre in 1231-2 coincided with its final failure, and events at that time revealed inherent weaknesses in its use as an instrument of resistance. It follows that the detailed treatment of the law by Philip of Novara and John of Jaffa some decades later is a further demonstration of their fascinating but essentially unrealistic vision.

Kingship has always been conceived to be either the totality of royal functions or the art and science of discharging them well. If we attempt to narrow down specifically medieval kingship a bit more, we find that its conception had more to do with the monarch's will and his faith in the right things, while conversely it had a shade less to do with his knowledge than did ancient and early modern kingship; however, there is every reason to minimize this distinction, since medieval kings were very well supposed to be wise, or well advised on pertinent matters, or, preferably, both. The total being of the medieval king was so nearly identical with the royal office that in the Middle Ages the question ‘What are the functions of the king?’ is really the more simple question ‘Who is the king?’ If the man looked at is a true king, his functions — his practice of kingship — will follow as a matter of course.

On November 24, 1199, Innocent III sent an extraordinary letter to the Sicilian people announcing the appearance of another Saladin in the German adventurer Markward of Anweiler. By his alliance with the Saracens of Sicily and his atrocities against Christians, Markward had set himself against the Cross and opened a way for the conquest of Italy by the Infidel. So desperate was the situation that the Holy Land itself would best be relieved by defense of the Regno, for if southern Italy should fall to the Saracens, who could believe in Christian power to restore Jerusalem? The pope, therefore, granted to all who would resist Markward the same indulgences won hitherto only by Crusaders in Palestine.

These pages continue the inventory of Medieval Latin Aristotle Commentaries published in Traditio 23 (1967) 313-413, 24 (1968) 149-245, and 26 (1970) 135-216. The commentaries have been arranged alphabetically according to the author's first name, with a brief bio-bibliographical note and indication of manuscripts and editions.

It has been some years since any attempt has been made at a comprehensive re-evaluation of the work of Roger Bacon, although he is perhaps as alluring and mystifying as ever, and more or less creditable studies of various aspects of his work continue to emerge at regular intervals. For the most part, these do little to dispel the myths and countermyths that have always surrounded Bacon's work. The main source of this confusion must obviously be Bacon himself. By diligent searching in his various works and fragments of works, he can be made to say practically anything the commentator wants him to say.

Consent to taxation traditionally has been regarded as one of the essential functions of representative assemblies. The distinguished historian of medieval Spanish institutions, Claudio Sánchez Albornoz, has indeed argued that representatives of the towns originally were summoned to the cortes of León-Castile to give their consent to extraordinary taxes. As yet, however, students of the medieval cortes have not carried out detailed investigations of the problem. Evidence to illustrate the taxing role of the cortes during the formative years from 1188 to 1252 is scanty, but it is considerably fuller during the reign of Alfonso X (1252-1284). Inasmuch as he incurred exceptional expenses and frequently summoned the cortes, an inquiry into the role of the cortes in assisting him through taxation should broaden our understanding of the functioning of government in the second half of the thirteenth century. The purpose of this paper then will be to determine when, to what extent, and for what purposes the cortes authorized the king to levy extraordinary taxes.

The year 1321 is crucially important in the history of the development of French constitutional and political activity, for it was then that Philip V, the most inventive and imaginative of the sons of Philip the Fair, attempted to utilize assemblies of different sorts for an unprecedented purpose, to secure from the kingdom of France a grant of funds in time of peace to support a program of administrative and economic reform. His predecessors had had some success in securing levies for the defense of the realm, and, like them, Philip had raised money for campaigns against the Flemings. Neither Philip nor the kings who had ruled before him had, however, tried to obtained the active cooperation of the kingdom in advancing the welfare of France by introducing improvements which were totally unrelated to the needs of defense. It is a testimony to Philip's vision that he made such an attempt, abortive though it proved to be, for in the end his work came to nothing, and early in 1322 Philip died. While the complete failure of Philip's plans, which have fittingly been termed his ‘Grand Design,’ meant that 1321 would not become a landmark in French constitutional history, it does not make the brief episode any the less interesting. Its details illustrate the practical difficulties involved in the execution of such a project, and help explain why the evolution of viable institutions to facilitate cooperation between ruler and ruled to promote the common good were so halting, and why instances of such cooperation are so rare.

The search for the sources on which Chaucer's Parson's Tale is based reached a stage of temporary finality when, in her contribution to Sources and Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Germaine Dempster summarized and refined the results of half a century of investigations. By then it had become clear that the outcome of Kate Petersen's earlier study had stood the test of over three decades and that, in consequence, the Parson's Tale may be considered as ultimately deriving from two Latin summae of the thirteenth century, that of Raymond of Pennafort (for the sections on Penitence) and that of Peraldus (for the treatment of the Seven Deadly Sins). At the same time, Mrs. Dempster recognized that neither summa is the immediate ancestor of the Parson's Tale, but that, for a number of reasons, the Tale must be thought of as immediately deriving from one or several intermediaries between it and the two ancestral summae. Although a number of Latin and vernacular religious manuals were suggested for such a role, none of them is really close enough to a substantial part of the Parson's Tale to be looked upon as a source or even a close analogue. Hence a mood of pessimistic resignation has settled on the whole question of sources, aptly summed up in Professor Bloomfield's account:

The parallels given by scholars do not prove any direct borrowing on Chaucer's part. When we find close similarities, we find also that they occur in the most traditional details…. Miss Petersen's argument that the section on the chief sins comes from an adaptation of Peraldus' work seems to be little justified, except in the most general sense. Her parallels are not particularly impressive. The question must, at present and possibly forever, rest in abeyance.

In one of the very few essays in English on Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, Eleanor Shipley Duckett calls him a prince of the Church, a statesman, an administrator, a scholar who rises far above the other figures she surveys and who stands out in the company of Charles the Great and Pope Nicholas I in the historical records of the ninth century. His long life, from his birth in northern France in 806, his entry into the monastery of St. Denis in 814, his consecration as archbishop in 845, to his death in 882 at Epernay while fleeing from the Danish invasion, was one long series of combats calling for a variety of talents. He revealed a deep knowledge of canon law in his various ecclesiastical disputes with recalcitrant clergy and laity, an astute diplomatic talent in his attempts to knit together the rapidly unraveling unity of the empire, a broad but unoriginal scholarship in his theological controversies over predestination and the Trinity which brought him to grips with the leading thinkers of the Carolingian renaissance, especially the redoubtable Saxon Gottschalk, monk of Orbais. It is with this last controversy that this paper will be concerned.

The Thebaid of Statius was one of the most widely read classical texts of the Latin Middle Ages. Commentaries on it however are rather rare. Of some 300 manuscripts of the work described in the files of the Institut de Recherche et d'Histoire des Textes, Paris, only about thirty contain glossae, argumenta, or marginalia. The majority of the additions to the original are of a late date: two-thirds fall within the period 1100-1300, while the rest, with only three exceptions, are later. In this census, moreover, there are only three commentaires intégraux, that is, autonomous commentaries which do not consist of glosses on isolated words or phrases. Of the three, one has been attributed by P. Courcelle to Rémi of Auxerre; a second is thought to have been written in the thirteenth century by a certain Martianus de S. Benedicto; and the third has been printed under the authorship of Lactantius Placidus.

Since Schulte first examined the various summae casuum and summae confessorum, a number of studies by Dietterle, Teetaert, Michaud-Quantin and others have appeared to chart this region of canonical literary history. However, there are a number of anonymous summae in the Munich Staatsbibliothek which throw some light on the early development of this literary form.

As historians of medieval theology and philosophy increasingly turn to study intellectual developments in the early fourteenth century, it is natural that Robert Holcot, O.P. († 1349), should come to stand out as an Oxford master worthy of further investigation. During his own lifetime, when he was associated with the household of Richard de Bury, the famous bishop of Durham, and on even into the early years of the sixteenth century, when several editions of his major works were printed, Holcot was held in high regard as a commentator on the Sentences, as a biblical exegete, and as a supplier of moralizing sermon exempla. His view of predestination was carefully studied by John Eck, and the Parisian master Jacques Almain devoted a treatise to his Sentence commentary.

While searching for traces of Virgilian echoes in medieval Latin poetry, I came upon the following unusual Christmas song from Bohemia, recorded between ca. 1410 and 1420 in a manuscript of the Abbey of Hohenfurth:

1. En aetas iam aurea incipit vigere Regnaque saturnea revolvuntur vere,

2. Parvulus dum nascitur ex intemerata Virgine, quae pariens mansit illibata.

3. Sibyllinis versibus hic fuit praedictus, Quod Maro commemorat, nec est sermo fictus.

4. Utrique ergo psallite, Matri, nato canite pie resonantes.

5. Tibi Deus pater grates, Qui in figura per vates filium spopondisti;

6. Atque tibi sacrum flamen, Qui nobis consolamen obumbrando contulisti.

7. R° Narrando poetice, Intelligendo mystice, is est Saloninus, Vera sapientia, filius divinus.