It is a commonplace that Aristophanes' heroes stage successful revolts against whatever they perceive prevents them from attaining their goals or from fulfilling their potential. Nothing so restrictive as political obstacles, or bodily restraints, or even divine directives remains immune, so it seems, from a triumphant revolt launched so humorously and so uniquely by such splendid comic creations as Dikaiopolis, Pisthetairos, and Lysistrata, to name three of the most famous Aristophanic heroes. In the process, political and military heroes who revere their presumed control and power are mastered; there fall those natural functions which seem to exercise periodic dominion over varied phases of our lives; and even the Olympian gods are compelled to succumb to the imposing demands of comic vision, fantasy, and ultimate heroic triumph.

Reading the Poetics in light of Aristotle's most complete statements of equity in the Nicomachean Ethics and the Rhetoric, this essay undertakes to demonstrate how and why Aristotle develops an art of poetry within the context of a science of ethics. It seeks to show, that is, how in direct response to Plato's epistemological and ethical objections to tragedy, Aristotle's argument for the preservation of the literary arts follows from a fundamental conviction that poetry shares not only its object of inquiry but also its method of inquiry with the ethical and legal sciences. Like moral philosophy or ethics, tragedy investigates human action. To this end, it relies on the mechanism of ‘fiction’ (πoíησις), which clearly emerges in the course of the Poetics as the literary counterpart to ‘equity’ in the disciplines of ethics and law. As logical constructs, both fiction and equity are designed to qualify ethical action by negotiating between universal propositions — the general ethical presuppositions of the poet's audience or the advocate's legal code — and particular circumstances — the details of the plot or the events of the individual legal case.

The purpose of these notes is to trace the lexical and literary fortunes of celeuma, a word which, as we shall see, defies strict definition. Particular attention will be given to the occurrences of celeuma in Christian Latin literature, though necessary background concerning the Greek ϰέλευσμα and celeuma in classical Latin literature will be provided. This is done at the risk of repeating material already available in the great lexica and in standard secondary works, but it is hoped that the reader's patience may be won by the fact that no unified treatment of ϰέλευσμα / celeuma exists, and by the new material and interpretations offered here. This paper is divided into four sections: 1) the Greek word ϰέλευσμα, 2) the Latin word celeuma, 3) celeuma in Christian Latin, and 4) the literary celeuma.

For some years I have been working on a study of Epicureanism from its earliest appearances in Latin through the fourteenth century. Although Martianus Capella wrote his De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii several hundred years after the beginning of this period, this essay is the first part of that study I have sought to publish.

As Charles Henry Coster wittily observed, the fall of Boethius has been almost as much discussed as that of Adam, and as in Adam's case there is hardly a statement about it that is not open to doubt, that has not been exhaustively, even acrimoniously, argued. Even the year in which he was arrested and that in which he died have been hotly disputed, though these are questions far simpler then the problem of why he fell.

In the study of Carolingian Christianity, biblical commentaries are a vast and largely untapped resource. Exegesis, whether for teaching or homiletical purposes, dominated the ninth-century school tradition; in this world, nearly all theologians were primarily expositors of the Bible. It is one of the ironies of historical inquiry that the non-exegetical treatises of such figures as Hrabanus Maurus and Paschasius Radbertus have been studied to the exclusion of their biblical commentaries. Although this situation is beginning to change, much remains to be done, beginning with the crucial work on the texts. Meanwhile, in the absence of critical editions of any of the major works of the Carolingian exegetical tradition, all scholarship in the field is a mere suggestion as to what might be discovered when the primary materials have been better presented. This study is no exception. The two treatises discussed here have received practically no attention from modern historians, and are printed only in the uncritical editions of the Patrologia Latina. It is my hope that this analysis will encourage further inquiry into Carolingian exegesis by showing some ways in which two commentaries, the first in the Latin tradition on the book of Lamentations, reveal the theological and pastoral concerns, and the exegetical methods, of two generations of ninth-century monastic authors.

In the following pages the Repertorium of Hippocratic Writings in the Latin Middle Ages, begun in Traditio 31 (1975) 99–126 and continued in succeeding issues, concludes with a number of brief tracts. These are for the most part spurious, but they circulated under the name of Hippocrates of Cos and appear to have reflected aspects of the Hippocratic tradition. They comprise: XLVI. Regimen sanitatis (salutis); XLVII. Secreta (Practicae) de curis universalibus totius corporis humani; XLVIII. Secreta (Signa sanitatis et signa mortis); XLIX. De septimanis; L. De situ regionum; LI. De minis; LII. De victus ratione; LIII. De visitatione infirmorum; LIV. De vita; and LV. De vulneribus capitis.

Most twentieth-century readers who know of Pier della Vigna at all know of him through the intermediary of Dante's Inferno. As the suicidal tree who bleeds out words with the sap from his broken branches, Piero is one of Dante's most memorable creations, a figure whose name, like those of Francesca da Rimini and Ugolino da Pisa, is for us associated more with one fictional frozen moment than with the realities of a lifetime. And yet, to Dante and his contemporaries, Piero was neither fictional nor obscure. His fame was sufficient, for example, that Dante never felt the need to name him in Inferno 13: enough that he once held ‘ambo le chiavi del cor di Federigo’ (Inferno 13.58–59).

In the third question of the Prologue to his Lectura secunda, Adam Wodeham asks whether intuitive cognition can be naturally produced or conserved when its object is either non-existent or absent. This question was written in reply to Peter Aureol, and in it Adam argues that Peter's definition of intuitive cognition has skeptical consequences. In fact, as Wodeham knew, Aureol held that intuitive cognition was unerring, and he was arguing not for skepticism, but merely against Scotus' definition of intuitive cognition.

During the second half of the fourteenth century most of France and many parts of Italy faced a social problem of massive proportions in the activities of the routiers, unemployed and rampaging mercenary soldiers. The popes of the period, Innocent VI, Urban V, and Gregory XI, took a leading role in attempts to deal with this daunting problem, and the purpose of this article is to examine one of the chief instruments which they employed, the crusade. The place of the mercenary companies in the crusading movement was paradoxical. On several occasions from 1357 onwards the popes issued crusading indulgences to those who fought against the routiers on the grounds that they presented a serious threat to the well-being of the Christian community, the populus christianus. But the popes also hoped to use the companies in the service of Christian Holy War by persuading them to travel to the eastern Mediterranean, to Hungary or to Granada, to fight the Muslims. Both approaches sprang from long-established papal policy towards those considered as Christendom's internal foes. When the curia tried to bring about the destruction of the routiers by offering spiritual rewards to their opponents it placed the mercenaries in the roll-call of Christian rebels and excommunicates combatted by means of the crusade, alongside the emperor Frederick II, Peter II of Aragon, the Visconti, and others. And when it attempted to send the companies beyond the frontiers of Christendom, it was adopting a strategy which dated back at least as far as the First Crusade. So both aspects of papal policy towards the routiers were highly traditional. They were also unsuccessful, which raises important questions about the way the later Avignon popes thought about and exercised their power. In the mid-thirteenth century the popes successfully resisted the ambitions of the Staufen and destroyed their might; a century later they proved unable to contain the companies. Was this because the Avignon papacy was out-of-date in its policies, because it failed to appreciate and adjust to the profound changes which had occurred in society and government? In broader terms, does traditionalism in this instance betoken the ideological bankruptcy which some scholars have seen as a leading characteristic of the papacy in the fourteenth century? In order to answer these questions I shall first examine the nature of the threat which was posed by the companies, then look in detail at the two aspects of the policy adopted by the curia in response to it.

Even though Chaucer the Pilgrim refers to ‘the povre Persoun of a toun’ as a ‘lerned man, a clerk,’ it is still surprising to hear the humble Parson discourse at length on one of the fine points of canon law. And yet, despite his own protestation of ignorance, the Parson devotes sixteen lines (654–79) of his discussion of Wrath to distinguishing between the many species and sub-species of corporeal and spiritual homicide. Upon closer examination of the passage itself, we are more inclined to take the Parson at his word. Where we are promised ‘foure maneres’ of homicide in deed, we get only three, while in place of the anticipated fourth category we find a discussion of the various forms of infanticide, contraception, and abortion. Although Chaucer rightly identifies these as types of homicide, they hardly comprise a major classification to rank alongside the other three ‘maneres.’ Further evidence of confusion in the passage is a textual problem, which involves the number of species of spiritual homicide. The manuscripts read, ‘spiritueel manslaughtre is in vj thynges’ (545) when, in fact, only three are named.

English grammatical miscellanies, of which numerous examples survive from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, are a major source of the history of education in later medieval England. We mean, by miscellanies, collections of treatises and exercises relating to the study and teaching of Latin. Works of this kind were compiled for their use by university scholars, members of the religious orders, and the masters and pupils of ordinary grammar schools. The study of such works today, most of whose contents have yet to be printed, adds greatly to our knowledge of medieval English life and thought. The Latin treatises on grammar which they contain reveal the history of the study and usage of Latin in England. They make it possible to reconstruct the grammar curriculum of the English schools and universities, for which other evidence is rarely available. They contain the earliest grammatical treatments of the English language, too, in the form of English glosses and translations of Latin grammatical works, long before the publication of the first definitive grammar of English in 1586. Of wider interest still, the miscellanies contain numerous school exercises which aimed to teach Latin to pupils through references to the speech, activities, and surroundings of everyday life. Such texts are especially valuable, since they preserve many illuminating details of English social history that have not survived elsewhere.

The importance of Fulgentius, the exiled bishop of Ruspe (A.D. 503–523), as the spokesman of the orthodox African church against the Arian Vandals has long been recognized, and so Fulgentius is primarily known for his polemical tracts addressed to the Vandal king Thrasamund (496–523) and other Arians. His theology is not much admired, being largely derivative from Augustine; his style, likewise, compares poorly with that of the great bishop of Hippo. Nevertheless, the real significance of Fulgentius as aristocrat, monk, bishop, and litterateur is revealed in his Epistulae.

In the Old English poem Guthlac A, after Guthlac has taken possession of the beorg, the poet catalogues the temptations the saint has overcome:

Oft ϸurh reorde abead
ϸam ϸe ϸrowera ϸeawas lufedon
Godes ærendu ϸa him gæst onwrah
lifes snyttru, ϸæt he his lichoman
wynna forwyrnde 7 woruldblissa,
seftra setla 7 symbeldaga,
swylce eac idelra eagena wynna,
gierelan gielplices: him waes Godes egsa
mara in gemyndum ϸonne he menniscum
ϸrymme æfter ϸonce ϸegan wolde. (160b-169)

The Gothic choir of Le Mans Cathedral was consecrated by Bishop Geoffroy de Loudun on April 24, 1254, while Saint Louis was still in the Holy Land and before the windows had been completely glazed. So much is established by the story related in the chronicle about the winegrowers who, arriving late and thus unable to carry a torch in the procession, decided to donate a window which would provide more permanent illumination instead. Their gift, now Bay c on the north side of the upper ambulatory, is datable ca. 1255 on the basis of this story (see fig. 1). Another window nearby (Bay a) was the gift of Guillaume Roland, then precentor of the cathedral, who is named in an inscription and depicted as a priest; since he became bishop before September 1255 another firm date is established for the glazing. The axial window (Bay g) depicts a knight who was present at the 1254 consecration: Rotrou de Montfort, shown with banner and heraldic surcoat de gueules à 2 léopards d'or passants (fig. 2). His arms are known to us from the Bigot Roll, which records the Angevin forces marshaled by the Capetian prince Charles d'Anjou for his campaigns in Flanders in the same year. Directly above Rotrou's window, the prestigious axial clerestory was the gift of Bishop Geoffroy de Loudun himself, builder of the new choir and dead by August 1255. His arms appear eight times in the borders: gueules à la bande d'or. And Bay C in the north clerestory depicts two knights and a canon of the family de Cormes with their arms. The canon is no doubt Geoffroy de Cormes, dead in 1263. The warriors who flank him are his father Guillaume ‘Major’ de Cormes and his uncle Jean, and they too are known to us from the Bigot Roll which gives their arms: ‘l'escru blanc a III jumelles noires.’

Among the entourage of Lady Meed in Passus 2 of Piers Plowman appear two figures whose part in the action at this point is central though brief: Civil and Simony. The pair, who connive at and forward Lady Meed's marriage to Fals, carry all before them until challenged by another figure: Theology. This paper will try to define the precise significance of Civil, consider the background to the odium in which he is held, and discuss Langland's purpose in choosing Theology as Civil's opponent.

(Barcelona, El Escorial, Gerona, Huesca, Lérida, Madrid, Montserrat, Pamplona, Poblet, Seo de Urgel, Silos, Tarazona, Toledo, Tortosa, Vallbona de las Monjas, Vich)

This article is mainly concerned with Office Books, but does not include books for the Mozarabic rite. A few books for the Mass etc. were included as a result of earlier incorrect descriptions; these were inspected and eliminated without further investigation.