The Romans adaptation of Greek philosophy was illustrated by the Stoics and Epicureans. The Stoics held that humanity is determined by the fates of nature, while the Epicureans believed that happiness came from seeking pleasure and avoiding pain. Plato was revived by Plotinus and dominated Roman philosophy during the early years of Christianity. Both the missionary zeal of early Christians and the tranquility of Roman administration rapidly spread Christianity. The teachings of Jesus were bolstered by defenders, who gave Christianity form and content. St. Augustine successfully reinterpreted Platonic thought within Christian theology, and the consequent influence on psychology continued well beyond. With the fall of the Western empire, intellectual life came to a virtual halt, and only the monastic movement preserved remnants of Greek and Roman civilization. The papacy assumed a leading role in spiritual direction and civil administration. The power shift to the East saw the Byzantine Empire assume a distinctive Greek character. The rise of Islam threatened the survival of Christianity in the Middle East and in North Africa. But, at the same time, much of the Greek heritage of scholarship was preserved and extended in the great academic centers of medieval Islam.

With the new millennium, papal power sought to restore Christian rule in the Holy Land through a series of eight crusades, but these campaigns were military and political failures, especially at the expense of the Papacy. However, they did succeed in opening the way for the scholarship of the Islamic world to enter western European intellectual life. With the founding of universities, new scholarship slowly emerged. The pioneering teachings of Pierre Abélard, Roger Bacon, and Albertus Magnus led to a revival of interest in the ancient writers with their emphasis on rational thought to secure human knowledge. This movement, called Scholasticism, reached its pinnacle with the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas who sought a reconciliation of Aristotle’s rationalism and Christian theology. A major implication of Aquinas’ success was the acceptance by scholars within the universities and the Church that both reason and faith serve as sources of human knowledge. William of Ockham extended the Scholastic movement and his predecessor Roger Bacon by presented a law of parsimony in scientific explanation, which in turn laid the foundation of empirical science.

When grave illness compelled rulers to plan for the likelihood of a child’s succession, their chief concern was not that their young son would be passed over as king. Instead, most dying rulers focused on making collaborative arrangements for protecting the kingdom and supporting the child in rule. This chapter examines some of the evidence for the preparations dying kings made as they gathered to their side men and women whose involvement would be crucial for the child’s continuing education and the realm’s administration. The first two sections draw attention to shifts over time in familial attendance at royal deathbeds and in the testamentary records of rulers’ intentions. The actions of kings and queens both before and at their deathbeds suggest hesitancy to impose a wardship model upon royal children, especially upon the new boy king, and this royal reluctance is examined in greater detail in the chapter’s third and final part. Even when it became apparent an infant or child would succeed, kings eschewed entrusting their sons and kingdoms to the care of individual magnates, preferring collaborative arrangements in which the queen often took a prominent role.

This chapter starts the transition to the period after 1250 and argues that advocacy remained important into the fifteenth century (and later), in part because it was central to debates about imperial and papal authority. Beginning in the twelfth century, both popes and emperors insisted that the German ruler was the special advocate of the Roman Church, but the two sides differed on what this title meant. While the popes asserted that it was the emperor’s responsibility to defend the Church from its enemies and that the popes therefore had a role to play in selecting an able defender, the emperors claimed that as advocates they could exert wide-ranging influence over the Church and even call Church councils when necessary. This conflict not only highlights the inherent fluidity of the role of the advocate centuries after it first appeared but also helps to explain why so many people would continue to want to call themselves advocate during the half-millennium after 1250.

This chapter analyzes the abundant sources that record accusations of violence and other abuses committed by advocates in the eleventh to thirteenth centuries. While much of this evidence includes rhetorical flourishes that suggest advocates were barbaric tyrants, a close reading of the sources demonstrates that many advocates employed specific strategies to benefit in corrupt ways from their positions. These included abusing their judicial authority, making excessive demands for protection payments from churches’ dependents and treating ecclesiastical estates like their own property. This chapter also tracks disputes between monasteries and advocates that lasted multiple generations, in order to argue that advocates’ corrupt practices were deeply rooted in the challenges churches were continuously confronted with when they needed to grant someone else access to their property in order for that person to provide protection and exercise justice.

This chapter focuses on the period between roughly 1050 and 1150, when calls to reform the Church and religious life swept across Europe. The new religious orders that emerged in this period, including the Cistercians, Premonstratensians and Augustinian canons, all sought to limit the influence of secular authorities over their communities. Nevertheless, this chapter argues that – especially in the German-speaking lands – church advocacy was already too entrenched a feature of society for these new orders to ignore it or effectively control it. Someone needed to provide protection and exercise justice over the numerous estates these new foundations were receiving, and nobles had already come to rely on the position of advocate as an effective means of asserting their influence over monasteries and churches. As a result, while Church reformers increasingly sought in this period to regulate and place limits on advocates’ responsibilities, they were unable to prevent high-ranking nobles from accumulating large numbers of church advocacies in their own hands.

This chapter argues that monasteries and churches employed a variety of different strategies to try to counter advocates’ corrupt practices. One of the most popular was forging documents (especially royal privileges) in an effort to alter the terms of their relationships with their advocates. Many ecclesiastics also traveled to the German imperial court or the Papal See in Rome to seek outside support and to request that the ruler or pope remove advocates from their local positions. Requests to the papacy were backed by a growing body of canon law dedicated to the issue of church advocacy. Nevertheless, these strategies were frequently unsuccessful. By the early thirteenth century, it therefore became increasingly common for monasteries and churches to offer their advocates monetary payments in return for those advocates relinquishing all of their rights.

This chapter comprises a historical survey of the main religious and societal changes that occurred in the 11th and 12th centuries, including the founding of new religious orders (Cistercians, Augustinian canons).

This chapter explores the scene of conflict with a foreign power in Shakespeare’s plays, particularly the history plays 1 Henry VI, King John, and Henry V, in which war with France provides the testing ground for an exploration of the contrast between foreign and native, or national, values. In these plays, Englishness is largely defined in terms of masculine stoicism and canny tactical knowledge, as opposed to French foppishness. The characterization of the English as providentially favored underdogs up against an overconfident enemy present in Henry V and King John recalls Elizabethan conflicts with Spain and the papacy. Gender identity also factors prominently in Shakespeare’s creation of a sense of the foreign, as he describes England’s island geography as a virginal national space to be defended against invasion. At the same time, Macbeth demonstrates that Shakespeare does not shy away from this conflict between foreign and native on the home front.

I focus on why the competition for power among senatorial, imperial, and military elites that had stimulated the recovery of the city of Rome in the face of multiple civic and military crises no longer was effective in the later sixth and early seventh centuries. The end of Rome’s political senatorial aristocracy and its political body, the Senate, is the final “fall” of Rome. In its place, a papal-focused city dependent on Byzantine military might would emerge in the seventh century.

My focus is on elites who competed for influence in the wake of events that the Romans themselves characterized as “crises.” In narrating these five crises, I emphasize the critical role in Rome of senatorial aristocrats and the slow growth of the influence of the bishops and clergy of Rome, two segments of Roman society whose continued focus on the city provides a key thread through these centuries. Although generals and emperors came and went, the institutionalized presence of the senatorial aristocracy, the Senate, and the church persisted. After each crisis, senators reinvested in the city, fueling its resurgence time and again. The bishops, too, returned to the city to restore Christian communities.

Defining an entity so geographically, culturally and linguistically varied as the Latin west is difficult: despite the spectacular achievements of the Carolingians and Ottonians, fragmentation and plurality prevailed. Smaller political structures proved more durable, and, while the English and French realms gained sharper definition from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries on, the western empire became a loose federation headed by secular princes, lesser nobles and urban communities – all setting their own codes of conduct. New polities emerged on Christendom’s margins, adopting some Carolingian and Ottonian norms and administrative practices. The church – especially the papacy from the thirteenth century on – set the tone, holding kings and other secular rulers to account, while universities were both agents of clerical control and breeding grounds of dissent. But the range of participants in the political game was expanding, imposing limits on royal power, bringing access to additional resources and offering a potential counterweight to papal power. This was one of the west’s many paradoxes: strong elements of unity alongside the gravitational pull of many different centres.

Chatper 5 examines the growing influence of the papal Congregation of the Propaganda Fide in the administration of the Custody after 1622. It argues that its intervention reflects the importance given to the Holy Land as both a frontier, and spiritual center, of an increasingly global Catholic tradition.

The 1648 Peace of Westphalia typifies the “modern” starting point of state sovereignty and humanitarian intervention within conventional historical treatments of International Relations (IR) theory. The treaties ending the Thirty Years’ War signaled the dawn of an international society after medieval Latin Christendom with new diplomatic arrangements that assigned legitimate autonomy to specific European states independent of Roman imperial and papal authorities. The ideological archetypes of Westphalia for IR theory during the twentieth century were contemporaries, Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) the realist and Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) the rationalist. Each of them powerfully envisioned a modern form of international relations: Hobbes accented sovereign political independence and international anarchy between states whereas Grotius affirmed a worldwide association of states absent a global authority yet still regulated by norms of universal law to justify war and intervention.

Ideas and practices often perceived as modern carry a complex premodern history that cannot be excised from their present. This is certainly the case of trade embargoes as economic means for the attainment of political goals. For a variety of reasons, however, tracing change over long periods of time remains an exercise in chronological and spatial jurisdiction. Further complicating our understanding of the convoluted relationship between past and present has been the increasingly pronounced tendency to write in the vein either of a “history of ideology” or, conversely, of a “history of action.” In fact, “theory” and “practice” existed in a dialectical relationship, a cyclical tug of war that produced not so much winners and losers as complex realities that require a thick reading of legal, political, cultural, and social change. This chapter, by contrast, seeks to explain the transfiguration of the legal tradition from the perspective of international law history by focusing on two interrelated transitions.

The chapter focuses on Manuel's travels in Western Europe (1399–1402). It discusses at length the political aspects of his presence at the English, French and Italian courts, offering new interpretations of the events. Other topics are Manuel's personal experiences in Europe, and his letters and interactions with prominent European figures of the time. Manuel's use of relics as diplomatic gifts receives further attention. The Procession of the Holy Spirit, a theological treatise penned by the emperor at time, is analysed at length with regard to its literary features, connections to the other treatises of time and Manuel's theological thought. Other shorter writings from the same period are also investigated. The chapter ends with the defeat of the Ottomans by Tamerlane and Manuel's subsequent return to Constantinople.

The chapter focuses on the years 1369-82. The topics discussed are the civil war between John V, Andronikos and Manuel, Manuel's despotate in Thessalonike and his first trip to Venice. The discussions pay special attention to Manuel's representation of the events in his works, his relationship with his father and brothers and the emergence of his governing style. The political and economic policies of John V and Manuel are compared. It is argued that through his writings, Manuel represents an idealized version of his reign and life, omitting unpleasant or shameful episodes. Through the analysis of a chyrsobull of John V dated to 1371, it is argued that prior to 1374, John V had no intention of making Manuel his heir.

Tying directly into the previous chapter on Lothar I, this contribution looks at the earliest part of the rule of Louis II in Italy. Louis had been appointed sub-king of his father, Emperor Lothar I, in 840, by his grandfather Louis the Pious. In 844, he was sent on his first dpilomatic and military mission by his father, under the supervision of his uncle Drogo of Metz. This mission at the head of a sizeable army and group of bishops from Lothar's realm was destined to go to Rome and get Pope Sergius II in line, as he had been raised to the apostolic see without the emperor's consent. The expedition was then possibly also to go on to southern Italy and interfere in the ongoing civil war among the Beneventan Lomabards, but negotiations in Rome with the southern Prince Siconulf and Guy of Spoleto prevented that move at this point. The chapter thus shows the young king and future emperor Louis at the earliest stage of his carreer and how Lothar I paved the way for his oldest son to rule the kingdom assigned to him.