Volume 58, Issue 1

The Quinisext Council, assembled in Constantinople shortly after 690 to issue a series of more than 100 canons on practical issues and on clerical discipline, was designed as an Ecumenical council, but failed to gain ‘universal’ acceptance in the West. Moving beyond traditional interpretations which saw the conflict over the Quinisext Council largely as one between Emperor Justinian II in Constantinople and the papacy in Rome, the article asks how issues related to the Quinisext Council were received in the churches of the Exarchate of Ravenna and the Lombard, Visigothic, Frankish and Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Drawing on accounts in Paulus Diaconus’ ‘History of the Lombards’, the ‘Chronicle of Alfons III’ ( of Asturia ) and Agnellus’ ‘Book of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna’, it is argued that there must have been a much wider debate about the Quinisext canons on celibacy and on chastity of clerics. As is shown by the analysis of these sources, some of the Quinisext canons on these topics were accepted in the exarchate of Ravenna, the Lombard kingdom of Italy and the Visigothic kingdom in Spain and Southern Gaul around 700; only when attitudes changed profoundly after the mid-eighth century, the acceptance of the council’s decisions by rulers and bishops became subject to polemical narratives in later historiography. By contrast, a case can be made on the basis of synodal decisions, canon law, hagiographical texts, theological treatises and chronicles that in the Frankish and Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, the Quinisext canons on clerical marriage were refuted by bishops, who confirmed older positions on the debated issues as transmitted through canon law tradition. Asking what may have caused both the acceptance and rejection of the Council’s decisions and revisiting the development of the papacy’s attitude to the Quinisext canons, it is argued here that juxtapositions and a priori-statements on religious culture in ‘East’ and ‘West’ are not helpful to understand the wide-ranging connectivity and communication that becomes visible from this debate. A Mediterranean perspective that fully embraces the world of the post-Roman ‘West’ including Britain does more justice to the openness of historical processes around 700.

This article mentions first the recent advances in the study of Aachen Cathedral: the discussion about its dates of construction, the architects, and principally Alcuin as donneur d’idées of the decisive concept. It refers particularly to a little noticed statement at the end of Alcuin’s poem on the saint-bishops of York, where he indicates his share in the construction of a new church of St. Sophia in York. We then examine Alcuin’s role as a church planner, offer two new pieces of evidence for the progress of construction in Aachen ( 795–799 ), suggest the use of columns from Italy in Aachen and other churches ( Centula, Saint-Amand ) and conclude with Alcuin’s donation of Bible copies and his relationship to the oldest Vitruvius manuscript Harleianus 2767.

Modern scholars have emphasized the importance of the study of asteiotēs ( literally, ‘urbanity’ ) for a better understanding of the socio-cultural history of Byzantium. This multifaceted concept is generally described as a canon of urbane refinement, increasingly linked to the notion of wit. But does this definition apply to all the sources dealing with asteiotēs ? While not claiming to provide a definitive answer, this paper illustrates a methodological approach that may help to address this and other questions in a more comprehensive way than has been attempted so far. Relying on the combination of hermeneutic approach to the sources and quantitative investigation that is the hallmark of historical semantics, this study traces a provisional semantic constellation of asteiotēs . The latter, in turn, is instrumental in locating some relevant case studies ( eleventh to fourteenth centuries ). A comparative analysis of these texts reveals some significant trends in the diachronic evolution of asteiotēs , which are already sufficient to nuance previous scholarly assumptions and to point to new avenues of research.

This article focuses on the question as to what extent prayer can be defined as a form of capital. To this end, a look is first taken at Pierre Bourdieu’s classical theory of capital, in order to subsequently clarify whether prayer can be associated with one of Bourdieu’s forms of capital ( economic, cultural and symbolic capital ) or whether it seems more appropriate to expand Bourdieu’s theory by adding a sub-form. The paper then asks about the risks involved in the Middle Ages when attempts were made to convert the immaterial resource of prayer into other forms of capital, by looking at the ‘Vita Columbani’ from the early Middle Ages. Finally, the article focuses on the prayer brotherhoods as a typical medieval response to secure the exchange of gifts between the prayers and the powerful in medieval society.

Based on the example of King Conrad I’s death, this paper wants to contribute to the question of how medieval historiography chose and arranged its contents. It postulates that chroniclers narrated their histories just like medieval authors of fictional literature by using plot schemes. Before King Conrad I died, Ottonian sources tell us, he had called for his brother and designated the Saxonian Duke Henry I king. Former research saw vast similarities between the sources as either evidence for their reliability, as textual references, or regarded them as written result of an oral tradition at the Ottonian court. A comparison with several ( East-/West- ) Franconian and English narratives about other rulers’ deaths ( e. g. Pepin the Younger, William the Conqueror or Saladin ) shows us that not only Ottonian, but chroniclers in general used the same textual elements, which they arranged in a similar order. One reason for this might be references to the Bible and hagiography. However, since there are no obvious linguistic borrowings tangible between the narratives, the death of Conrad I in the Ottonian sources can be interpreted as a variation of narratives, based on a more widespread scheme used probably all over Latin Europe. This scheme was distributed in different ways: by the use of textual models, but also by the adaption of oral narratives.

The article dealing with the so-called Ansbert, his ‘Historia de expeditione Friderici imperatoris’ and related sources offers a research overview and analysis of the topic as it has evolved over the past 200 years and presents a new and more productive way to approach the narrative – the most important source documenting Frederick Barbarossa’s crusade ( 1188–1190 ). Firstly, the circumstances of the source’s reappearance in 1826 are explained, showing the troubled fate of the Strahov manuscript, where the narrative is extant in its fullest form. Secondly, the course of the academic discussion is traced, the main protagonist being Anton Chroust, the author of an edition used to this day. The main characteristics of the source are explained and the historiographical debate on the ‘Tageno-Ansbert-Frage’ is analysed, demonstrating that in almost desperate attempts to solve the question of authorship, the interconnectedness of sources and the exact manner of composition, research has gone up a blind alley, hindering more result-yielding questions from even being asked, which has not been remedied even by crusading studies that have bloomed in the past 100 years. Finally, a fresh approach to the topic is introduced: the narrative may be researched more viably through the lens of the functions and aims the source may have followed and the role the crusading idea may have played in it. Rediscovery of the ‘Historia’, p. 362. – The ‘Tageno-Ansbert-Frage’, p. 363. – Anton Chroust Enters the Scene, p. 365. – Karl Zimmert Disagrees, p. 367. – Towards the Modern Edition, p. 368. – The Edition, p. 371. – Reactions and Aftermath, p. 375. – The So-Called Ansbert in Crusading Studies and Barbarossa’s Biographies?, p. 377. – ‘Historia de Expeditione’ and its Modern Translations, p. 380. – New Horizons?, p. 385.

The paper deals with the instruments the king of the Holy Roman Empire used to settle disputes between the princes and to create a consensus between the parties involved, as well as the king’s efforts to integrate the other princes into the solution. The focus lies on the period between 1150 and 1300, when the rulers were not only concerned with individual conflicts, but by means of the so called ‘Landfrieden’ fundamentally started to limit and sanction the use of violence and to develop court proceedings as the norm in settling disputes. If these proceedings based on consensus gained or lost significance, is the central question of the paper, which is explored by using two case studies. These are Frederick Barbarossa’s efforts to settle the conflict between Henry the Lion and Henry Jasomirgott and Rudolf of Habsburg’s endeavours to resolve the conflicts between the Landgrave of Thuringia and his relatives. On the one hand, the investigation of these case studies shows that the ‘Landfrieden’ moved from the end of the conflict settlement to its beginning and that the kings hardly sought the consensus of the other princes in their search for agreement between the parties involved in the dispute.

Current research in medieval studies focuses on how the future was dealt with in medieval culture. While Reinhart Koselleck has denied the Middle Ages any interest in an inner-worldly future, recent contributions show a variety of diverse endeavours to know and influence the future. By examining naval campaigns of the city commune of Genoa from the 12 th –14 th centuries, this article argues in favour of examining the social practice of medieval societies more intensively in terms of how people tried to influence what would happen in the future. The study of three military campaigns – the attacks on the Spanish harbour cities of Almería and Tortosa in 1147 and 1148, the conquest of Chios and Phocaea in 1346 and a failed expedition to Cyprus in 1383 – shows that in all cases the exercise of military force was at best planned in outline. As a rule, it was assumed that the available contingents and experience would be sufficient for success. Concrete tactics, but in the case of Chios and Phokaia also the targets of the attacks, were only agreed upon during the campaigns. A record of one such negotiation has even been preserved from Cyprus. On the other hand, there were diplomatic and, above all, economic planning horizons that stipulated long-term agreements even before the attack, in which precise deadlines and dates for payments were fixed as well as alliance obligations. The interference between these futures, which were planned and plannable to varying degrees, resulted in the inherent dynamics of non-synchronised temporalities.