The Editions of Milton's History of Britain

PMLA ◽  
1920 ◽  
Vol 35 (1) ◽  
pp. 116-122
Author(s):  
Harry Glicksman

Separate editions of Milton's History of Britain appeared in 1670, 1677, 1695, and 1818. It has been included in all the important collections of his prose works. In 1706, moreover, Dr. White Kennett, whose Complete History of England is a series of historical writings from the pens of various authors, chose Milton's work to do duty for the period preceding the Norman Conquest. Foot-notes were added, though of no remarkable value. The first of Kennett's three folio volumes was republished in 1719; in 1870 Milton's history, and along with it two of the other contributions to the first volume, were reprinted under one octavo cover; in 1878 appeared a stereotype reproduction of the volume of 1870.

1984 ◽  
Vol 16 (4) ◽  
pp. 375-387 ◽  
Author(s):  
Katharin Mack

England was conquered twice in the eleventh century: first in 1016 by Cnut the Dane and again in 1066 by William Duke of Normandy. The influence of the Norman Conquest has been the subject of scholarly warfare ever since E.A. Freeman published the first volume of his History of the Norman Conquest of England in 1867—and indeed, long before. The consequences of Cnut's conquest, on the other hand, have not been subjected to the same scrutiny. Because England was conquered twice in less than fifty years, historians have often succumbed to the temptation of comparing the two events. But since Cnut's reign is poorly documented and was followed quickly by the restoration of the house of Cerdic in the person of Edward the Confessor, such studies have tended to judge 1016 by the standards of 1066. While such comparisons are useful, they have imposed a model on Cnut's reign which has distorted the importance of the Anglo-Scandinavian period. If, however, Cnut's reign is compared with the Anglo-Saxon past rather than the Anglo-Norman future, the influence of 1016 can be more fairly assessed.


2004 ◽  
Vol 31 ◽  
pp. 479-482 ◽  
Author(s):  
Roy Bridges ◽  
Merrick Posnansky

As two expatriate academics who taught at Makerere in the 1960s (RB 1960-64; MP 1964-67), we were naturally interested in the article, “Building an African Department of History at Makerere, 1950-1972” in HA 30(2003), 253-82. The story Carol Sicherman has to tell is an important one and she has produced a well-documented and forcefully delivered account. It is to be hoped that she will be able to bring out a complete history of Makerere, which is something that is badly needed. We do, however, have some reservations about the picture of the early 1960s that emerges.Our criticism of the impression given of what was happening at Makerere in the History Department in the early 1960s, before the arrival of J. B. Webster in 1968, is in two main respects. First, it may not be fair to judge everything in terms of how far an African syllabus taught by Africans had been established; the Department and the University might have had legitimate aims in addition to this. Second, even granting that moving towards an African syllabus was an aim in the 1960s—and we think it was—Sicherman tends to underestimate on the one hand the difficulties which then had to be overcome, and on the other the extent to which the aim was realized and the essential basis laid for Webster's work.


Author(s):  
Judith A. Green

E. A. Freeman’s History of the Norman Conquest was the work which he hoped would cement his academic standing and, at the time it was begun, finally secure a chair at Oxford. The work was initially conceived as a single volume which grew to five and an index volume. It exhibits both Freeman’s strengths and weaknesses: on the one hand his knowledge of the printed sources and topography of the sites discussed and, on the other, his stress on the Teutonic descent of the English, his over-readiness to see the present in the past, his narrow focus on political and constitutional history, and his overblown language. This essay explores the work in the context in which it was written, and its place in the historiography of the Norman Conquest.


Archaeologia ◽  
1917 ◽  
Vol 68 ◽  
pp. 229-262
Author(s):  
Reginald A. Smith

The two centuries after the official withdrawal of the Romans from Britain are almost a blank in the history of the capital, and it is only fitting that the Society of Antiquaries of-London should discuss any new evidence of the city's condition during that period of transition. The picture has indeed been painted by a master-hand, but even John Richard Green's arguments are weakened by certain inconsistencies, and archaeology may be called in to give precision and completeness to his plan of Anglo-Saxon London. ‘That this early London’, he writes, ‘grew up on ground from which the Roman city had practically disappeared may be inferred from the change in the main line of communication which passed through the heart of each. This was the road which led from Newgate to the Bridge. In Roman London this seems to have struck through the city in a direct line from Newgate to a bridge in the neighbourhood of the present Budge Row. Of this road the two extremities survived in English London, one from the gate to the precincts of St. Paul, the other in the present Budge Row. But between these points all trace of it is lost’ For the Roman road shown in his map as crossing the Walbrook at Budge Row there is indeed more warrant than he was aware of. The road has been actually found near its middle point, and the Saxon churches along it suggest that it had not been obliterated in the centuries before the Norman Conquest.


2006 ◽  
Vol 28 (1) ◽  
pp. 1-27 ◽  
Author(s):  
Mary S. Morgan

Economics revolves around a central character: “economic man.” As historians, we are all familiar with various episodes in the history of this character, and we appreciate his ever-changing aspect even while many of our colleagues in economics think the rational economic agent of neoclassical economics is the same kind of person as Adam Smith's economic man. The fact that this is a familiar history means that I can focus on a few salient examples—a “short” history, rather than a complete history— to provide the raw material for my account which has a more specific agenda than simply a history of economic man. My aim is to re-consider the history of economic man as a model man. This leads to two further questions: What kind of a role has this model man played in relation to the science he inhabits? And, how can we characterize the processes by which economists have arrived at their model characters?To illuminate this history of economic man, I adopt ideas from philosophy about how scientists arrive at models and use them in science. Of course, economists have always had their own ideas about such matters. So in effect, there are two intersecting strands in this account: one is how economists have discussed their strategies in creating these characters, and the other is how philosophers of science have—at the time and since—labeled and thought about such strategies. These discussions, from the economists and from philosophers, will enable us to explore the usefulness of the concept of idealization, a standard way of thinking about model construction in philosophy of science. They will also allow us to consider model man as an ideal type (using Weber's concept) or as a caricature (to follow Gibbard and Varian's label). These analytical labels—ideal types, idealization, and so forth—relate to questions about the status of models and their construction that are sometimes evident, and sometimes lie below the surface, but always remain important in the historical discussions about economics as a science. My account is concerned then with constructions of thepersonaof economic man, how he has changed over the last 250 years, how far we can regard that character as a model, and with reflections on his role in the changing science of economics.


Antiquity ◽  
1932 ◽  
Vol 6 (24) ◽  
pp. 411-419 ◽  
Author(s):  
Max Hilzheimer

I do not intend in this paper to give a complete history of the dog, but simply to discuss certain problems connected with it, and in particular to describe a number of types belonging to different periods and countries.Our evidence is for the most part pictorial; .yet it must be used with caution, for difficulties are bound to arise if anmals are represented alone, with no clue to their size. For example, figure 3 shows representations of dogs on coins from Panormus of the 4th century B.c.; artistically they are excellent, but nothing can be inferred as to breed, for this depends on the size, of which we know nothing. On the other hand, figure I, although artistically crude, not only tells us the size of the dog relative to the man beside him, but also that the animal is of Maltese breed (MEAITAIE). This is in fact the only instance in antiquity where a breed can be definitely ascertained, for even when descriptions are given of classical breeds, they are as a rule thoroughly unsatisfactory and establish no certain conclusion.


2002 ◽  
Vol 5 (3) ◽  
pp. 301-315 ◽  
Author(s):  
Albert Baumgarten

AbstractMy intention in this paper is to take issue with a view widely held among scholars in the field, an opinion I shared in the past but that I have also questioned and ultimately come to reject. To set the stage for accomplishing this goal let me begin with a definition of a historian offered by my late teacher, Professor Elias Bickerman. He called a historian a "digger in texts." The comparison to an archeologist, who digs in the ground, is enlightening. Every layer of a site contributes something to the complete history of its occupation, and that total picture can only be drawn on the basis of information from every layer, in which each layer teaches us something about any and all of the other layers. Nevertheless, an archeologist digging at a particular site is usually most interested in the remains from one particular stratum. For that archeologist, these remains are of the greatest importance.


1884 ◽  
Vol 5 ◽  
pp. 1-41 ◽  
Author(s):  
D. B. Monro

In an article published in the last volume of this Journal I endeavoured to show (1) that the extant fragments of the ‘chrestomathy’ of Proclus represent the Trojan part of the ‘Epic Cycle’ more completely than has been maintained by eminent scholars; and (2) that, on the other hand, they are less trustworthy than they appear to be as a source of knowledge of the so-called ‘Cyclic’ poems. That is to say, the notion of a considerable lacuna in Proclus' abstract is not borne out by a more thorough examination of the only extant manuscript. But that abstract does not always give a full or accurate account of the several poems from which the Epic Cycle was made up. And this incompleteness is found (1) when two of the poems dealt with the same part of the story—in which case the abstract leaves out one of the two versions altogether;—and also (2) when the incidents of a poem are not in harmony with the accepted mythological narrative. In the latter case the abstract gives the version which was recognised as historically true. We have, in short, an account, not of the original poems, but of so much of their contents as served for a continuous and complete history of the world.


Author(s):  
Colby Dickinson

In his somewhat controversial book Remnants of Auschwitz, Agamben makes brief reference to Theodor Adorno’s apparently contradictory remarks on perceptions of death post-Auschwitz, positions that Adorno had taken concerning Nazi genocidal actions that had seemed also to reflect something horribly errant in the history of thought itself. There was within such murderous acts, he had claimed, a particular degradation of death itself, a perpetration of our humanity bound in some way to affect our perception of reason itself. The contradictions regarding Auschwitz that Agamben senses to be latent within Adorno’s remarks involve the intuition ‘on the one hand, of having realized the unconditional triumph of death against life; on the other, of having degraded and debased death. Neither of these charges – perhaps like every charge, which is always a genuinely legal gesture – succeed in exhausting Auschwitz’s offense, in defining its case in point’ (RA 81). And this is the stance that Agamben wishes to hammer home quite emphatically vis-à-vis Adorno’s limitations, ones that, I would only add, seem to linger within Agamben’s own formulations in ways that he has still not come to reckon with entirely: ‘This oscillation’, he affirms, ‘betrays reason’s incapacity to identify the specific crime of Auschwitz with certainty’ (RA 81).


2017 ◽  
Vol 39 (2) ◽  
pp. 265-276 ◽  
Author(s):  
Kas Saghafi

In several late texts, Derrida meditated on Paul Celan's poem ‘Grosse, Glühende Wölbung’, in which the departure of the world is announced. Delving into the ‘origin’ and ‘history’ of the ‘conception’ of the world, this paper suggests that, for Derrida, the end of the world is determined by and from death—the death of the other. The death of the other marks, each and every time, the absolute end of the world.


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