New Evidence on the Saruhanid Dynasty

2021 ◽  
Vol 11 (2-3) ◽  
pp. 138-148
Author(s):  
† Elizabeth A. Zachariadou ◽  
Charalambos Dendrinos

Abstract The article offers new evidence on the Saruhanid succession in the fourteenth century in light of a short chronicle contained in a Greek manuscript housed in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, which records a hitherto unknown internal conflict that took place in 1383. This and similar historical evidence reflect the continuity of life of the Greek Orthodox communities under the Turcoman conquerors in a period marked by the increasing decline of Byzantine power and the rise of the Ottomans.

PMLA ◽  
1916 ◽  
Vol 31 (1) ◽  
pp. 114-160
Author(s):  
Josephine D. Sutton

The relationship of the manuscripts of the Middle-English poem Ipotis has been studied in detail by Dr. Hugo Gruber on the basis of the nine mss. known to him. In addition to these there are five others, four of which are printed for the first time below. One of these, unfortunately a fragment, is of the greatest importance, since it carries back the date of the poem at least fifty years. On the basis of the earliest manuscript known to him—ms. Vernon, written about 1385—Gruber assigned the Ipotis to the second half of the fourteenth century. But in the light of the new evidence, the composition of the poem is pushed back to the very beginning of the century.


Human Biology ◽  
2003 ◽  
Vol 75 (4) ◽  
pp. 427-448 ◽  
Author(s):  
James W. Wood ◽  
Rebecca J. Ferrell ◽  
Sharon N. Dewitte-Avina

1993 ◽  
Vol 26 ◽  
pp. 1-3
Author(s):  
Ernest H. Sanders

In an article that appeared in a recent issue of this journal, William J. Summers presented an extensive discussion of a fragmentary fourteenth-century polyphonic setting of a Latin poem, beginning Generosi germinis (Bodleian Library, Dept. Deeds, Christ Church, C.34/D.R.3∗, f. Bv). His conclusion that this is an offertory setting, however, seems to be less clear-cut than he proposes.


2004 ◽  
Vol 31 ◽  
pp. 369-387
Author(s):  
Jan Vansina

A forged travel account reminds me of a raffia palm in central Africa, because there is a use for every part of such a palm: the wine (sap), the nuts (edible), the raffia (for textiles), the other leaves (for roofcovering), the branches (for furniture), its pith (for making various articles), and lastly the grubs inside the pith (also edible). Nothing is wasted. In the same way a forged travel account can be deconstructed until all its parts down to the very last sentence or proper name can be used as evidence for one or another kind of history. The considerable interest fraudulent travel accounts can have for the historian of Africa is usually far underrated because once they are exposed as forgeries they tend to be summarily dismissed and henceforth to be avoided like the plague. At most, it is conceded that sometimes part of a forged account rests on the author's observations and experiences at the time and in the place where his (the known forgers seem to have been all male) narrative placed them and may therefore actually be genuine.The usefulness of forgeries as evidence goes well beyond this, however, and rests on two arguments. First, a narrative forgery is never totally the product of a person's imagination, if only because it strives to achieve the verisimilitude required to be passed off as genuine. A good part of any such forgery must therefore rest on valid observations made by someone, somewhere. If one can discover from where and when such elements stem, they add new evidence to the record about that where and when. Secondly, the very choice of topics and themes; raised in a forgery is historical evidence in its own right, for it tells us much about the expectations of both the social milieu in which the work was written and its intended audience at the time (not always the same social aggregates). To develop and illustrate these points, there may well be no better instance than the notorious book whose unmasking raised a great geographic furor in the earlier nineteenth century—the notorious Douville forgery.


1994 ◽  
Vol 3 ◽  
pp. 439-444
Author(s):  
Alan Piper

No single manuscript containing both the major collections of John of Salisbury’s letters is known to survive, but it seems possible to establish that such a manuscript once existed from the evidence of a fourteenth-century tabula found in Durham Cathedral Library MS A.IV.8 fols 53-9. There is no indication of when or how this tabula came to Durham; the composite manuscript of which it forms part was not assembled in its present form until after 1500, when the last section was still separate. The tabula contains some four hundred quotations arranged under 235 subject headings running in alphabetical order from Absencia to Penitencia; the remainder is missing. Almost every entry consists of a quotation, a number in arabic numerals, a name or personal title in the dative case or with ad and the accusative, and a brief indication of position; so for example under the heading Exulare the one entry runs bis exulat qui domi exulat 387 archidiacono exon prope finem. The quotations are from letters in John of Salisbury’s collections or from the other Becket correspondence.


1951 ◽  
Vol 2 (2) ◽  
pp. 169-179
Author(s):  
Teresa Hart

Nicephorus Gregoras was a fourteenth-century man of letters living in Constantinople who wrote a history of his own times. This work is an example of the traditional school of Byzantine historial writing in that it consists of an introductory summary of earlier history and a much fuller account of events contemporary with the author. But it departs from tradition in that it deals as much, or more, with ecclesiastical as with civil affairs. Gregoras was deeply implicated in the hesychast controversy, which began simply as a dispute among monks, but developed into a crisis of state, and his concern with it, in his life as well as his history, serves to illustrate its scope and importance. He was aware that his history lacked balance and needed some excuse. But the literary deficiencies of the work may be offset by its value as historical evidence. Since it was the hesychast doctrine, opposed by Gregoras, which became officially accepted, it is interesting to read the account of a defeated partisan. One must not, however, expect dispassionate reporting from Gregoras, although his account has sometimes been taken as such by western theologians.


1993 ◽  
Vol 43 (1) ◽  
pp. 302-319 ◽  
Author(s):  
Stefania Fortuna

During the sixteenth century Galen'sDe constitutione artis medicae(i.224–304 Kühn) enjoyed a great success: in about fifty years it received four different Latin translations and three commentaries. Certainly this is also true of other medical classical texts, but such success is surprising for a treatise which did not have a wide circulation either in the Middle Ages or in the seventeenth century and later. In fact it is preserved in its entirety in only one Greek manuscript (Florence, Laur. plut. 74.3 = L of the twelfth or thirteenth century, with later corrections = L) and in a Latin translation by Niccolò of Reggio, who worked mainly for King Robert I in Naples in the first half of the fourteenth century. Furthermore, in his edition of 1679 René Chartier made a mistake, which the humanistic editors of the Greek Galen had avoided. The last part of theDe const, art. med.itself enjoyed a considerablefortunaas an independent tract on prognosis in the Greek and Latin manuscript tradition. The editors of the Aldine and the Basle editions knew such anexcerptum, at least in the manuscript Par. gr. 2165 (= P) of the sixteenth century, and rightly decided not to print it. Chartier found it in the manuscript Par. gr. 2269 of the fifteenth or sixteenth century, and published it in the wrong belief that it was a new treatise of Galen's (vol. ii. 170–95 = viii.891–5). He was followed by Carl Gottlob Kühn in his edition of 1821, who printed theDe const, art. med.in the first volume (289–304) and theDe praesagiturain vol. xix.497–511. The error was not publicly detected until Kalbfleisch in 1896.


Mediaevistik ◽  
2020 ◽  
Vol 32 (1) ◽  
pp. 539-540
Author(s):  
Albrecht Classen

The late Middle Ages witnessed a tremendous growth in interest concerning the end of all life, the apocalypse. This found most vivid expression in relevant illuminated manuscripts, three of which Renana Bartal discusses in her study here: Cambridge, Magdalene College, MS Pepys 1803; Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Selden Supra 38; and Brussels, Bibliothèque royale, MS II 282, all of them produced in England at the end of the fourteenth century. All of them have already received extensive coverage by previous scholarship, and Bartal simply continues with that tradition, trying hard to offer new perspectives, which are, to be honest, hard to come by now.


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