It is a cardinal tenet of classical textual criticism that medieval scribes were most prone to error when copying from an unfamiliar system of script. Accordingly a good deal of attention has been given by classical scholars to what happens to a text when it is copied from one system of script to another, and to the characteristic sorts of error which such copying involves. The great French textual critic, Alphonse Dain, even coined a Greek term, metacharakterismos (μεταχαρακτηρισμός), to describe the scribal process of copying, character by character, from one script to anodier. (The Latin equivalent would be translitteratio, which might be rendered ‘transliteration’ in English.) Dain was thinking principally of the transliteration of Greek uncial manuscripts into minuscule script; but the process is also known to have taken place in the transmissional histories of Latin texts, when works of classical literature in (say) rustic capital script were transliterated into the various regional minuscules. By observing patterns of repeated error, Latin textual critics have often been able to demonstrate that the archetype of such-and-such a text must have been written in a particular system of script. The first attempt at such a demonstration was apparently that by the humanist scholar Joseph Scaliger (1540–1609), who in his Castigationes in Catullum (1577) showed that the archetype of all surviving manuscripts of Catullus was written in what he called Langobardicae litterae, what we should describe as a form of pre-Caroline minuscule.

In his study of Migration and Mythmaking in Anglo-Saxon England, Nicholas Howe has argued that the Anglo-Saxons regarded the ancestral migration from the Continent as ‘the founding and defining event of their culture’. He suggests that the adventus Saxonum gave the Germanic tribes in England a shared identity, and proved central to their historical, cultural and even theological self-definition. Howe investigates what he calls the Anglo-Saxon ‘migration myth’, which links the Germanic tribal migration to England with the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt, both being transmarine journeys from a land of spiritual bondage to one of spiritual salvation. Migration and Mythmaking in Anglo-Saxon England traces the development of this concept from Bede's Historia ecclesiastica to Wulfstan's Sermo Lupi, and discusses its function in the writings of Alcuin and Boniface, as well as in Old English poetry. Howe's elegant analysis succeeds in demonstrating the pervasiveness of migration as a cultural myth, that is, a story that endures in a people's memory because it speaks powerfully to their collective imagination.

In The Fates of the Apostles Cynewulf shows only limited interest in the details of his heroes' lives and passions. He devotes more of his poem to meditation on the meaning of those events than to the actions themselves. Even so, for the last hundred years, scholars have sought to identify the source or sources of the hagiographical information the author incorporated into his text. Cynewulf speaks of having gathered his information from far and wide (lines 1–2), but most investigators have dismissed this statement as a conventional tag, and they have tried to identify the minimum number of sources needed to provide the details that Cynewulf relates. Efforts to locate a single source have always been in vain, but early investigators generally agreed that the most important source was probably the martyrology of the Venerable Bede or a related document. Not only did this text include nearly all of the information that Cynewulf chose to convey, but its attribution to Bede seemed to assure that it would have been available to an early-ninth-century poet. In 1908, however, this consensus was shaken by the publication of Henri Quentin's path-breaking investigation of the medieval martyrological tradition. Surprisingly, although nine decades have passed since this work appeared, its full implications have yet to be integrated into Cynewulf scholarship. Now a revival of the view that Cynewulf employed a martyrology makes the assimilation of Quentin's conclusions along with the results of more recent martyrological studies imperative.

Oxford, Bodleian Library, Junius 27 (S.C. 5139), the Junius Psalter, was written, Latin text and Old English gloss, probably at Winchester and presumably during the reign of King Edward the Elder. Junius 27 is one of the twenty-nine complete or almost complete psalters written or owned in Anglo-Saxon England which have survived. (In addition to these twenty-nine complete psalters, eight minor fragments of further psalters are still extant.) This substantial number of surviving manuscripts and fragments is explained by the paramount importance of the psalms in the liturgy of the Christian church, both in mass and especially in Office. Junius 27 is also one of the ten psalters from Anglo-Saxon England bearing an interlinear Old English gloss to the entire psalter. (In addition there are two psalters with a substantial amount of glossing in Old English, though not full interlinear versions.) Since our concern in the first part of this article will be with the nature of the Old English glossing in the Junius Psalter, and its relationship to other glossed psalters, it is appropriate at the outset to provide a list of the psalters in question. At the beginning of each of the following items I give the siglum and the name by which the individual psalters are traditionally referred to by psalter scholars. An asterisk indicates that the Latin text is a Psalterium Romanum (the version in almost universal use in England before the Benedictine reform); unmarked manuscripts contain the Psalterium Gallicanum. For full descriptions of the manuscripts, see N. R. Ker, Catalogue of Manuscripts Containing Anglo-Saxon.

The Old English interlinear glosses in the prayerbook London, British Library, Royal 2. A. XX frequently render certain Latin verb phrases and noun phrases into Old English with English word order rather than Latin, in contrast to almost all other surviving Old English interlinear glosses of the same prayers. Investigation of the occurrences of similar syntactic tendencies in all other Old English continuous interlinear glosses (the thirteen Old English interlinear glosses to the psalms, the eleven glosses to canticles of the psalter, the two interlinear glosses to the gospels and the thirty other numbered entries under ‘continuous interlinear glosses’ in Angus Cameron's ‘A List of Old English Texts’) reveals that such anglicization is restricted to relatively few texts from various centuries and places. Analysis of the features and conditions of these few witnesses reveals that neither scribal education, region, century nor other particular of situation is a factor common to all witnesses. The scribe of the Old English glosses in Royal 2. A. XX appears to have had deficiencies in Old English grammar, yet confidence in Old English phrasings of the prayers. His gloss was probably not made for students learning Latin grammar; it was more likely intended simply to help laypeople or less-than-well-educated religious persons to understand the Latin prayers. The context is clearer when we consider the Latin prayers in the margins (and a few interlinear glosses in Greek) that were added by the same hand.

In the nineteenth century, John Romilly Allen confidently claimed that the iconography of the Crucifixion with the robed or ‘fully draped’ Christ was a phenomenon of Celtic art, found in Scotland, Ireland and Wales, distinguishable from the ‘Saxon’ type in which Christ wore a loin-cloth. Other features of the Saxon type were the presence of the sun and moon above the arms of the cross, instead of angels as in Ireland; and the figures of the Virgin and St John at the foot of the cross, without the spear- and sponge-bearers, the latter pair appearing only exceptionally at Alnmouth, Northumberland; Aycliffe, County Durham; and Bradbourne, Derbyshire. Clearly two different versions were identified in this analysis, but no attempt was made to clarify the chronological relationship between the examples cited, and only the geographical distribution of a small number of examples was considered. Romilly Allen's confidence in distinguishing ‘Celt’ from ‘Saxon’ on the basis of art styles, even for the pre-Viking period, is not always shared today, as the continuing discussion of the origins of several important manuscripts shows. The terms ‘Insular’ and ‘Hiberno-Saxon’ used to describe much of the art from the sixth century to the eighth underline die perceived difficulties.

The author of the Chronicon Æthelweardi is commonly identified with the ealdor-man of the western shires who signed charters from 973–98 and played an important political role particularly in King Æthelred's England. Ealdorman Æthelweard is also known as the patron of Abbot Ælfric, as the addressee of Ælfric's famous preface to his translation of Genesis and of his Old English preface to his Lives of Saints; that is, we know him as a person who took great interest in religious texts written in or translated into the vernacular. The Chronicon was written in Latin, although it was mainly based on the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The reason for his choice of language may be determined from the prologue to his Chronicon, from which it becomes clear that he wrote it for his kinswoman Mathilda (949–1011), abbess of Essen, whose grandmother Eadgyth, daughter of King Edward the Elder, had been married to Emperor Otto I. We may assume that Mathilda's native tongue was Old Saxon, a variety of Low German that was closely related to West Saxon English.

The preface by Ælfric occurs in complete form in two manuscripts and in part in a third. Oxford, Bodleian Library, Laud Miscellany 509 (s. xi2) contains the preface (fols. 1–3, headed with the words Incipit prefatio genesis anglice), together with the Old English Hexateuch (fols. 3–107) and Ælfric's selections from Judges (fols. 108–15). Cambridge, University Library, Ii. 1. 33 (s. xii2) has the preface, without tide, followed by Ælfric's partial translation of Genesis (fols. 2–24). London, British Library, Cotton Claudius B. iv (St Augustine's, Canterbury, s. xi1), having lost its first leaf, now preserves only the second half of the preface followed by an illustrated text of the Old English Hexateuch, but a sixteenth-century transcript by Robert Talbot, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 379, preserves some of its missing text, along with the same tide as Laud 509. Both Laud 509 and Claudius B. iv give slightly different compilations of the translations by Ælfric with the more extensive work of the anonymous scriptural translator (or translators). The differing rubrics and contents of the manuscripts affect the way we read the preface that they share: the Cambridge manuscript presents it as a preface to half of Genesis only, Laud 509 and the transcript label it a preface at least to the whole of Genesis. If, however, the incipit is scribal, it could be taken as a prologue to the Hexateuch. Was the preface, then, intended by Ælfric to introduce just the first half of Genesis, or a larger work? Sisam is of the first view: ‘no preface to the Pentateuch (or Hexateuch) survives, and evidendy the compiler of the extant Old English version did not know of one, since he used Ælfric's inappropriate English preface to the first part of Genesis.’

The career and cult of St Æthelthryth, the seventh-century Northumbrian queen who retained her virginity throughout two marriages in order to follow her vocation as a nun, has always been known to any reader of Bede's Historia ecclesiastica, but has become an especially popular subject for a remarkable range of research and interpretation in the past ten or fifteen years, among editors, historians of sainthood, historians of marriage, feminist literary critics and even novelists.

Recent research has focused attention on the ‘Lotharingian connection’, that is to say the close links between the English and German churches in the middle of the eleventh century. Its best known manifestation is the presence of a significant number of German (mainly Lotharingian) clerics at the English royal court. This phenomenon seems to have its origin in the reign of Cnut (1016–35), and the purpose of this paper is to shed light on two aspects of Cnut's contacts with Lotharingia. First, an explanation is advanced for Cnut's baptismal name, Lambert. Secondly, attention is drawn to a hagiographical source which provides evidence for a visit by Cnut to Cologne.

In September 1890, Hendrik Logeman, professor of English and Germanic philology at the University of Ghent in Belgium, had the audacity to accuse no less a scholar than Henry Sweet of misleading his readers. Logeman based his accusation on an unfortunate remark Sweet had made in his edition of the Old English translation of Pope Gregory's Pastoral Care. For this scholarly edition, Sweet had wished to include the text of London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius B. xi. However, having barely survived the Ashburnham House blaze of 1731, this manuscript had been almost entirely consumed by fire at a bookbinder's in 1865. As a replacement, Sweet had used Oxford, Bodleian Library, Junius 53, a transcript made by the seventeenth-century philologist Francis Junius (1591–1677) when the Cotton manuscript was still unscathed. Sweet praised Junius and emphasized the accuracy of the transcript by stating that Junius only ‘swerved from the path of literal accuracy in a few unimportant particulars’. Hendrik Logeman had collated the Old English glosses to the Benedictine Rule from Cotton Tiberius A. iii with a Junius transcript, Junius 52, for his 1888 edition, but he found, instead, that Junius failed to distinguish between 〈ð〉 and 〈þ〉 that he corrected his text without giving the reading of the manuscript, and that he added, omitted or transposed entire words.