Like almost everything I have written, this book attempts to bridge the gulf between what, from the backgrounds of their exponents, may be described as ‘philosophical’ and ‘historical’ approaches to writing about medieval philosophy. I look at Abelard's arguments and positions, and I ask what sense we can make of them and whether they cohere with one another. But I do so within an historical framework, which is intended to take account both of Abelard's development as a thinker and the general presuppositions and aims of his work. Such a method runs the risk of producing a book that will interest no one. Whether I have avoided it, others must judge.

Indeed, there is just one aspect of this book where I insist on being the sole arbiter: the extent of my debts, in writing it, both to institutions and to individuals. I have for a long time had the good fortune to belong to Trinity College, Cambridge, which has provided stability and support for my work; and in Anne Barton, Eric Griffiths, Jeremy Maule and Adrian Poole I have had colleagues there who have shown extraordinary tolerance and warmth to someone with academic interests so very different to their own. I should not, however, have undertaken so ambitious a project were it not for my especial good luck in having been given a British Academy Research Readership for the academic years 1991–2 and 1992–3.