The first impulse to make a special study of the Treaty of Seville came from my interest in the career of that eminent diplomatist, Benjamin Keene, on whom I discoursed at some length last February. But at that time my attention was concentrated upon Keene's second mission to Spain from 1749 to 1757, and I only gave a very superficial glance at his earlier mission from 1727 to 1739. In reference to this I stated that he played an active part in bringing about the Treaty of Seville, that he was deposed at the last minute from being the sole English signatory of the treaty by the return of William Stanhope, and that he felt some chagrin because all the credit and reward for making that treaty went to his senior colleague, whereas he himself received no recognition of his services. There was no doubt about his discontent, because I found frank expression of it in his letters, but I was curious to ascertain how far this discontent was justified. The study of this minor problem led me on to consider the importance of the treaty in the history of Europe. I came to the conclusion that it was a notable landmark in the rather tangled diplomacy of the second and third decades of the eighteenth century. The tangle arose from the temporary dislocation of interstate relations in Europe from normal into abnormal grooves, and a prominent cause of that dislocation was that national interests were largely superseded or overshadowed by dynastic claims and uncertainties.

If our discussion this afternoon is to be helpful, the scope of our subject must be clearly defined. I take it that, by “Modern Methods in Medieval Historical Research,” we mean especially the various kinds of co-operative study which have grown so rapidly in recent years. If this be so, let me say at once, on behalf, I am sure, of my fellow medievalists no less than myself, that we do not imply, by the limitation of our subject, any lack of faith in the supreme value of private and individual investigation. The best and finest work must always be done in solitude. It may not be the most useful work, if by this we mean the work whose every-day value as an aid to study is most apparent, but it must always be the finest work, the most satisfying and the most stimulating. “Have salt in yourselves and be at peace one with another” is a golden rule in scholarship as well as in life; and in the world of scholarship I am not sure that it is not better to have salt in oneself, to have something clear and definite to do with the intention and ability to do it, than to be at peace one with another.

The purpose of the coming Discussion may be gathered from the Card of Session and the Notices of the Meeting.

This is an age of academic Conferences and Discussions whereby we may hope to keep in touch with one another and with other historical organisations, in this country and abroad.

Among the many and complex problems with which the history of Europe in the Middle Ages—and especially the earlier period of the Middle Ages—teems is the character of the intellectual heritage transmitted to medieval men from classical and later Roman imperial times. The topic has engaged the attention of many scholars, amongst them men of the greatest eminence, so that much which fifty years ago was still dark and uncertain is now clear and beyond dispute. Yet the old notions and misconceptions die hard, especially in books approximating to the textbook class. In a recently published volume on the Middle Ages intended for university freshmen there is much that is excellent and abreast of the most recent investigations; but the sections on early medieval education and scholarship seem to show that the author has never read anything on that subject later than Mullinger's Schools of Charles the Great.

The importance of Flambard in Rufus's reign has always been acknowledged. All the chroniclers, in more or less strident language, put him in the forefront of those responsible for Rufus's exactions and lay the blame chiefly on him for the misfortunes they relate. Stubbs in working out his idea of constitutional development gave Flambard a more determined position in this scheme than he had ever held before. It will first be useful to see what kind of picture of Flambard he and, later, Freeman evolved. The chief difficulty Stubbs had in Rufus's reign was to find some guiding hand for the “hardening and sharpening” of feudalism which in his view was going on at that time, and for the introduction of new feudal practices. He required some single and unscrupulous innovator to account for a process which he thought time alone would not have brought about. Stubbs, looking from the point of view of constitutional development, explained the evolution of the conditions described in Henry I's coronation charter as the work of Flambard. The charter showed, for instance, heirs to feudal fiefs having to buy back their lands on the death of the holder instead of merely paying a relief—a stringency which he explained by the discovery of a legal mind working out feudal principle.

A prolonged search has recently been undertaken by the present writer with the permission and encouragement of the Duke of Bedford with the object, in the first place, of locating if possible the records of the Cistercian abbey of Woburn and, in the second, of ascertaining what material hitherto unused, or partly unused, exists in the Public Record Office and elsewhere concerning the history of that abbey at the time of its dissolution and immediately subsequent thereto.

“La Diplomatie,” wrote a distinguished French author, “est vieille comme le monde et ne périra qu'avec lui.” There are no problems as to the origins of the ambassador as the word was originally understood; that is, the accredited envoy of one ruler or state to another. Ambassadors in this sense, by whatever term they might be designated, have existed since the earliest times, the inevitable product of the necessity for communication between authorities prevented by the requirements of their office from personal intercourse.

I have just been reading “Three lectures by the late Sir Israel Gollancz,” printed for private circulation and kindly lent to me by Dr. Hubert Hall, in which the following passage occurs: “Long before Shakespeare thought of dealing with the theme, when Shakespeare was still young—a school-boy—the story of the Jew with reference to the same story that we have in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice had been enacted on the English stage. As early as 1579 we have a reference to it, but the play was lost; we know it only from Gosson's reference.” The author goes on to explain that” in 1579 we have already two elements that make up The Merchant of Venice; the Pound of Flesh motive on the one hand and, on the other, the Choice of the Caskets, combined into one play, The Jew, ‘representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers, and the bloody minds of usurers.’

I take it that to most English readers the history of Portugal is less familiar than that of any other of the western states of Europe. One reason for this is that there are few books in English on the subject, and those which have been written are rather outline sketches than detailed studies. I imagine that the ordinarily well-informed person, if asked what he or she knew about Portugal, would reply: Oh! Vasco da Gama, Catharine of Braganza, the Methuen Treaty and the taste for port, the Lisbon earthquake, the Marquis of Pombal, and the Peninsular War. I doubt whether any Professor of History could offhand give the names and dates of the Portuguese kings.