Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.04
Katelin Marit Parsons
A famous scene in Eyrbyggja saga describes how a farmer, Styrr of Hraun, uses a baðstofa, “bathhouse, bathing chamber,” to dispose of two troublesome berserker brothers.1 One brother has demanded the farmer's daughter as his bride, threatening the farmer if he will not agree to the match. After seeking counsel from his wise neighbor, Snorri Þorgrímsson, the farmer sets three labor-intense tasks for the berserkers to complete while he has a baðstofa prepared for their arrival. Having exhausted their strength through physical labor, Styrr invites the berserkers to relax in the baðstofa and then barricades their only exit, heating the space to an unbearable temperature and murdering them when they attempt to clamber out. A now-lost chapter of Heiðarvíga saga describes the same event, with the probable narrative difference that the berserkers in Heiðarvíga saga ask whether anyone else will join them in the baðstofa, with Styrr craftily responding that it would be unfitting for the other men to bathe with such mighty personages.2Eyrbyggja saga emphasizes that the architecture of the baðstofa at Hraun is vulnerable by design. Constructed while the berserkers are away cutting a road through the lava, Styrr's bathing house is dug into the ground with only a single narrow exit up and out, and it has a small opening in the wall that allows it to be easily (over)heated from the outside. Most medieval Icelandic farmers did not custom-build themselves a baðstofa for the purpose of ridding themselves of unpleasant suitors. Nevertheless, when the baðstofa makes an appearance in medieval Icelandic writings, it tends to be situated within a narrative episode depicting home invasion, murder, or attempted murder. In this paper, I argue that making the baðstofa visible in such a context is a deliberate violent inversion of its normal association with socialization, hospitality, and restoration. This is particularly true of the baðstofur in Sturlunga saga, a compilation that describes a particularly bloody period of Icelandic history and records numerous contemporary events in which mundane domestic spaces became sites for reprisal killings.The baðstofa as it appears in literature cannot be disassociated from changing social practices, material cultures, and environmental conditions. As examined here, the function and architecture of the baðstofa did not remain stable throughout the medieval and Early Modern period. Conceptions of bathing changed, and so too did the availability of firewood in the Icelandic landscape. Increasingly, the term baðstofa described a heatable room but not one associated in literature with heightened danger to its occupants.The restoration of the baðstofa in a literary context occurs in a folktale recorded (and perhaps partly invented) by Jón Eggertsson (ca. 1643–1689) in the late seventeenth century, which describes a bungled home invasion of a church farm in the fifteenth century. In this story, the hunted becomes the hunter and the baðst
{"title":"Murder in the <i>Baðstofa</i>: Bathing and the Dangers of Domestic Space in Old Norse-Icelandic Literature","authors":"Katelin Marit Parsons","doi":"10.5406/1945662x.122.4.04","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/1945662x.122.4.04","url":null,"abstract":"A famous scene in Eyrbyggja saga describes how a farmer, Styrr of Hraun, uses a baðstofa, “bathhouse, bathing chamber,” to dispose of two troublesome berserker brothers.1 One brother has demanded the farmer's daughter as his bride, threatening the farmer if he will not agree to the match. After seeking counsel from his wise neighbor, Snorri Þorgrímsson, the farmer sets three labor-intense tasks for the berserkers to complete while he has a baðstofa prepared for their arrival. Having exhausted their strength through physical labor, Styrr invites the berserkers to relax in the baðstofa and then barricades their only exit, heating the space to an unbearable temperature and murdering them when they attempt to clamber out. A now-lost chapter of Heiðarvíga saga describes the same event, with the probable narrative difference that the berserkers in Heiðarvíga saga ask whether anyone else will join them in the baðstofa, with Styrr craftily responding that it would be unfitting for the other men to bathe with such mighty personages.2Eyrbyggja saga emphasizes that the architecture of the baðstofa at Hraun is vulnerable by design. Constructed while the berserkers are away cutting a road through the lava, Styrr's bathing house is dug into the ground with only a single narrow exit up and out, and it has a small opening in the wall that allows it to be easily (over)heated from the outside. Most medieval Icelandic farmers did not custom-build themselves a baðstofa for the purpose of ridding themselves of unpleasant suitors. Nevertheless, when the baðstofa makes an appearance in medieval Icelandic writings, it tends to be situated within a narrative episode depicting home invasion, murder, or attempted murder. In this paper, I argue that making the baðstofa visible in such a context is a deliberate violent inversion of its normal association with socialization, hospitality, and restoration. This is particularly true of the baðstofur in Sturlunga saga, a compilation that describes a particularly bloody period of Icelandic history and records numerous contemporary events in which mundane domestic spaces became sites for reprisal killings.The baðstofa as it appears in literature cannot be disassociated from changing social practices, material cultures, and environmental conditions. As examined here, the function and architecture of the baðstofa did not remain stable throughout the medieval and Early Modern period. Conceptions of bathing changed, and so too did the availability of firewood in the Icelandic landscape. Increasingly, the term baðstofa described a heatable room but not one associated in literature with heightened danger to its occupants.The restoration of the baðstofa in a literary context occurs in a folktale recorded (and perhaps partly invented) by Jón Eggertsson (ca. 1643–1689) in the late seventeenth century, which describes a bungled home invasion of a church farm in the fifteenth century. In this story, the hunted becomes the hunter and the baðst","PeriodicalId":44720,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF ENGLISH AND GERMANIC PHILOLOGY","volume":"99 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135606655","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.15
Ármann Jakobsson
Reading is fundamental. This phrase is the name of a respected nonprofit literacy organization in the United States but also a stock phrase in the popular TV series RuPaul's Drag Race (2009-), where reading has a somewhat different meaning as the “the real art form of insult,” as it is defined in Jenny Livingston's documentary film Paris is Burning (1990), and it is fundamental to “throwing shade,” an important drag queen skill that borrows the phrase from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park (1814).None of this would have been relevant to previous studies of skaldic poetics, but Kate Heslop's Viking Mediologies is a very different kind of book. The main reason the phrase came to my mind is that the reader does not get far into it before realizing that this is not only an ambitious and clever but a fundamental study that does not leave Skaldic Studies the same. But it is also relevant because reading is among the many issues taken up in the book, which is mainly concerned with remembering, seeing, and hearing, and also because an exploration of the complex semantic relationship between book reading and drag reading would probably benefit a great deal by the subtle theoretical framework used by Kate Heslop in Viking Mediologies.The book begins and ends with the saddest and most successful of skaldic poets, Egill Skallagrímsson and his complicated friendship with his Arinbjörn, the eventual recipient of one of Egill's greatest poems, now only extant in a single fragmentary text, which is probably one of many reasons Heslop uses it as a point of entrance. Heslop goes on to discuss the content of the poem: “Generosity is to miserliness as praise is to a slander, Egill insists” and page 1 thus already conveys to the reader what so many of us teachers of skaldic poetry fail to impress upon our sleepy students, that skaldic poetry, like other gifts, is also concerned with fundamental issues. She goes on to declare war on the “exclusionary dualism” of the holiest of cows in Old Norse Studies, the binary opposition of orality and literacy (p. 5), and this book is brilliantly successful in gently but firmly tearing down that statue, leaving us to explore what lies beneath the imagined dichotomy. The short but remarkably significant introduction also offers a brief but sufficient insight into the concepts of medium, media, mediality, and mediologies with which the study is concerned. This part, not least due to its succinctness, will make the book particularly useful to all Old Norse and medieval scholars wanting to understand this exciting new theoretical framework.Like Tolkien, Kate Heslop divides her book both into three and into six, with one coda. The three parts concern memories, seeing, and hearing, which she establishes as the core elements of skaldic poetry. The parts can be read independently to the reader's gain but also complement each other. Each and every one is replete with new analytical insights, with which the book is so plentiful that reading it
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.10
Marion Turner
Elizaveta Strakhov's fascinating and compelling book establishes her as one of the most interesting and important voices emerging in a new generation of Chaucer scholars. At the same time, although Chaucer appears in the subtitle of the book, Continental England in fact makes an argument for decentering Chaucer, as it interrogates the categories of author, nation, and language (p. 14).The category at the center of this book is undoubtedly form. The formes fixes—the ballade, rondeau, virelay, chant royal, lay, and complainte—have long been at the heart of discussions of later medieval French poetry, but have been far less central to scholarly work on medieval English verse. Critics remain less interested in what are generically called Chaucer's “shorter poems” than they are in his narrative poetry. Yet, as Strakhov points out, earlier generations of readers encountered Chaucerian material skewed towards his ballades and other Francophone texts, and influential readers such as Lydgate emphasized Chaucer's “compleyntis, baladis, roundelis, virelaies” as the culmination of his poetic activity (p. 213).In exploring what happens to the formes fixes as they move between languages, Strakhov develops a nuanced argument about translation and identity. As she discusses, Chaucer composed the majority of his short-form lyrics in English rhyme and stanza forms that he had himself developed, but when he translated a French cycle, to produce his Complaint of Venus, he replicated the French rhyme and stanza form. Similarly, when Charles d'Orleans translated his own French formes fixes cycle into English, he precisely reproduced the French formal features such as stanzaic length and rhyme scheme, but when he composed English formes fixes he used established English rhyme and stanza forms (pp. 3–4). While the formes fixes are in some ways a unifying, recognizable mode of writing, they are also regionally inflected.Strakhov's argument throughout Continental England is underpinned by a particular understanding of translation as reparative rather than antagonistic. The “displacement” model of translation, identified by Rita Copeland as the foundational idea of translation activity for the Latin West, enabled an agonistic relationship between source and translation, a relationship of competition and supremacy. However, Copeland also identifies a second model of translation deriving from patristic authors, particularly Jerome. This reconstitutive model is interested in preservation and accretion rather than displacement and expulsion. Strakhov's contention is that writers such as Chaucer practice a secular version of this patristic model of translation, whereby cross-regional Francophone culture is preserved through textual synergies and exchanges, even as the Hundred Years’ War plods or rages in the background. Strakhov terms this kind of work “reparative translation” (p. 9) and this concept infuses and energizes Continental England.The book is written with clarity and
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.08
Tiffany Beechy
Translation Effects is a quietly, even stealthily radical book. Translation is a concept with a long pedigree, in scholarship as well as in the medieval period. It can have the most traditional of connotations, from philological notions of original and derivative to ideas of faithfulness and accuracy and consistency through time. Yet, as we all know, medieval “translation” was often practiced as the loosest kind of adaptation—invention operating under cover of transmission. Hurley's study defines its titular concept with beguiling capaciousness, essentially as the traces of carryover from one language to the next, or one text to the next, or even one telling to the next, in time: “translation effects foreground translation as an act even when they do not technically perform it” (p. 3). In this way, translation effects partake of a basic mystery of language, the way the ghosts of past utterances make any present one possible, though this is not really where Hurley takes her argument. The book proceeds gradually, starting with actual translation (the Alfredian Orosius, Ælfrician saints’ lives) and eventually moving beyond it to depicted and finally metaphorical senses of the term, in Middle English treatments of the “Saxon” past and Beowulf's fabric of received narratives, respectively. But even from the very beginning, for Hurley, translation effects “are not aberrations affecting a translation's quality . . . but moments of literary invention that imagine new textual communities” (p. 3). In recognizing “translation effects”—the “products of linguistic transfer”—not as aberrant but as normal aspects of medieval literary invention, Hurley dissolves some of the very grounds for source studies and philology. Medieval invention carries over elements of tradition while making something new, leaving traces—effects—of this process that are key to its imagined community, a community which is not synchronic, furthermore, but diachronic, including past audiences and past transmitters but also future iterations of both. Neither a stable ur-text, the object of philology, nor the unidirectional relation often implied by “source” can very well sustain themselves in the light of such insights.Another radical aspect of the book is its scope, encompassing pre- and post-Conquest works which themselves reach backwards and forwards in time. Chapter 1 treats the Old English Orosius and specifically the phrase marker “cwæð Orosius” (Orosius said) as a moment, repeated multiple times, of a text showing its seams. Hurley reads this foregrounding of engagement with an original text as constructing a complex, heterotemporal “now” that looks back on the coming of Christianity both to Rome and to Britain. It engages anxiety over the weakening of empires and takes pains to construct a community backwards as well as forwards in time, one that sees the pre-Christian past as inferior to the Christian present and the troubled Christian present redeemed in a projected future. In t
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.05
David Pedersen
Much recent scholarship on the ninth-century Old Saxon gospel harmony known as the Hêliand has focused on how the poem presents Christ to its original audience. Written in the early days of the Franks’ religious domination of the Saxons, the Hêliand was almost certainly a pivotal text in shaping the Saxons’ understanding of their new religious identity. Indeed, as Stephen Pelle notes, by the middle of the ninth century, “Continuing rebellions against Charlemagne and the new faith soon convinced Carolingian churchmen that forced baptism and mandatory church attendance were not enough to ensure obedience and compliance.”1 As scholars have continually observed, the Hêliand very deliberately responds to these religious tensions by tailoring the depiction of Christ's life and work to the political and cultural circumstances of the original audience.But scholars have been quite divided regarding what, precisely, the ninth-century Saxons were supposed to understand about their new faith from this text. There is no doubt that Christ and his followers are in a sense “Germanized” in the Hêliand, and these alterations seem to offer the original audience a familiar exemplum to emulate. But the precise nature of the emulation is far from settled. Fr. G. Ronald Murphy, for example, finds a tacit condoning of violence in certain changes to the Hêliand's handling of the Sermon on the Mount and in its expansion of Peter's attack on Malchus in Gethsemane, while Richard Fletcher asserts forcefully that the author of the Hêliand “presents Christianity as a mild, peaceable faith” and “nowhere even implicitly suggests that the faith might come in another manner.”2 On a more politically acute note, Perry Neil Harrison sees in the Hêliand's pathos-laden expansion of the Massacre of the Innocents episode a condemnation of the violence that characterized the Frankish efforts to convert Saxony, while Samuel J. Youngs views Christ's passive acceptance of his “fate” in the text as an admonishment to the Saxons to accept their political circumstances with the same passivity.3 Thus, while there can be no doubt that the deliberate Germanization of the narrative communicates something specific to the original Saxon audience, there is little agreement among scholars about what, precisely, that something is.The present essay seeks clarity to these questions of purpose in the evangelistic as opposed to the political agenda of the work. However political the work may be, it is certainly also, and perhaps even primarily, a work of evangelism. Indeed, as the author notes in a prefatory fytt for which the source text has no parallel, his purpose in recording Christ's life and work is to present “hw sia [is gibodskip skoldin/ frummian, firiho barn” (ll. 8–9; how best God's bidding to carry out, the children of mankind).4 Given that the author of the text was likely a highly educated Saxon cleric, it strains credulity to think that his own feelings about the means by which Saxony was con
最近很多关于9世纪旧撒克逊福音和声曲Hêliand的研究都集中在这首诗是如何向最初的听众呈现基督的。《Hêliand》写于法兰克人对撒克逊人的宗教统治初期,几乎可以肯定,它是塑造撒克逊人对自己新宗教身份理解的关键文本。事实上,正如斯蒂芬·佩尔(Stephen Pelle)所指出的,到9世纪中叶,“反对查理曼大帝和新信仰的持续叛乱很快使加洛林派教会的人相信,强制洗礼和强制参加教堂礼拜不足以确保服从和顺从。”1正如学者们不断观察到的那样,Hêliand通过根据原始受众的政治和文化环境调整对基督生活和工作的描述,非常刻意地回应了这些宗教紧张关系。但是学者们对于九世纪的撒克逊人究竟应该从这段经文中理解他们的新信仰有什么分歧。毫无疑问,在Hêliand中,基督和他的追随者在某种意义上是“德国化”的,这些变化似乎为原始观众提供了一个熟悉的榜样来模仿。但这场竞赛的确切性质还远未确定。例如,Fr. G. Ronald Murphy在Hêliand对登山宝训的处理和扩展彼得在客西马尼对马勒古的攻击中发现了对暴力的默许,而Richard Fletcher则有力地断言Hêliand的作者“将基督教呈现为一种温和、和平的信仰”,“甚至没有任何地方暗示信仰可能以另一种方式出现。”2在政治上更为尖锐的问题上,佩里·尼尔·哈里森认为Hêliand对无辜者大屠杀的悲情扩展是对法兰克人努力使萨克森皈依的暴力行为的谴责,而塞缪尔·j·扬斯则认为基督在文本中被动地接受他的“命运”是对撒克逊人以同样的被动接受他们的政治环境的警告因此,尽管毫无疑问,叙事的刻意日耳曼化向最初的撒克逊观众传达了一些特定的东西,但学者们对这些东西到底是什么却几乎没有一致意见。目前的文章寻求明确这些问题的目的在福音,而不是工作的政治议程。不管这工作有多政治化,它肯定也是,甚至可能主要是,福音工作。事实上,正如作者在序言中所指出的那样,他记录基督的生活和工作的目的是为了呈现“sia [is gibodskip skoldin/ frummian, firiho barn”(第11章)。8 - 9;人类的孩子们,怎样才能最好地执行上帝的命令鉴于这段文字的作者很可能是一位受过高等教育的撒克逊神职人员,很难让人相信,他对萨克森人皈依的方式的感受并没有深刻的矛盾。探索文本如何反映这些感受是必要的,以产生对作品本身的整体看法。但作者个人对基督教信仰的自白也很可能是真诚的,当然在神学上也很微妙,因此有充分的理由认为,他的主要目标可能是成为更好的基督徒,而不是成为更好的加洛林王朝的臣民或统治者。换句话说,Hêliand优先考虑基督徒的思想,而不是基督徒的行为。虽然学者们非常关注全书中事件和行为的日耳曼化方式,但他们却很少关注语言和概念上的努力,以与早期撒克逊受众相关的方式来呈现基督教正如James E. Cathey前段时间所观察到的,Hêliand的文本呈现了“不断地用一个术语重新定义另一个术语,用一个新概念重述一个旧概念,用基督教的措辞扩充前基督教,用新概念等同旧词来取代语义。”6 Cathey对重新定义的例子和类型的简要概述,引发了对这种语言特征可能产生基督教思想“长期文化渗透”的方式的进一步讨论,本文通过探索文本将urd(命运,缘分,天意)置于基督权威之下的刻意方式,回应了他的呼吁。7我认为,通过Cathey概述的语义位移和重新定义的方法,基督在Hêliand的工作变成了对日耳曼世界观的征服,这种世界观认为乌尔德是基督在宗教统治方面的主要对手。重要的是,在一开始,我就把我对urd及其古英语同源词wyrd的解释置于日耳曼语文学早期通常被翻译为“命运”的词,置于日耳曼宿命论学术的漫长而相当尖刻的历史中。 我的目的当然不是重述早期日耳曼语文学家的论点,他们试图在古英语文学中重建基督教之前的日耳曼宇宙论这些学者经常关注wyrd在古英语文学记录中的出现,特别是那些它被拟人化的例子,他们认为wyrd在条顿异教中是至高无上的神。正如经常被证明的那样,在英格兰皈依基督教和最早的古英语文本之间的一个半世纪,以及基督教的出现几乎完全负责日耳曼语境下的书面识字这一事实,排除了在早期日耳曼文学中有意保留前基督教信仰的可能性。但我也不完全相信自20世纪初以来学者们的反动论点,他们认为wyrd(以及它的古撒克逊语和古挪威语同源词)在我们所拥有的文学作品中已经完全和舒适地基督教化了。正如我在其他地方所证明的那样,在古英语白话文学中,wyrd经常是对宇宙治理焦虑的一个靶子,而证明上帝对wyrd的统治正是许多出现这个词的文本的重点因此,我提出了一种介于完全基督教和完全异教对wyrd的解释之间的“中间道路”,认为它指的是一种未知的宇宙,它支配着“成为”(来自OE weoror ā an -“成为”)。古英语文本,如《所罗门与土星二世》、《流浪者》和《海员》的目的是使wyrd服从基督教的上帝,以减轻文本中一个或多个角色是否存在的怀疑我在这里的目的是证明将这种解释应用于Hêliand中的urd的有效性,以表明关于“事物的形成”的存在主义恐惧正是基督为了吸引9世纪撒克逊人的宗教想象力而必须减轻的。为了理解在文本中重新定义乌尔德的最初努力的意义,我们必须从Hêliand关于基督生活的叙述的末尾开始,并在基督死的那一刻撕开圣殿的幔子。撒克逊作者小心谨慎地强调并扩展了这一时刻,这一时刻只在塔蒂安的《Diatessaron》(202)中偶尔提到,这是Hêliand-and的主要来源文本,同样受到三部对类福音书的有限关注:13…我想说的是,[这条河]是一条中间的河,这条河是一条中间的河,这条河是一条中间的河,这条中间的河是一条中间的河,这条中间的河是一条中间的河,这条中间的河是一条中间的河。[lx17 .5658 - 70](编织得如此奇妙的彩色窗帘,已经在圣殿里安然无恙地悬挂了许多天[人们,英雄的儿子,永远不允许看到隐藏在窗帘后面的圣物]被撕成两半,犹太人可以看到宝藏了!(p。[187]在作者专门描述这一事件的七行诗中,他在原始材料中添加了对窗帘的详细描述,对窗帘在古代犹太背景下的禁止性目的的阐述,并强调撕裂提供了通往horð([宝藏]-囤积;lxvii.5664 - 70)含量这段和声的作者确实煞费苦心,从古代以色列人的角度,向他的撒克逊听众,呈现这一时刻的意义。对于一个开始了解至圣所的象征意义的现代读者来说,这种对撕裂的窗帘的强调并不奇怪。的确,犹太人与耶和华同在之间的障碍的消除具有深刻的象征意义和深刻的感人意义。在幔子被毁坏之前,除了大祭司以外,没有人可以进入至圣所,甚至大祭司也只能在赎罪日,即犹太礼仪日历中最神圣的日子,每年进一次圣所这日,大祭司进至圣所献祭,为以色列人的罪赎罪,使他们蒙上神与他们先祖亚伯拉罕所立的约。这个祭品是在约柜前献上的,约柜被认为是耶和华在地上的居所,他那令人敬畏的本质在任何时候对一个不完美的人来说都是致命的即使在这一天,祭司也必须经历严格的净化过程,他被要求用铃铛覆盖,并绑在绳子上,以防他被耶和华面前的人打死(导致钟声停止),并且需要在没有其他人进入的情况下从内殿中移除。 作者似乎在提醒人们注意,在管理基督诞生的过程中,至少是明确地缺乏道德规范。当然,他也没有明确否认乌尔德的
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.11
Eleanor Rosamund Barraclough
In the opening to his book, Dale Kedwards describes a school geology trip to Iceland. In one of those quirks of fate, he ended up at Safnahúsið, visiting an exhibition about Iceland's medieval manuscripts. Afterwards, in the gift shop, he picked up copies of Njáls saga and the Poetic Edda. From that point on, there was no looking back, for, as he notes wryly, “These purchases were fatal to my aspirations as a geologist” (p. xii). Yet, as he explains, these interests have come full circle in writing a book about Iceland and its medieval mappae mundi. Indeed, this is a particular strength of what he has produced. The study is impressively interdisciplinary in nature, combining a thorough grounding in Old Norse palaeography, philology, and culture with broader knowledge of scientific processes and phenomena, theories about the world and the cosmos going back to the Classical period, and the transmission of these ideas between cultures over the centuries. It seems that the author's preexisting interests in the study of the earth, its materials, and its processes continued to stand him in good stead, even as he made his way further into the world of Old Norse Studies.The book focuses on five Icelandic mappae mundi (“maps of the world”), drawn between ca. 1225 and ca. 1400 CE. Kedwards aims to situate them in their intellectual, literary, and material contexts in order to demonstrate how they function as “complex registers of Icelandic national self-perception and imagining” (back cover). The first two are hemispherical world maps, preserved in the manuscripts AM 736 I 4to (ca. 1300) and AM 732b 4to (ca. 1300–25). The third is a zonal map from the manuscript GkS 1812 I 4to (1315–ca. 1400), showing the Earth's climatic zones. Kedwards names the last two maps the “larger Viðey map” and the “smaller Viðey map,” both from GkS 1812 III, 4to (ca. 1225–50). The former contains 104 legends including the names of the three continents (Asia, Africa, Europe), rivers, seas, mountains, places, and peoples, with a further thirty-two legends that designate cosmological concepts. On the next page of the manuscript, the latter is a smaller, simpler affair, a T–O map with the names of the three continents.Kedwards begins by cautioning against interpreting the maps as windows onto histories of “geography” and “cosmology,” since, as he points out, these are “modern analytical categories that did not exist as distinct or separate disciplines in the European Middle Ages” (p. 5). Instead, if we want to see the maps as their medieval viewers would have done, Kedwards urges us to “loosen their association with geography in the narrowest sense, and realise that the relationship between them is subtler than is generally supposed” (pp. 5–6). Indeed, as he later concludes, these maps “engage Icelandic understandings of mundus that resonate variously with world, Earth, and globe” (p. 179). Knowledge of world geography, history, and the cosmos itself are visualized in these medieval
戴尔·爱德华在书的开头描述了一次去冰岛的学校地质之旅。在命运的一次奇遇中,他来到了Safnahúsið,参观冰岛中世纪手稿的展览。后来,他在礼品店买了《Njáls》和《诗社埃达》。从那时起,他就再也没有回头,正如他挖苦地指出的那样,“这些购买对我作为地质学家的愿望是致命的”(第12页)。然而,正如他解释的那样,这些兴趣在写一本关于冰岛及其中世纪世界地图的书时又兜了一个圈。事实上,这是他所创造的一种特别的力量。这项研究在本质上是令人印象深刻的跨学科,结合了古挪威古文学,语言学和文化的全面基础,以及更广泛的科学过程和现象知识,关于世界和宇宙的理论可以追溯到古典时期,以及这些思想在几个世纪以来在文化之间的传播。似乎作者对地球、地球的材料和地球的过程的研究的兴趣继续使他处于有利地位,即使他在古挪威研究的世界中走得更远。这本书的重点是五幅冰岛的世界地图,绘制于公元1225年至1400年之间。爱德华的目标是将他们置于他们的智力、文学和物质背景中,以展示他们如何作为“冰岛民族自我感知和想象的复杂登记册”(封底)。前两幅是半球形世界地图,保存在手稿AM 736 I 4至(约1300年)和AM 732b 4至(约1300 - 25年)中。第三幅是GkS 1812 I 4至(1315-ca)手稿中的区域地图。1400年),显示了地球的气候带。爱德华将最后两幅地图命名为“较大的v - ðey地图”和“较小的v - ðey地图”,这两幅地图都是在GkS 1812 III, 4到(约1225-50)之间绘制的。前者包含104个传说,包括三大洲(亚洲、非洲、欧洲)、河流、海洋、山脉、地方和民族的名称,另外还有32个传说,指定了宇宙概念。在手稿的下一页,后者是一个更小、更简单的东西,一个T-O地图,上面有三大洲的名称。爱德华兹首先警告说,不要把地图解释为了解“地理学”和“宇宙学”历史的窗口,因为,正如他所指出的,这些都是“在欧洲中世纪并不作为独特或独立学科存在的现代分析范畴”(第5页)。相反,如果我们想要像中世纪的观察者那样看待这些地图,爱德华敦促我们“从最狭隘的意义上放松它们与地理的联系,并意识到它们之间的关系比通常认为的要微妙”(第5 - 6页)。事实上,正如他后来总结的那样,这些地图“使冰岛人对世界的理解与世界、地球和全球产生了不同的共鸣”(第179页)。在这些中世纪的地图上,世界地理、历史和宇宙本身的知识,以及冰岛人对他们的起源和他们在大计划中的地位的看法,都被可视化了。在他的整个分析中,爱德华敦促读者把地图放在更广泛的手稿背景中,而不是作为“单独的关注对象,意味着要孤立地研究”(第62页)。的确,在本书的整个过程中,允许这些世界地图“与其配套的文本和图像相互作用”(第62页)的重要性变得非常清楚。采用这种方法,爱德华在微观和宏观之间无缝衔接,他的讨论范围从冰岛手稿制作的细枝末节一直到天体的运动。爱德华仔细地向读者介绍了中世纪冰岛的历史、社会、身份和地理位置。通过这些细节,他能够表明“冰岛世界地图是冰岛历史写作的先驱作品,展示了冰岛思想家如何能够操纵地图空间,以解决当代对冰岛在斯堪的纳维亚半岛的位置的担忧,以及随之而来的冰岛历史和身份问题”(第9页)。正如爱德华所言,这就是为什么在更广泛的手稿背景下研究这些地图如此重要的部分原因,因为这些地图的组合,文本和图像“构成了关于冰岛历史和社会的综合陈述,并更广泛地与当时冰岛人的文学作品联系在一起”(第21页)。图勒,在一些地图上看起来是冰岛北部的孪生兄弟,被突出显示为冰岛人世界观和自我形象的一个例子。正如爱德华解释的那样,图勒可能为地图绘制者提供了机会,将冰岛的历史“延伸到古典时期,以解决冰岛人对该岛作为新土地的焦虑,并像其他欧洲人一样,展示他们文化的中央主义起源”(第140-41页)。 同样,在他对冰岛地形图的分析中,爱德华能够展示冰岛的北位置如何使其居民能够理解和体验到只有在古典世界才理论化的全球概念。他指出,“在半球和地带性地图上,冰岛人将他们最近发现并定居的寒冷的北部地区视为古代权威作者所描述的世界的一个完整而稳定的部分”(第180页)。在最后一章的其他地方,爱德华斯考虑了一份冰岛牧师的名单,这些名单与两张“Viðey地图”一起出现,可追溯到1143年,被认为是历史学家Ari inn fróði(“智者”)的名字。正如他所指出的那样,“在将这些项目结合在一起时,地图绘制者将全球地理的愿景与冰岛联邦的形象并置在一起,这归功于冰岛杰出的历史学家”(第149页)。冰岛人对自己在更广阔的世界中的位置有着敏锐的意识,并且非常清楚其地理位置的更广泛影响。与此同时,爱德华将中世纪的冰岛人呈现为当代泛欧地理话语中的外向型参与者。事实上,他热衷于强调“冰岛人在制图制作方面并非后来者,但在思考更广阔的世界以及他们在其中的位置方面,冰岛人与他们的英国和大陆同时代人一样进步了”(第102页)。他指出,“冰岛地图既不被动地与继承下来的思想联系在一起,也不通过产生它们的文化而不改变它”(第102页)。此外,“冰岛人可能借鉴、改写或偶尔涉足欧洲文化,但他们很少被认为是写欧洲文学的欧洲人。”然而,我们在地图上看到的,与其说是冰岛和欧洲文化的融合,不如说是冰岛人在为自己天生的欧洲性做辩解”(第182-83页)。这本书最大的优点之一是,爱德华能够多次变换话题,常常是在一个段落中。他必须向非专业人士描述复杂的现象——不仅仅是行星运动,潮汐过程,日晷和教会日历之间的差异——不仅要根据我们自己的现代科学知识,还要根据欧洲中世纪和更早的古典时代对这些现象的理解来解释它们。而支撑这一切的是他在古斯堪的纳维亚文献学和语言学方面令人印象深刻的坚实基础。结果是流畅、易读、引人入胜,但就像一只鸭子在水面上滑行一样,下面有很多强大的腿部工作。在古斯堪的纳维亚研究领域之外,这本书有可能为那些在广泛学科领域工作的人打开冰岛世界地图。爱德华收录了一份广泛的附录,其中以照片方式将地图连同文本和翻译一起复制。附录是一本令人印象深刻的源书,这种资源使主题可以为更广泛的学者提供,而不是通常访问这些材料,从各个学科和语言传统中抽取。在摄影复制的问题上,我对封面的设计有一点挑剔。虽然我理解在封面上突出英国棉花地图的相关图像的逻辑(MS. Cotton Tiberius b.v., f. 56v, ca. 1050),但似乎失去了在视觉上突出冰岛世界地图标题的机会。诚然,从平面设计师的角度来看,与来自不列颠群岛和欧洲大陆的一些更为华丽的表亲相比,中世纪冰岛的手稿可能看起来有点棕色和肮脏。即便如此,给人的印象是,他们还不够好,无法登上自己全身研究的封面。危险之处在于,这可能会强化中世纪冰岛地图只是非冰岛地图的影子的观点,而实际上,爱德华斯提出了强有力的论点,认为情况根本不是这样。在2004年那个灾难性的日子里,爱德华斯或许迷失在了地质学领域,但古斯堪的纳维亚研究获得了这门学科失去的东西。尽管在现实中,没有人真的迷失了方向,因为正如爱德华令人信服地证明的那样,所有的东西都是相互联系在一起的,它们都有助于我们对世界、宇宙和人类的理解,无论是过去还是现在。
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.01
Carol Braun Pasternack, Shay Hopkins
Completed in 731, Bede's Historia Ecclesiastica (hereafter HE) is perhaps the magnum opus of its period for both its scope and influence. Not only does the HE provide far and away the most important account of seventh-century Britain—the century in which several English kingdoms converted to Christianity—but it has also shaped how we understand early England. Through his account of the Christian conversion and events of English history from the Roman invasion of Britain in 60 BCE to the ascension of Ceolwulf as King of the Northumbrians in 729 and the death of Archbishop Berhtwold in 731, Bede distinguished himself as the preeminent author in early eighth-century Britain and earned praise on the continent as well. It may be needless to say that Bede constructed and shaped his text with the sources available to him and by the Roman leanings of his home monastery, where he lived from age seven. And this monastic background reminds us that Bede consciously composed a moral history. In fact, Bede makes these moral leanings explicit in a dedicatory letter to King Ceolfrith, in which he promotes history as a genre concerned with the “imitandum bonum . . . deuitando quod noxium est ac peruersum” (imitating of the good . . . [and the] avoiding of the harmful and perverse) as well as the “exsequenda ea quae bona ac Deo digna esse” (pursuit of what is good and worthy with respect to God).1 Given Bede's insistence on history's moral edification, it is no surprise that this function is preserved in the text's translation into Old English.Completed in the late ninth or early tenth century, the Old English Bede (hereafter OEB) offers a vernacular translation of the HE that survives in several manuscripts.2 Given the OEB's dating, many scholars have raised the possibility of the OEB's participation in Alfred's educational program and the promotion of a national English identity. Perhaps most famously, Patrick Wormald argued for a highly political reading of the OEB, in which Alfred translated the HE in order to promote his agenda and concept of a “defining English national identity and national destiny.”3 Several scholars have followed Wormald's thesis, including Sarah Foot, who suggested that the OEB was translated as part of Alfred's program in order to promote a cohesive identity. For Foot, the OEB participates in Alfred's political agenda by figuring the “English as a political community” with a shared Christian history.4 More recently, Nicole Guenther Discenza asserts that the OEB sought to create the illusion of continuity between the two texts in order to support “the same sense of English history, and English pride to which the other translations [of Alfred's program] appealed.”5Recently, others have been less certain. Greg Waite argues that there is little evidence suggesting Alfred commissioned the OEB and follows claims by George Molyneaux and Sharon Rowley that the “translator's abridgements and adaptations indicate his interest in the religious and
比德的《教会史》(Historia Ecclesiastica,以下简称HE)完成于731年,就其范围和影响而言,可能是那个时期的巨著。《泰晤士报》不仅毫无疑问地提供了七世纪不列颠最重要的记述——在这个世纪,几个英格兰王国皈依了基督教——而且还塑造了我们对早期英格兰的理解。从公元前60年罗马人入侵不列颠,到729年塞奥武夫登基为诺森比亚国王,再到731年大主教贝特沃尔德去世,比德对基督教皈依和英国历史事件的描述,使他成为8世纪早期英国最杰出的作家,也赢得了欧洲大陆的赞誉。比德从七岁起就住在家乡的修道院,他根据自己所能获得的资料和罗马教堂的倾斜度,构建和塑造了他的作品,这可能是不用说的。这种修道背景提醒我们,比德有意识地创作了一部道德史。事实上,比德在给国王科尔弗里斯的一封献礼信中明确表达了这些道德倾向,在信中,他将历史作为一种与“美德的限度”有关的流派。Deuitando quod noum est ac perersum(模仿好)……(和)避免有害的和反常的)以及“exsequenda ea quae bona ac Deo digna esse”(追求对上帝来说是好的和值得的)考虑到比德对历史道德熏陶的坚持,这一功能在文本翻译成古英语时被保留下来也就不足为奇了。完成于9世纪末或10世纪初的古英语Bede(以下简称OEB)提供了存留于若干手稿中的HE的白话翻译鉴于OEB的年代,许多学者提出了OEB参与阿尔弗雷德教育计划和促进民族英语认同的可能性。也许最著名的是,帕特里克·沃马尔德(Patrick Wormald)主张对《大英帝国》进行高度政治化的解读,在这本书中,阿尔弗雷德翻译了《大英帝国》,以促进他的议程和“定义英国民族身份和国家命运”的概念。有几位学者追随了沃默德的论点,其中包括莎拉·富特(Sarah Foot),她认为,OEB被翻译为阿尔弗雷德计划的一部分,是为了促进一种凝聚力的认同。对富特来说,OEB通过将拥有共同基督教历史的“英国人作为一个政治共同体”来参与阿尔弗雷德的政治议程最近,Nicole Guenther Discenza断言,OEB试图在两个文本之间创造一种连续性的幻觉,以支持“与阿尔弗雷德计划的其他译本所吸引的相同的英国历史感和英国自豪感”。最近,其他人就不那么确定了。Greg Waite认为,几乎没有证据表明Alfred委托了OEB,并遵循George Molyneaux和Sharon Rowley的说法,“译者的删节和改编表明他对文本的宗教和田园潜力感兴趣,而不是历史政治。”6此外,Molyneaux认为,许多将OEB与阿尔弗雷德的计划和国家议程相一致的论点,都依赖于一个假设,即OEB是对HE的忠实和完整的翻译。7在对HE和OEB差异的分析中,Molyneaux认为,翻译可能是作为基督教指导的教育文本,而不是为了促进政治英语身份和Molyneaux一样,我们对HE和OEB的比较很感兴趣,他们的差异教给我们关于9世纪晚期和10世纪上半叶英格兰基督教行为的关注点和理想。除了最近从OEB的政治和国家关注转向之外,我们还研究了文本的宗教和道德方面。性行为的表现,尤其是生育性行为的表现,提供了一种富有成效的方法来分析文本对构成适当基督教行为的投资。我们通过血统来描绘性——以及它们所暗示的生育实践——是为了探究9世纪晚期和10世纪上半叶英国的基督教美德概念。虽然《HE》和《OEB》都谴责性以及由此产生的生育家庭血统,但反对生育性的争论在后来的白话翻译中被放大了。在这篇文章中,我们希望考虑这两个文本对性和血统的表现,以及它们与基督教美德概念的关系。需要说明的是,在这里和其他地方,我们使用“性”一词作为一个范畴,“将注意力集中在身体上,特别是与生殖和性欲有关的器官和心理过程,以及与生殖有关的社会和情感依恋。” “作为中世纪史学中一个未被充分研究的方面,性为思考中世纪早期英格兰的集体身份提供了一个关键的分析类别;性和性政治始终是道德的一部分,性关系与更大的制度和意识形态的福祉有着错综复杂的联系,尤其是在9世纪晚期和10世纪英格兰的改革基督教时期。史学中对性行为的研究帮助我们思考基督徒身份的集体性。像“HE”和“OEB”这样的文本在盎格鲁-撒克逊英格兰使用(现在仍在使用),目的是根据某种愿景创建社区,并作为塑造性和性行为以及其他行为、身份和思想的工作的一部分。“10我们在此认为,虽然高等教育和基督教会都对基督徒的行为提出了指导,但在基督教会中,这种指导越来越禁止生育性行为;OEB塑造了一个明确反对性和被认为与基督教美德不相称的性行为的社区。我们对OEB或其译者的主要论点不感兴趣,我们也对绘制生育家庭和精神家庭的等级图不感兴趣。相反,我们写这篇文章的目的是揭露OEB对血统的治疗是一种有问题的、破坏性的生殖性产物。血统明确了个人与家庭的关系,追溯了后代的生产,并为继承和扩大家庭的土地和权力提供了基础。在中世纪早期的英格兰,有两个基本因素有助于血脉的健康:战争和婚姻契约——其中隐含着性关系。然而,这些对健康和血统的产生至关重要的因素也与早期基督教的美德概念不相称。虽然HE和OEB具有许多血统描述,但我们关注的是OEB中生殖性行为的表现,以及这些表现与HE中的表现如何比较。冒着重复的风险,我们提供了比较HE和OEB在几个与血统和生殖性行为相关的关键时刻的仔细阅读,以揭示OEB谴责生殖血统的程度。作为一部政治史,比德的《上帝》必然呈现了强大家族的历史——因此包含了婚姻和战争——但作为一部“教会”史,它的主要目的是呈现教会的进步,可能是胜利。值得注意的是,比德将这一进步描述为皈依的过程,包括拒绝生育的血和战争的血。由于在比德时代,皈依往往始于国王和王后,而教会需要贵族的财政资助和法律保护,因此在HE和OEB中,皈依的表现必然涉及到教会和世俗贵族的交集贵族的皈依也意味着他们的道德行为的皈依由基督教的美德概念所定义;然而,这样的期望与贵族的影响力背道而驰。贵族的权力依赖于婚姻、后代和财产,权力的增加通常是通过包括婚姻联盟在内的策略来实现的,而不是严格的一夫一妻制——有时,甚至通过儿子与丧偶的继母结婚来保持婚姻联盟。这种策略与基督教关于性和婚姻的价值观背道而驰,我们必须理解比德从修道院的角度代表了这些冲突和紧张。具体来说,比德将性纯洁问题与异性恋的困难、政治动机的婚姻和国王的领土欲望联系在一起,并将血统与政治统治中的妥协甚至灾难联系在一起。我们希望强调的是,这些跨越HE和OEB的麻烦的血统表现。通过这样做,我们的目标是揭露OEB反对生育家庭的争论是如何与he持续的,有时甚至更明确地拒绝血统。在HE和OEB中,国王必然且讽刺地处于拒绝血统的中心:必然地,因为国王为教会的个人和机构提供政治支持和物质保护,他们的皈依建立了他们王国的宗教;具有讽刺意味的是,当国王们被期望有继承人和战争时,作为比德英雄的国王们却远离了这些生活方式,他们进入修道院,或者把他们的后代奉献给教会。这些对血缘的政治拒绝的描述是比德有意识的计划,还是他的修道院教育和自己的宗教欲望的必然结果,目前还不清楚。 当然,比德的历史包括他的儿子和女儿;比德讲述王朝发展和冲突的故事,不能不包括婚姻和后代尽管如此,比德还是采用了这种围绕血缘关系的
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.13
Jonas Wellendorf
This worthy celebration of the scholarship and career of Úlfar Bragason consists of twelve essays of varying length treating a number of occasionally eclectic topics within the general fields of medieval and postmedieval Icelandic literature. In a brief introduction, the editors present the recipient's scholarly achievements and describe his untiring work, as director of the Sigurður Nordal Institute, to promote Icelandic Studies internationally. These outward-facing activities, the editors argue, explain the dominance of contributions from non-Icelandic scholars and the almost total absence of Icelandic contributors to the volume. Another Festschrift, Dansað við Úlfar: Nokkur spor stigin til heiðurs Úlfari Bragasyni sjötugum, with predominantly Icelandic contributors, was published in 2019.As the title indicates, there is no overarching theme to the collection. The editors have therefore arranged the essays alphabetically according to the names of the contributors. In the following, I have divided them into three broad categories: contributions focusing/drawing on medieval prose, contributions treating/discussing medieval poetry, and finally contributions that present postmedieval materials.In the first five essays drawing mainly on medieval prose sources, Theodore M. Andersson observes that the Icelandic sagas (and here he means the “Sagas of Icelanders”) are more apt to begin with a marriage or betrothal than to end with one and argues that there was a pre-Christian tradition of requiring consent of the woman entering a marital union. The occasionally disastrous consequences of ignoring the wishes of the bride were, Andersson argues, an important catalyst for storytelling already at an oral stage of the saga tradition.Annette Lassen turns to a discussion of the depiction of Vínland in the two Vínland sagas and argues that Vínland is represented as an area untouched by Christianity and as such is “a place of strife, conflict and fear” (p. 182). The only benefits that can be gained there, she states, are of a material nature (which might not have been so bad for the Greenlanders who, after all, were at the mercy of the elements and frequently would have had to cope with scarcity). While some earlier scholarship has sought to understand Vínland in terms of an earthly Paradise, Lassen finds that the most obvious parallel to Biblical materials is to be found in the Stjórn's description of Canaan (cf. Num 13). “But,” she continues, “while Canaan is conquered by the Israelites, the Greenlanders give up when they face attacks by the natives” (p. 175).Kirsten Wolf and Sune Wolf Pulsiano, assisted by Jón Atli Árnason, provide a richly documented encyclopedic overview of references to diseases and discomforts in the Sagas of Icelanders, contemporary sagas, and related materials. References to diseases from ámusótt “erysipelas” to útsótt “ diarrhea” are listed, less specific references are discussed, and diagnoses are proposed. An interesting point to eme
这值得庆祝的学术和事业Úlfar布拉加松包括12篇不同长度的文章,处理一些偶尔折衷的主题在中世纪和后中世纪冰岛文学的一般领域。在简短的介绍中,编辑们介绍了获奖者的学术成就,并描述了他作为sigur - ður Nordal研究所主任在国际上促进冰岛研究的不懈工作。编辑们认为,这些面向外部的活动解释了为什么非冰岛学者的贡献占主导地位,而冰岛人的贡献几乎完全缺失。另一份节日记录,Dansað við Úlfar: Nokkur spor stigin til heizu urs Úlfari Bragasyni sjötugum,主要由冰岛人撰写,于2019年出版。正如标题所示,这个系列没有包罗万象的主题。因此,编辑们按照投稿人姓名的字母顺序排列了这些文章。在下文中,我将它们分为三大类:关注/借鉴中世纪散文的贡献,处理/讨论中世纪诗歌的贡献,最后是呈现后中世纪材料的贡献。在前五篇主要取材于中世纪散文的文章中,西奥多·m·安德森(Theodore M. Andersson)指出,冰岛的传奇故事(这里他指的是“冰岛人的传奇”)更倾向于以结婚或订婚开始,而不是以结婚或订婚结束。他认为,在基督教之前的传统中,进入婚姻联盟需要女方的同意。安德森认为,忽视新娘的意愿偶尔会带来灾难性的后果,这是传说传统中已经处于口头阶段的讲故事的重要催化剂。安妮特·拉森(Annette Lassen)转向讨论两个Vínland传说中对Vínland的描述,并认为Vínland被描绘成一个未受基督教影响的地区,因此是“一个充满冲突、冲突和恐惧的地方”(第182页)。她说,在那里可以获得的唯一好处是物质上的(这对格陵兰人来说可能不是那么糟糕,毕竟,他们受自然因素的支配,经常不得不应对物资匮乏)。虽然一些早期的学者试图从世俗天堂的角度来理解Vínland,拉森发现,与圣经材料最明显的相似之处是Stjórn对迦南的描述(参见民数记13)。“但是,”她继续说,“当迦南被以色列人征服时,格陵兰人在面对当地人的攻击时放弃了”(第175页)。Kirsten Wolf和Sune Wolf Pulsiano在Jón Atli Árnason的协助下,对冰岛人的传奇故事、当代传奇故事和相关材料中的疾病和不适进行了丰富的百科全书式概述。列出了从ámusótt“丹毒”到útsótt“腹泻”的疾病参考文献,讨论了不太具体的参考文献,并提出了诊断方法。一个有趣的现象是,尽管考古证据表明关节炎是一种常见疾病,但并没有专门的术语来描述关节炎(第365页)。谈到国王的传奇故事,埃尔斯·蒙达尔讨论了斯图拉Þórðarson支离破碎保存下来的Magnúss传奇故事的日期和风格lagabœtis,并令人信服地认为,这个传奇故事是在斯图拉回到冰岛之前的1278年夏天,在四个多月的时间里完成的。蒙达尔认为,这段短暂的创作可以解释为什么没有戏剧化的对话、演讲和诗节。当国王Magnús于1280年去世时,斯图拉会用他统治的最后几年的信息更新这个传奇。玛丽安·卡林克(Marianne Kalinke)对Reykjahólabók的Georgíuss传奇故事中的屠龙情节进行了仔细解读,该故事最终源于Legenda Aurea。卡林克认为,这部长篇小说的叙事充满了戏剧性和悬疑性,优于之前的作品。她还认为,译者对待原始材料的相对自由,可以用这样一个事实来解释,即这个故事被认为是虚构的,因此可以加以修饰和修改。Georgíus的屠龙术也被拿来与崔斯特瑞姆传奇中的崔斯特瑞姆相比较,并再次被发现比崔斯特瑞姆更胜一筹。在对Georgíuss saga进行了详细而富有启发性的讨论之后,关于Tristrams saga的部分给人的印象是不太发达,而Tristrams saga的虚构角色如何影响古挪威人的重制的问题没有得到解决。Jon Gunnar Jørgensen对与传奇故事创作相关的中世纪术语和短语的调查中,最有趣的一点是古斯堪的纳维亚语hǫfundr和拉丁语auctor的明显结合,都指赋予文本权威的人。 在最后一节中,Jørgensen引用Peter Hallberg从20世纪60年代开始的研究,声称试图根据文体学来识别传奇作家本质上是错误的,因为匿名是传奇类型的基本特征(第131-32页)。对此,有人可能会争辩说,即使中世纪的冰岛人没有全神贯注于这件事,我们也完全有理由全神贯注,这首先是一个问题,一个人是用局内人的视角还是局外人的视角来看待手头的材料。但是,既然约根森做出了这样的转向,人们可能会希望他更多地参与中世纪作者身份的最新学术研究(例如,rankoviki关于分布式作者身份的概念,参见,例如,“谁在传统文本中说话”,新文学史38[2007])。自霍尔伯格以来,文体学的进步也带来了值得考虑的有趣结果——这类研究的例子是Haukur Þorgeirsson的“海姆斯克林拉和埃吉尔斯的传奇有多相似?”,《欧洲斯堪的纳维亚研究杂志》48 (2018),Jón Karl Helgason等人的“Fingraför fornsagnahöfunda”,Skírnir 191(2017)。在以中世纪诗歌为中心的三个贡献中,玛格丽特·克吕尼·罗斯讨论了斯诺里·斯特鲁森和斯特拉Þórðarson诗歌中对埃吉尔的长诗Skallagrímsson的典故。她也质疑Kevin Wanner的观点,即Snorri的Edda是“恢复以Skaldic艺术为代表的‘文化资本’的最后绝望的尝试”(第19页)。要证明在13世纪中叶,斯卡尔迪宫廷礼乐是一种繁荣的艺术形式,似乎需要一个更广泛的方法。然而,对斯诺里和斯图拉作品中对埃吉尔诗歌的典故的讨论,是本文的重点,既具有启发性,又具有启发性。约翰·林道(John Lindow)对两个预言性的传奇情节(《Eyrbyggja》中诗歌化的浮头和《Laxdœla》中Þorgils诗歌化的斗篷)进行了深刻的讨论。第一个例子揭示了一种神话的覆盖,而第二个例子则引发了一场发人深省的关于物体的代理及其作为命运代理人的地位的讨论。凯特·赫斯洛普(Kate Heslop)对encomia中肉体和精神亲属关系的讨论开辟了重要的新领域,他淡化了维京时代资料中血统的重要性,并表明中世纪资料中对家谱的关注明显要晚于皈依基督教。虽然这一点可能会引起争议,但赫斯洛普提出的维京时代的证据是全面的,并且明确表明诗人和符文雕刻师并不像后来的散文来源那样痴迷于家谱。最后,三个贡献集中在后中世纪的材料和接受。安德鲁·沃恩在《Eyjafjörður》中关于18世纪下半叶Njáls saga的复制,阅读和普遍参与的文章是一篇非常丰富和有益的文章。该书共55页,也是全书中篇幅最长的。这篇文章的重点是s<s:1> Magnús Einarsson(网址Tjörn), Wawn认为他是手稿的抄写者Reykjavík, ÍB 270 4to(也被称为Urðabók),但文本范围很广,Wawn还讨论了来自同一地区的其他手稿,受传奇启发的诗歌,以及kvöldvaka传统。Wawn总结了这篇文章如下:“(它)将呈现一个非正式但活跃的北冰岛文本社区的形象,在这个社区里,虔诚的虔诚、顽固的迷信和启蒙理性主义争夺至高
{"title":"An Icelandic Literary Florilegium: A Festschrift in Honor of Úlfar Bragason","authors":"Jonas Wellendorf","doi":"10.5406/1945662x.122.4.13","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/1945662x.122.4.13","url":null,"abstract":"This worthy celebration of the scholarship and career of Úlfar Bragason consists of twelve essays of varying length treating a number of occasionally eclectic topics within the general fields of medieval and postmedieval Icelandic literature. In a brief introduction, the editors present the recipient's scholarly achievements and describe his untiring work, as director of the Sigurður Nordal Institute, to promote Icelandic Studies internationally. These outward-facing activities, the editors argue, explain the dominance of contributions from non-Icelandic scholars and the almost total absence of Icelandic contributors to the volume. Another Festschrift, Dansað við Úlfar: Nokkur spor stigin til heiðurs Úlfari Bragasyni sjötugum, with predominantly Icelandic contributors, was published in 2019.As the title indicates, there is no overarching theme to the collection. The editors have therefore arranged the essays alphabetically according to the names of the contributors. In the following, I have divided them into three broad categories: contributions focusing/drawing on medieval prose, contributions treating/discussing medieval poetry, and finally contributions that present postmedieval materials.In the first five essays drawing mainly on medieval prose sources, Theodore M. Andersson observes that the Icelandic sagas (and here he means the “Sagas of Icelanders”) are more apt to begin with a marriage or betrothal than to end with one and argues that there was a pre-Christian tradition of requiring consent of the woman entering a marital union. The occasionally disastrous consequences of ignoring the wishes of the bride were, Andersson argues, an important catalyst for storytelling already at an oral stage of the saga tradition.Annette Lassen turns to a discussion of the depiction of Vínland in the two Vínland sagas and argues that Vínland is represented as an area untouched by Christianity and as such is “a place of strife, conflict and fear” (p. 182). The only benefits that can be gained there, she states, are of a material nature (which might not have been so bad for the Greenlanders who, after all, were at the mercy of the elements and frequently would have had to cope with scarcity). While some earlier scholarship has sought to understand Vínland in terms of an earthly Paradise, Lassen finds that the most obvious parallel to Biblical materials is to be found in the Stjórn's description of Canaan (cf. Num 13). “But,” she continues, “while Canaan is conquered by the Israelites, the Greenlanders give up when they face attacks by the natives” (p. 175).Kirsten Wolf and Sune Wolf Pulsiano, assisted by Jón Atli Árnason, provide a richly documented encyclopedic overview of references to diseases and discomforts in the Sagas of Icelanders, contemporary sagas, and related materials. References to diseases from ámusótt “erysipelas” to útsótt “ diarrhea” are listed, less specific references are discussed, and diagnoses are proposed. An interesting point to eme","PeriodicalId":44720,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF ENGLISH AND GERMANIC PHILOLOGY","volume":"6 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135606842","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.09
James G. Clark
The medieval cult of saints was in equal measure pious and practical. The reputation of the saints, their imagery, relics, and curated shrines together offered both a framework for spiritual self-expression and facilities to stimulate health and wellbeing. Although the legends of the saints carried claims of diverse, tangible benefits brought to their devotees—protection in battle, punishment of enemies—the weight of their tradition was with cures, of congenital conditions and of contracted disease. It is this almost axiomatic association between cult and cure that is the prompt for Ruth Salter's study, derived from her doctoral dissertation of 2015. Her aim is not purely a medical history of cult practice; rather, she hopes that the hagiographical reports of healing at the shrine-scene might present a point-of-entry into the personal experience—physiological, social, and material—of the supplicant. Her source base here is seven of the miracle collections made in twelfth-century England, selected to provide coverage of England's settlements large and small (Norwich, Reading, Burton, Ely) from north (Coldingham) to south (Canterbury, Winchester); no doubt their modest scope, counting only a little more than 250 brief miracula between them, and their ready accessibility in parallel text translation were also important considerations. Nonetheless, the witness of even this small sample of the wealth of hagiography has a certain value given how little hard evidence of post-Conquest healthcare has survived.Surveying the wider landscape in her opening chapter, Salter is frustrated to find it largely obscured. The clearest indications of the study of medicine in monasteries lies largely outside of her chosen period, as do almost all of the insular contributions to the science, such as Henry of Winchester's De fleubotomandis, and the Anglo-Norman translation of Roger Frugard's Chirurgia. Instead Salter digresses into summary digest of medical lore and treatments transmitted in the work of early and high medieval auctores and in the primary codes and customs of the regulars. In fact, under analysis the testimony of the miracula is somewhat sparse. Naturally a proportion (nearly 20%) of the reports of cures carry scant details of the subject or their circumstances. Of the remainder, more than 40% concern just two conditions: blindness and paralysis. There are only two other conditions that feature with any frequency: tumors and fits. Salter draws particular attention to the absence of gynecological and obstetric complaints which are met in some larger, later miracle collections, not least, William of Canterbury's compilation made at the shrine of Thomas Becket. Notwithstanding, women and girls were the subject of almost as many cure stories as men. In the collection made at Coldingham Priory they formed the largest cohort, a response, Salter suggests, to the restriction of female access to the shrine of St. Cuthbert at Durham. There was likewise an even mat
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Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/1945662x.122.4.12
Holly Mcarthur
This volume in the series Studies in Old Norse Literature brings together scholars from all career stages to demonstrate the usefulness of Masculinity Studies to Old Norse-Icelandic literature broadly defined. Evans and Hancock's joint introduction (pp. 1–18) provides an excellent overview of Masculinity Studies and a clear and efficient framework for understanding the volume's essays, which are organized in three four-chapter sections. The first section, “Becoming Masculine,” is further divided into two topics: childhood development and female masculinities, both of which explore masculinities in bodies which are not usually considered masculine. Oren Falk's contribution (pp. 21–35) explores preadult gender identities and the earliest stages of constructing masculinity in the sagas. Matthew Roby's contribution (pp. 37–57) focuses on the trope of the temporary troll lover in legendary sagas as an illustration of attitudes around pre- and extramarital sex for boys and men in the transition between youth and adulthood. Evans's chapter (pp. 59–75) shifts the conversation to female masculinity, drawing on examples from the sagas of Icelanders in which masculinity is entirely separate from male bodies. Jóhanna Katrín Fríðriksdóttir (pp. 77–93) continues this thread in her discussion of Mágus saga jarls, a romance which features both criticisms of hypermasculinity and a cross-dressing woman who rules in her husband's absence.Section two, “Masculinity, Power, and Vulnerability,” explores the interaction of masculinity with ideas about power and vulnerability to create a deeper understanding of Old Norse masculinity. Philip Lavender's work on vulnerability in Göngu-Hrólfs saga (pp. 97–112) opens the middle section of the book with an explicit critique of Carol Clover's one-sex model by examining how masculinity can be influenced by power structures and other aspects of identity, particularly able-bodiedness or disability. Ásdis Egilsdóttir's contribution (pp.113–26) examines Christian influence on masculinity across several genres to determine how Christianity affected the performance of masculinity by churchmen who could not perform other recognizable signs of masculinity. Thomas Morcom's chapter (pp. 127–45) applies the theory of inclusive masculinity to a focused study of the Morkinskinna, particularly the contrasting descriptions of corulers Eysteinn and Sigurðr Magnússon. Brynja Þorgeirsdóttir's discussion of Egill Skalla-Grímsson's emotional vulnerability (pp. 147–63) rounds out the section.The final section, “Men's Relationships,” focuses on how masculinities developed in various relationships between men. Alison Finlay's contribution (pp. 167–82) examines the use and risks of sexualized defamation, nið, between rivals; David Ashurst's chapter (pp. 183–202) discusses bedsharing as a form of nonsexual intimacy between men while stressing the importance of contemporary historical context to interpretations. Carl Phelpstead (pp. 203–16) explores rela
{"title":"Masculinities in Old Norse Literature","authors":"Holly Mcarthur","doi":"10.5406/1945662x.122.4.12","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/1945662x.122.4.12","url":null,"abstract":"This volume in the series Studies in Old Norse Literature brings together scholars from all career stages to demonstrate the usefulness of Masculinity Studies to Old Norse-Icelandic literature broadly defined. Evans and Hancock's joint introduction (pp. 1–18) provides an excellent overview of Masculinity Studies and a clear and efficient framework for understanding the volume's essays, which are organized in three four-chapter sections. The first section, “Becoming Masculine,” is further divided into two topics: childhood development and female masculinities, both of which explore masculinities in bodies which are not usually considered masculine. Oren Falk's contribution (pp. 21–35) explores preadult gender identities and the earliest stages of constructing masculinity in the sagas. Matthew Roby's contribution (pp. 37–57) focuses on the trope of the temporary troll lover in legendary sagas as an illustration of attitudes around pre- and extramarital sex for boys and men in the transition between youth and adulthood. Evans's chapter (pp. 59–75) shifts the conversation to female masculinity, drawing on examples from the sagas of Icelanders in which masculinity is entirely separate from male bodies. Jóhanna Katrín Fríðriksdóttir (pp. 77–93) continues this thread in her discussion of Mágus saga jarls, a romance which features both criticisms of hypermasculinity and a cross-dressing woman who rules in her husband's absence.Section two, “Masculinity, Power, and Vulnerability,” explores the interaction of masculinity with ideas about power and vulnerability to create a deeper understanding of Old Norse masculinity. Philip Lavender's work on vulnerability in Göngu-Hrólfs saga (pp. 97–112) opens the middle section of the book with an explicit critique of Carol Clover's one-sex model by examining how masculinity can be influenced by power structures and other aspects of identity, particularly able-bodiedness or disability. Ásdis Egilsdóttir's contribution (pp.113–26) examines Christian influence on masculinity across several genres to determine how Christianity affected the performance of masculinity by churchmen who could not perform other recognizable signs of masculinity. Thomas Morcom's chapter (pp. 127–45) applies the theory of inclusive masculinity to a focused study of the Morkinskinna, particularly the contrasting descriptions of corulers Eysteinn and Sigurðr Magnússon. Brynja Þorgeirsdóttir's discussion of Egill Skalla-Grímsson's emotional vulnerability (pp. 147–63) rounds out the section.The final section, “Men's Relationships,” focuses on how masculinities developed in various relationships between men. Alison Finlay's contribution (pp. 167–82) examines the use and risks of sexualized defamation, nið, between rivals; David Ashurst's chapter (pp. 183–202) discusses bedsharing as a form of nonsexual intimacy between men while stressing the importance of contemporary historical context to interpretations. Carl Phelpstead (pp. 203–16) explores rela","PeriodicalId":44720,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF ENGLISH AND GERMANIC PHILOLOGY","volume":"58 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135606849","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}