The Theater of Scholastic Erudition

<i>The Thirteenth-Century Animal Turn: Medieval and Twenty-First Century Perspectives</i> <i>Thinking about Animals in Thirteenth-Century Paris: Theologians on the Boundary between Humans and Animals</i>

By the beginning of the thirteenth century, the major treatises of Greek and Arabic origin in science and natural philosophy were available in Latin translation. It is almost certain that lectures were being given on at least some of Aristotle's books on natural philosophy at the new universities of Oxford and Paris in the first decade of the thirteenth century. This is evident from the fact that in 1210, the Parisian Synod decreed, among other things, that “no lectures are to be held in Paris either publicly or privately using Aristotle's books on natural philosophy or the commentaries, and we forbid all this under pain of excommunication.” The prohibition of 1210 is a good indication that Aristotle's works on natural philosophy were readily available, for otherwise there would have been no need to ban public and private lectures on them. Although the University of Paris is not specifically mentioned in the decree, it is virtually certain that mention of public lectures is a reference to lectures at the university. To place medieval natural philosophy in its proper context, it is essential to describe the structure and character of the universities, which were indeed the “proper context” for Aristotle's natural philosophy and the commentaries on, and elaborations of, it. Indeed, it is almost as if the universities of Oxford and Paris, and their numerous successors, came into being to serve this function. THE MEDIEVAL UNIVERSITY In the course of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, Europe had rapidly become urbanized.

Pain and suffering in medieval theology. Academic debates at the University of Paris in the thirteenth century. By Donald Mowbray. Pp. xi+192. Woodbridge: Boydell, 2009. £55. 978 1 84383 461 8 - Volume 61 Issue 2

Pain and Suffering in Medieval Theology: Academic Debates at the University of Paris in the Thirteenth Century. By Donald Mowbray. Woodbridge: Boydell &amp; Brewer, 2009. x + 192 pp. $95.00 cloth. - Volume 82 Issue 1

Clipperton Atoll (Île de La Passion) is the only atoll in the Tropical Eastern Pacific (TEP) ecoregion and, owing to its isolation, possesses several endemic species and is likely an important stepping stone between Oceania, the remainder of the TEP, including other oceanic islands and the west coast of Central America. We describe the biodiversity at this remote atoll from shallow water to depths greater than one thousand meters using a mixture of technologies (SCUBA, stereo baited remote underwater video stations, manned submersible, and deep-sea drop cameras). Seventy-four unique taxa of invertebrates were identified during our expedition. The majority (70%) of these taxa were confined to the top 400 m and consisted mostly of sessile organisms. Decapod crustaceans and black corals (Antipatharia) had the broadest depth ranges, 100–1,497 m and 58–967 m, respectively. Decapods were correlated with the deepest depths, while hard corals were correlated with the shallow depths. There were 96 different fish taxa from 41 families and 15 orders, of which 70% were restricted to depths <200 m. While there was a decreasing trend in richness for both fish and invertebrate taxa with depth, these declines were not linear across the depth gradient. Instead, peaks in richness at ∼200 m and ∼750 m coincided with high turnover due to the appearance of new taxa and disappearance of other taxa within the community and is likely associated with the strong oxygen minimum zone that occurs within the region. The overall depth effect was stronger for fishes compared with invertebrates, which may reflect ecological preferences or differences in taxonomic resolution among groups. The creation of a no-take marine reserve 12 nautical miles around the atoll in 2016 will help conserve this unique and relatively intact ecosystem, which possesses high predator abundance.

The aim of this paper is to examine the presence of nonhuman animals in French medieval drama, with a particular focus on horses and other species brought to perform in liturgical mysteries. Beginning with a brief account of the different ways of representing animals by means of mechanical objects and human impersonations, I then turn to discuss the performance of real animals in the Mystère de la passion, which was staged in the city of Mons in 1501. My analysis is informed by the study of the Livre de conduite du régisseur et le compte de dépenses pour le Mystère de la passion, a work that details the play’s every single animal expense, as well as the specific part played by animals. I will show how the performance unveils a modern zooscenographic understanding of stagecraft that turns the nonhuman animal into an element of paramount importance for the success of the play

The basic intention of the doctoral dissertation entitled Genre Characteristics of Pavao Ritter Vitezović's „Odiljenje sigetsko“ is to offer the first systematic genological analysis of one of the most difficultly genre-identifiable literary works in the history of Croatian literature in general – Pavao Ritter Vitezović’s Odiljenje sigetsko (Linz, 1684.). After the introductory part of the text, which briefly presents the problem orientation of the dissertation and its objectives, the second chapter establishes a theoretical framework within which the research will be conducted. Given that it is an exploration of the genre aspect of the selected text, it is precisely the literary genology or genre theory that has been shortly recalled as the most appropriate theoretical starting point. Among the various genealogical approaches, the theory of speech genres of the Russian literary theorist Mihail Bahtin is then chosen, especially because its postulates in contemporary genology have an important place and can therefore prove as extremely useful in the analysis of genre-intricate works such as Odiljenje sigetsko. The genre and all other peculiarities of Vitezović’s Odiljenje sigetsko are discussed in the next chapter, which also recalls the concerns encountered by his readers during its genre classification. Moreover, this chapter also points to the various definitions by which Pavao Ritter himself identified his first literary work in the Croatian language in the paratextual parts of three of its editions, published for his lifetime. Various – partly explicit and partly implicit – genre categorizations then followed the Odiljenje from the eighteenth century to the present day, when in literary historical accounts and studies it is possible to encounter extremely different attempts of its generic identification, but subsequently confirmed with insufficiently persuasive evidences. The fourth chapter of the dissertation – which opens a detailed account of the complex genre system of Croatian baroque literature, within the framework of which Vitezović wrote his work – is fully devoted to exploring the specific genre characteristics of Odiljenje sigetsko. After the reconstruction of the baroque genre system, the following is an analysis of the genre characteristics of the very diverse origins by which Pavao Ritter has flowed Odiljenje from the first to the last of its verse, whereby the text does not only locate a number of peculiarities of baroque and pre-baroque literary genres ranging from fictitious epistle and lament to epitaph and allegory. Moreover, the analysis confirms that Odiljenje is filled with recognizable features and even complete examples of genres of folklore literature (bugaršćica, dirge, prayer, blessing, curse, proverb, riddle, etc.), as well as those of literary and even semiliterary and marginal literary such as instruction, war speech, oath, etc. Starting from the insights from the previous section, in chapter five we approach Odiljenje as a unique (compact) literary text composed of features and complete examples of an unusually large number of literary and not just literary genres. In order to try to find as precisely and as comprehensively as possible genre determinant to such literary work, in this chapter it is viewed on the basis of the various contexts in which it is found, starting from that of the author’s oeuvre, through intertextual and literary-historical context, to the context of the targeted and real audience. Here we also look for its possible genre patterns and eventual genre successors, and then we propose a completely new genre definition that best fits its hybrid, that is, “all-genre” identity. In the concluding, sixth chapter of the dissertation, we briefly recall the most important results of our research into the genre characteristics of the Odiljenje sigetsko and point to the need for further genological studies of this extremely intriguing Pavao Ritter Vitezović’s literary work, whose peculiarity is evident not only in the framework of the domestic baroque literature, but also in those of Croatian literature in general.

In the preceding chapter our attention has been mainly directed to the three most important phases in the developement of the great continental university which formed to so large an extent the model for Oxford and Cambridge,—its general organization, the culture it imparted, and the commencement and growth of its collegiate system. We shall now, passing by for the present many interesting details, endeavour to shew the intimate connexion existing in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries between Paris on the one hand and Oxford and Cambridge on the other, and the fidelity with which the features we have noted were reproduced in our own country. The materials that Fuller and Anthony Wood found available for their purpose, when they sought to explore the early annals of their universities, are scanty indeed when compared with those which invited the labours of Du Boulay and Crevier. The university of Paris, throughout the thirteenth century, well-nigh monopolised the interest of the learned in Europe. Thither thought and speculation appeared irresistibly attracted; it was there that the new orders fought the decisive battle for place and power; that new forms of scepticism rose in rapid succession, and heresies of varying moment riveted the watchful eye of Rome; that anarchy most often triumphed and flagrant vices most prevailed; and it was from this seething centre that those influences went forth which predominated in the contemporary history of Oxford and Cambridge.

Reviewed by: Rituals for the Dead: Religion and Community in the Medieval University of Paris by William J. Courtenay Constant J. Mews Courtenay, William J., Rituals for the Dead: Religion and Community in the Medieval University of Paris (The Conway Lectures in Medieval Studies), Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 2018; paperback; pp. 228; 43 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. US$45.00; ISBN 9780268104948. Among historians of the medieval university, Bill Courtenay stands supreme, certainly among scholars working in English. In a field of study that is dominated by historians of individual fields of intellectual endeavour, Courtenay has always demonstrated a sure grasp of the institutional framework of learning. In this book, he signals a shift, already evident to those who keep up with his prolific output in journal articles and book chapters, by moving more clearly than ever to the twin (and related) fields of social and religious history. His argument that historians of the University of Paris have tended to overlook the religious framework and devotional structures that shaped the lives of both teachers and students is important. In large part, this neglect may be due to a scholarly focus on the efforts of episcopal and papal authority to intervene in the University rather than the social rituals of that institution. Courtenay brings together in seven chapters, given as lectures, the fruit of meticulous research into different ways in which religion intersected with university life. Rituals for the Dead is not quite as accurate a summary of the book’s theme as its subtitle, Religion and Community in the Medieval University of Paris. Its title singles out one time-consuming, but largely neglected aspect of university life: the requirement imposed on teachers and students to pray collectively for the dead. Courtenay outlines how each of the four nations in which students in arts were grouped had its own church in rather the same way as a confraternity. In terms of social life, whether secular or religious, these churches created their own parishes with their own rituals, including those of burial and remembrance of the dead. This leads Courtenay into a fascinating chapter on the theological problem created by the apparent injustice that the wealthy could afford a much faster journey to Paradise by the masses that they could commission for their relatives. The dominant (although not universal) view was that a pious action done through charity would indirectly help others without wealthy supporters. Courtenay also devotes attention to the requirement on masters of each nation to celebrate the five Marian feasts of the Virgin, as well as the feasts of St Nicholas and St Catherine as the patronal saint of each nation. His focus is on the Virgin, remembered not just in these feasts, clearly as a unifying force given the ferocity of antagonism between the nations, but in the imagery of the Great Seal of the University of Paris. Courtenay’s close attention to the seals of university masters in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (on which he has published elsewhere) leads him to document his research into the Great Seal of the University of Paris, which he argues was first created by 1220, but was cancelled by the papacy in April 1221, reasserted in 1222, but then the matrix was smashed by Cardinal Frangipani in 1225 and not restored until 1246, when Pope Innocent IV allowed the seal to be used for a seven-year period, extended in 1252 for another ten years. While Courtenay mentions this chequered history of the Great Seal, he does [End Page 199] not dwell on its evident political significance. Rather he focuses on institutional Marian devotion as emblematic of religious cohesion to which all the masters were expected to adhere. Courtenay’s observation that the Great Seal (the design of which he plausibly suggested might go back to that in use by 1220) has no iconographic precedent, is of interest. It combines an image of the crowned Virgin and Child, with a bishop (St Nicholas) and St Catherine on either side, above images of two regent masters lecturing from books, and of students reading and debating with each other. While Courtenay is strong on the association between...

MLRy 98.2, 2003 533 Old Icelandic Literature and Society. Ed. by Margaret Clunies Ross. (Cambridge Studies in Medieval Literature, 42) Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2000. xii + 336pp. ?47.50. ISBN 0-5216-3112-2 (hbk). Old Icelandic Literature and Society differs from other introductory surveys of Old Icelandic literature, not simply, as the title suggests, by paying attention to the society which produces and consumes the manuscripts in which it is preserved, but, more distinctively, by a quite conscious effortto cut loose from earlier preoccupations in order to signal the new directions of twenty-first-centuryscholarship. Now that the 'bubble of romantic nationalism has burst', suggests Margaret Clunies Ross in her introduction, the literature can be recontextualized in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the period when much of it was written down, rather than as artefacts of the tenth and eleventh centuries, when the best-known sagas ofthe Icelanders are set and when much of the poetry, both Eddic and skaldic, was composed. The crucial moment in Icelandic literature, then, is no longer the Conversion in 999 or 1000, or even the composition of the firstvernacular text, Islendingabok, in the 1120s, but rather the ending of Iceland's independence in 1262-64 with its capitulation to the Norwegian crown, sundering Iceland from the institutions and traditions of its past. The volume is primarily a reliable account of Icelandic literary genres, with a wel? come focus on those, such as the indigenous romances or the biblical translations, which have generally been accorded less attention; only the sagas of Icelanders escape comprehensive survey treatment. Most chapters, however, slant their consideration of the generic range in keeping with the book's overall intention of recontextualization . Thus Judy Quinn's account of oral material within literary genres gives way to an interesting analysis of oral/literate interaction in such areas as list-making in laws and manuals of poetics; both Kari Ellen Gade and Gudrun Nordal highlightthe changing roles of poets and poetry in the thirteenth century, as skaldic tradition gives way to eyewitness accounts in the writing of sagas, and as the main Icelandic chieftain families begin to employ poets to compose panegyrics for them in the manner of earlier Norwegian kings. Jiirg Glauser's short but ambitious chapter, nominally about the sagas of Icelanders, pinpoints their post-1262 origin in manuscript as cru? cial for understanding the sagas' dialogic engagement with the past; their awareness ofthe rupture of 1262-64 makes it impossible to read the sagas as repositories of unbroken tradition, but rather as containing a cultural memory of that which is now irrecoverable. Diana Whaley's long chapter on historical writing in Iceland, centrally placed, is a well-thought-through account of how historiography impinges on other genres, informing our understanding of literature and of its social context and origins. Torfi Tulinius's chapter argues fora socio-politically grounded antiquarianism in the fornaldarsogur, noting their fascination with a highly idealized concept of monarchy once Iceland was subject to the Norwegian king. Whether with Glauser's appropriationof JanAssmann's idea of 'cultural memory', Tulinius's noting of how Icelandic genres interact within a literary system, as defined by Umberto Eco, or Geraldine Barnes's analysis of how the riddarasogur 'persuade us exuberantly of the power oflanguage', with their knowingly ironic narrators, the book provides a well-grounded and interesting introduction to Old Icelandic literature, with the bonus ofmultiple signposts towards new directions in Old Norse scholarship. St John's College, Oxford Carolyne Larrington ...

The expression unlikely documents in the title of this article is coined by Marlene Kadar and Jeanne Perreault. It refers to the appearance of auto/biography in unexpected places, texts that “bespeak either an extended or a limited story about a person’s life.” The article focuses on nineteenth-century Finnish life writing from below, texts produced by rural people with no formal education. The cases analysed include a notebook of hymns by a mistress of a farm, a chronicle penned by a modest country tailor, wooden boards inscribed by a saddle maker living on poor relief and textiles produced by a weaver woman. Seen in their contexts, these extraordinary texts prove to be understandable, even plausible: people who were not well-versed in literary genres and styles, had to make their choices from resources that were available there and then. In spite of the limited repertoire of models, the authors were able to express themselves and bring their subjectivity to the fore, in one way or another. Their texts can also be seen as tools of empowerment and vehicles of creativity for people in marginal positions at the time when writing did not belong to the life of the great majority.

Much has been written about the masters of theology at the University of Paris in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries and their views on the nature of theology. Less work has been done on their view of themselves as a social group and what they were supposed to do with their distinctive kind of knowledge, however they defined it. Furthermore, analysis of their self-image has remained very general, included within studies of masters in all subjects in all universities over several centuries. This broad approach is entirely justified in that many sources deal with learning in general and because study of the Paris theologians contributes to wider debate about the social and political significance of medieval universities and intellectuals. It is, however, important to examine the self-image of the masters of theology at Paris specifically because, whatever the wider contemporary ideals, the world of learning was in reality far from homogeneous and harmonious.

James of Viterbo (ca. 1255–1307), Augustinian friar, master of theology at the University of Paris, and archbishop of Naples, was one of the leading philosophers and theologians of the later thirteenth century. This volume completes the critical edition of his academic works and presents his last two questions De divinis praedicamentis and his three annexed questions on the will (De potentia et actu volendi). These questions, deriving from disputations James held as Augustinian regent master of theology at the University of Paris (1293–1297), offer rich discussions of important topics: whether the plurality of divine persons and attributes entails an order of priority within God and how causality may be attributed to God. The questions on the will cover issues at the core of later medieval debates on human freedom: on the unity of the will as a power of the soul, whether the will is the primary agent in human action, and whether the will is free with respect to all its acts.

M ajor points of conflict existed between Church doctrine and ideas espoused in the natural books of Aristotle. The introduction of Aristotle's works into Latin Christendom in the thirteenth century was potentially problematic for the Church and its theologians. Although a clash was hardly inevitable, it was not long in coming. It seems to have hit hardest at the University of Paris, which not only had the greatest theological school of the Latin Middle Ages but also had one of the best and largest arts faculties. And yet, the conflict that developed must never be allowed to obscure the most important fact: that the translated works of Aristotle were enthusiastically welcomed and highly regarded by both arts masters and theologians. Indeed, Aristotle's philosophy was so warmly received that try as they might, the forces arrayed against it could not prevail. THE CONDEMNATION OF 1277 The struggle against Aristotle was concentrated in the University of Paris and its environs. In 1210, soon after Aristotle's works in natural philosophy had become available in Latin, the provincial synod of Sens decreed that the books of Aristotle on natural philosophy and all commentaries thereon were not to be read at Paris in public or secret, under penalty of excommunication. Confined to the locale of Paris, this ban was repeated in 1215, specifically for the University of Paris.

Dear Cécile, I feel so honoured and privileged, as a former colleague and a close friend, to be able to initiate this dialogue across languages, cultures and continents with you. Since 1995, you have been publishing poems, short stories, novels and essays, while leading a career as Associate Professor of English at the University of Paris 12 and continue to bring out remarkable volumes of such creations, winning several prestigious awards on the way. However, I would like to single out my favourite text – A fleur de mots, La passion de l'écriture (2004) which is an incredibly beautiful essay on writing generally and your own creative process. I personally think that this book needs to be translated into English, without any further delay, for the benefit of the Anglophone audience worldwide. There you refer to the page as "this strange country of water and reflections" and describe your passion for words, specifying that there is "no special time for writing". The need for space, "a room of one's own", seems to be still the preoccupation of many writers. At the same time, because of your diverse peregrinations (an artist mother who had lived in India, a maternal family in Canada, relatives in Belgium, and your husband's roots in Tunisia, students in Finland), you have travelled to and discovered the history and memory of nations and peoples. Is Space or Time that stirs you most into writing?