Academic literature on the topic 'Danish Political poetry'

In The Uprising: On Poetry and Finance (2012), Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi unfolds a political and clinical diagnosis of contemporary society, stating that the crisis we experience today is a permanent state of absent social autonomy and political agency. This crisis is not solely economic but is caused by semio-capitalism impacting all spheres of human life, affecting sensibility in particular—the linguistic and physical-sensuous link between the individual and the world. Taking up the term sensibility as a bodily basis of experience and as an aesthetic notion, in this article I will explore the relation between individual and collective bodies, the crisis as a suspension of change, and literature, focusing on the Danish poet Ursula Andkjær Olsen’s 2017 lunatic and fragmented novel of love and economy The Crisis Notebooks, but also with reference to some of her other work(s). I argue that the bodily experience of crisis, as expressed in this novel, leads to an inhibited social sensibility but also, paradoxically, to a radical openness towards the world. With reference to the Danish literary scholar Anne Fastrup’s interpretation of French vitalism’s idea of sensibility in The Movement of Sensibility (2007), I suggest that a more ambiguous, material notion of both a constructive and a destructive sensibility is crucial for its understanding, and hence—for an understanding of the relationship between body and crisis as expressed in The Crisis Notebooks. Finally, I suggest that an aesthetic notion of sensibility can provide a prism through which relations between today’s financial mechanisms and a sociocultural experience of crisis are rendered visible—if not sensuous—and it is from here that alternatives to the crisis can be found, felt, formulated or fabulated.

This article presents two 17th-century poets, Joost van den Vondel and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, against the backgrounds of the Dutch and the Polish Golden Age. They were ‘connected’ in their times: both through poetry and politics. Vondel’s Parnaes aen de Belt (1657) included a poem for Tobiasz, the brother of the Polish poet, in which he was praised as the “Getrouwste hofstijl der Sarmaeten” (Most fidel court pillar of the Sarmatians); and also Jan Andrzej received praise here. In his other poems, Vondel had written about the greatness of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, among other things about the city of Danzig (Polish: Gdańsk), which he, in his ode “Bestand tusschen Polen en Zweden. Aen Dantzik”; (Truce between Poland and Sweden. For Danzig”; 1635), called the “Parrel aen de Kroon van Polen” (Pearl at the Crown of Poland).On the other hand, the Morsztyn brothers were interested in the developments of the Republic of the United Provinces. Like many other foreigners, they undertook a Peregrinatio Academica to Leiden where they could see the prosperity of the Republic at first hand, together with other Poles (including the poet-preacher Samuel Przypkowski, the poet-preacher Andrzej Węgierski or the later secretary of the Polish King Andrzej Rej). This Polish circle in the Republic is also shown here.However, there is a double meaning to be discovered in the connection ‘Morsztyn-Vondel’: there was more politics in it than poetry. Morsztyn’s perspective was mainly directed to France (even against the Polish king) — and Vondel’s perspective not to Poland as a political power, but to the Dutch ‘Moedernegotie’ (Mother of all trades) in the Baltic Sea, between the Danish Sound and Danzig. This double meaning is also shown here.

Grundtvig ’s Norse Mythological Imagery - An Experiment that Failed?By Flemming Lundgreen-NielsenSince his early youth, Grundtvig worked frequently and diligently with Norse mythology. From 1805 to 1810 he tried in a scholarly way to sort out its original sources and accordingly its ancient meanings, though Grundtvig even as a philologist preferred to give spontaneous enthusiasm aroused by a synthetic vision a priority above linguistic proofs (Norse Mythology, 1808). After a pause of some years, Grundtvig in 1815 returned to Norse mythology, allowing himself a more free and subjective interpretation in lieu of an all-encompassing conception. From now on aiming to turn the Norse myths into an accessible store of modeme national imagery, he adapted a favourable evaluation of Snorri’s Edda, which until then he had been regarding as late, distorted information.Drawing mainly upon previously unprinted material the paper demonstrates, how Grundtvig around 1820, 1832, in the 1840’s and during the Schleswig-Holstein war 1848-50 tried to revive Snorri’s Edda for actual commonday use. To put Grundtvig’s opinions in a historical perspective, other contemporary statements are included, such as a Copenhagen press and pamphlet feud on the potential usefulness of Norse mythology to sculptors and painters (1820-21) and a public lecture in favour of Greek mythology and Christian civilization given by professor Madvig (1844).Grundtvig’s own attempts to mobilize the Norse gods in current affairs are illustrated in selected examples from his poetical works. The conclusion indicates that his project was a failure: none of his ballads and poems popular then and today deal with Norse mythology, and although his Norse Mythology, 1832, became a handbook for teachers of the Folk Highschools, neither later poets nor philosophers employed the Norse mythological imagery he recommended. In the war 1848-50 Grundtvig wanted to take advantage of situations from myths and legends such as Thor battling the giant Hrungnir and prince Uffe the Meek killing two Saxons, but the majority of the Danes cherished heroes of the people such as the brave unknown army soldier celebrated in a 1858-statue and the little homblower from a bestselling verse epic. At the end of his life, Grundtvig continued to write poetry in Norse mythological terms, but apparently made no efforts to get his manuscripts printed - why is not known.Among the reasons to be suggested for the failure of Grundtvig’s Norse mythological imagery, the victorious ideas in Romantic 19. century poetry and arts pertaining to originality and individualism, the prominent place of traditional classical mythology in the minds of the cultured public, and the political emphasis in the mid century period on democratization are probably most decisive.Finally attention is given to the fact that the proverbial phrase about ’freedom to Loki as well as to Thor’, the only surviving popular dictum from Grundtvig’s Norse mythological writings, almost invariably is misunderstood to be a token of boundless tolerance to both parties in the struggle between good and evil. However, several instances can be mentioned to prove that Loki, mythologically half god, half giant, in Grundtvig’s understanding does not represent evil as much as a gifted intellectualism without religious faith, possessing potential to acquire it.An English version of the paper with less regard to quotes from unprinted Grundtvig manuscripts and more attention to introductory paragraphs on Danish literary history is published in Andrew Wawn (ed.): Northern Antiquity. The Post-Medieval Reception of Edda and Saga, Hisarlik Press, 1994, p. 41-67.

Kvinde-Evangeliet: Om Grundtvigs mandebilleder og kvindesyner[The Women ’s Gospel: On Grundtvig ’s images of men and women]By Uffe JonasGrundtvig’s ideals of maleness and femaleness stand in complex relationship. He has generally been perceived as a classic patriarch, pater familias, father of both nation and church, of which he was a chosen prophet. This prophetic-patriarchal pillar makes up what might reasonably be called the masculine column of his work. Yet at the same time his domestic roles engaged him with the feminine side of life and supplied him with a fund of personal and intimate experience.From this he drew much of his life-philosophy, which is sensitive, sensible and erotic through and through. Not only was he a great and faithful lover of women, but his images of manliness are permeated by feminine ideals such as dialogue, wisdom, poetry, compassion, tenderness, human equality. With a strongly masculine pathos, he tends to favour feminine values and virtues as heralding the future in a modem world - seen not only in a social and political perspective but also, and to a larger extent, in the philosophical or spiritual perspectives from which his surprisingly positive views on womanhood originate.He was a European thinker and a universalist whose primitive-Christian viewpoint gave him a well developed sense of both the strengths and the delusions of modernity and, not least, of a new more liberal perception of womanhood - to which he himself was a significant contributor. He operated within a clearly established hierarchy of values, in which the love of his people was only one among the components of an ever increasing tonality of personal human and divine connections.Patriotism and the movement for national revival were certainly at the core of his political activities, but stood neither first nor highest in his spiritual scale of values, where concepts of the humane and the Christian were more highly cherished. Indeed, his national, popular and political concerns, which gave rise to the Grundtvigian movement, are only meaningful if seen in the superior philosophical, humane, and spiritual perspectives within which he himself conceived them.National revivalism was in itself an international phenomenon, and Grundtvig was a European philosopher and Christian universalist both before and after he became the Danish national standard bearer.Essential aspects of his thinking were overlooked, misperceived or even actively repressed in that national-popular foreshortening of perspectives entailed in the establishment of Grundtvigianism as a historical and political force. Lost in this process were Grundtvig’s highly personal and advanced philosophical, theological and even cosmological views on womankind, which instead led a kind of shadow existence at a semi-articulated level within the “late patriarchal system” of early Grundtvigianism - never completely out of the picture, but rather worked on the anecdotal level, on solemn and celebratory occasions, where they have served as an important historical and poetical inspiration through generations whilst at the same time not causing too much immediate trouble at the more intricate levels of social and sexual checks and balances.Thus in Grundtvig’s thinking all human progress and enlightenment, in fact the entire development of humanity itself, stands under the living, breeding and life-bringing sign of a warmhearted womanhood. As poet, philosopher and theologian, and through his (relative to any contemporary perspective) unusually high estimation of “the hjertelige [heart-led] gender” Grundtvig has devised a great corpus of symbolisations in which the feminine virtues are most highly valued, even to the extent of a complementary and equal valuation of the sexes. From it, succeeding generations - and women not least - have been able to draw human and political advantages and inspiration which is still far from exhausted. Indeed, appreciation of it is only now dawning on our own, perhaps sexually better balanced and spiritually better prepared age. Yet, notwithstanding many scattered sketches and a few more penetrating scholarly enquiries, this all-permeating sexual and critical aspect of Grundtvig’s thinking has never been the subject of a sufficiently comprehensive treatment.

Abstract The article deals with three travel books (Sorgmunter socialisme (1968), Polen (1970) and Da jeg opdagede Amerika (1986)) written by a Danish graphic designer, writer and political activist Dea Trier Mørch (1941-2001). In focus of the text analysis is the question of poetological aspects, a.o. of the position of the three texts in relation to travel books as a genre and the narrative strategies, which are used by the author to represent the visited countries. As the analysis will reveal, Mørch (as author and protagonist) can be understood as a modern sentimental traveler - both in terms of the structure of her narratives and the existential dimension of her travels.

Anders Toftgaard: Amongst speaking statues and admonishing ghosts. Mazarinades in the collections of The Royal Library Mazarinade is a term for political writing that was published in different forms in France during (and related to) the Fronde (1648–1653). The Fronde was a series of civil wars that first broke out when Louis XIV (born 1638) was still a child, and Mazarin was the Chief Minister of France and responsible for the young king’s education. Mazarin governed the country together with the king’s mother, Anne of Austria. The term mazarinade covers pamphlets, letters, official documents, burlesque poetry, sonnets and ballads, discourses and dialogues.The Royal Library in Copenhagen holds a collection of mazarinades. The Copenhagen collection was overlooked by scholars and Hubert Carrier (who travelled widely) because it had not been properly catalogued. The collection of mazarinades in the Royal Library has now been catalogued by the author of the article, and the catalogue is available in Fund og Forskning online. The article serves as an introduction to this hitherto unknown collection of mazarinades. After a presentation of the Fronde, and the term mazarinade and its denotation, the article lists the rare and unique mazarinades in the collections of The Royal Library, Copenhagen and where possible, traces their provenance.The collection consists of 33 volumes of mazarinades that have been put together in the 19th century in order to form a single collection: Collection de mazarinades. Apart from this Collection de mazarinades there are other mazarinades in the holdings, stemming both from the Royal Library and from the University Library. The 33 volumes (one volume has been missing for years) have been grouped together by various subsets. One of these subsets is a collection of mazarinades created by Pierre Camuset, who lived during the time of the Fronde. Camuset introduces himself as “conseiller du roi, eslu en l’election de Paris”. Archival records show that he was appointed to this position on 9 December 1622, that in 1641 he married Agnès, daughter of Jean Le Noir, lawyer to the Parliament of Parisian, and that he died some years before 1670.In the Collection de Mazarinades, there are approx. 100 mazarinades which were considered rare or “rarissime” by Célestin Moreau in his Bibliographie des mazarinades (1850–1851). There are three mazarinades, which would seem to be unique; three mazarinades, which are not recorded in the existing bibliographies of mazarinades (made by D’Artois and Carrier, in the Bibliothèque Mazarine) but of which there are copies in other libraries. There is a mazarinade printed by Samuel Brown in The Hague, which has not been recorded elsewhere. Finally, there are 11 mazarinades printed by Jean-Aimé Candy in Lyon, of which only three, judging from existing catalogues and bibliographies, seem to exist in other libraries.Only few of the mazarinades were brought to Denmark during the Fronde. Most of them were collected by Danish 18th century collectors. Surprisingly, only a small part stems from the incredibly rich library of Count Otto Thott (1703–1785). When Thott’s library was auctioned off, his mazarinades were bought by Herman Treschow (1739–1797) who acted as a commission agent for numerous book collectors, and due to the detailed cataloguing in Thott’s auction catalogue, it would probably be possible to find the volumes from his library in a foreign library.Both Hans Gram (1685–1748) and Bolle Willum Luxdorph (1716–1788) owned copies of Gabriel Naudé’s Mascurat in which they wrote handwritten notes. Luxdorph was the great collector of Danish press freedom writings. In his marginal notes he compares a passage in Naudé’s text about common people appropriating the art of printing with his own experience of a servant who came up with songs that were “assez mechants” during the fall of Struensee on 17 January 1772: “Mon valet faisait aussi d’asséz méchans vers su aujet de la revolution du 17de janvier 1772”. Luxdorph’s reading of Mascurat is thus in close connection with his interest in writings on press freedom.The Mazarinades are valuable both for studies in history, literary history and history of the book. More specifically, the collection of Mazarinades in the Royal Library, on the one hand, through the example of Pierre Camuset, shows how an individual tried to get a grasp of an abnormal period, and on the other hand, through the example of Luxdoph, very clearly testifies to the 18th century interest in the history of the book and in historical periods with de facto freedom of the press.

Science and everyday language. Grundtvig’s View of his Native Tongue in Theory and in Practice. As Illustrated by his Article - Om Ordsprog (On Proverbs) 1817By Bodil SchmidtPreserved in the Grundtvig archives are several collections in Grundtvig’s own handwriting of proverbs and popular sayings. In his magazine - Dannevirke - he argued for the preservation of this treasure of Danish proverbs, and urged his readers to assist in their collection.In his demand for a strengthening of the native tongue, Grundtvig was at one with his contemporary romantic poets and philosophers. His article argues for the originality of the Danish language and at the same time protests against the theories that it descends from Icelandic or German. Since his aim is practical, Grundtvig’s article is written in a less philosophical and polemical language than most of the other articles in the magazine. After a lengthy introduction criticising the position of poetry in the 18th century, Grundtvig defines the concept of “proverb” and lists the areas in which proverbs are of importance: language, morals, poetry, history. He follows this with a detailed guide as to how they could be collected. He makes the point, amongst others, that proverbs are useful in the translation of the ancient chronicles of Saxo and Snorre, which he was currently working on. He declares that the aim of his scientific efforts was to protect and enrich the Danish language so that it was qualified to re-awaken the Danish national spirit.A comparison of certain quotations with the common themes of Grundtvig and his colleague in the field, Christian Molbech, shows a marked difference in linguistic style. Where Grundtvig’s language is living, popular and concrete, Molbech’s is academic, stiff and abstract. The quotations included also reveal a decisive difference in the two writers’ view of the people and in their understanding of what the spirit of the people (folkelighed) actually is. Molbech regards “the rough peasant” as a natural creature with no real consciousness and therefore one whom there is no point in trying to enlighten, whereas Grundtvig believes that though the people may be idle and apathetic, they can and must be re-awakened.According to the author of the article there is a parallel between Grundtvig’s attack on the contemporary language of philosophy and our current debate on language being defined politically or ideologically. For Grundtvig, it was obvious that whoever wishes to be understood should use clear and unambiguous language, as close to everyday language as possible. The author asks why, in spite of the advances of science, democratic Denmark should accept that contemporary philosophers, theologians, sociologists and humanists employ a language that we only half understand. Do the Danes still doubt their basic common sense to distinguish between what is true and false? She quotes the proverb: All that glitters is not gold.

A Rooted Man and a Sacred PoetBy Viggo MortensenA Review of A.M. Allchin: N.F.S. Grundtvig. An Introduction to his Life and Work. With an afterword by Nicholas Lossky. 338 pp. Writings published by the Grundtvig Society, Århus University Press, 1997.Canon Arthur Macdonald Allchin’s services to Grundtvig research are wellknown to the readers of Grundtvig Studier, so I shall not attempt to enumerate them. But he has now presented us and the world with a brilliant synthesis of his studies of Grundtvig, a comprehensive, thorough and fundamental introduction to Grundtvig, designed for the English-speaking world. Fortunately, the rest of us are free to read as well.It has always been a topic of discussion in Denmark whether Grundtvig can be translated, whether he can be understood by anyone except Danes who have imbibed him with their mother’s milk, so to speak. Allchin is an eloquent proof that it can be done. Grundtvig can be translated and he can be made comprehensible to people who do not belong in Danish culture only, and Allchin spells out a recipe for how it can be done. What is required is for one to enter Grundtvig’s universe, but to enter it as who one is, rooted in one’s own tradition. That is what makes Allchin’s book so exciting and innovative - that he poses questions to Grundtvig’s familiar work from the vantage point of the tradition he comes from, thus opening it up in new and surprising ways.The terms of the headline, »a rooted man« and »a sacred poet« are used about Grundtvig in the book, but they may in many ways be said to describe Allchin, too. He, too, is rooted in a tradition, the Anglican tradition, but also to a large extent the tradition taken over from the Church Fathers as it lives on in the Orthodox Church. Calling him a sacred poet may be going too far.Allchin does not write poetry, but he translates Grundtvig’s prose and poetry empathetically, even poetically, and writes a beautiful and easily understood English.Allchin combines the empathy with the distance necessary to make a renewed and renewing reading so rewarding: »Necessarily things are seen in a different perspective when they are seen from further away. It may be useful for those whose acquaintance with Grundtvig is much closer, to catch a glimpse of his figure as seen from a greater distance« (p. 5). Indeed, it is not only useful, it is inspiring and capable of opening our eyes to new aspects of Grundtvig.The book falls into three main sections. In the first section an overview of Grundtvig’s life and work is given. It does not claim to be complete which is why Allchin only speaks about »Glimpses of a Life«, the main emphasis being on the decisive moments of Grundtvig’s journey to himself. In five chapters, Grundtvig’s way from birth to death is depicted. The five chapters cover: Childhood to Ordination 1783-1811; Conflict and Vision 1811-29; New Directions, Inner and Outer 1829-39; Unexpected Fulfilment 1839-58; and Last Impressions 1858-72. As it will have appeared, Allchin does not follow the traditional division, centred around the familiar years. On the contrary, he is critical of the attempts to focus everything on such »matchless discoveries«; rather than that he tends to emphasize the continuity in the person’s life as well as in his writings. Thus, about Thaning’s attempt to make 1832 the absolute pivotal year it is said: »to see this change as an about turn is mistaken« (p. 61).In the second main section of the book Allchin identifies five main themes in Grundtvig’s work: Discovering the Church; The Historic Ministry; Trinity in Unity; The Earth made in God’s Image; A simple, cheerful, active Life on Earth. It does not quite do Allchin justice to say that he deals with such subjects as the Church, the Office, the Holy Trinity, and Creation theology.His own subtitles, mentioned above, are much more adequate indications of the content of the section, since they suggest the slight but significant differences of meaning that Allchin masters, and which are immensely enlightening.It also becomes clear that it is Grundtvig as a theologian that is the centre of interest, though this does not mean that his work as educator of the people, politician, (history) scholar, and poet is neglected. It adds a wholeness to the presentation which I find valuable.The third and longest section of the book, The Celebration of Faith, gives a comprehensive introduction to Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity, as it finds expression in his sermons and hymns. The intention here is to let Grundtvig speak for himself. This is achieved through translations of many of his hymns and long extracts from his sermons. Allchin says himself that if there is anything original about his book, it depends on the extensive use of the sermons to illustrate Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity. After an introduction, Eternity in Time, the exposition is arranged in the pattern of the church year: Advent, Christmas, Annunciation, Easter and Whitsun.In the section about the Annunciation there is a detailed description of the role played by the Virgin Mary and women as a whole in Grundtvig’s understanding of Christianity. He finishes the section by quoting exhaustively from the Catholic theologian Charles Moeller and his views on the Virgin Mary, bearing the impress of the Second Vatican Council, and he concludes that in all probability Grundtvig would not have found it necessary to disagree with such a Reformist Catholic view. Finally there are two sections about The Sign of the Cross and The Ministry of Angels. The book ends with an epilogue, where Allchin sums up in 7 points what modem features he sees in Gmndtvig.Against the fragmented individualism of modem times, he sets Gmndtvig’s sense of cooperation and interdependence. In a world plagued with nationalism, Gmndtvig is seen as an example of one who takes national identity seriously without lapsing into national chauvinism. As one who values differences, Grundtvig appeals to a time that cherishes special traditions.Furthermore Gmndtvig is one of the very greatest ecumenical prophets of the 19th century. In conclusion Allchin translates »Alle mine Kilder« (All my springs shall be in you), »Øjne I var lykkelige« (Eyes you were blessed indeed) and »Lyksaligt det Folk, som har Øre for Klang« (How blest are that people who have an ear for the sound). Thus, in a sense, these hymns become the conclusion of the Gmndtvig introduction. The point has been reached when they can be sung with understanding.While reading Allchin’s book it has been my experience that it is from his interpretation of the best known passages and poems that I have learned most. The familiar stanzas which one has sung hundreds of times are those which one is quite suddenly able to see new aspects in. When, for example, Allchin interprets »Langt højere Bjerge« (Far Higher Mountains), involving Biblical notions of the year of jubilee, it became a new and enlightening experience for me. But the Biblical reference is characteristic. A Biblical theologian is at work here.Or when he interprets »Et jævnt og muntert virksomt Liv paa Jord« (A Simple Cheerful Active Life on Earth), bringing Holger Kjær’s memorial article for Ingeborg Appel into the interpretation. In less than no time we are told indirectly that the most precise understanding of what a simple, cheerful, active life on earth is is to be found in Benedict of Nursia’s monastic mle.That, says Allchin, leads us to the question »where we are to place the Gmndtvigian movement in the whole spectmm of Christian movements of revival which are characteristic of Protestantism« (p. 172). Then - in a comparison with revival movements of a Pietistic and Evangelical nature – Allchin proceeds to give a description of a Grundtvigianism which is culturally open, but nevertheless has close affinities with a medieval, classical, Western monastic tradition: a theocentric humanism. »It is one particular way of knitting together the clashing archetypes of male and female, human and divine, in a renunciation of evil and an embracing of all which is good and on the side of life, a way of making real in the frailties and imperfections of flesh and blood a deeply theocentric humanism« (p. 173).Now, there is a magnificent English sentence. And there are many of them. Occasionally some of the English translations make the reader prick up his ears, such as when Danish »gudelige forsamlinger« becomes »meetings of the godly«. I learnt a few new words, too (»niggardliness« and »esemplastic«) the meaning of which I had to look up; but that is only to be expected from a man of learning like Allchin. But otherwise the book is written in an easily understood and beautiful English. This is also true of the large number of translations, about which Allchin himself says that he has been »tantalised and at times tormented« by the problems connected with translating Grundtvig, particularly, of course, his poetry. Naturally Allchin is fully aware that translation always involves interpretation. When for example he translates Danish »forklaret« into »transfigured«, that choice pulls Grundtvig theologically in the direction that Allchin himself inclines towards. This gives the reader occasion to reflect. It is Allchin’s hope that his work on translating Grundtvig will be followed up by others. »To translate Grundtvig in any adequate way would be the work of not one person but of many, not of one effort but of many. I hope that this preliminary study may set in train a process of Grundtvig assimilation and affirmation« (p. 310)Besides being an introduction to Grundtvig, the book also becomes an introduction to past and contemporary Danish theology and culture. But contemporary Danish art, golden age painting etc. are also brought in and interpreted.As a matter of course, Allchin draws on the whole of the great Anglo-Saxon tradition: Blake, Constable, Eliot, etc., indeed, there are even quite frequent references to Allchin’s own Welsh tradition. In his use of previous secondary literature, Allchin is very generous, quoting it frequently, often concurring with it, and sometimes bringing in half forgotten contributions to the literature on Grundtvig, such as Edvard Lehmann’s book from 1929. However, he may also be quite sharp at times. Martin Marty, for example, must endure being told that he has not understood Grundtvig’s use of the term folkelig.Towards the end of the book, Allchin discusses the reductionist tactics of the Reformers. Anything that is not absolutely necessary can be done away with. Thus, what remains is Faith alone, Grace alone, Christ alone. The result was a radical Christ monism, which ended up with undermining everything that it had originally been the intention to defend. But, says Allchin, Grundtvig goes the opposite way. He does not question justification by faith alone, but he interprets it inclusively. The world in all its plenitude is created in order that joy may grow. There is an extravagance and an exuberance in the divine activity. In a theology that wants to take this seriously, themes like wonder, growth and joy must be crucial.Thus, connections are also established back to the great church tradition. It is well-known how Grundtvig received decisive inspiration from the Fathers of the Eastern Church. Allchin’s contribution is to show that it grows out of a need by Grundtvig himself, and he demonstrates how it manifests itself concretely in Grundtvig’s writings. »Perhaps he had a deep personal need to draw on the wisdom and insight of earlier ages, on the qualities which he finds in the sacred poetry of the Anglo-Saxons, in the liturgical hymns of the Byzantine Church, in the monastic theology of the early medieval West. He needs these resources for his own life, and he is able to transpose them into his world of the nineteenth century, which if it is no longer our world is yet a world in which we can still feel at home. He can be for us a vital link, a point of connection with these older worlds whose riches he had deciphered and transcribed with such love and labour« (p. 60).Thus the book gives us a discussion - more detailed than seen before – of Grundtvig’s relationship to the Apostolic Succession, the sacramental character of the Church and Ordination, and the phenomenon transfiguration which is expounded, partly by bringing in Jakob Knudsen. On the background of the often observed emphasis laid by Grundtvig on the descent into Hell and the transfiguration, his closeness to the orthodox form of Christianity is established. Though Grundtvig does not directly use the word »theosis« or deification, the heart of the matter is there, the matter that has been given emphasis first and foremost in the bilateral talks between the Finnish Lutheran Church and the Russian Orthodox Church. But Grundtvig’s contribution is also seen in the context of other contemporaries and reforming efforts, Khomiakov in Russia, Johann Adam Möhler in Germany, and Keble, Pusey and Newman in England. It is one of Allchin’s major regrets that it did not come to an understanding between the leaders of the Oxford Movement and Grundtvig. If an actual meeting and a fruitful dialogue had materialized, it might have exerted some influence also on the ecumenical situation of today.Allchin shows how the question of the unity of the Church and its universality as God’s Church on earth acquired extreme importance to Grundtvig. »The question of rediscovering Christian unity became a matter of life and death« (p. 108). It is clear that in Allchin’s opinion there has been too little attention on this aspect of Grundtvig. Among other things he attributes it to a tendency in the Danish Church to cut itself off from the rest of the Christian world, because it thinks of itself as so special. And this in a sense is the case, says Allchin. »Where else, at the end of the twentieth century, is there a Church which is willing that a large part of its administration should be carried on by a government department? Where else is there a state which is still willing to take so much responsibility for the administration of the Church’s life?« (p. 68). As will be seen: Allchin is a highly sympathetic, but far from uncritical observer of Danish affairs.When Allchin sees Grundtvig as an ecumenical theologian, it is because he keeps crossing borders between Protestantism and Catholicism, between eastern and western Christianity. His view of Christianity is thus »highly unitive« (p. 310). Grundtvig did pioneer work to break through the stagnation brought on by the church schisms of the Reformation. »If we can see his efforts in that way, then the unfinished business of 1843 might still give rise to fruitful consequences one hundred and fifty years later. That would be a matter of some significance for the growth of the Christian faith into the twentyfirst century, and not only in England and Denmark« (p. 126).In Nicholas Lossky’s Afterword it is likewise Grundtvig’s effort as a bridge builder between the different church groupings that is emphasized. Grundtvig’s theology is seen as a »truly patristic approach to the Christian mystery« (p. 316). Thus Grundtvig becomes a true all-church, universal, »catholic« theologian, for »Catholicity is by definition unity in diversity or diversity in unity« (p. 317).With views like those presented here, Allchin has not only introduced Grundtvig and seen him in relation to present-day issues, but has also fruitfully challenged a Danish Grundtvig tradition and Grundtvigianism. It would be a pity if no one were to take up that challenge.

Who was Clara?By Kaj ThaningIn this essay the author describes his search for Clara Bolton and her acquaintance with among others Benjamin Disraeli and the priest, Alexander d’Arblay, a son of the author, Fanny Burney. He gives a detailed account of Clara Bolton and leaves no doubt about the deep impression she made on Grundtvig, even though he met her and spoke to her only once in his life at a dinner party in London on June 24th 1830. Kaj Thaning has dedicated his essay to Dr. Oscar Wood, Christ Church College, Oxford, and explains why: “Just 30 years ago, while one of my daughters was working for Dr. Oscar Wood, she asked him who “Mrs. Bolton” was. Grundtvig speaks of her in a letter to his wife dated June 25th 1830. Through the Disraeli biographer, Robert Blake, Dr. Wood discovered her identity, so I managed to add a footnote to my thesis (p. 256). She was called Clara! The Disraeli archives, once preserved in Disraeli’s home at Hughenden Manor but now in the British Museum, contain a bundle of letters which Dr. Wood very kindly copied for me. The letters fall into three groups, the middle one being from June 1832, when Clara Bolton was campaigning, in vain, for Disraeli’s election to parliament. Her husband was the Disraeli family doctor, and through him she wrote her first letter to Benjamin Disraeli, asking for his father’s support for her good friend, Alexander d’Arblay, a theology graduate, in his application for a position. This led to the young Disraeli asking her to write to him at his home at Bradenham. There are therefore a group of letters from before June 1832. Similarly there are a number of letters from a later date, the last being from November 1832”.The essay is divided into three sections: 1) Clara Bolton and Disraeli, 2) The break between them, 3) Clara Bolton and Alexander d’Arblay. The purpose of the first two sections is to show that the nature of Clara Bolton’s acquaintance with Disraeli was otherwise than has been previously assumed. She was not his lover, but his political champion. The last section explains the nature of her friendship with Alex d’Arblay. Here she was apparently the object of his love, but she returned it merely as friendship in her attempt to help him to an appointment and to a suitable lifelong partner. He did acquire a new position but died shortly after. There is a similarity in her importance for both Grundtvig and d’Arblay in that they were both clergymen and poets. Disraeli and Grundtvig were also both writers and politicians.At the age of 35 Clara Bolton died, on June 29th 1839 in a hotel in Le Havre, according to the present representative of the Danish Institute in Rouen, Bent Jørgensen. She was the daughter of Michael Peter Verbecke and Clarissa de Brabandes, names pointing to a Flemish background. On the basis of archive studies Dr. Michael Hebbert has informed the author that Clara’s father was a merchant living in Bread Street, London, between 1804 and 1807. In 1806 a brother was born. After 1807 the family disappears from the archives, and Clara’s letters reveal nothing about her family. Likewise the circumstances of her death are unknown.The light here shed on Clara Bolton’s life and personality is achieved through comprehensive quotations from her letters: these are to be found in the Danish text, reproduced in English.Previous conceptions of Clara’s relationship to Disraeli have derived from his business manager, Philip Rose, who preserved the correspondence between them and added a commentary in 1885, after Disraeli’s death. He it is who introduces the rumour that she may have been Disraeli’s mistress. Dr. Wood, however, doubts that so intimate a relationship existed between them, and there is much in the letters that directly tells against it. The correspondence is an open one, open both to her husband and to Disraeli’s family. As a 17-year-old Philip Rose was a neighbour of Disraeli’s family at Bradenham and a friend of Disraeli’s younger brother, Ralph, who occasionally brought her letters to Bradenham. It would have been easy for him to spin some yarn about the correspondence. In her letters Clara strongly advocates to Disraeli that he should marry her friend, Margaret Trotter. After the break between Disraeli and Clara it was public knowledge that Lady Henrietta Sykes became his mistress, from 1833 to 1836. Her letters to him are of a quite different character, being extremely passionate. Yet Philip Rose’s line is followed by the most recent biographers of Disraeli: the American, Professor B. R. Jerman in The Young Disraeli (1960), the English scholar Robert Blake, in Disraeli (1963) and Sarah Bradford in Disraeli (1983). They all state that Clara Bolton was thought to be Disraeli’s mistress, also by members of his own family. Blake believes that the originator of this view was Ralph Disraeli. It is accepted that Clara Bolton 7 Grundtvig Studier 1985 was strongly attracted to Disraeli, to his manner, his talents, his writing, and not least to his eloquence during the 1832 election campaign. But nothing in her letters points to a passionate love affair.A comparison can be made with Henrietta Sykes’ letters, which openly burn with love. Blake writes of Clara Bolton’s letters (p. 75): “There is not the unequivocal eroticism that one finds in the letters from Henrietta Sykes.” In closing one of her letters Clara writes that her husband, George Buckley Bolton, is waiting impatiently for her to finish the letter so that he can take it with him.She wants Disraeli married, but not to anybody: “You must have a brilliant star like your own self”. She writes of Margaret Trotter: “When you see M. T. you will feel so inspired you will write and take her for your heroine... ” (in his novels). And in her last letter to Disraeli (November 18th 1832) she says: “... no one thing could reconcile me more to this world of ill nature than to see her your wife”. The letter also mentions a clash she has had with a group of Disraeli’s opponents. It shows her temperament and her supreme skill, both of which command the respect of men. No such bluestockings existed in Denmark at the time; she must have impressed Grundtvig.Robert Blake accepts that some uncertainty may exist in the evaluation of letters which are 150 years old, but he finds that they “do in some indefinable way give the impression of brassiness and a certain vulgarity”. Thaning has told Blake his view of her importance for Grundtvig, and this must have modified Blake’s portrait. He writes at least: “... she was evidently not stupid, and she moved in circles which had some claim to being both intellectual and cosmopolitan.”He writes of the inspiration which Grundtvig owed to her, and he concludes: “There must have been more to her than one would deduce by reading her letters and the letters about her in Disraeli’s papers.” - She spoke several languages, and moved in the company of nobles and ambassadors, politicians and literary figures, including John Russell, W.J.Fox, Eliza Flower, and Sarah Adams.However, from the spring of 1833 onwards it is Henrietta Sykes who portrays Clara Bolton in the Disraeli biographies, and naturally it is a negative portrait. The essay reproduces in English a quarrel between them when Sir Francis Sykes was visiting Clara, and Lady Sykes found him there. Henrietta Sykes regards the result as a victory for herself, but Clara’s tears are more likely to have been shed through bitterness over Disraeli, who had promised her everlasting friendship and “unspeakable obligation”. One notes that he did not promise her love. Yet despite the quarrel they all three dine together the same evening, they travel to Paris together shortly afterwards, and Disraeli comes to London to see the them off. The trip however was far from idyllic. The baron and Clara teased Henrietta. Later still she rented a house in fashionable Southend and invited Disraeli down. Sir Francis, however, insisted that the Boltons should be invited too. The essay includes Blake’s depiction of “the curious household” in Southend, (p. 31).In 1834 Clara Bolton left England and took up residence at a hotel in the Hague. A Rotterdam clergyman approached Disraeli’s vicar and he turned to Disraeli’s sister for information about the mysterious lady, who unaccompanied had settled in the Hague, joined the church and paid great attention to the clergy. She herself had said that she was financing her own Sunday School in London and another one together with the Disraeli family. In her reply Sarah Disraeli puts a distance between the family and Clara, who admittedly had visited Bradenham five years before, but who had since had no connection with the family. Sarah is completely loyal to her brother, who has long since dropped Clara. By the time the curious clergyman had received this reply, Clara had left the Hague and arrived at Dover, where she once again met Alexander d’Arblay.Alex was born in 1794, the son of a French general who died in 1818, and Fanny Burney. She was an industrious correspondent; as late as 1984 the 12th and final volume of her Journals and Letters was published. Jens Peter .gidius, a research scholar at Odense University, has brought to Dr Thaning’s notice a book about Fanny Burney by Joyce Hemlow, the main editor of the letters. In both the book and the notes there is interesting information about Clara Bolton.In the 12th volume a note (p. 852) reproduces a letter characterising her — in a different light from the Disraeli biographers. Thaning reproduces the note (pp. 38-39). The letter is written by Fanny Burney’s half-sister, Sarah Harriet Burney, and contains probably the only portrait of her outside the Disraeli biographies.It is now easier to understand how she captivated Grundtvig: “very handsome, immoderately clever, an astrologer, even, that draws out... Nativities” — “... besides poetry-mad... very entertaining, and has something of the look of a handsome witch. Lady Combermere calls her The Sybil”. The characterisation is not the letter-writer’s but that of her former pupil, Harriet Crewe, born in 1808, four years after Clara Bolton. A certain distance is to be seen in the way she calls Clara “poetry-mad”, and says that she has “conceived a fancy for Alex d’Arblay”.Thaning quotes from a letter by Clara to Alex, who apparently had proposed to her, but in vain (see his letter to her and the reply, pp. 42-43). Instead she pointed to her friend Mary Ann Smith as a possible wife. This is the last letter known in Clara’s handwriting and contradicts talk of her “vulgarity”. However, having become engaged to Mary Ann Alex no longer wrote to her and also broke off the correspondence with his mother, who had no idea where he had gone. His cousin wrote to her mother that she was afraid that he had “some Chére Amie”. “The charges are unjust,” says Thaning. “It was a lost friend who pushed him off. This seems to be borne out by a poem which has survived (quoted here on p. 45), and which includes the lines: “But oh young love’s impassioned dream /N o more in a worn out breast may glow / Nor an unpolluted stream / From a turgid fountain flow.””Alex d’Arblay died in loneliness and desperation shortly afterwards. Dr. Thaning ends his summary: “I can find no other explanation for Alexander d’Arblay’s fate than his infatuation with Clara Bolton. In fact it can be compared to Grundtvig’s. For Alex the meeting ended with “the pure stream” no longer flowing from its source. For Grundtvig, on the other hand the meeting inspired the lines in The Little Ladies: Clara’s breath opened the mouth, The rock split and the stream flowed out.”

O trabalho aborda a música popular uruguaia e a relação dos artistas engajados em determinadas causas políticas e sociais, de caráter revolucionário, com o processo de escalada autoritária no país durante o final da década de 60 e início dos anos 70. A pesquisa, portanto, se refere à música como manifestação social e política durante o período que precede o golpe militar no Uruguai, mais especificamente o período de conformação do Estado autoritário no país, durante os governos de Pacheco Areco (1967-71) e Juan Maria Bordaberry (1972 - Junho de 1973). A análise será centrada no cancioneiro de Daniel Viglietti, suas canções e poesia, bem como sua atuação e militância. Será levada em consideração a tradição da poesia política rioplantese, denominada gauchesca, e a relação desta com o cancioneiro popular produzido no período acima proposto. Tal relação pode ser entendida como uma apropriação de um discurso radical já presente na poesia política desde o século XIX que será utilizado pelos artistas engajados da década de 1960. Esta teria sido uma das estratégias de conscientização e luta de setores artísticos organizados em torno de propostas de mudança na região, em um primeiro momento, e de resistência e denúncia à escalada autoritária, em momento posterior. Também será realizada uma análise do papel do intelectual artista e de sua relação com a sociedade civil e movimentos políticos no período. Por fim, será feita a apresentação e análise do cancioneiro de Daniel Viglietti com a intenção de compreender sua produção artística a partir de temáticas que se inseriam nos debates e discussões políticas do período e de sua relação com as propostas de transformação estrutural das sociedades latinoamericanas – via reforma ou revolução.
This project deals with the uruguaian popular music and the engaged artists relations with some of the social and political issues related with revolucionary causes, and the authoritarian escalade process in that country within the late 60's and early 70's. The research refers to music as a social and political manifestation during the period that preceds the military coup in Uruguay, more specificaly the period that the authoritarian State is raising, during Pacheco Areco's government (1967-71) and Juan Maria Bordaberry's government (1972 – June of 1973).The analisys is focused in Daniel Viglietti, his songs and poetry, as well as his actuation and militancy. In this analysis the tradition of the political poetry of the Rio da Prata region, called gauchesca, will be considered, as well as its relation with the poetry and the popular artists work during the studied period. The relation between both can be understood as the apropriation of an authoritarian speech that already existed in the political poetry since the nineteenth century, and that was used by the engaged artists of the 1960 decade as one of the strategies of awareness and struggle for changes, at first, and later on as a strategy of resistence and denouncement. The research will also analyse the intelectual artist role and its relation with the civil society and political movements that took place in that period. Finally, the research analyses Daniel Viglietti's work as an intent to comprehend his artistic prodution and its relation with the political contest and transformation proposals then existing.

Volonté de présenter la poésie de 19 Varieties of Gazelle de Naomi Shihab Nye, In the Country of My Dreams de Elmaz Abinader, The Capital of Solitude de Gregory Orfalea et Before Our Eyes de Lawrence Joseph pour mettre en lumière les approches idéologiques, cette thèse s’appuie sur plusieurs axes pour synthétiser la vision de ces poètes américains, enfants d’immigrants arabes. Les recueils préfigurent eux-mêmes ces axes. Aussi proposons-nous d’aborder l’impact du père chez ceux qui écrivent, l’impact de l’identité arabe sur la relation à l’autre, qu’il soit américain ou arabe, et sur leur idéologie politique et religieuse
Willing to introduce the poetry of 19 Varieties of Gazelle by Naomi Shihab Nye, In the Country of My Dreams by Elmaz Abinader, The Capital of Solitude by Gregory Orfalea et Before Our Eyes by Lawrence Joseph to shed light on the ideological approaches, this thesis emphasizes several directions to synthesize the vision of those American poets, children of Arab immigrants. The very anthologies prefigure those directions. Thus, we suggest to tackle the impact of the father on those who write, the impact of the Arab identity on the relation to the other, whether American or Arab, and on their political and religious ideology

Si la peinture dans l'œuvre balzacienne a beaucoup occupé la critique, la sculpture moins. C'est pourquoi elle fait l'objet de cette thèse. Il s'agit de montrer que la représentation de la sculpture dans La Comédie humaine est au cœur de la création balzacienne. En résonance (en résistance aussi parfois) avec les discours de l'époque, la représentation de la sculpture chez Balzac implique une réflexion sur la représentation politique et figure la fin du fondement sacré du pouvoir, liée à la Terreur, dans la première moitié du XIXe siècle. Articulant représentation politique et poétique de la représentation, le romancier met ainsi au jour une crise de la mimèsis, trop souvent invoquée à propos de son œuvre. En deuil du sacré et de la réalité de l'Idée, Balzac fait de la sculpture le lieu de l'articulation entre Idée et Image et la place au cœur de son énergétique et de son esthétique. Née de la mort, la sculpture devient pour Balzac art premier, capable de redéfinir les fondements du réel et du roman. À la croisée du politique, de la poétique et de l'esthétique, cette réflexion sur la sculpture dans La Comédie humaine voudrait allier histoire des représentations et histoire de la représentation
If painting in Balzac's work has interested many critics, sculpture less. This is why this is the theme of this thesis. Indeed, it is a question of demonstrating that sculpture's representation in La Comédie humaine stands at the heart of Balzac's creation. In resonance (sometimes in resistance) with the speeches of that period, sculpture's representation in Balzac's novels implies particular thought on political representation, and represents the end of the sacred foundation of power, linked to Terror, in the first part of the nineteenth century. Articulating political representation and poetics of representation, the novelist highlights a crisis of mimèsis, too often mentioned regarding his work. In mourning of the sacred foundation and the reality of the Idea, Balzac considers sculpture as the place of the link between Idea and Image, and puts it at the heart of his energetic and his aesthetics. Coming from death, sculpture becomes for Balzac the first art, able to redefine the foundations of reality and fiction. At the crossroads of politics, poetics and aesthetics, this thought on sculpture in La Comédie humaine aims to combine history of representations and history of the representation

Pour montrer la richesse des représentations poétiques de la mer, l’époque augustéenne constitue un moment clef. Avec la bataille d’Actium, la mer occupe une place nouvelle à Rome et devient un enjeu majeur, lieu de victoires et de pouvoir dans le discours d’Auguste et dans l’imaginaire romain, à un moment de refondation aussi bien politique que morale de la cité après les guerres civiles. C’est la manière dont cet objet s’est constitué en tant que catalyseur de toutes les grandes mutations de l’époque augustéenne qui retient notre attention. Nous étudions la mer comme locus, c’est-à-dire comme un objet poétique susceptible de refléter ou de modifier le lieu réel où l’activité humaine se déploie durant l’histoire grecque et romaine, mais aussi les représentations socioculturelles. Dans notre première partie, nous entreprenons une comparaison des rapports à la mer chez les Grecs et les Romains, dans leur histoire, leurs mentalités et leur littérature. Il apparaît que d’un point de vue axiologique, si la mer des poètes augustéens reçoit un traitement négatif en grande partie influencé par la poésie grecque, ce motif est enrichi d’un élément inédit : la condamnation de la navigation. Reliée aux guerres et à la luxuria, elle s’inspire chez les poètes augustéens d’une synthèse entre les influences de la philosophie grecque et de la morale traditionnelle : elle devient le lieu d’expression des passions humaines, depuis la cupidité jusqu’à la colère du Prince. Mais les poètes augustéens ont aussi été sensibles à l’héritage grec du motif épique de la mer : Virgile, dans l’Énéide, élabore à partir des modèles grecs un héroïsme nouveau, adapté à l’arrière-plan culturel romain, où prime la pietas, dans des errances où les épreuves maritimes sont systématiquement désamorcées. Ovide, dans ses Métamorphoses, relit Virgile pour déconstruire cette mer de la fabrique des héros et proposer une nouvelle représentation de la mer, miroir de la Pax Augusta. Pourtant, c’est l’élégie qui, en transférant toute ses ambiguïtés au locus marin, en fait le mieux le miroir troublant des changements politiques et des mutations morales que connaît Rome au début du Principat : la réélaboration élégiaque du motif épique de la mer est l’occasion du questionnement et de la réaffirmation des valeurs du mos maiorum, d’expérimentations génériques et surtout de la construction d’un nouvel héroïsme en mer, celui d’Auguste à Actium
To show the richness of the poetic representations of the sea, the Augustan epoch is considered a key period. With the battle of Actium, the sea holds a new place in Rome and becomes a major stake, place of victories and power in the speech of Augustus and in the Roman imagination, during a political and moral city rebuilding after the civil wars. It is the way this object was established as a catalyst of all the great changes of the Augustan period that holds our attention. We study the sea as locus, that is to say as a poetic object likely to reflect or modify the real place where the human activity spreads out during the Greek and Roman history, but also the socio-cultural representations. In our first part, we undertake a comparison of the relationships with the sea for Greeks and Romans, in their history, their mentalities and their literature. It appears that from an axiological point of view, if the sea of Augustan poets receives a negative treatment as in Greek poetry, this pattern is enriched by a previously unseen element: the navigation condemnation. Linked with war and luxuria, it is inspired for the Augustan poets by a synthesis between the influences of Greek philosophy and traditional morality: it becomes the place of expression of the human passions, from greed to anger of the Prince. But the Augustan poets have also carried the Greek heritage of the epic motif of the sea Virgil, in the Aeneid, develops from the Greek models a new heroism, adapted to the Roman cultural background, where the pietas takes the central part through wanderings where sea trials are systematically undone. Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, rereads Virgil to deconstruct this sea of heroes and to build a new representation of the sea, mirror of the Pax Augusta. However, the elegy, as the most ambiguous genre, introduces the most original and complex vision of the marine locus. Elegiac poets makes it the most disturbing mirror of the political changes and moral mutations that Rome experienced at the beginning of the Principate: the elegiacre-elaboration of the epic motif of the sea is an opportunity to question and reaffirm the values of the mos maiorum, generic experiments and especially the construction of a new heroism at sea, that of Augustus to Actium

Ce travail propose d’étudier l’un des nombreux textes médiévaux portant sur le mythe de la guerre de Troie. Transmis à l’Occident médiéval non pas par le biais d’Homère mais par celui des classiques latins et de certains auteurs de l’Antiquité tardive, ce mythe connut un immense succès en Europe durant tout le Moyen Âge, malgré l’ignorance du grec et de l’Iliade. Nous avons choisi d’éditer partiellement et de commenter l’un des plus importants monuments de la matière troyenne médiévale, texte presque inédit aujourd’hui, car totalement délaissé depuis la Renaissance et le retour aux textes anciens. Dans une introduction, nous avons exposé les principes de notre travail d’édition, c'est-à-dire listé les différents manuscrits utilisés par l’éditeur précédent (Nathaniel Griffin), puis surtout présenté notre manuscrit de base, le Cod. Bodmer 78, absent de la liste des manuscrits collationnés par Griffin. Puis nous avons consacré un chapitre à la langue du texte, un latin médiéval très lisible quoiqu’empreint de « modernismes », notamment au niveau du lexique. Puis, après avoir présenté le texte, sa langue et notre méthode d’édition, nous avons exposé le peu d’éléments que nous avions sur notre auteur, sa vie, son œuvre et le contexte intellectuel au milieu duquel il évolua dans la Sicile du XIIIe siècle, ainsi que l’engouement européen pour la matière troyenne qui explique son choix de reprendre ce grand mythe dans son Historia. Enfin il nous a fallu évoquer les nombreuses sources utilisées par Guido delle Colonne, ses sources directes, indirectes ou inavouées. En dernier lieu, nous avons offert un résumé de chaque livre édité et traduit. Suit une bibliographie détaillée sur les manuscrits et éditions anciens de ce texte, des manuels, le contexte culturel et historique en Europe et en Sicile au Moyen Âge, les textes grecs, latins et vernaculaires se rapportant à la guerre de Troie et ayant influencé notre auteur de près ou de loin, les ouvrages critiques sur le traitement de cette matière troyenne dans l’Antiquité et au Moyen Âge, et enfin les quelques éléments bibliographiques portant sur Guido et sur son œuvre. Vient ensuite notre édition-traduction. La traduction est accompagnée d’un double apparat : un apparat des sources et réminiscences ainsi qu’un apparat critique qui prend en compte et compare les leçons contenues dans notre manuscrit de base avec les variantes citées par l’éditeur précédent dans les quelques manuscrits qu’il a utilisés. Au bas de la traduction, figurent des notes d’érudition destinées aux noms ou des faits cités dans le texte et qui méritent une explication. Après cette partie introduction philologique et édition, la deuxième grande partie de cette thèse consiste en un commentaire et des annexes. Dans notre commentaire, nous avons souhaité interroger notre texte dans ses aspects narratologiques, thématiques, génériques, linguistiques et idéologiques. C’est pourquoi nous avons consacré un premier chapitre à l’étude narratologique du texte, son contenu, son agencement, ses techniques narratives, son utilisation des sources et ses principales thématiques. Dans une seconde partie, nous avons abordé le genre et le ton de cette Historia, qui se veut un texte historique quoique traitant une matière fictionnelle puisque mythologique à une époque où les genres littéraires ne sont pas encore définis et encore moins cloisonnés ; nous avons en outre longuement commenté et illustré le choix de l’écriture en prose et en latin à une époque où la mode est au vers et au vernaculaire. Enfin, notre troisième chapitre porte sur le contenu scientifique, politique et idéologique de ce texte truffé de parenthèses érudites et morales. En dernier lieu, nous avons proposé une édition diplomatique de la partie non éditée ni traduite du manuscrit, ainsi que des annexes sur les manuscrits et le vocabulaire, et bien sûr des index des noms propres et un glossaire des mots rares ou surprenants
This work proposes to explore one of the many medieval texts on the myth of the Trojan War. Transmitted to medieval Europe not through Homer but by the Latin classics and some authors of late Antiquity, this myth was a huge success in Europe during the middle Ages, despite the ignorance of the Greek and the Iliad. We chose to partially edit and comment on one of the most important monuments of the medieval Trojan material, almost unpublished text today because totally abandoned since the Renaissance and the return to the ancient texts. In an introduction, we exposed the principles of our editing work, that is to say, listed the various manuscripts used by the original publisher (Nathaniel Griffin) and especially presented our basic manuscript, Cod. Bodmer 78, absent from the list of manuscripts collated by Griffin. Then we have a chapter on the language of the text, a medieval Latin highly readable although full of "modernism", particularly in terms of vocabulary. Then, after introducing the text, the language and our editing method, we exposed the little things we had on our author, his life, his work and the intellectual context in which he evolved in thirteenth century Sicily, and the European craze for the Trojan material explains his choice to take this great myth in his Historia. Then, we had to mention the many sources used by Guido delle Colonne, its indirect or direct or unacknowledged sources. Lastly, we provided a summary of each book published and translated. Then follows a detailed bibliography on manuscripts and old editions of this text, textbooks, historical and cultural context in Europe and Sicily in the Middle Ages, the Greek texts, Latin and vernacular related to the Trojan War and that influenced our author near or far, the critical works on the treatment of this Trojan material in antiquity and the Middle Ages, and finally some bibliographic elements on Guido and his work. Then comes our edition-translation. The translation is accompanied by a double pageantry: one for the sources and reminiscences, and a critical apparatus that considers and compares the lessons contained in our manuscript with basic variants cited by the previous editor in some manuscripts that he used. At the bottom of the translation include scholarly notes for names or facts mentioned in the text and deserve an explanation. After this introduction and part philological edition, the second major part of this thesis consists of a comment and annexes. In our review, we wanted to examine our text in its narratological, thematically, linguistic, generic and ideological aspects. That is why we have devoted the first chapter to the narratological study of the text, its content, its layout, its narrative techniques, use of sources and its main themes. In a second part, we discussed the type and tone of the Historia, which intends to be a historical text while attending a fictional material since mythological, at a time when genres are not yet defined and less compartmentalized; we have also commented extensively and illustrated the choice of writing in prose and Latin at a time when fashion is to poetry and vernacular. In the end, our third chapter focuses on the scientific, political and ideological content of this text peppered with parentheses and moral scholars. Finally, we proposed a diplomatic edition of the unedited or translated part of the manuscript, as well as appendices on manuscripts and vocabulary, and of course the name index and a glossary of rare or surprising words

Phases of high political tension during the Romantic period, notably under Pitt after the French Revolution and under Liverpool following the Napoleonic Wars, indicate the ongoing importance, and sometimes the severity, of press control between 1780 and 1820. But control was becoming more difficult in practice, and the consequences for poetry and other literary genres are sometimes overstated at a time when the overwhelming priority for the authorities was cheap (or worse, free) radical print. This chapter surveys key cases of prosecution and/or pillorying across the period (Daniel Isaac Eaton, Walter Cox, William Hone, William Cobbett), and argues that the writers now central to the Romantic canon were relatively unaffected. The striking exception is Robert Southey, whose incendiary Wat Tyler, which embarrassingly emerged at the height of Southey’s Tory pomp two decades later, is newly contextualized and interpreted.

This chapter considers how four films, Looking for Langston (directed by Isaac Julien, 1989), The Watermelon Woman (directed by Cheryl Dunye,1996), Brother to Brother (directed by Rodney Evans, 2005),and The Aggressives (directed by Daniel Peddle, 2005), involve related, but different organizations of time. While all of the films offer insights into the temporality of a present sense of political possibility, the first three films evince a desire for a usable past that might work in the service of the present, while The Aggressives organizes time idiosyncratically in a strategy that provides an opportunity to consider how queer temporality carries spatial implications that might anchor another orientation toward the past, present, and the future—one in which listening for “poetry from the future,” without insisting it be recognizable as such, is an ethical demand of and for our times.

Max Eastman secretly marries the brilliant activist and artist Ida Rauh (1877–1970), who introduces him to socialism. A honeymoon trip takes the couple to Europe, where an annoying flea Max picks up in Tangier serves as a metaphor for his continuing sexual frustrations. He is asked to assume editorship of The Masses, which he reinvents as a cutting-edge forum for politically motivated art and writing. His son Daniel is born in 1912, to his father’s surprise and mystification. Max publishes Enjoyment of Poetry, his most enduringly successful book, as well as his first volume of poetry, Child of the Amazons. Max’s marital problems engender his interest in Freudian psychoanalysis. Dissatisfied with his analyst, Dr. Jelliffe, Max embarks on a course of self-analysis, diagnosing himself with “unsublimated heterosexual lust.” He acquires a small house in Croton-on Hudson, where he becomes the unofficial leader of a flourishing socialist commune. His increasing skepticism of Woodrow Wilson’s commitment to peace helps radicalize his writing. After meeting the beautiful actress Florence Deshon at a fund-raiser for The Masses, he leaves Ida Rauh, relinquishing his parental rights.