The Linköping Legendary contains amongst other texts an Old Swedish translation of the well-known medieval German legend of Gregory on the Stone. This text was translated into Swedish around 1525 in the monastery of Vadstena. In this article the Swedish translation is compared with the Middle High and Middle Low German originals. This comparison makes it highly probable that the translation was based on the 1478 Low German edition of the ‘Der Heiligen Leben’, also known as the ‘Passional’, by Lucas Brandis. Some differences between the Swedish translation and its exemplar can be explained as mistakes in understanding the Low German original.
Cambridge, University Library, Kk.3.18, the latest extant copy of the Old English Bede, is a remarkably reader-oriented manuscript. Consistently punctuated, rubricated, and furnished with the list of chapter headings, chapter numbers, and continuous running titles, it is easy to read and navigate. Complementing these signposts are lexical interlinear glosses. Many of them are dialectally unmarked variants of Anglian and obsolete/obsolescent vocabulary as well as nonce formations. Another subset consists of the alternatives to the words that were probably familiar to the late Anglo-Saxon audience. These additions enhance the translation similarly to the multiple psalter glosses. The third group corrects copying errors by supplying a reading found in other manuscripts. On the whole, these glosses offer an apparatus that facilitates a better understanding of Bede’s Latin composition and its Old English translation. In addition, they provide invaluable information about the development of the Early English lexicon and the scribes’ active repertoire and linguistic preferences.
To this day, “Mauricius of Craûn” still holds a number of research desiderata. Author and dating are undetermined, but also the purpose of this “Märe” is to be questioned. Records appeared late and thus provide little information for the research questions. The author’s approach to this “Märe” is to look at the characters as allegorical figures. This results in a new perspective and it also indicates the text’s closeness to the papal bull “Vox in Rama” in terms of language. Pachurka has already demonstrated the relationship between a Latin work of Heinrich von Avranches and Walther von der Vogelweide in 2020. Here, too, the linguistic proximity is obvious and quite deliberately chosen. This essay is intended as an impulse for thought, whereby the author can actually only serve as a likely thesis. However, the “Märe” “Mauricius of Craûn” would fit into the lifetime achievements of Heinrich von Avranches.
In Modern Icelandic the form veri of the verb vera ‘to be’ is seen as a subjunctive expressing a wish. Treating Old Norse veri, earlier vesi, as an imperative of the third person simplifies the vera paradigm. A survey of the oldest attestations shows that veri not only fits qua form in the imperative paradigm, but also behaves like an imperative and expresses a command. The hypothesis that veri is an imperative can be extended to: Old Norse had an imperative of the 3rd person consisting of stem+i. What usually is called the use of the 3rd person subjunctive to fill in for the missing 3rd person imperative, would then be nothing else than a real imperative, which, however, in all verbs except vera coincides in form with the subjunctive. The form verir looks like a counter example to the hypothesis, but it is only found twice in poetry, never in prose, and can be explained as a common copying error. We cannot ask the native speakers of Old Norse, so the description of Old Norse veri as a subjunctive is a hypothesis as well. It is argued that seeing veri as an imperative is the more elegant solution.
First, the narrator’s comments in Wolfram von Eschenbach’s ‘Parzival’ with an ironic reference to the narrator himself and/or the coupling of the fictitious locations to his native landscape are compiled and explained, within which the mention of Wildenberc belongs, as a place of writing and recitation, and to which the Grail Castle Munsalvæsche also owes its name. Then the identification with the castle near Amorbach and the question of whether it had already existed in Wolfram’s time are dealt with briefly, then extensively the two palas inscriptions and the history of their treatment and interpretation, especially regarding the doubts about their authenticity. With regard to the inscription on the right, it is argued that it does not name an architect Bertolt and a stonemason Ulrich, but first the architect, then the inexperienced writer of both inscriptions, who, with OWE MVTER, reminds us of ‘Parzival’ and its author. This short quotation refers to the structure of the plot and the subject matter of the work and thus shows that Ulrich was a connoisseur.
This study concerns a late medieval manuscript, the Ambraser Heldenbuch, created by Hans Ried for Emperor Maximilian I between 1504 and 1516. The recent facsimile edition makes it much easier to probe the critical question why this volume was not printed and what makes it stand out so much in the context of the early modern book market. The inclusion of the anonymous verse narrative Mauritius von Craûn (ca. 1220–1240) allows for more trenchant analyses concerning the patron and his interest in these literary works. The study takes into view the emperor’s strong concern with his afterlife, the paradoxical aspects determining that novella, and the contrast of this text copied here, very oddly, for the first time with the more popular literary works offered on the early modern book market. At a time when the printing press was increasingly conquering the book business, luxury bibliophile items continued to be produced as manuscripts. It might well be that the current book market finds a parallel in this phenomenon, with the electronic book pushing traditionally printed books aside. In fact, until today, we still resort to the manuscript in special cases, such as deeds, wills, licenses, and other documents.