This article reinterprets the alleged self-portrayal of the early modern author Michael Lindener (* between 1520 and 1530, † 1562) in his Schwanksammlung Katzipori (1558) by revealing its fictional character. Scholars read the text as the autobiography of a morally despicable bon vivant. Against this line of interpretation, this article proposes a radical distinction between author and narrator, showing how Lindener ironically undermines the well-established canon of poetical rules of his time while portraying himself as the mischievous libertine Compan.
Jacob Böhme’s Aurora was famously “publicised” or “published” in manuscript without his authorisation, due to which he ran into trouble in 1613. This event took place within an existing scribal culture that determined the manner in which Böhme’s works circulated in manuscript and provided him with the strategies he employed to manage this process. Using Böhme’s correspondence and other sources, this article describes that scribal culture with its practices and conventions. Even Böhme’s printed Weg zu Christo followed the same patterns as a scribal publication produced by other means. The theosopher’s autograph manuscripts experienced very different treatment from what one might expect today: not only were they subject to correction and emendation, which Böhme explicitly expected of his copyists, they were also distributed piecemeal, suffering wear and tear in the process.
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.