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This chapter situates classical education in late antique Gaul in its historical context, positioning the work within the current scholarly debates, and building on recent scholarship on late antique Gaul. Arranged thematically, Chapter 2 considers key developments in the political and military relationships between the western Roman empire, Gallo-Romans and barbarian groups, the prospects and prosperity of Gallo-Roman aristocrats, the increasing dominance of the Church and bishops in daily life, and the vitality and continuity of Gallo-Roman cities. It considers the conditions necessary for classical education to thrive and function and discusses how the structures that fostered education were affected by the political, military, religious, and cultural transformations of fifth-century Gaul.
“Manners” alternates between the portrayal of self-reliant “gentlemen” like Montaigne, Socrates, and El Cid, who are “original and commanding” and “fashion,” an imitative “hall of the Past” where “virtue [has] gone to seed.” But near the end of the essay he turns away from forms of aristocratic morality by introducing two new heroes: a woman, “the Persian Lilla,” who reconciles “all heterogeneous persons into one society”; and then “Osman,” a poor beggar at the gates of the Shah who is a “great heart … so sunny and hospitable in the centre of the country,” and whose wealth lies in his ability to “harbor” madness without sharing it. The introduction of Lilla and Osman late in “Manners” raises the question of how they align with its other heroes. Are they part of a turn or contrary tendency showing up late in the essay, or a deeper exploration of forms of virtue – especially love – already introduced?
Chapter 1 opens with a discussion of the foundational importance of classical education in Roman society and politics, and how it served as a basis for both office-holding and elite Roman identity and self-fashioning. The chapter also provides a prosopographical sketch of the teachers and students that are visible in the historical record from the fourth to early sixth centuries in Gaul, showing that identifiable teachers and students begin to fade from the sources from the later-fifth and early-sixth centuries. It discusses the marked shift in the visibility of these individuals, the changing nature of our sources for education throughout the period, the limitations of our sources, and what we can learn from those limitations. The chapter argues that, while classical education largely disappears from the historical record by the early sixth century, this by no means indicates that classical education ceased to exist entirely. Rather, it shows that classical education was no longer a ‘public’ institution as it had been under the Roman empire, and that it did not occupy that specific place within politics, society, and culture that allowed it to be visible and take a prominent place in the technical and literary texts of the period.
Chapter 10 charts Emerson’s long engagement with Hinduism, from his college years, when he rejected what he thought of as “Indian Superstition,” to the presence of the Vishnu Purāna and Bhagavad Gīta in some of his greatest essays. In “Plato, or the Philosopher,” Emerson draws from these works the idea of a fundamental unity – “The whole world is but a manifestation of Vishnu” – and credits Plato with absorbing, enhancing, and representing the “unity of Asia and the detail of Europe.” Emerson’s Plato is a representative of Emerson himself, a man who made lists of opposing East-West properties and tendencies on the same pages where he recorded passages from the Vishnu Purāna. Emerson finds a skeptical strain within Hinduism, particularly in “Illusions.” But he also weaves in the contrary vision of deep, but momentary, insight: “by and by, for an instant, the air clears, and the cloud lifts a little.”
Chapter 4 examines three works: the Falucho monument, both in its creation and in its initial location in Buenos Aires and its subsequent relocation; the portrait of Eusebio de la Santa Federación, a jester by Juan Manuel de Rosas, which differs from other images of the same figure; and the representations of Tía Rosa, a pastry seller on the streets of Buenos Aires in the nineteenth century. It should be noted that, during this period, portraits of Afro-Argentines are rare and limited to military personnel, especially toward the end of the century. These three portraits depict a common soldier, a female pastry vendor or a cook, and a buffoon. So the question is why three people were portrayed who had trades or fulfilled roles effectively but not exclusively performed by a large part of the Afro-Argentine population. This assignment of social and labor roles, similar to those they were forced to perform during slavery, became stereotypical. This operation circumscribed Afro-descendants to the past, banishing them from the present in which the images were produced, and hence from the future as well.
This concluding chapter first summarizes the main findings of this book, based on which it discusses the continuities and discontinuities in the transformation of labour precarity before and after 1949 and in the Mao era and after. It then engages with the paradoxes and debates introduced in Chapter 1 and discusses this book’s implications for labour movements and policy. Next, this chapter compares labour precarity in China with that in socialist and transitional economies and in traditional advanced capitalist economies after the Second World War to depict global trends in this regard. This chapter concludes by revealing the limitations of this book, and putting forward speculations for future changes in labour precarity and suggestions for future research about precarious labour in China.
Chapter 1 considers how Emerson uses the essay form to present his ideas as experiments or trials, to preserve a sense of spontaneity or casualness (“I gossip for my hour concerning the eternal politics”) and to dramatize what he calls the “contrary tendencies” in his philosophy (“I accept the clangor and jangle of contrary tendencies”). While it is important to trace Emerson’s main positions, one misses the living nature of his philosophy unless one also takes account of the motions and patterns within his essays, and the ways he dramatizes instability, spontaneity, and inconsistency. Emerson’s description of a poem in “The Poet” applies equally to his own essays: each is a living thing, like “a plant or an animal,” each has “an architecture of its own.” The discussion focuses on the moods of “History” and “Experience,” guided by Theodor Adorno’s idea of the essay as a carpet, or an arena for thought.
In September 1522, Martin Luther published his German translation of the New Testament. Each of the four Gospels opened with a woodcut initial depicting its apostle seated with a codex. Each apostle was identified by his symbol; otherwise, Matthew, Mark (lion), and Luke (ox) might have been taken for humanists in their studies, small cramped spaces with narrow windows. Lucas Cranach depicted Matthew (Figure 28), Mark, and Luke each holding a stylus, seated at a desk writing in the codex; Matthew and Mark are writing at the bottom of the right-hand page of a codex. John (Figure 29) was significantly different: seated not at a desk, not in a study, but outdoors in a landscape framed by a medieval town and mountains. He, too, held a stylus, but on a page already lined past his hand, a specific place in what was so visibly a complete text. Alone among the four, John was depicted in apostolic robes.
This chapter explores gender and sexuality in the earliest Italian lyrics, via the themes of love and religion, positioned through modern creative critics such as Anne Carson and the medieval Italian theologian Thomas Aquinas. Howie shows how reading these poems can become a mutually constitutive interpretative exercise, thereby liberating new meanings. The chapter reads a number of thirteenth- and fourteenth-century poems by authors including Lapo Gianni, Dante Alighieri, Guido Guinizzelli, the so-called Compiuta Donzella, Antonio Pucci, Iacopone da Todi, and the anonymous authors of a Jewish-Italian elegy and Christian nativity poem, exploring how religious and poetic erotic discourse interact with each other. Through examples of the nursing baby Jesus and St Francis’s stigmata, Howie invites us as readers to participate in these accounts of embodied desire. Howie thus explores the materiality of secular, sacred and supernatural bodies, both within the medieval and within contemporary frames of reference.
This chapter uses the first Italian bibliography – Anton Francesco Doni’s La libraria (1550) – to reflect on the process of compiling literary history, and analyse approaches and attitudes to poets and poetry in the Cinquecento. It considers the degree to which current critical interest in the concept of social communities in poetry, especially in relation to Petrarchism, correspond to Cinquecento concerns. Petrarchism is ubiquitous in Doni’s work, and especially visible in praise for Tuscan and eminent models like Pietro Bembo, Iacopo Sannazaro and Vittoria Colonna, but it co-exists alongside poets who overtly reject the Tuscan model and/or satirise the obsessive fascination with a narrow set of rules for writing lyrics. Listing authors by name rather than genre emphasises the extent to which most Cinquecento writers composed in a variety of modes and reveals a more expansive conceptualisation of authorship not yet constrained by Romantic notions of individual genius.
The chapter introduces the intellectual programme for the volume as a whole. The opening analysis explores the category of ‘poetry’ as a form of cultural production pertinent to each of the single topics addressed in the individual chapters, emphasising a consistent concern with questions not only of literary form but also of materiality, performance and transmission, conceptions of authorship, cultural context and more. A second section turns to locating how poetry was discussed during the centuries 1200-1600, beginning with how poets and commentators conceptualised the craft of making poetry itself. This is followed by a review of places where poetry could be found, in its written form and also in performance and discussion around the peninsula. Finally, the chapter discusses how Italian intellectuals and theorists investigated definitions of poetry and its cultural importance, and constructed their own histories of poetry from the viewpoint of their own times.